Black Stallion's Shadow by Steven Farley Page B

Mike?”
    â€œI’ll be all right.”
    Ellie sat down on the edge of the bed. Picking up the ice pack, she poked at Mike’s swollen ankle.
    â€œOuch!”
    â€œSure you don’t want to see a doctor about that?”
    â€œNope. I wouldn’t even be in here if Wes hadn’t ordered me to.”
    â€œWell, nothing’s happening, anyway. Frank moved the crew to the studio for the rest of the day.”
    â€œHow’d the other horses in the team make out?”
    â€œThe vet’s coming over later to take a look. They seem okay. But we don’t know about Dousette yet. He’s still at the hospital.”
    â€œWhat happened to Kramer?”
    â€œOh, he’s fine and dandy. Just a few scrapes. Kramer must be the luckiest guy in all of Hollywood. I doubt that he’ll be up for any barrel riding for a few days, though.”
    As Ellie and Mike talked, Alec looked around the room. Mike’s trailer was small, about the same size as Alec’s. Every square inch of wall space was papered with publicity stills and cutouts from movie and horse magazines. On a shelf by the window were a half-dozen gold- and silver-plated belt buckles, trophies won for bronc riding, roping and other rodeo events. A movie poster from the John Wayne Western
Stagecoach
hung on the back of the door.
    Among the pictures Alec noticed a fading, dog-eared photo clipped from a newspaper. There was no caption beneath the photo, but it appeared to be Mike receiving a trophy at a rodeo. Alec recognized something familiar about the guy in the floppy hat presenting the trophy but couldn’t quite place him.
    The front door opened and Jim poked his nose inside. “Howdy, Mike. You feeling better?”
    Mike gave him a sidelong glance. “Hey, what is this, open house?”
    â€œJust came to see if there’s anything I could do.”
    Mike muttered something under his breath. Ellie took the hint. It seemed that they’d overstayed their welcome. “Sorry, Mike. We’ll leave you be.” She shooed Jim away and closed the door behind them.
    â€œHe seems all right,” Alec said.
    Ellie nodded. “Mike’s funny sometimes. You never can tell what he’s really thinking. He always has to play the tough guy, the hero.”
    Jim thumped his chest. “I’d of done what he did myself if I could have.”
    Ellie smiled and nudged Alec. “Sure you would, Jim.”
    Jim’s face lit up with anger and pride. “You doubt it? I’m not that old, missy. I’d put myself on the line for this place any day of the week.”
    Ellie’s voice gentled. “We know you would, Jim.”
    Alec saw Wes sitting on a bench outside the doorway to the tack room. The old cowboy waved them over. He looked tired. New lines of worry marked his face. He’d just finished speaking on the phone with someone at the hospital. Dousette was still unconscious.
    Jim scratched his chin. “Poor Louie. Funny the way Kramer’s partners end up taking the fall when things get tough. Kramer always manages to scrape by, though.”
    Wes nodded. “We’re just lucky Kramer’s still in one piece after that wagon crackup. At least he’ll be able to be around for that PSA. But without Dousette, I don’t know how we’re going to pull it off.”
    â€œHis part wasn’t that tough, was it?”
    â€œNo, but even so, I don’t know who we can get to fill in for him on such short notice.”
    Ellie shook her head. “At this point, I wonder if it’ll make any difference. After what happened to Joey, it just might be too late to smooth things out with the Humane Council.”
    A black-and-white police cruiser turned off the road out front. Jim turned to watch it. “What’s O’Brien doing here?” Wes told him about finding the cut stitches in the wagon harness.
    Jim didn’t believe any of it. “What!” he