But we’ll start there, anyway.”

The filly had stood tied very short with a soft cotton rope around her neck and through her halter.

“I watched the groom getting her ready at the sale,” Henry had continued. “He made the mistake most people make with a filly like this, and that probably goes for the trainer who took her to Florida. He gave her too much freedom of head, and when she turned on him he tried to straighten her out by a blow with his brush or towel. The trouble was he usually missed. So it all became a game to her, like everything else. I keep her tied short. I want her to learn I mean business. But at the same time I want to make my grooming a pleasure for her, so I use nothing but soft cloths and the like. She’s thin-skinned and ticklish. Never should she be given a real hard going-over.”

It was the first of December when Henry took Black Minx out of the barn. She stood in the cool and brisk morning air with her highly polished body brilliantly reflecting the sun’s rays. Her first week of stall schooling was over. She was ready for a little freedom. But she wouldn’t be allowed to romp for hours on end as did the mares, weanlings, stallions, and even old Napoleon. No, she would be given just a short time to frolic alone. Then Henry’s hand would be on her halter again. She was different from the others; her goal was the Kentucky Derby only five months away. Her days would be spent under saddle, jogging, galloping, and breezing. Always she would feel the weight of a rider on her back, his hands on her mouth. She would know no other life for a long, long time to come.

Henry’s hand moved against the filly’s head, shifting her balance so she was always in motion and couldn’t collect herself to rear or paw. He had led her about inside the barn many times during the past few days. She tried fewer tricks now than she had at first. Still he had to be very careful, never giving her a chance to think of anything but what he wanted her to do. He turned to Alec, standing a short distance from them.

“Did you put Satan in the barn?” he asked.

“Yes,” Alec replied, “and Napoleon is in his paddock, as you wanted.”

“How about the Black?”

“He’s in his field,” Alec said. “It’s a nice morning and I only put him out there a short while ago. He needs the exercise.”

“I guess it’ll be all right. He’s probably at the far end of the field, isn’t he?”

Alec nodded, but his eyes were on the filly. Henry had stopped moving her in those small circles. Alec waited to see what she’d do. Sure enough, her foreleg came up and she pawed the air.