The Black Stallion

can do is to come as soon as possible after the birth, if you need me. And the chances are that you won't."
    "If I paid you for the whole week would you come now?" Tom asked hesitantly.
    Picking up some papers from his desk, the doctor replied brusquely. "It's not the money. It wouldn't be fair to all the farmers who really need me. If you want me after the foal is born, call and I'll get there as soon as I can. If I happen to be out, just leave the message with my wife."
    The veterinarian had picked up his telephone, and Tom knew that this was the end of their conversation. He was walking toward the door when the doctor called to him, his voice soft once more. "See that your mare gets enough exercise, and keep your eye on her at night. They usually have them at night, at the most unreasonable hours. And if you're so sure it'll be this week—"
    "I'm sure," Tom said. "Quite sure."
    He had the door open when the veterinarian called again. "Leave everything to nature. And don't worry. Don't worry at all."
    It was three miles from town to the farm, and all the way back Tom kept thinking, "
Don't worry," everyone tells me. "There's nothing to it." Even Jimmy said there's nothing to it. But how can 1 help worrying when there's so much at stake? Perhaps I'm not made for this type of thing. Everyone else is so casual about it. A few weeks ago, back at Coronet, maybe I was casual, too. But it's different now that the mare's time is so close at hand and she's my responsibility. That's it, she's my responsibility. I wouldn't want anything to happen to the Queen or to her foal. And now I'm alone. It's up to me. It's what I wanted. But I'm wondering whether I can shoulder all this responsibility. I guess that's why I wanted to have a veterinary around. I didn't want to go it alone. I lack confidence in myself. I might as well admit it
.
    But there's Uncle Wilmer
, Tom thought eagerly.
He'll be around. I've got him to turn to. He doesn't understand a horse as finely bred as the Queen, but he's had workhorses and cows that have given birth here at the farm, and he'll know what to do
.
    Tom's pace quickened as he reached the lane. Having thought it all out, having decided to put his faith in Uncle Wilmer should have made him feel better, but it didn't. He knew that somehow he had let himself down, and let Jimmy Creech down, too. He lacked confidence in himself. He was groping for someone's hand. First it had been the veterinary's and now his uncle's. It wasn't the way he had thought it would be or planned—or the way Jimmy had planned. Jimmy had placed the Queen in his hands,
not
in those of Uncle Wilmer.
    Upon reaching the farm, he saw the Queen grazing in the pasture. He called to her and she raised her head, the white blaze standing out vividly against her dark-brown face. She whinnied, then went back to her grazing.
    Tom went to the barn and picked up a longe line. Carrying it, he went back to the pasture. He had reached the gate when his uncle appeared at the door of the chicken house. Tom waved to him but said nothing. His uncle called to him.
    Tom waited while Uncle Wilmer came toward him, walking in his slow, loping way with one hand, as usual, bent behind his back.
    "What you goin' to do?"
    Tom raised the line. Uncle Wilmer knew perfectly well what he was going to do, yet every day since the Queen had arrived he'd asked that same question when Tom had gone into the field. The boy turned away, knowing that his uncle would follow him, watching as he always did while Tom worked the Queen on the longe.
    Tom went up to the mare and snapped the line to her halter; then he backed away until the line was extended its full length. Uncle Wilmer was standing a few feet behind him. "You'll have to get farther back," Tom shouted. Ever day he had told his uncle the same thing.
    The Queen stopped grazing when Tom shook the line. And at the first sound of his clucking, she moved into a trot, slowly encircling the boy.
    Tom pivoted with her, his eyes never leaving the mare's heavy, cumbersome body. He kept her at a slow trot for a long time before letting her come to a stop. Then he went to her, unclipping the line. The Queen moved away.
    "If I was working my land again, I'd see that she got plenty of exercise, all right." The words were spoken by Uncle Wilmer, who was standing directly behind Tom.
    Tom neither turned around nor said anything.
    A shout came from the woods at the far end of the meadow, and Tom recognized the voice of Mrs.