Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 31, 2025
"It's my own business," declared Lucy, spiritedly. "And I guess they'd better let you alone." Slone shook his head mournfully. He was getting one of those gloomy spells that Lucy hated. Nevertheless, she felt a stir of her pulses. "Lucy, there won't be any doubt about my stand when I meet Bostil," said Slone. Some thought had animated him. "What do you mean?" Lucy trembled a little.
Bostil was afraid Lucy might divine what he had on his mind. There was no one else he cared for. Holley, that old hawk-eyed rider, might see through him, but Bostil knew Holley would be loyal, whatever he saw. Toward the end of the month, when Somers returned from horse-hunting, Bostil put him and Shugrue to work upon the big flatboat down at the crossing.
"My name's Slone Lin Slone," replied the rider, frankly. "I'm a wild-horse hunter an' hail from Utah." "Utah? How'd you ever get over? Wal, you've got a grand hoss an' you put a grand rider up on him in the race.... My girl Lucy " Bostil hesitated. His mind was running swiftly. Back of his thoughts gathered the desire and the determination to get possession of this horse Wildfire.
"I know just where to have you hide. A pile of rocks near the racecourse. There's a spring and good grass. I could ride out to you just before the big race, and we'd come back, with me on Wildfire. The crowd always stays down at the end of the racecourse. Only the starters stay out there.... Oh, I can see Bostil when that red stallion runs into sight!"
If Lucy had been a boy she would have been the greatest rider on the uplands; and even girl as she was, superbly mounted, she would have been dangerous in any race. "Wal, I ain't afraid of your handlin' of a hoss," he said, soberly. "An' as long as you're in earnest I won't stop you. But, Lucy, no bettin'. I won't let you gamble." "Not even with you?" she coaxed. Bostil stared at the girl.
Holley opened his lips to speak, hesitated, looked away from Bostil, and finally said, "No, it sure ain't." Then he turned and walked away, head bent in sober thought. Bostil came toward the open door where Lucy stood. He looked somber. At her greeting he seemed startled. "What?" he said. "I just said, 'Hello, Dad," she replied, demurely. Yet she thoughtfully studied her father's dark face.
The vote went against Bostil, much to his chagrin, and the great race was set down for two miles. "But two miles! ... Two miles!" he kept repeating. "Thet's Blue Roan's distance. Thet's his distance. An' it ain't fair to the King!" His guests, excepting Creech, argued with him, explained, reasoned, showed him that it was fair to all concerned. Bostil finally acquiesced, but he was not happy.
Had not his enemy's son shot at him from ambush? Was not his very life at stake? A terrible blow must be dealt Creech, one that would crush him or else lend him manhood enough to come forth with a gun. Bostil, in his torment, divined that Creech would know who had ruined him. They would meet then, as Bostil had tried more than once to bring about a meeting.
All the terrible hate and evil and cruelty and deadliness of his kind burned in his eyes and stung in his voice. "Sears, if it's my horse you want you needn't kill Bostil," spoke up Slone. The contrast of his cool, quiet voice eased the terrible strain. "Lead him round hyar!" snapped Sears. Wildfire appeared more shy of the horses back of him than of the men.
Then quick as a cat Sears vaulted into the saddle. Wildfire snorted and lifted his forefeet in a lunge that meant he would bolt. Sears in vaulting up had swung the gun aloft. He swept it down, but waveringly, for Wildfire had begun to rear. Bostil saw how fatal that single instant would have been for Sears if he or Holley had a gun. Something whistled.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking