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I've never forgiven her .... Dad, I'm only teasing you. Don't I know you couldn't give one of those racers away? You couldn't!" "Lucy, I reckon you're right," Bostil burst out in immense relief. "Dad, I'll bet if Cordts gets me and holds me as ransom for the King as he's threatened you'll let him have me!" "Lucy, now thet ain't funny!" complained the father. "Dear Dad, keep your old racers!
There was much of the old rider daredevil spirit left in Bostil, and it interested and amused him to see Cordts and Slone meet. Assuredly Slone had heard of the noted stealer of horses. The advantage was certainly on Cordts's side, for he was good-natured and pleasant while Slone stiffened, paling slightly as he faced about to acknowledge the introduction.
Hutchinson saw the rifle and yelled to Cordts. The horse-thief halted, his dark face gleaming toward Lucy. When Lucy rose the coat fell from her nude shoulders. And Slone, watching, suddenly lost his agony of terror for her and uttered a pealing cry of defiance and of rapture. She swept up the rifle. It wavered. Hutchinson was above, and Cordts, reaching up, yelled for help.
"Howdy, Slone," drawled Cordts, with hand outstretched. "I sure am glad to meet yuh. I'd like to trade the Sage King for this red stallion!" A roar of laughter greeted this sally, all but Bostil and Slone joining in. The joke was on Bostil, and he showed it. Slone did not even smile. "Howdy, Cordts," he replied. "I'm glad to meet you so I'll know you when I see you again."
"Wal, I'm sorry for the old man," replied Bostil, gruffly. "I meant to make up to him.... But thet fool boy! ... An' Slone you're all bloody." He stepped forward and pulled the scarf aside. He was curious and kindly, as if it was beyond him to be otherwise. Yet that dark cold something, almost sullen clung round him. "Been bored, eh? Wal, it ain't low, an' thet's good. Who shot you?" "Cordts."
Cordts gave his word not to turn a trick till after the races." "Do you trust him?" "Yes. But his men might break loose, away from his sight. Especially thet Dick Sears. He's a bad man. So be watchful whenever you ride out." As Lucy went down toward the corrals she was thinking deeply. She could always tell, woman-like, when her father was excited or agitated.
Cordts rode into this wild free-range country, where he had been heard to say that a horse-thief was meaner than a poisoned coyote. Nevertheless, he became a horse-thief. The passion he had conceived for the Sage King was the passion of a man for an unattainable woman. Cordts swore that he would never rest, that he would not die, till he owned the King. So there was reason for Bostil's great fear.
"But he left orders for Holley to ride with me and look after me. Isn't that funny? Poor old Holley! He hates to doublecross Dad, he says." "I'm glad Holley's to look after you," replied Slone. "Yesterday I saw you tearin' down into the sage on Sarch. I wondered what you'd do, Lucy, if Cordts or that loon Creech should get hold of you?" "I'd fight!" "But, child, that's nonsense.
But it was too swift it would not last. The Indians began to yell, drowning the hoarse shouts of the riders. Out of the tail of his eye Bostil saw Cordts and Sears and Hutchinson. They were acting like crazy men. Strange that horse-thieves should care! The million thrills within Bostil coalesced into one great shudder of rapture. He grew wet with sweat.
Macomber and Blinn, with a rider and a Navajo, were up there as the official starters of the day. Bostil's eyes glistened. He put a friendly hand on Cordts's shoulder, an action which showed the stress of the moment. Most of the men crowded around Bostil. Sears and Hutchinson hung close to Cordts. And Holley, keeping near his employer, had keen eyes for other things than horses.
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