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Updated: May 11, 2025
It blew a gale out of the west, a dry, odorous, steady rush that roared through the pine-tops and flattened the long, white grass. This day Creech had to build up a barrier of rock round his camp-fire, to keep it from blowing away. And there was a constant danger of firing the grass. Once Lucy asked Creech what would happen in that case.
Slone saw a line of leaping flame, a line of sweeping smoke, the grass on fire ... horses! a man! Wildfire whistled his ringing blast of hate and menace, his desert challenge to another stallion. The man whirled to look. Slone saw Joel Creech and Sage King and Lucy, half naked, bound on his back! Joy, agony, terror in lightning-swift turns, paralyzed Slone. But Wildfire lunged out on the run.
Bostil himself went down, and he walked a fact apt to be considered unusual if it had been noticed. "Put in new planks," was his order to the men. "An' pour hot tar in the cracks. Then when the tar dries shove her in ... but I'll tell you when." Every morning young Creech rowed over to see if the boat was ready to take the trip across to bring his father's horses back.
How horrible it would be if Cordts accomplished what he had always threatened to run off with both her and the King! Lucy lost her confidence in Creech. She did not glance again at Joel. Once had been enough. She rode on with heavy heart. Anxiety and dread and conjecture and a gradual sinking of spirit weighed her down. Yet she never had a clearer perception of outside things.
She conferred knighthood on the poet with the great double-handed sword of that monarch, and is said to have delighted him with the toast she gave after dinner, 'Hooi Uncos, which means literally, 'Away Strangers, and politically much more. The year 1787 was now drawing to a close, and Burns was still waiting for a settlement with Creech.
He thought that possibly Cordts had split his party, one to trail along after Creech, the others to work around to head him off. Undoubtedly Cordts knew this broken canyon country and could tell where Creech was going, and knew how to intercept him. The uncertainty wore heavily upon Slone. He grew desperate. He had no time to steal along cautiously. He must be the first to get to Creech.
"I heerd you beat the King on a red hoss a wild hoss! ... Thet must have been a joke like one of Joel's." "No. It's true. An' Dad nearly had a fit!" "Wal!" Creech simply blazed with excitement. "I ain't wonderin' if he did. His own girl! Lucy, come to remember, you always said you'd beat thet gray racer.... Fer the Lord's sake tell me all about it."
"Bostil, if Cordts loves the King thet well, he's in fer heartbreak," said Creech, with a ring in his voice. Down crashed Bostil's heavy boots and fire flamed in his gaze. The other men laughed, and Brackton interposed: "Hold on, you boy riders!" he yelled. "We ain't a-goin' to have any arguments like thet.... Now, Bostil, it's settled, then? You'll let Cordts come?"
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.
There had been loud, angry voices of men and shots and then the men carried out a long form covered with a blanket. She loved her father, but there was a side to him she feared. And somehow related to that side was his hardness toward Creech and his intolerance of any rider owning a fast horse and his obsession in regard to his own racers.
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