Black Stallion's Shadow Read Online Free PDF

side of the drive and pulled to a stop.
    To the left, a dirt driveway split the ranch in two, running past horse pens and corrals. Alec saw no barns at all, just a cluster of small wooden buildings, most little more than sheds with aluminum roofs. Their Spanish-style design kept them open to the breezes, something possible only in a warm climate. This was hardly the Hollywood showplace Alec had imagined from all Henry had said about Wes Taylor. It looked more like a small working ranch.
    Alec switched off the motor and climbed out of the van. A canopy of leaves rustled lazily overhead. A dozen or so people were working in a corral at the far end of the ranch. Alec wondered if Wes Taylor was with them. He walked up the dirt driveway to find out.
    Henry had mentioned that a television crew was shooting some scenes for
Drover Days
at the ranch. This must be the crew. Some of them coiled thick black cables that snaked along the ground. Others folded metal stands and tripods or dismantled cameras.
    â€œHey there, young fella,” a voice called from behind him. Alec turned as a man appeared at the ranch house door and waved him over. He was short, round and fifty-ish, wearing a red baseball cap and a long, soup-stained apron.
    â€œCan I help you?” he asked, his voice reverberating with a Texas twang.
    â€œI’m Alec Ramsay. Wes Taylor is supposed to be expecting me.”
    A flash of recognition sparked in the man’s eyes. “Well, I’ll be. I thought Wes was pulling my leg when he said you might be stopping by. Boy, that was some race yesterday! Saw it on the news last night. Too bad about the colt.”
    The man climbed down the porch steps and wiped his hand off on his apron. He gave Alec a firm handshake. “Jim Culpepper. Pleasure meeting you.” He glanced over at the van. “The Black?”
    Alec nodded. Jim’s eyes widened. “How d’ya like that?” He shuffled to the back of the van and peeked over the rear half-doors. “Never thought I’d get a chance to see him.”
    Alec smiled proudly. Jim craned his neck, trying to get a closer look at the Black. After a moment he said, “I believe Wes’s over in his schoolhouse. Come on, I’ll show you.”
    Jim led Alec up the driveway. Just before reaching the crowded corral, Jim turned right. A narrow dirt path ran alongside the corral’s split-rail fence. Midway along the fence they veered off on another path between more oaks and eucalyptus. In a clearing hidden among the trees stood something that looked like a huge wooden above-ground swimming pool. Rickety stairs ran along one part of the high wooden walls. A walkway rimmed the upper edge.
    Alec had no idea what it was. The fifteen-foot walls kept him from seeing inside, but he could hear noises from within, a clattering sound mixed with a horse’s blowing breath. It sounded as if the horse had just finished a heavy workout.
    Jim pointed Alec toward the stairs and said, “Go on up. I best be getting back to the kitchen—or lunch’ll be later than it already is.” Jim turned to leave, and Alec thanked him for his help.
    As Alec started slowly up the stairs, something heaved against the wall from inside. An unnerving squeal cut through the air. He reached the top of the stairs and looked down into the ring below. A big bay gelding cowered beside the wall. Hobbles made of thick rope ran from leg to leg and kept the horse from moving except to keep his balance. Nervous tremors rippled across the bay’s coat, which was dark and slick with sweat. His ears lay flat against his head. Fear-widened eyes stared fixedly at the man standing before him—presumably Wes Taylor.
    Taylor was lean as a wolf. He wore a stiff white cowboy hat and held a six-foot pole with a string of soda cans wired to the end. He shook the cans around the horse’s head, then rubbed them on the horse’s neck, back and legs. The sole purpose seemed