wildfire-第1节

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Wildfire

by　Zane　Grey








CHAPTER　I

For　some　reason　the　desert　scene　before　Lucy　Bostil　awoke　varying　emotionsa
sweet　gratitude　for　the　fullness　of　her　life　there　at　the　Ford；　yet　a　haunting
remorse　that　she　could　not　be　wholly　contenta　vague　loneliness　of　soula
thrill　and　a　fear　for　the　strangely　calling　future；　glorious；　unknown。

She　longed　for　something　to　happen。　It　might　be　terrible；　so　long　as　it　was
wonderful。　This　day；　when　Lucy　had　stolen　away　on　a　forbidden　horse；　she　was
eighteen　years　old。　The　thought　of　her　mother；　who　had　died　long　ago　on　their
way　into　this　wilderness；　was　the　one　drop　of　sadness　in　her　joy。　Lucy　loved
everybody　at　Bostil's　Ford　and　everybody　loved　her。　She　loved　all　the　horses
except　her　father's　favorite　racer；　that　perverse　devil　of　a　horse；　the　great
Sage　King。

Lucy　was　glowing　and　rapt　with　love　for　all　she　beheld　from　her　lofty　perch：
the　green…and…pink　blossoming　hamlet　beneath　her；　set　between　the　beauty　of
the　gray　sage　expanse　and　the　ghastliness　of　the　barren　heights；　the　swift
Colorado　sullenly　thundering　below　in　the　abyss；　the　Indians　in　their　bright
colors；　riding　up　the　river　trail；　the　eagle　poised　like　a　feather　on　the　air；
and　a　beneath　him　the　grazing　cattle　making　black　dots　on　the　sage；　the　deep
velvet　azure　of　the　sky；　the　golden　lights　on　the　bare　peaks　and　the　lilac
veils　in　the　far　ravines；　the　silky　rustle　of　a　canyon　swallow　as　he　shot
downward　in　the　sweep　of　the　wind；　the　fragrance　of　cedar；　the　flowers　of　the
spear…pointed　mescal；　the　brooding　silence；　the　beckoning　range；　the　purple
distance。

Whatever　it　was　Lucy　longed　for；　whatever　was　whispered　by　the　wind　and
written　in　the　mystery　of　the　waste　of　sage　and　stone；　she　wanted　it　to　happen
there　at　Bostil's　Ford。　She　had　no　desire　for　civilization；　she　flouted　the
idea　of　marrying　the　rich　rancher　of　Durango。　Bostil's　sister；　that　stern　but
lovable　woman　who　had　brought　her　up　and　taught　her；　would　never　persuade　her
to　marry　against　her　will。　Lucy　imagined　herself　like　a　wild　horsefree；
proud；　untamed；　meant　for　the　desert；　and　here　she　would　live　her　life。　The
desert　and　her　life　seemed　as　one；　yet　in　what　did　they　resemble　each
otherin　what　of　this　scene　could　she　read　the　nature　of　her　future？

Shudderingly　she　rejected　the　red；　sullen；　thundering　river；　with　its　swift；
changeful；　endless；　contending　strifefor　that　was　tragic。　And　she　rejected
the　frowning　mass　of　red　rock；　upreared；　riven　and　split　and　canyoned；　so　grim
and　alooffor　that　was　barren。　But　she　accepted　the　vast　sloping　valley　of
sage；　rolling　gray　and　soft　and　beautiful；　down　to　the　dim　mountains　and
purple　ramparts　of　the　horizon。　Lucy　did　not　know　what　she　yearned　for；　she
did　not　know　why　the　desert　called　to　her；　she　did　not　know　in　what　it
resembled　her　spirit；　but　she　did　know　that　these　three　feelings　were　as　one；
deep　in　her　heart。　For　ten　years；　every　day　of　her　life；　she　had　watched　this
desert　scene；　and　never　had　there　been　an　hour　that　it　was　not　different；　yet
the　same。　Ten　yearsand　she　grew　up　watching；　feelingtill　from　the　desert's
thousand　moods　she　assimilated　its　nature；　loved　her　bonds；　and　could　never
have　been　happy　away　from　the　open；　the　color；　the　freedom；　the　wildness。　On
this　birthday；　when　those　who　loved　her　said　she　had　become　her　own　mistress；
she　acknowledged　the　claim　of　the　desert　forever。　And　she　experienced　a　deep；
rich；　strange　happiness。

