He wouldn’t let himself even think it. Instead he went back in memory to the days when Henry had taken him and the Black under his wing, when Henry had encouraged him to race the Black because he had confidence in Alec’s ability to handle the stallion on the track.

At the time Henry’s enthusiasm had sounded just as fantastic as what he’d said a few moments ago. But it had turned out the way Henry had said it would. He had ridden the Black to victory over the two best horses in the country.

Then Satan had come along. Alec hadn’t thought it possible for any horse ever to approach the Black’s blinding speed. But Henry had looked at the weanling Satan and said, “This colt might make you change your mind, Alec.”

Fantastic again at the time. But Satan’s race records now proved how right Henry had been.

Alec stopped in front of the house. He wanted to clarify his thinking before going inside.

If Henry had said he was going to get Black Minx ready for the Kentucky Derby, he’d do just that. It didn’t mean necessarily that she’d win, but it did mean that she would be trained for that classic in early May. She would be ready to go the full mile and a quarter.

Alec decided that during the months to come he would never again question Henry’s ability to reach his goal. Instead he would help Henry with his filly in every way possible—just as Henry had helped him with the Black and Satan.

Alec continued up the walk, ready now for a good breakfast.

THE RELUCTANT FILLY
4

For Alec it was like old times having Henry around every day. That week, the last in November, they exercised Satan and the Black. Together they handled weanlings and broodmares, and performed routine farm chores. Henry was his former cheerful self because he had a coming three-year-old to get ready for the following spring and summer campaigns. Alec laughed more, too. He found that, after all, he had not divorced himself completely from the lure of the racetrack; he could still be excited by the schooling of a young racehorse.

He watched Henry with the black filly, taking a keen interest in each step of her progress. He marveled again at Henry’s unlimited patience that had done so much to win his reputation as one of the finest colt trainers in the country.

“Just give me a break in the weather and I’ll have her ready,” Henry said over and over. “An easy winter, so I can get her out on the track ’most every day, is all I ask.”

The weather was mild that week, but Black Minx didn’t set foot on the training track. Instead Henry kept her in the barn, and he got to know her ways pretty well.

Alec noticed that Henry was all business when he entered her stall, which was often. Never did he fondle her or play, as Alec might have been tempted to do. Henry went about his work with the unconcern of a man accustomed to handling horses—with the least amount of fuss or outward exertion. He was gentle but firm with the filly, and always on the alert for any bold move she might make toward him. Only his hand would reach out when it came; one sharp slap on muzzle or foreleg was his reprimand.

Alec had no idea how many times a day Henry groomed Black Minx that first week. Lots, anyway. Her body shone like glossy satin from soft sponges, soft brushes, soft cloths. But Henry wasn’t at all interested in bringing out the beautiful luster of her black coat. Rather it was his way of teaching her good manners.

“We’re just getting acquainted now,” he had told Alec the first day he spent with her. “No more hand-feeding, and for the present a lot of grooming. That may be all we’ll have to do to stop her nipping. I don’t know.