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Updated: June 17, 2025
And I hear tell you got El Sangre?" "I was lucky," said Terry. "That's a sizable piece of work, Colby. I've seen twenty that run El Sangre, and never even got close enough to eat his dust. Nacheral pacer, right enough. I've seen him kite across country like a train! And his mane and tail blowing like smoke!" "I got him with patience. That was all." "S'pose we take a look at him?" "By all means.
They thought nobody could beat Larrimer." The girl slipped back into her chair again and sat with her chin in her hand, brooding. It was all impossible it could not be. Yet there was Denver telling his story, and far away the clear baritone of Terry Hollis singing as he cared for El Sangre. She waited to make sure, waited to see his face and hear him speak close at hand.
And so he was gone. Down the Bear Creek road Terence Hollis rode as he had never ridden before. To be sure, it was not the first time that El Sangre had stretched to the full his mighty strength, but on those other occasions he had fought the burst of speed, straining back in groaning stirrup leathers, with his full weight wresting at the bit.
He says that he was born in Taos Valley in New Mexico, near the Pueblo village of that name, in 1839. The band to which he belonged spent a great deal of its time in the Taos Valley, San Luis Park, and along the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. In that region they were accustomed to meet the Apaches, who came from the south.
"It seemed to me," said Terry, "that you threw that stone at El Sangre. I hope I'm wrong?" "Maybe," growled Slim. He flashed a glance at his companions, not at all eager to push this quarrel forward to a conclusion in spite of his known prowess. He had been a little irritated by the adulation which had been shown to the son of Black Jack the night before.
There are, of course, the houses of the nobility, and there are many grades in this Grandeza, some being of very recent creation, others of the uncontaminated sangre azul; but there is no hard-and-fast line. The successful politician or the popular writer has the entrée anywhere, and there is no difficulty about going into the very best of the Court society, if one has friends in that tertulia.
"They won't see us unless we start at a hard gallop," continued Terry. "They won't watch for slowly moving objects now. Besides, it'll be ten minutes before the sheriff has a posse organized. And that's the only thing we have to fear." They drifted past the town, quickening to a soft trot after a moment, and then to a faster trot El Sangre was gliding along at a steady pace.
Accordingly, he adopted that middle course which, in spite of the proverb, is not seldom the least expedient. He disregarded the proffered hand, bowed very stiffly, and, saying, "Senor, I am satisfied," stalked off with all the rigidity of one in whose veins flows the sangre azul of Old Castile.
Now he let the rein play to such a point that he was barely keeping the power of the stallion in touch. He lightened his weight as only a fine horseman can do, shifting a few vital inches forward, and with the burden falling more over his withers, El Sangre fled like a racer down the valley. Not that he was fully extended.
As the command emerged through the "Sangre de Christo Pass," on their return route, they came suddenly into view of a village of Apaches.
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