United States or Nigeria ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He looked kind of thoughtful then, an' I knew what was comin'....'How's the King? 'Grand' I told him 'grand. 'When is them races comin' off? I said we hadn't planned the time yet, but it would be soon inside of a month or two. 'Brackton, he said, sharp-like, 'is Bostil goin' to pull a gun on me at sight? 'Reckon he is, I told him.
Slone stepped back, forgotten, it seemed to him. Both joy and sorrow swayed him. He had been exonerated. But this hard and gloomy Creech he knew things. And Slone thought of Lucy. "Who did cut thet thar boat loose?" demanded Brackton, incredulously. Creech gave him a strange glance. "As I was sayin', we come on the boat fast at the head of the long stretch. I seen the cables had been cut.
The girl's worried these days, Slone.... You see, you haven't been around, an' you don't know what's comin' off." "Brackton was here to-day an' he told me a good deal. I'm worried, too," said Slone, dejectedly. "Thet hoss of yours, Wildfire, he's enough to make you hated in Bostil's camp, even if you hadn't made a fool of yourself, which you sure have." Slone dropped his head as admission.
"Bostil, I 'most forgot," went on Brackton, "Cordts sent word by the Piutes who come to-day thet he'd be here sure." Bostil's face subtly changed. The light seemed to leave it. He did not reply to Brackton did not show that he heard the comment on all sides. Public opinion was against Bostil's permission to allow Cordts and his horse-thieves to attend the races. Bostil appeared grave, regretful.
"No, Joel 'ain't said a word about the boat," replied Creech. "What about it?" "It was cut loose jest before the flood." Manifestly Brackton expected this to be staggering to Creech. But he did not even show surprise. "There's a rider here named Slone a wild-hoss wrangler," went on Brackton, "an' Joel swears this Slone cut the boat loose so's he'd have a better chance to win the race.
"Blue Roan an' Peg, by Creech; Whitefoot, by Macomber; Rocks, by Holley; Hoss-shoes, by Blinn; Bay Charley, by Burthwait. Then thar's the two mustangs entered by Old Hoss an' Silver an' last Wildfire, by Lucy Bostil." "What's thet last?" queried Bostil. "Wildfire, by Lucy Bostil," repeated Brackton. "Has the girl gone an' entered a hoss?" "She sure has.
Why, Cordts couldn't chop into thet log-an'-wire corral if he an' his gang chopped all night! They hate work. Besides, Farlane is there, an' the boys." This reassured Bostil, and he resumed his chair. But his hand shook a little. "Did Cordts have anythin' to say?" he asked. "Sure. He was friendly an' talkative," replied Brackton. "He came in just after dark.
A light flitted across Bostil's face. "I know how Cordts feels," he said. "Wal, it's a queer deal," went on Brackton. "Fer a long time you've meant to draw on Cordts when you meet. We all know thet." "Yes, I'll kill him!" The light left Bostil's face. His voice sounded differently. His mouth opened, drooped strangely at the corners, then shut in a grim, tense line.
Creech was no longer a friend of Bostil's, but Bostil had always been fair-minded, and now he did not allow his animosities to influence him. Holley, the veteran rider, made the sixth member of the club. Bostil had a cedar log blazing cheerily in the wide fireplace, for these early spring nights in the desert were cold. Brackton was the last guest to arrive.
Slone stood back a little in the shadow. Brackton had observed his entrance, but did not greet him. Then Slone absolutely knew that for him the good will of Bostil's Ford was a thing of the past. Presently Brackton was at leisure, but he showed no disposition to attend to Slone's wants. Then Slone walked up to the counter and asked for supplies.
Word Of The Day