wildfire-第35节

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Even　the　Indian　chiefs　were　smiling。　Old　Horse；　the　Navajo；　beamed　benignly
upon　this　daughter　of　the　friend　of　the　Indians。　Silver；　his　brother
chieftain；　nodded　as　if　he　understood　Bostil's　pride　and　regret。　Some　of　the
young　riders　showed　their　hearts　in　their　eyes。　Farlane　tried　to　look
mysterious；　to　pretend　he　was　in　Lucy's　confidence。

〃Lucy；　if　you　are　really　goin'　to　race　I'll　withdraw　my　hoss　so　you　can　win；〃
said　Wetherby；　gallantly。

Bostil's　sonorous　laugh　rolled　down　the　slope。

〃Miss　Lucy；　I　sure　hate　to　run　a　hoss　against　yours；〃　said　old　Cal　Blinn。　Then
Colson；　Sticks；　Burthwait；　the　other　principals；　paid　laughing　compliments　to
the　bright…haired　girl。

Bostil　enjoyed　this　hugely　until　he　caught　the　strange　intensity　of　regard　in
the　cavernous　eyes　of　Cordts。　That　gave　him　a　shock。　Cordts　had　long　wanted
this　girl　as　much　probably　as　he　wanted　Sage　King。　There　were　dark　and
terrible　stories　that　stained　the　name　of　Cordts。　Bostil　regretted　his　impulse
in　granting　the　horse…thief　permission　to　attend　the　races。　Sight　of　Lucy's
fair；　sweet　face　might　inflame　this　Cordtsthis　Kentuckian　who　had　boasted　of
his　love　of　horses　and　women。　Behind　Cordts　hung　the　little　dust…colored
Sears；　like　a　coiled　snake；　ready　to　strike。　Bostil　felt　stir　in　him　a
long…dormant　firea　stealing　along　his　veins；　a　passion　he　hated。

〃Lucy；　go　back　to　the　women　till　you're　ready　to　come　out　on　your　hoss；〃　he
said。　〃An'　mind　you；　be　careful　to…day！〃

He　gave　her　a　meaning　glance；　which　she　understood　perfectly；　he　saw；　and　then
he　turned　to　start　the　day's　sport。

The　Indian　races　run　in　twos　and　threes；　and　on　up　to　a　number　that　crowded
the　racecourse；　the　betting　and　yelling　and　running；　the　wild　and　plunging
mustangs；　the　heat　and　dust　and　pounding　of　hoofs；　the　excited　betting；　the
surprises　and　defeats　and　victories；　the　trial　tests　of　the　principals；
jealously　keeping　off　to　themselves　in　the　sage；　the　endless　moving；　colorful
procession；　gaudy　and　swift　and　thrillingall　these　Bostil　loved
tremendously。

But　they　were　as　nothing　to　what　they　gradually　worked　up　tothe　climaxthe
great　race。

It　was　afternoon　when　all　was　ready　for　this　race；　and　the　sage　was　bright
gray　in　the　westering　sun。　Everybody　was　resting；　waiting。　The　tense　quiet　of
the　riders　seemed　to　settle　upon　the　whole　assemblage。　Only　the　thoroughbreds
were　restless。　They　quivered　and　stamped　and　tossed　their　small；　fine　heads。
They　knew　what　was　going　to　happen。　They　wanted　to　run。　Blacks；　bays；　and
whites　were　the　predominating　colors；　and　the　horses　and　mustangs　were　alike
in　those　points　of　race　and　speed　and　spirit　that　proclaimed　them
thoroughbreds。

Bostil　himself　took　the　covering　off　his　favorite。　Sage　King　was　on　edge。　He
stood　out　strikingly　in　contrast　with　the　other　horses。　His　sage…gray　body　was
as　sleek　and　shiny　as　satin。　He　had　been　trained　to　the　hour。　He　tossed　his
head　as　he　champed　the　bit；　and　every　moment　his　muscles　rippled　under　his
fine　skin。　Proud；　mettlesome；　beautiful！

