The Island Stallion Races (15 page)

Finally in a distant field Flame found the kind of grass he wanted. He grazed for many minutes while Steve watched him, wondering why this particular plot appealed to him when the grass looked no greener, no different from that which he had scorned before.

Flame grazed until he had had his fill, then he stepped forward again, his head still bent close to the ground. To Steve, who was following, Flame’s actions seemed strange, since he was certain the stallion was not looking for more grass. Finally he saw what it was that Flame wanted.

The red stallion stopped before a shallow, sandy depression in the ground. Then he pulled on the lines.

Steve smiled and dropped the lines, turning Flame loose. Carefully the stallion lowered his great body and swung over on his back. He rolled from one side to another as only a slim, fit horse could do. He kicked and grunted with sheer pleasure for many minutes before getting to his feet again.

Steve, observing Flame’s dusty red coat, laughed and said, “Now I
do
hope Jay brought along a brush for you. Before it wasn’t so very necessary but now it is.”

But Flame wasn’t listening to him. He started off before Steve had finished, pulling impatiently.

“It’d be easier if I rode you,” Steve said. He began looking for a place from which to mount. Flame needed the exercise. It would help matters the rest of the day if the red stallion got rid of some of his energy now.

They reached the top of a knoll and the waters of the Caribbean were before them. It was not an empty sea, for a group of fishing boats had put out from the village. They rode in a long line of brilliantly colored sails. The boats changed course just before reaching a point opposite Steve, and headed for the reef over which the waves were breaking. After they had passed through a channel and were well out to sea they spread out, moving southward.

The sun was just breaking over the horizon when Steve led Flame down the path to the beach. Flame jumped when his hoofs touched the sand for the first time but he did not pull away. He pawed the deep, granular softness of the sand, flailing it about him. Steve got out of the way, and managed to get Flame near a high rock. He stepped onto it quickly and was on Flame’s back while the stallion was still occupied with the sand.

Flame whirled when he felt Steve’s weight, and his legs sent the sand flying still more. It peppered his belly, and he bolted to get away from it. But the footing was too soft for swiftness of gait. Also, Steve held the lines tight; he didn’t want his horse to go all out just then.

Far down the beach Steve guided Flame close to the waters where the waves had made the sand more firm. Here Flame sought more line but Steve wouldn’t give it to him. The stallion snorted and shook his head. Then he bolted and for a few seconds he was free!

Steve had no intention of letting Flame continue his extended run, and finally he was able to turn the stallion’s head toward the sea. Flame swerved away from the rush of waters, and Steve continued turning him. He rode him in a large circle that took them back to the sea again. After he had done this several times, Flame came to an abrupt, plunging halt.

Steve said, “That’s enough.”

Flame was no longer interested in running anyway. He picked up his feet high as the white, curling waves rushed to meet him. And he let them catch him, striking out playfully as the water rounded his legs. Then he became more daring, chasing each wave as it rolled back.

For many minutes Steve let Flame play with the sea, then his hands and legs moved, telling his horse what he wanted him to do. Flame was reluctant to leave the waves but he turned away, obediently going down the beach at a slow gallop.

Steve dismounted near the house. Was Jay up? he wondered. It was getting late. He didn’t look forward to his trip to Havana today but there were many things he needed to know. Would he and Flame race tomorrow or would they, instead, be returning to Blue Valley?

Reaching the side door of the house, he called loudly, “Jay, are you up?”

“Come in, Steve. Come in.”

The door opened and Jay was standing in the entrance, wearing pajamas and bathrobe. “Oh, my, you can’t go anywhere without him, can you? Put Flame in his stall, Steve, and then come back. I’m just getting breakfast.”

“I won’t leave him alone,” Steve said.

“My! Hasn’t he settled down yet? He
looks
settled.”

“We’ve been out.”

“So early?” Jay asked. “Well, have it your way, Steve. I’ll bring breakfast to you.”

“I don’t like to have you waiting on me.”

“No trouble at all, Steve. Glad to do it, really.”

“Did you bring a brush?”

“I don’t use one, Steve.”

“I mean for Flame.”

