The Black Stallion

Jimmy."
    Jimmy Creech said no more, and Tom only turned away from the window when George spoke again.
    "You want to get better, don't you Jimmy? You want to drive the colt, don't you? Tom said Bonfire's ready for anything you want to do with him."
    "You know I do," Jimmy said weakly. "If I could have just one good horse… to see him—" He stopped, his gaze fixed on the table. "But it's no go, George," he added. "It takes money to feed and race him. And I haven't much left."
    "But I've a little more," George said. "We can do anything we want if you just stop worryin' about it."
    "And I have a hundred dollars in my savings account," Tom said. "It's yours, Jimmy."
    "I don't want to take—" the man started to say. But George stopped him, his voice firm again.
    "The colt is ours as much as yours. We're not giving
you
anything. We're thinkin' of the colt, aren't we, Tom?"
    The boy nodded while Jimmy said, "Yes, he belongs to both of you… as much as he does to me."
    "Then if he's ours we share responsibility with you," George said quickly. "And none of us are goin' to do any more worryin' about anything. You're going to get better, Jimmy. From now on you're listening to Tom and me jus' like we have to listen to you about training the colt. And I'm sayin' that you're
going
to see Doc Morton with me tomorrow. We're goin' to get that list of food you should eat an' the medicine. You're goin' to listen to us, Jimmy. We're taking over, startin' now. Spit out that gum you're chewin'. You know you shouldn't be doing it."
    A flush rose quickly to Jimmy's face, but he removed the gum from his mouth and threw it in a pail. "Okay, George," he said quietly. "We'll try it your way from now on."
    The following day Jimmy obediently accompanied George to the office of Dr. Morton in Pittsburgh. And late that afternoon, George returned to the stables alone.
    "I sent him home early," George said, seeing the startled look on Tom's face.
    "What'd the doctor say?"
    "He said the X-rays of his stomach showed that Jimmy needed complete rest, either in a hospital or at home."
    "But Jimmy wouldn't listen?"
    "No, nothin' the doc said would keep Jimmy away from here for a good long time like the doc wanted. And I couldn't ask him to do that either. But he was scared, so he said he'd stay home a few days each week. And that was more'n I expected to hear Jimmy say."
    "Jimmy must be scared," Tom said. "He really must be."
    This was even more evident during the weeks that followed, for when Jimmy came to the stables he let Tom do all the work with the colt, and was content to tell him what to do with Bonfire and to watch them. His admiration for the colt and Tom's handling him, together with the strict diet and less work, were responsible for Jimmy's better health. He had stomach pains but his attacks were less severe and at longer intervals.
    A week before school opened, Jimmy told Tom to sit behind Bonfire.
    "It's time to start going with him," Jimmy said, turning over the lines to Tom. "But just jog him. Nothing more.''
    "But, Jimmy, it's his first time. Don't you want to—"
    "You mean you're afraid of what he might do, Tom?"
    "Oh, no, Jimmy," the boy returned quickly. "I know him too well for that. He won't make a wrong move. It's just that… well, I mean… it'll be so good to sit behind him, to be the very first one. You should—"
    Jimmy shielded the softness that came to his eyes by sweeping his hand over the small bandage which now was the only evidence of his accident. "Sure, it'll be good," he said with forced harshness. "That's why I want you to be behind him. He's yours as much as mine… maybe even more. You're both learnin' together and I'll be happy if I can do a good job on each of you." Going to Bonfire's head, he added quickly, "Get goin' now an' I'll be watching. Make it two miles at a slow jog. We'll start him easy an' later work up to six miles. We'll concentrate on building up his wind and stamina now and go for speed in the spring."
    Tom took his seat. He said nothing to Jimmy, and spoke only to Bonfire through the long lines.
    "You set, Tom?" Jimmy asked impatiently.
    The boy moved his head in agreement; then Jimmy released the colt and Bonfire moved onto the track at Tom's unspoken command.
    He took him the wrong way around the track, the same as he'd always done, well knowing that the only time they'd turn him the right way around would be for a speed-workout. Bonfire would then know that turning meant racing and all-out