Sage　King　was　the　favorite　in　the　betting；　the　Indians；　who　were　ardent
gamblers；　plunging　heavily　on　him。

Bostil　saddled　the　horse　and　was　long　at　the　task。

Van　stood　watching。　He　was　pale　and　nervous。　Bostil　saw　this。

〃Van；〃　he　said；　〃it's　your　race。〃

The　rider　reached　a　quick　hand　for　bridle　and　horn；　and　when　his　foot　touched
the　stirrup　Sage　King　was　in　the　air。　He　came　down；　springy…quick；　graceful；
and　then　he　pranced　into　line　with　the　other　horses。

Bostil　waved　his　hand。　Then　the　troop　of　riders　and　racers　headed　for　the
starting…point；　two　miles　up　the　valley。　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。

Suddenly　he　touched　Bostil　and　pointed　down　the　slope。　〃There's　Lucy；〃　he
said。　〃She's　ridin'　out　to　join　the　bunch。〃

〃Lucy！　Where？　I'd　forgotten　my　girl！　。　。　。　Where？〃

〃There；〃　repeated　Holly；　and　he　pointed。　Others　of　the　group　spoke　up；　having
seen　Lucy　riding　down。

〃She's　on　a　red　hoss；　〃　said　one。

〃'Pears　all…fired　big　to　meher　hoss；〃　said　another。　〃Who's　got　a　glass？〃

Bostil　had　the　only　field…glass　there　and　he　was　using　it。　Across　the　round；
magnified　field　of　vision　moved　a　giant　red　horse；　his　mane　waving　like　a
flame。　Lucy　rode　him。　They　were　moving　from　a　jumble　of　broken　rocks　a　mile
down　the　slope。　She　had　kept　her　horse　hidden　there。　Bostil　felt　an　added　stir
in　his　pulse…beat。　Certainly　he　had　never　seen　a　horse　like　this　one。　But　the
distance　was　long；　the　glass　not　perfect；　he　could　not　trust　his　sight。
Suddenly　that　sight　dimmed。

〃Holley；　I　can't　make　out　nothin'；〃　he　complained。　〃Take　the　glass。　Give　me　a
line　on　Lucy's　mount。〃

〃Boss；　I　don't　need　the　glass　to　see　that　she's　up　on　a　HOSS；〃　replied　Holley；
as　he　took　the　glass。　He　leveled　it；　adjusted　it　to　his　eyes；　and　then　looked
long。　Bostil　grew　impatient。　Lucy　was　rapidly　overhauling　the　troop　of　racers
on　her　way　to　the　post。　Nothing　ever　hurried　or　excited　Holley。

〃Wal；　can't　you　see　any　better　'n　me？〃　queried　Bostil；　eagerly。

〃Come　on；　Holl；　give　us　a　tip　before　she　gits　to　the　post；〃　spoke　up　a　rider。

Cordts　showed　intense　eagerness；　and　all　the　group　were　excited。　Lucy's
advent；　on　an　unknown　horse　that　even　her　father　could　not　disparage；　was　the
last　and　unexpected　addition　to　the　suspense。　They　all　knew　that　if　the　horse
was　fast　Lucy　would　be　dangerous。

Holley　at　last　spoke：　〃She's　up　on　a　wild　stallion。　He's　red；　like　fire。　He's
mighty　bigstrong。　Looks　as　if　he　didn't　want　to　go　near　the　bunch。　Lord！
what　action！　。　。　。　Bostil；　I'd　saya　great　hoss！〃

There　was　a　moment's　intense　silence　in　the　group　round　Bostil。　Holley　was
never　known　to　mistake　a　horse　or　to　be　extravagant　in　judgment　or　praise。

〃A　wild　stallion！〃　echoed　Bostil。　〃A…huh！　An'　she　calls　him　Wildfire。　Where'd
she　get　him？　。　。　。　Gimme　thet　glass。〃

But　all　Bostil　could　make　out　was　a　blur。　His　eyes　were　wet。　He　realized　now
that　his　first　sight　of　Lucy　on　the　strange　horse　had　been　clear　and　strong；
and　it　was　that　which　had　dimmed　his　eyes。

