This is our vacation.

The plane stopped again at the head of the runway. Its engines idled, and then after a few minutes they were revved up high. The plane shook with thunderous vibrations. Snorting, the Black pulled hard on his tie ropes, and Alec’s hand went to him. The boy began talking to soothe the Black, and continued while the plane fled down the runway to become airborne.

Only soft vibrations were felt as they climbed. The engines, too, were quieter. Alec pulled the sliding blankets up on the Black’s neck, making his horse more comfortable. There was nothing to take him away from his horse now, no other job to be done except to care for the Black. It was truly as it had been at the beginning, and it would go on and on for many wonderful weeks. He thought of the times they would share together again, and told the Black of them, knowing the stallion understood everything he said. It was a language all their own. It didn’t necessarily consist of words, for Alec relied mainly on touches and soft sounds and quick movements of the eyes.

Alec told the Black of long days of bright sunshine with endless miles before him, of great hills and mountains showing blue against a pale sky, and beyond all these the desert that would be so bare and clean beneath his feet. He spoke of the nights, too, the network of millions and billions of delicate stars that would be his roof as he rested after hard, exciting days. He didn’t mention the fences that would keep him within Bill Gallon’s ranch. There was no need. With thousands of wild acres to roam it would be as though there were no fences. Yet for Alec it was a comfort to know they were there, that somewhere on the Desert Ranch he would always be able to find the Black.

The stallion had settled down, and was pulling at his hay. Alec left him to get a drink of ice water from the cooler at the far end of the plane. He came back to sit on the tack trunk, thinking of how Henry had insisted upon his taking it, and how needless its contents were. He would use no brushes and currycombs on the stallion, no saddle or bridle when he rode him, no blankets at night. He would use nothing to remind the Black of the domesticity that had been left behind. The great stallion would be turned completely free, and Alec decided that he would not force himself upon the Black. The stallion would be ridden only when he asked for it, and Alec would know the signs.

The Black whinnied, and thrust his tongue out. Alec pulled it, then let go. The Black withdrew his tongue. This was a game they played. It meant there was no need for alarm or uneasiness. The Black was happy … and so was Alec, incredibly happy. The hours sped by, with the plane losing its race against a fast-dropping sun.

They refueled west of Chicago, and when they took to the air again it was through the dark sky of night. Alec hadn’t left the plane or the Black’s side during their short stop.