Here the Black had ten acres for his very own. Reaching the fence gate, Alec opened it. There was no holding the stallion now; all he wanted was to be set free.

“Easy, boy. Easy,” Alec said, turning him loose.

The Black lunged and bolted across the field, his head held high, his body stretched out with tail fanning the wind. Alec watched him until he disappeared down the hillside.

Even Satan couldn’t match his speed, he said to himself, now or ever.

But no one knew, not even Henry. The Black had raced just once, long ago. Most people had forgotten him just as they’d forget Satan in time. Next year there would be another horse which would win the acclaim of racegoers and newspapers and magazines. But here, at Hopeful Farm, life would go on pretty much as always for the Black and himself, for the mares and foals.

Alec returned to the stallion barn but didn’t go inside. Instead he stood before it, his gaze moving to the three mares in the rolling pasture across the driveway. They were all in foal to the Black and in the months to come might produce a colt or a filly as great as he had been.

Beyond the broodmare barn was still another fenced field and in the distance he could see the mares’ three weanlings at play. All were colts. Next January they’d be yearlings, and the following year they would be preparing to race as two-year-olds. Henry would be most happy then, for he would have complete charge of their training. But what would Henry do between now and then with no Satan to race? He could perform endless chores on the farm but he wouldn’t be happy away from the track. He had spent too many years training to be content taking care of the mares and their youngsters.

The great rumbling of a truck interrupted Alec’s thoughts. It was coming along in the distance, its ponderous size claiming the county road for its very own. Alec smiled when he saw it. Nothing but the best for Satan, he thought. Henry had hired a six-horse van to bring Satan and Napoleon home.

Alec started for the paddock gate. He knew that Henry would have the van stop there. And Satan would be allowed to run for a while to get the kinks out of his legs after his trip.

The van turned carefully into the driveway, its high roof striking the branches of the low-hanging trees which grew on either side. As it came closer, Alec could make out the faces of the two men in the cab and he knew that Henry, as always, was back in the van with his horses. Finally the truck came to a stop. The top half of the side door was already open and Henry’s white head emerged as he shouted directions to the drivers. He waved to Alec, then disappeared within.

The two men left the cab to help Alec lower the wooden gangplank from the door of the van to the ground.

“Easy trip?” Alec asked them.

“Never easy with Henry,” one said. “He treats his horses better than their own mothers would. But we’re used to him by now.”

“He won’t let us go over thirty at any time,” the other said. “An’ we always have to hog the road, riding the crown, so as not to jostle ’em.”

The first man nodded in agreement. “Anyone tryin’ to pass us always has a job.