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Updated: June 12, 2025
Farlane knew how to mollify his master and long habit had made him proficient. Bostil's eyes flashed. He was proud of Lucy's power over a horse. The story Bostil first told to any stranger happening by the Ford was how Lucy had been born during a wild ride almost, as it were, on the back of a horse. That, at least, was her fame, and the riders swore she was a worthy daughter of such a mother.
Mistress Mac Farlane had been severe as the law itself against lying among the maids, but now, when it came to her own defence where she knew her self wrong, she lied just like one of the wicked. "My dear missie," said Janet, when they got home, "ye maun write to yer father, or he'll be oot o' 's wuts aboot ye."
Farlane an' the other boys, they're with Bostil. Van he's to blame fer thet. He's takin' a dislike to you, right off. An' what he tells Bostil an' the boys about thet race don't agree with what Lucy tells me. Lucy says Wildfire ran fiery an' cranky at the start. He wanted to run round an' kill the King instead of racin'. So he was three lengths behind when Macomber dropped the flag.
It ain't nothin' to git set up about. An' don't tell the old man." "Why not?" demanded Lucy. "Wal, because he's in a queer sort of bad mood lately. It wouldn't be safe. He hates them Creeches. So don't tell him." "All right, Farlane, I won't. Don't you tell, either," replied Lucy, soberly. "Sure I'll keep mum. But if Joel doesn't watch out I'll put a crimp in him myself."
"Oh, Dad, it could hardly be true," expostulated Lucy. "Both you and Farlane are a little sore at Van now." "I'm a lot sore," replied Bostil, gruffly. "Anyway, how did Farlane know how I handled Sage King?" queried Lucy. "Wal, every hair on a hoss talks to Farlane, so Holley says.... Lucy, you take the King out every day for a while. Ride him now an' watch out!
If he had a bad trait, it came out when Van rode him, but all the riders, and Bostil, too, claimed that Van was to blame for that. "Thar, I reckon them stirrups is right," declared Farlane. "Now, Miss Lucy, hold him tight till he wears off thet edge. He needs work."
There were riders there, among them Farlane, and they all had pleasant greetings for her. "Farlane, Dad says I'm to take out Sage King," announced Lucy. "No!" ejaculated Farlane, as he pocketed his pipe. "Sure. And I'm to RIDE him. You know how Dad means that." "Wal, now, I'm doggoned!" added Farlane, looking worried and pleased at once. "I reckon, Miss Lucy, you you wouldn't fool me?"
Passing the foot of the stair, Mistress Mac Farlane shrieked to Ginevra to come, but ran on without waiting a reply. They told afterwards that she left the house with them, and that, suddenly missing her, they went back to look for her, but could find her nowhere, and were just able to make their second escape with their lives, hearing the house fall into the burn behind them.
I've found fault with you on the King, on your mustangs, an' on this black horse Sarch. But on Wildfire! You grow there." "What will Dad say, and Farlane, and Holley, and Van? Oh, I'll crow over Van," said Lucy. "I'm crazy to ride Wildfire out before all the Indians and ranchers and riders, before the races, just to show him off, to make them stare." "No, Lucy.
Bostil kept more and more to himself, a circumstance that worried her, though she thought little about it. Van had taken up the training of the King; and Lucy had deliberately quarreled with him so that she would be free to ride where she listed. Farlane nagged her occasionally about her rides into the sage, insisting that she must not go so far and stay so long.
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