Black Stallion's Shadow by Steven Farley Page A

old fella.”
    Julio crossed himself and rubbed his foot through the dirt. “
Adiós, amigo.
” The two wranglers shouldered their rakes and shovels and carried them back to the Jeep. Alec followed after them.
    Alec heard the sound of a Jeep coming up the trail. The Jeep drove out into the box canyon. It came closer and parked near the overturned wagon. Ellie got out and ran over to Wes.
    Alec guessed she had heard what had happened from the crew. He wondered what Ellie thought about it all. Before the wagon crash, he’d been inclined to doubt her suspicions of sabotage on
Drover Days.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
    Everyone gathered beside the wagon. Wes fingered the frayed ends of the two broken harness lines. Ellie stood back from the others, and her intense gaze shifted between Wes and the lines.
    Patrick and Julio crowded around to get a better look at the pieces of broken leather. Their voices hushed to whispers as the lines were passed from hand to hand.
    â€œWill you look at that?”
    â€œWell, I’ll be.”
    When the reins reached her, Ellie took a close look at the torn strips of leather. She shook her head and handed the lines to Alec. He ran his fingers over the leather.
    Alec pointed to the frayed stitches. “It just looks worn through,” he said.
    â€œYeah, almost too worn, as if someone distressed the leather on purpose,” she said.
    â€œYou mean someone scuffed it up just to make it look worn out?”
    Ellie nodded. “When I worked in wardrobe one summer, we did it all the time. It’s easy to make new things look old.”
    She pointed out a two-inch-long section on either side of the broken line. “See there? It could have been cut apart and then loosely sewn back together, like a prop that’s supposed to break.” Alec saw that some of the stitches were split cleanly in half. Only a sharp knife or razor could have made such a cut.
    Wes frowned. “I should have caught it. I should have checked out the wagon and tack this morning.”
    â€œDon’t start blaming yourself, Wes,” said Patrick. “What happened to Joey wasn’t your fault.” Julio nodded in agreement.
    â€œMaybe not, but Ellie has a point. Those stitches look cut. Anyone can see that. It looks like someone set us up.”
    â€œSo what are we going to do about it?” asked Ellie.
    â€œFor one thing, I’m going to call the sheriff as soon as we get back home. Maybe he can figure this thing out for us.”
    Everyone started back to the ranch. Alec boosted himself up onto the Black and started to the head of the trail. Ellie was right, he thought. It looked like someonewanted to stop
Drover Days
and didn’t care who got hurt in the process.
    The wagon crash wasn’t some harmless prank. It had left a horse dead, a wagon destroyed and sent at least one actor on his way to the hospital. Yet even with the reins as evidence, they weren’t any closer to finding out who was behind the sabotage than they were before the accident.
    Alec squeezed his legs and pressed the Black into a gallop. He needed to lose himself in that familiar surge of speed, let the rush of wind in his face clear his mind. The thunder of hoofbeats filled his ears. He felt nothing but the oneness with his horse. For a few brief seconds, everything else was swept away.

CHAPTER 13
A Helping Hand
    A lec left the Black in his corral. He walked over to the house and sat on the porch steps. The ranch, which had looked like a crowded parking lot earlier that morning, was quiet again. Ellie came out of the office and called to Alec, “Let’s go see how Mike’s doing. I’m a little worried about him.”
    Ellie gave a rap on the door to Mike’s trailer and walked inside. Mike was stretched out in bed. He sat up, glanced at his visitors, then reached down to adjust an ice pack wrapped around his left ankle.
    â€œHow you feeling,