Hers　always　then　the　mutable　and　immutable　desert；　the　leagues　and　leagues　of
slope　and　sage　and　rolling　ridge；　the　great　canyons　and　the　giant　cliffs；　the
dark　river　with　its　mystic　thunder　of　waters；　the　pine…fringed　plateaus；　the
endless　stretch　of　horizon；　with　its　lofty；　isolated；　noble　monuments；　and　the
bold　ramparts　with　their　beckoning　beyond！　Hers　always　the　desert　seasons：　the
shrill；　icy　blast；　the　intense　cold；　the　steely　skies；　the　fading　snows；　the
gray　old　sage　and　the　bleached　grass　under　the　pall　of　the　spring　sand…storms；
the　hot　furnace　breath　of　summer；　with　its　magnificent　cloud　pageants　in　the
sky；　with　the　black　tempests　hanging　here　and　there　over　the　peaks；　dark　veils
floating　down　and　rainbows　everywhere；　and　the　lacy　waterfalls　upon　the
glistening　cliffs　and　the　thunder　of　the　red　floods；　and　the　glorious　golden
autumn　when　it　was　always　afternoon　and　time　stood　still！　Hers　always　the
rides　in　the　open；　with　the　sun　at　her　back　and　the　wind　in　her　face！　And　hers
surely；　sooner　or　later；　the　nameless　adventure　which　had　its　inception　in　the
strange　yearning　of　her　heart　and　presaged　its　fulfilment　somewhere　down　that
trailless　sage…slope　she　loved　so　well！

Bostil's　house　was　a　crude　but　picturesque　structure　of　red　stone　and　white
clay　and　bleached　cottonwoods；　and　it　stood　at　the　outskirts　of　the　cluster　of
green…inclosed　cabins　which　composed　the　hamlet。　Bostil　was　wont　to　say　that
in　all　the　world　there　could　hardly　be　a　grander　view　than　the　outlook　down
that　gray　sea　of　rolling　sage；　down　to　the　black…fringed　plateaus　and　the
wild；　blue…rimmed　and　gold…spired　horizon。

One　morning　in　early　spring；　as　was　Bostil's　custom；　he　ordered　the　racers　to
be　brought　from　the　corrals　and　turned　loose　on　the　slope。　He　loved　to　sit
there　and　watch　his　horses　graze；　but　ever　he　saw　that　the　riders　were　close
at　hand；　and　that　the　horses　did　not　get　out　on　the　slope　of　sage。　He　sat　back
and　gloried　in　the　sight。　He　owned　bands　of　mustangs；　near　by　was　a　field　of
them；　fine　and　mettlesome　and　racy；　yet　Bostil　had　eyes　only　for　the　blooded
favorites。　Strange　it　was　that　not　one　of　these　was　a　mustang　or　a　broken　wild
horse；　for　many　of　the　riders'　best　mounts　had　been　captured　by　them　or　the
Indians。　And　it　was　Bostil's　supreme　ambition　to　own　a　great　wild　stallion。
There　was　Plume；　a　superb　mare　that　got　her　name　from　the　way　her　mane　swept
in　the　wind　when　she　was　on　the　ran；　and　there　was　Two　Face；　like　a　coquette；
sleek　and　glossy　and　running　and　the　huge；　rangy　bay；　Dusty　Ben；　and　the　black
stallion　Sarchedon；　and　lastly　Sage　King；　the　color　of　the　upland　sage；　a
racer　in　build；　a　horse　splendid　and　proud　and　beautiful。