〃Holley；　you　use　the　glassan'　tell　me　what　comes　off；〃　said　Bostil；　as　he
wiped　his　eyes　with　his　scarf。　He　was　relieved　to　find　that　his　sight　was
clearing。　〃My　God！　if　I　couldn't　see　this　finish！〃

Then　everybody　watched　the　close；　dark　mass　of　horses　and　riders　down　the
valley。　And　all　waited　for　Holley　to　speak。　〃They're　linin'　up；〃　began　the
rider。　〃Havin'　some　muss；　too；　it　'pears。　。　。　。　Bostil；　thet　red　hoss　is
raisin'　hell！　He　wants　to　fight。　There！　he's　up　in　the　air。　。　。　。　Boys；　he's　a
devila　hoss…killer　like　all　them　wild　stallions。　。　。　。　He's　plungin'　at　the
Kingstrikin'！　There！　Lucy's　got　him　down。　She's　handlin'　him。　。　。　。　Now
they've　got　the　King　on　the　other　side。　Thet's　better。　But　Lucy's　hoss　won't
stand。　Anyway；　it's　a　runnin'　start。　。　。　。　Van's　got　the　best　position。　Foxy
Van！　。　。　。　He'll　be　leadin'　before　the　rest　know　the　race's　on。。　。　。　Them
Indian　mustangs　are　behavin'　scandalous。　Guess　the　red　stallion　scared　'em。
Now　they're　all　lined　up　back　of　the　post。　。　。　。　Ah！　gun…smoke！　They　move。　。　。
。　It　looks　like　a　go。〃

Then　Holley　was　silent；　strained。　in　watching。　So　were　all　the　watchers
silent。　Bostil　saw　far　down　the　valley　a　moving；　dark　line　of　horses。

〃THEY'RE　OFF！　THEY'RE　OFF！〃　called　Holley；　thrillingly。

Bostil　uttered　a　deep　and　booming　yell；　which　rose　above　the　shouts　of　the　men
round　him　and　was　heard　even　in　the　din　of　Indian　cries。　Then　as　quickly　as
the　yells　had　risen　they　ceased。

Holley　stood　up　on　the　rock　with　leveled　glass。

〃Mac's　dropped　the　flag。　It's　a　sure　go。　Now！　。　。　。　Van's　out　there
frontinside。　The　King's　got　his　stride。　Boss；　the　King's　stretchin'　out！　。　。
。　Look！　Look！　see　thet　red　hoss　leap！　。　。　。　Bostil；　he's　runnin'　down　the
King！　I　knowed　it。　He's　like　lightnin'。　He's　pushin'　the　King　overoff　the
course！　See　him　plunge！　Lord！　Lucy　can't　pull　him！　She　goes
updowntossedbut　she　sticks　like　a　burr。　Good；　Lucy！　Hang　on！　。　。　。　My
Gawd；　Bostil；　the　King's　thrown！　He's　down！　。　。　。　He　comes　up；　off　the　course。
The　others　flash　by。　。　。　。　Van's　out　of　the　race！　。　。　。　An'；　Bostilan'；
gentlemen；　there　ain't　anythin'　more　to　this　race　but　a　red　hoss！〃

Bostil's　heart　gave　a　great　leap　and　then　seemed　to　stand　still。　He　was　half
cold；　half　hot。

What　a　horrible；　sickening　disappointment。　Bostil　rolled　out　a　cursing　query。
Holley's　answer　was　short　and　sharp。　The　King　was　out！　Bostil　raved。　He　could
not　see。　He　could　not　believe。　After　all　the　weeks　of　preparation；　of
excitement；　of　suspense　only　this！　There　was　no　race。　The　King　was　out！　The
thing　did　not　seem　possible。　A　thousand　thoughts　flitted　through　Bostil's
mind。　Rage；　impotent　rage；　possessed　him。　He　cursed　Van；　he　swore　he　would
kill　that　red　stallion。　And　some　one　shook　him　hard。　Some　one's　incisive　words
cut　into　his　thick；　throbbing　ears：　〃Luck　of　the　gam