The Black's Chaser

Rose G

Disclaimer - Some of these characters are the property of Walter Farley, the new characters are mine, while most of the English settings and horses exist or are based on real people or horses.

Dedicated to Ambrook Hollyhocks 'Holly' 1964-5.4.2002

Alec pursed his lips as he stood looking at the stocky black colt that Henry held. His dam, a young bay mare was looking back at him as if daring him to be rude about her first foal.

'Henry, why do you like that colt so much? He's heavy; heavier than Satan was when he arrived here, and he was only just fast enough for the six, seven furlongs. That one looks like he'll be too slow for the sprints and too heavy for the longer races. And with that build, he'll be four or five before he's full grown and miss all the classics.'

The white haired man shook his head sorrowfully. 'Look at him, Alec.' He gestured to the little colt. 'He was born on the night that Black died, the only foal born that night even though it was right in the middle of the foaling season. He's the first pure black we've had foaled since Black Minx - all Satan's line threw the white face and once we'd put Baby to Wintertime, we got a line with three white feet. Doesn't that count for anything at all?'

'Henry, you've always said that this is a business and you can't afford to be sentimental. He isn't the type we want, so let's sell him as an eventer or heavy hunter or something. He'll fetch good money because of his breeding.'

'I may be getting old, Alec but there's something special about this colt. And you, the boy who found the best stallion to come out of Arabia until they sent Dubai Millennium over here, in a shipwreck, won the Triple Crown with his son and the Derby with his daughter, you won't accept something like this? Don't you believe in anything special anymore, not in fate and dreams coming true?'

'No, Henry. I gave up on all that a long while ago. He's just another colt, nothing special.'

'Alec, don't you remember what it was like when he was born? Just before the Black died, and the sunlight was blazing down, then the stars come out for Black. Sun and stars go together, this colt and Black go together. You've got the Black's last gift to you there, Alec, and you can either keep him or sell him. It's up to you.'

Alec rubbed the mare's forehead with his right hand, waving to his son with the other. Tony was grooming his pony, hissing through his teeth as he did do and pulling faces at his dad. 'Have you named him yet, Henry? We can't sell him without a name.'

'He was named the day he was born, Alec. He's the Black all over again, and his name should show that. You see him and Tony there are the future, you and Black were the beginning and me and Satan built everything up. You name that colt and remember what I said.'

Alec frowned. 'Call him...call him... Black's Gift. Black's Gift, by Hellhound, out of Irkab Alwaha, by Barq. Will that do?'

Henry nodded. 'Great.' He let the two day old colt go, smiling as he bolted across the paddock in a tangle of legs, fly bucking for all he was worth with Irkab Alwaha by his side. 'I'm going to help Tony sort his bit of the tack room out. He dropped a bran mash in there earlier.'

Alec felt his jaw drop. 'That son of mine's a menace. Why did he have a bran mash in the tack room anyway?'

'Apparently, he was going to throw it at his sister.' Henry laughed and walked off, an elderly figure now, bow legged with thinning snow-white hair but still with a ready laugh and endless ideas. Sarah joined him when they were nearly out of sight, and he had to smile at the sight of his wife.

His attention went back to the colt, Black's Gift, he reminded himself, as the little colt fell back to a trot, then began to badger his dam for milk. It had been in that field where Black had died and in that field, according to Henry where his successor now played. 'I don't know colt. Whatever Henry says, you've got to go. I can't afford to keep you anyway, even if you were fast enough.'

Across the stud farm, Henry said to Sarah 'Whatever Alec says, that colt has got to stay.'

Irkab Alwaha - Arabic, meaning 'Ride the Wind.'

Barq - Arabic, meaning 'Lightening'