〃Where's　Lucy？〃　presently　asked　Bostil。

As　he　divided　his　love；　so　he　divided　his　anxiety。

Some　rider　had　seen　Lucy　riding　off；　with　her　golden　hair　flying　in　the　wind。
This　was　an　old　story。

〃She's　up　on　Buckles？〃　Bostil　queried；　turning　sharply　the　speaker。

〃Reckon　so；〃　was　the　calm　reply。

Bostil　swore。　He　did　not　have　a　rider　who　could　equal　him　in　profanity。

〃Farlane；　you'd　orders。　Lucy's　not　to　ride　them　hosses；　least　of　all　Buckles。
He　ain't　safe　even　for　a　man。〃

〃Wal；　he's　safe　fer　Lucy。〃

〃But　didn't　I　say　no？〃

〃Boss；　it's　likely　you　did；　fer　you　talk　a　lot；〃　replied　Farlane。　〃Lucy　pulled
my　hat　down　over　my　eyestold　me　to　go　to　thunder　an'　then；　zip！　she　an'
Buckles　were　dustin'　it　fer　the　sage。〃

〃She's　got　to　keep　out　of　the　sage；〃　growled　Bostil。　〃It　ain't　safe　for　her
out　there。　。　。　。　Where's　my　glass？　I　want　to　take　a　look　at　the　slope。　Where's
my　glass？〃

The　glass　could　not　be　found。

〃What's　makin'　them　dust…clouds　on　the　sage？　Antelope？　。　。　。　Holley；　you　used
to　have　eyes　better　'n　me。　Use　them；　will　you？〃

A　gray…haired；　hawk…eyed　rider；　lean　and　worn；　approached　with　clinking　spurs。

〃Down　in　there；〃　said　Bostil；　pointing。

〃Thet's　a　bunch　of　hosses；〃　replied　Holley。

〃Wild　hosses？〃

〃I　take　'em　so；　seein'　how　they　throw　thet　dust。〃

〃Huh！　I　don't　like　it。　Lucy　oughtn't　be　ridin'　round　alone。〃

〃Wal；　boss；　who　could　catch　her　up　on　Buckles？　Lucy　can　ride。　An'　there's　the
King　an'　Sarch　right　under　your　nosethe　only　hosses　on　the　sage　thet　could
outrun　Buckles。〃

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　ridealmost；　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。　Then；　as　Farlane　well　knew；　a　quick　road　to　Bostil's　good　will　was　to
praise　one　of　his　favorites。

〃Reckon　you　spoke　sense　for　once；　Farlane；〃　replied　Bostil；　with　relief。　〃I
wasn't　thinkin'　so　much　of　danger　for　Lucy。　。　。　。　But　she　lets　thet
half…witted　Creech　go　with　her。〃

〃No；　boss；　you're　wrong；〃　put　in　Holley；　earnestly。　〃I　know　the　girl。　She　has
no　use　fer　Joel。　But　he　jest　runs　after　her。〃

〃An'　he's　harmless；〃　added　Farlane。

〃We　ain't　agreed；〃　rejoined　Bostil；　quickly。　〃What　do　you　say；　Holley？〃

The　old　rider　looked　thoughtful　and　did　not　speak　for　long。

〃Wal；　Yes　an'　no；〃　he　answered；　finally。　〃I　reckon　Lucy　could　make　a　man　out
of　Joel。　But　she　doesn't　care　fer　him；　an'　thet　settles　thet。　。　。　。　An'　maybe
Joel's　leanin'　toward　the　bad。〃

〃If　she　meets　him　again　I'll　rope　her　in　the　house；〃　declared　Bostil。

Another　clear…eyed　rider　drew　Bostil's　attention　from　the　gray　waste　of
rolling　sage。

〃Bostil；　look！　Look　at　the　King！　He's　watchin'　fer　somethin'。　。　。　。　An'　so's
Sarch。〃

The　two　horses　named　were　facing　a　ridge　some　few　hundred　yards　distant；　and
their　he