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to be to scare the hobbled horse out of his wits. Alec winced as the horse screamed again.
    A minute passed before Taylor noticed the young man watching him from the overlook. Slowly he let the pole slide through his fingers to the ground. He squinted up at Alec.
    â€œLooking for someone?”
    â€œI’m Alec Ramsay. Henry Dailey said …”
    â€œRamsay? What do you know! How’s Henry? I haven’t seen that ol’ horn toad in years. Is the Black with you?”
    Alec hesitated before nodding. After what he’d just seen, he almost wished he hadn’t brought the Black here at all.
    â€œGreat! Find Jim and he’ll show you to one of the far corrals. The Black’ll like it there, plenty of room. I’ll be along soon as I finish up here.” Taylor turned his attention back to the horse.
    â€œWhat are you doing there, anyway?” Alec asked.
    â€œGiving Salty Sam a confidence lesson. In here, a horse can’t be distracted. The rattle of the cans gets him used to noise, makes him manageable on a film set. Some take to it better than others. This old boy’ll come around.” Wes cackled softly.
    Alec climbed down the stairs. Could this old crackpot, with his soda cans, really be the renowned trainer Henry spoke of so highly? That sort of treatment might be all right for ranch or rodeo horses. It would never, never work with a high-strung animal like the Black.

CHAPTER 6
Rumors
    A lec went to find Jim and then set about unloading the Black. Once out of the van the Black sniffed the air. His ears pitched forward, his eyes opened wide. Alec stroked the stallion’s neck gently. Jim led the way up the driveway and followed the path running alongside the corral fence. It took them between some pine trees, then wound past more trees and back through the ranch property before ending at two empty corrals. One seemed about a quarter acre in area; the other was a bit smaller. Each had its own feed and water troughs. Sparse clumps of grass grew in splotches on the dusty ground.
    On the far side of the corrals sprawled the green lawns and opulent homes of Sagebrush Village. A broken-down fence ran the length of the ranch property. It served as a boundary line separating the ranch from Sagebrush. Jimtold Alec to take his pick of the two corrals. He gave Alec a little salute with his hand, then tramped back to the ranch house.
    Alec opened the gate to the larger corral. Unclipping the lead line, he took a firm hold on the Black’s halter. The Black uttered a muffled neigh. Alec stared up into the stallion’s eyes for a moment, wishing he could understand the nature of the thing that troubled his horse.
    â€œDon’t worry, fella,” Alec said. “We’ll shake it.” He only wished he could be as sure of that as he sounded. He gave the Black a clap on the neck and turned him loose.
    The stallion charged across the corral. He zigzagged back and forth in short bursts of speed, then slid to a stop, throwing up a spray of dust. Lowering his bulk to the ground, the Black rolled over onto his back. The stallion kicked his feet in the air and grunted with pleasure. So much for this morning’s careful grooming, Alec thought.
    Alec filled the water trough and dumped the small bucket of oats Jim had given him into the feed trough. A few minutes later Wes Taylor drove up in a golf cart. Two long lash whips were propped up behind the seat like fishing poles. He still wore his white cowboy hat. The cart coasted to a quiet stop only a few yards from where Alec stood. The Black paced around the inside of the corral in lazy circles. Wes got out and walked to the fence rail.
    A faint smile creased the old cowboy’s leather-brown face. Piercing, deep-set eyes scrutinized the stallion’s hind legs, ran along his quarters, then up the back, shoulders and neck. Finally he turned to Alec and said, “Now Iknow what’s been keeping Henry back east all these