wildfire-第62节

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can't　tell　now。　。　。　。　But　we　hadhell！　An'　Cordts　is　deadso's　Hutchan'
that　other　pard　of　his。　。　。　。　Bostil；　they'll　never　haunt　your　sleep　again！〃

Slone　finished　with　a　strange　sternness　that　seemed　almost　bitter。

Bostil　raised　both　his　huge　fists。　The　blood　was　bulging　his　thick　neck。　It
was　another　kind　of　passion　that　obsessed　him。　Only　some　violent　check　to　his
emotion　prevented　him　from　embracing　Slone。　The　huge　fists　unclenched　and　the
big　fingers　worked。

〃You　mean　to　tell　me　you　did　fer　Cordts　an'　Hutch　what　you　did　fer　Sears？〃　he
boomed　out。

〃They're　deadgone；　Bostilhonest　to　God！〃　replied。　Slone。

Holley　thrust　a　quivering；　brown　hand　into　Bostil's　face。　〃What　did　I　tell
you？〃　he　shouted。　〃Didn't　I　say　wait？〃

Bostil　threw　away　all　that　deep　fury　of　passion；　and　there　seemed　only　a
resistless　and　speechless　admiration　left。　Then　ensued　a　moment　of　silence。
The　riders　watched　Slone's　weary　face　as　it　drooped；　and　Bostil；　as　he　loomed
over　him。

〃Where's　the　red　stallion？〃　queried　Bostil。　That　was　the　question　hard　to　get
out。

Slone　raised　eyes　dark　with　pain；　yet　they　flashed　as　he　looked　straight　up
into　Bostil's　face。　〃Wildfire's　dead！〃

〃DEAD！〃　ejaculated　Bostil。

Another　moment　of　strained　exciting　suspense。

〃Shot？〃　he　went　on。

〃No。〃

〃What　killed　him？〃

〃The　King；　sir！　。　。　。　Killed　him　on　his　feet！〃

Bostil's　heavy　jaw　bulged　and　quivered。　His　hand　shook　as　he　laid　it　on　Sage
King's　manethe　first　touch　since　the　return　of　his　favorite。

〃Slonewhatis　it？〃　he　said；　brokenly；　with　voice　strangely　softened。　His
face　became　transfigured。

〃Sage　King　killed　Wildfire　on　his　feet。　。　。　。　A　grand　race；　Bostil！　。　。　。　But
Wildfire's　deadan'　here's　the　King！　Ask　me　no　more。　I　want　to　forget。〃

Bostil　put　his　arm　around　the　young　man's　shoulder。　〃Slone；　if　I　don't　know
what　you　feel　fer　the　loss　of　thet　grand　hoss；　no　rider　on　earth　knows！　。　。　。
Go　in　the　house。　Boys；　take　him　inall　of　youan'　look　after　him。〃

Bostil　wanted　to　be　alone；　to　welcome　the　King；　to　lead　him　back　to　the　home
corral；　perhaps　to　hide　from　all　eyes　the　change　and　the　uplift　that　would
forever　keep　him　from　wronging　another　man。

The　late　rains　came　and　like　magic；　in　a　few　days；　the　sage　grew　green　and
lustrous　and　fresh；　the　gray　turning　to　purple。

Every　morning　the　sun　rose　white　and　hot　in　a　blue　and　cloudless　sky。　And　then
soon　the　horizon　line　showed　creamy　clouds　that　rose　and　spread　and　darkened。
Every　afternoon　storms　hung　along　the　ramparts　and　rainbows　curved　down
beautiful　and　ethereal。　The　dim　blackness　of　the　storm…clouds　was　split　to　the
blinding　zigzag　of　lightning；　and　the　thunder　rolled　and　boomed；　like　the
Colorado　in　flood。

The　wind　was　fragrant；　sage…laden；　no　longer　dry　and　hot；　but　cool　in　the
shade。

Slone　and　Lucy　never　rode　down　so　far　as　the　stately　monuments；　though　these
held　memories　as　hauntingly　sweet　as　others　were　poignantly　bitter。　Lucy　never
rode　the　King　again。　But　Slone　rode　him；　learned　to　love　him。　And　Lucy　did　not
race　any　more。　When　Slone　tried　to　stir　in　her　the　old　spirit　all　the　response
he　got　was　a　wistful　shake　of　head　or　a　laugh　that　hid　the　truth　or　an　excuse
that　the　strain　on　her　ankles　from　Joel　Creech's　lasso　had　never　mended。　The
girl　was　unutterably　happy；　but　it　was　possible　that　she　would　never　race　a
horse　again。

She　rode　Sarchedon；　and　she　liked　to　trot　or　lope　along　beside　Slone　while
they　linked　hands　and　watched　the　distance。　But　her　glance　shunned　the　north；
that　distance　which　held　the　wild　canyons　and　the　broken　battlements　and　the
long；　black；　pine…fringed　plateau。

〃Won't　you　ever　ride　with　me；　out　to　the　old　camp；　where　I　used　to　wait　for
you？〃　asked　Slone。

〃Some　day；〃　she　said；　softly。

〃When？〃

〃Whenwhen　we　come　back　from　Durango；〃　she　replied；　with　averted　eyes　and
scarlet　cheek。　And　Slone　was　silent；　for　that　planned　trip　to　Durango；　with
its　wonderful　gift　to　be；　made　his　heart　swell。

And　so　on　this　rainbow　day；　with　storms　all　around　them；　and　blue　sky　above；
they　rode　only　as　far　as　the　valley。　But　from　there；　before　they　turned　to　go
back；　the　monuments　appeared　close；　and　they　loomed　grandly　with　the
background　of　purple　bank　and　creamy　cloud　and　shafts　of　golden　lightning。
They　seemed　like　sentinels　guardians　of　a　great　and　beautiful　love　born
under　their　lofty　heights；　in　the　lonely　silence　of　day；　in　the　star…thrown
shadow　of　night。　They　were　like　that　love。　And　they　held　Lucy　and　Slone；
calling　every　day；　giving　a　nameless　and　tranquil　content；　binding　them　true
to　love；　true　to　the　sage　and　the　open；　true　to　that　wild　upland　home。







End