“Oh, of course. It’s in my bag. Forgetful of me not to have given it to you last night. I’ll bring it along, Steve.”

As Steve led Flame back to the shed, he realized that he was very reluctant to leave his horse alone with Jay while he went to Havana. Why, Jay might just go off and forget all about Flame … not intentionally, of course.

A little later Steve heard footsteps outside the shed. He turned as the door opened, and he said, “Jay, you mustn’t forget …” Then he stopped abruptly, for it wasn’t Jay whom he saw.

A thin, sallow face peered around the door, small eyes bright and searching. Steve’s muscles tensed. He was certain the man had not expected to find any person inside the shed. But apparently the stranger knew
about Flame, for he cast a quick interested glance at the stallion. Then his beady eyes fixed themselves on Steve.

“What do you want?” Steve asked.

The door opened wider and the man stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He wore a torn cotton shirt and his thick black hair grew far down on the sides of his head. Moving noiselessly on bare feet, he took several steps forward, both hands outstretched and shoulders hunched.

Steve moved toward him, very tense but unafraid. No one was going to get at Flame, and this man was no bigger than himself … and apparently unarmed. “What do you want?” he repeated.

Only when the stranger was less than a foot away did he speak, and then it was in Spanish, which Steve did not understand. But the man’s actions made it plain that he was determined to reach Flame. His eyes were on the stallion, and he took another step closer to the stall door.

As Flame snorted, Steve attempted to stop the man. He saw the stranger’s hand go quickly to his back pocket. He was certain the man was reaching either for a knife or a gun. He jumped on him, his fingers digging into the man’s wrist and around it, imprisoning the hand within the pocket. His free arm swept around the thin chest, while his legs struck the stranger’s stiff knees, bringing him down hard on the floor. He brought the man’s other arm back, doubling it behind him and twisting it.

The stranger struggled but Steve did not release his grip; instead he tightened it even more, conscious only of a frenzy to protect his horse.

Suddenly the door opened and Jay entered, carrying
a tray of fried eggs, toast, bacon and a pot of coffee. When he saw the two struggling figures he almost dropped the tray. “What is it, Steve?” he shouted. “What’s happening here?”

“Don’t stand there!” Steve shouted back, for the man had managed to get one hand free.

Jay moved toward them, but he didn’t put down the tray. Instead he bent over awkwardly to look at the stranger’s lowered face. Then he asked in surprise,
“Qué es, Juan?”

A torrent of angry Spanish words burst forth from the stranger while Steve sought to regain his hold of him. “Don’t stand there, Jay!” he called again. “Put down that tray and help.”

But Jay was laughing so he could hardly stop. Meanwhile Flame was screaming and the stranger was still shouting. Only Steve was quiet, furiously quiet.

Finally Jay managed to stop laughing. He spilled some coffee on his bathrobe and proceeded to wipe it off while he said to Steve, “Let him go. He’s our
neighbor
!”

Steve kept tight hold of the man. “I don’t care,” he said savagely. “He tried to get to Flame!”

“What’s wrong with feeding Flame a carrot?” Jay asked, starting to laugh again. He pried Steve’s hand loose from the man’s wrist, and withdrew a large carrot from the stranger’s back pocket. Holding it directly in front of Steve’s face, he said patiently, “Now let him go, Steve. He says you’re hurting him very much and he’s
furious
.”

Steve’s arms dropped quickly to his sides, and he said, “I’m sorry. If only he’d told me.”

The stranger leaned forward till their noses were almost touching, and Steve understood only the anger in the renewed outburst. Turning helplessly to Jay, he pleaded, “Tell him I didn’t know, that I’m sorry.”

Jay chuckled. “I guess Juan realizes by now that you don’t understand Spanish.” He took the man by the arm and led him to the door. Even after they were outside Steve heard and
felt
the visitor’s wrath.

Later Jay returned to the shed and they ate breakfast in silence. Only when their plates were wiped clean did Jay say, “You’re a very suspicious young fellow, Steve.”

“I think I had a right to be,” Steve answered.

“I suppose so since you don’t understand Spanish,” Jay agreed. “Juan lives just down the road, sort of a farmer-caretaker more than a fisherman. I met him yesterday. It was he who had the key to this place and showed me around, even did our marketing for us. I told him we’d have a horse here today. He loves them but can’t afford one of his own.”

