Part 4 (2/2)

”But I don't know of any other place I could keep my horse, Mrs. Dailey.” Alec was beginning to feel desperate. ”Don't you have another stall he could use?”

”Well, I suppose the stall right next to Napoleon could be fixed up, but I haven't the time or the money to have it done. If you want to keep your horse there, you'll have to fix it yourself.”

”Sure I will, Mrs. Dailey!” said Alec happily. ”Could I keep him there tonight?”

”Oh, all right,” she gave in with a smile. ”And if you do a good job in the barn, I'll go easy on the rent.”

”That's swell of you, Mrs. Dailey. I'll do a good job all right!”

”I'll get my husband to open the gate for you,” she said. ”Henry!” she called loudly. ”He'll be down in a few minutes, I suppose. You can drive to the gate-I'll have him meet you there.”

”Thanks again, Mrs. Dailey,” said Alec. ”Thanks a million times.” He turned and leaped down the porch steps.

”She's going to let me keep him here!” he shouted as he jumped on the running board of the van.

”That's good,” answered his father.

”You're quite a salesman!” laughed Joe Russo. Alec saw that he was making notes on his pad.

”Wait until she sees what's going to stay in her barn!” said Alec's father gravely.

They drove past a high iron fence until they reached the gate. There they stopped and waited for Henry. Finally he showed up-a short, chunky man with large shoulders. He came toward them walking in jerky, bowlegged strides. His white s.h.i.+rt tails flapped in the night wind. He wiped a large hand across his mouth. ”Right with you,” he yelled. He shoved a key inside the lock and then pushed back the heavy gate; the hinges creaked as it swung open. ”Come on,” he said.

The van rolled through and went up the gravel road to the barn. The headlights shone on the large door. Henry came up behind them. ”I'll open the door,” he said, ”and you can bring him right in.”

Alec let down the side door of the van so that he could get the stallion out. He grasped the halter. ”It's your new home, Boy!” he said. Slowly he led the stallion down to the ground. The Black tossed his head and kicked up his heels.

”Look at him!” said Alec. ”He feels swell already!” He saw the men gazing admiringly at the stallion.

Henry leaned on the barn door; his eyes moved slowly over the Black. ”The Missus told me you had a horse-but I never expected one like this!” He shook his head. ”Good head, wide chest, strong legs,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Alec led the Black into the barn. In the box stall nearest the door was Napoleon, his old gray head hanging out over the stall door. He whinnied when he saw the Black and drew his head back into the stall.

”Shall I put him next to Napoleon there, Mr. Dailey?” Alec asked. ”Do you think it'll be safe? He gets pretty nervous sometimes.”

”Sure, put him there. Old Napoleon will be more of a help to him than anything-steady him down.” Henry went over to a corner of the barn and picked up a bale of straw which he carried back into the stall and spread around. ”We'll borrow some of Tony's straw for bedding. He won't mind. Now you can put him in, son,” he said. ”There are a few things that need to be fixed, but I guess it'll hold him-you can do a better job tomorrow.”

”Thanks,” Alec said.

”What are you going to feed him tonight, Alec? Did you think of that?” his father asked.

”Gee, that's right!” said Alec. ”I had forgotten!” He turned to Henry. ”Where do you think I could get some feed, Mr. Dailey?”

”Well, Tony gets his down at the feed store on the corner of Parsons and Northern, but I imagine they're closed now. But you can use some of Tony's and pay him back when you get your own.”

”Great,” answered Alec. He led the Black into the stall next to Napoleon's. It was a little run-down, but it was roomy, and Alec could tell that the stallion liked it. He stood very patiently while Alec removed his halter and rubbed him down. Then Henry handed Alec a pail of feed and Alec dumped it into the Black's box.

Old Napoleon stuck his head curiously over the board between the stalls. The Black saw him, strode over and sniffed suspiciously. Napoleon didn't move. Alec was afraid they might fight. Then the Black put his head over into Napoleon's stall and whinnied. Napoleon whinnied back.

Henry laughed. ”See, what'd I tell you? They're friends already.”

Alec left the stall, feeling more easy about the Black than at any time since they had begun the long journey home. ”I'm glad he liked Napoleon,” he said. ”Perhaps I can leave him now. He has to learn to be alone sometime.”

”He looks as though he'll be all right,” said his father. ”In fact, he seems to like it here. He isn't so wild, after all!”

”He's all right, Dad, when he gets used to things. It's just when something new upsets him that he gets out of control.”

”Well, son, let's go home and see your mother. She's probably worrying herself to death.”

Joe Russo spoke up. ”I hate to make a nuisance of myself, Mr. Ramsay, but I'd like to go along and get your son's story. It has all the earmarks of a good yarn and I certainly could use one!”

Alec's father smiled. ”Sure, it's all right. Glad to have you. This is a day of celebration for us, you know!”

Henry led the way out of the barn. Alec heard the Black's soft whistle as the light went out. Then there was silence. Henry shut the barn door.

A slight chill had crept into the air. The van had already gone. They walked slowly down the gravel road toward the gate. Henry handed Alec the key to the lock. ”You can have this, son,” he said. ”I've another up at the house, and you'll probably be coming around here a lot now.”

”Thanks, Mr. Dailey,” replied Alec. ”I certainly will.”

”That's all right-and you don't have to call me Mr. Dailey-just call me Henry like everyone does around here. Anything else seems kind of funny!”

”Right, Henry.”

Henry left them at the gate. They crossed the street and walked up toward the house. Alec saw a light on the front porch and his legs traveled faster.

”Take it easy,” said his father. ”I'm not as young as I used to be, you know!”

”I can't even keep up with that pace myself,” laughed Joe, ”and I'm still pretty young.”

”I'll meet you there,” said Alec, and he broke into a run.

He reached the house and took the porch steps two at a time. He flung himself at the door. It was unlocked; he ran into the hallway and glanced into the living room; it was empty. He put a hand on the banister and started up the stairs. Then he heard his mother's voice from the kitchen. ”Alexander, is that you?”

”Yes, Mom, it's really me,” he yelled. He ran into the kitchen and flung his arms around his mother. ”Boy, it's good to be home!” he said.

He looked up at his mother and saw that her eyes were moist. ”What's the matter, Mom? What are you crying for?”

Mrs. Ramsay smiled through her tears. ”Nothing's the matter. I'm just glad you're home, that's all.”

Alec put his lean brown arm through his mother's soft plump one, and together they went into the living room as his father and Joe Russo came in from outdoors.

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