The Black Stallion

the job Jimmy had expected of him, for the colt could be handled and had complete confidence in human beings, which was what Jimmy wanted. And while his task in the months to come would be that of assistant to Jimmy Creech instead of having the colt all to himself, it was the way it should be. For the colt's professional life was about to begin and he would have a part of it. He'd learn with his colt. And who knew what the future would bring them?
    Uncle Wilmer drove his old car down many residential side streets, and at last found a spot to park just a block from the main entrance to the fairgrounds. "Like I said," he mumbled when they left the car, "there's no sense in payin' those fellers. Not when you been comin' to the fair for forty-three years."
    Walking to the main gate, Aunt Emma handed her pie to Tom while she straightened her good gray dress and the black straw hat that was trimmed gaily with white flowers. Uncle Wilmer, too, fixed himself up by buttoning the collar of his blue shirt and drawing up his tie. He wore his new gray hat, but like his everyday hat, it was much too small and sat high on top of his head.
    Reaching the gate, Uncle Wilmer stopped Tom from paying his own way and struggled with his big change purse until he had enough money out of it to purchase the tickets.
    In the early-morning sun, they walked down the already crowded avenues of the fair. Tom could feel the fair as well as see it. He had forgotten the smells, the sounds and the excitement of a fair. And now they all burst upon him—the throaty bellowing of the brown-and-white Hereford cows from the nearest open sheds, the sweet fragrance of freshly cut flowers coming from a Grange building as they passed its doors, and all about them the farm people, so much like his aunt and uncle, as eager and excited as they were.
    Yet, unlike the other people who streamed in and out of the exhibits housed in the long, low buildings on each side of the avenue, his uncle and aunt never slackened their pace and cast only a quick glance into the doorways of each building while hastening by. They seemed to know where they wanted to go, and Tom followed, as anxious as they were, to get to his destination, which was the racetrack. In and out of the crowd they wound with Aunt Emma leading the way. Hawkers shouted their wares to them from small booths along the way; and even though it was early, the odor of caramel-treated popcorn balls filled the air, and fluffy cotton candy of red and white was waved in Tom's face as he hurried to keep up with his uncle and aunt.
    Finally his aunt came to a stop before a building through the doorways of which wafted the spicy smells of pastry of all kinds. She turned to her husband. "I'll meet you right here, Wilmer, at four o'clock." Even before finishing her sentence she had turned toward the door again, the pie held carefully in her hands.
    "Heh, Emma?" Uncle Wilmer cupped an ear.
    She turned upon him, and Tom saw the irritable look on her face. "I'll tell him, Aunt Emma," he said quickly.
    Nodding, she smiled tightly, and Tom knew there would be no relaxing for his aunt until the pie contest was over. She was on her way through the door, when suddenly she stopped to turn to Tom once more. "You bring your friends to supper, mind you, Tom. Won't be no trouble at all. The makings are ready."
    Tom hurried to catch up to his uncle. There was no need to ask him where he was going, for ahead and towering above the low exhibit buildings was the high-tiered grandstand of the racetrack. For a farmer, Uncle Wilmer showed only mild interest in the long rows of open sheds which housed the pedigreed cattle—the black-and-white Holstein cows, all with red and blue prize ribbons hanging proudly above them; neither did he stop when they passed the sleek black Angus steers, nor at the goat shed. Instead he made directly for the grandstand, and his eyes left it only for the flags flying over its red roof. "Time to see the cattle is later," he told Tom. "Right now they're working the horses, gettin' 'em ready for the races this afternoon."
    Tom needed no urging.
    They walked behind the grandstand toward the entrance to the paddock, through which the horses passed on their way from the stables to the track. "I always go there," Uncle Wilmer said. "You see more what's goin' on."
    "I'd better go to the stables first," Tom said. "I want to find Jimmy."
    "You think he's here now?"
    "I'm sure of it," Tom replied.
    They passed the