Steve looked up from his plate, his eyes angry. “Don’t make it any harder for me, Jay. I said I’m sorry, and I meant it.”

“I apologize,” Jay said kindly. “However, I just feel that you’re going to get yourself into a lot of trouble by being so suspicious of these people. Or you’ll make them suspicious of us by your very actions, and that’s worse. Take it easy, Steve. You don’t see me getting upset, and I’ve a lot more to conceal than you have.”

Steve rose from the bale of straw and went to
Flame. “You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m not very good at pretending to be what I’m not.”

Jay laughed. “That’s understandable, Steve. You’ve never had occasion to do it before. Now take me, I’m an old hand at this sort of thing. And the first rule, Steve, is never to be put on the defensive. Take the offensive right away. Make it plain that you’re a man of action, a man …”

Steve interrupted, smiling for the first time. “Didn’t I do that?” he asked.

“Of course, Steve. But you didn’t even know what Juan wanted here.” Jay shook his head sadly. “I’m really afraid you’re going to get yourself into a terrible jam in Havana today by not understanding Spanish. Perhaps …” He turned and faced Steve without completing his sentence.

Steve said, “You really want to go in my place, don’t you? That’s why you talked about my being so suspicious of the people here.”

“Oh, no, Steve,” Jay replied. “I’ll gladly stay with Flame. Unless, of course, you’d
prefer
my going. And I’ll tell you one thing, if I go no one will put anything over on me. I’ll see that you race, all right.” He stopped, waiting hopefully, his eyes never leaving the boy.

Steve went over to Flame, and as he stood close to him he remembered his earlier concern at leaving him alone with Jay. “Okay, Jay,” he said. “I guess you
are
better equipped to go.”

The little man jumped nimbly in the air, bringing the heels of his leather slippers together with a soft little click. “I’ll get dressed and leave right away, Steve!” He rushed to the door, then stopped and turned around. “I
do hope you won’t be bored being left alone. I’ll get back just as soon as I can.”

Steve waited until the door closed behind Jay, then he turned to his horse. Bored? He had Flame for company, and there was a lot to think about. Tomorrow they might be going to Havana themselves.

Jay was in no hurry to reach Havana once he had left Steve and Flame behind. He was enjoying his close contact with people from Earth and their acceptance of him as one of their own. He was happy, too, over the way he had handled Steve. Of course, everything he had said was quite true. With his background he could handle the racetrack officials far better than an inexperienced boy. However, there was no need to think of that little job just yet. All that mattered now was that he was on his own and could enjoy himself as much as he liked.

He had been standing in the aisle of the crowded Havana-bound bus for a long while, and his fine black homburg hat had been knocked off his head several times. But he had taken the jostling from the other passengers very well. In fact, he had joked about it to those standing close by. At first they hadn’t laughed with him, feeling perhaps that he was not one of them. Oh, not
that they knew he was from Alula. Indeed not, nothing like that. Rather it was his clothes—his fine dark hat, suit and tie and his white shirt with the stiff collar—these and the silver-handled cane he carried must have given them the impression that he was a very wealthy man, and they had been afraid to joke with him.

All this had changed, however, when a sudden stop had thrown him down hard to the floor, and a very fat woman had landed on top of him. Of course she had hurt him dreadfully, and he must have looked ridiculous while two grinning men had pulled the lady to her feet. Everyone had laughed at his frightful predicament. After that it had been easy to get along with them.

Halfway to Havana he found that most passengers were changing buses, and he decided to go along with these very nice people.

“But you were going to the city,” the man next to him said in very bad Spanish. “This is not the way. We go to work in the factories.”

“I’ll go along,” Jay said quietly, slurring his Spanish, just as the man had done. “I’m in no hurry, and I enjoy your company very much.”

The man shook his head sadly but smiled at the same time. The other passengers too, Jay noted, were pleased that he was accompanying them, for they called out and made very pleasant remarks to him.

The other bus was waiting for them and he was very flattered when his new friends insisted upon his having a seat this time.