Slone halted.Both Wildfire and Nagger whinnied at sight of the girl.Lucy took one flashing glance at them, at Slone, and then she evidently guessed what was amiss.
"Lucy, I've done it now--played hob, sure," said Slone.
"What?" she cried.
"I called your dad--called him good an' hard--an' he--he--""Lin! Oh, don't say Dad." Lucy's face whitened and she put a swift hand upon his arm--a touch that thrilled him."Lin! there's blood --on your face.
Don't--don't tell me Dad hit you?"
"I should say not," declared Slone, quickly lifting his hand to his face.
"Must be from my cut, that blood.I barked my hand holdin' Wildfire.""Oh! I--I was sick with--with--" Lucy faltered and broke off, and then drew back quickly, as if suddenly conscious of her actions and words.
Then Slone began to relate everything that had been said, and before he concluded his story his heart gave a wild throb at the telltale face and eyes of the girl.
"You said that to Dad!" she cried, in amaze and fear and admiration."Oh, Dad richly deserved it! But I wish you hadn't.Oh, I wish you hadn't!""Why?" asked Slone.
But she did not answer that."Where are you going?" she questioned.
"Come to think of that, I don't know," replied Slone, blankly."I started back to fetch my things out of my room.That's as far as my muddled thoughts got.""Your things?...Oh!" Suddenly she grew intensely white.The little freckles that had been so indistinct stood out markedly, and it was as if she had never had any tan.One brown hand went to her breast, the other fluttered to his arm again."You mean to--to go away--for good.""Sure.What else can I do?"
"Lin!...Oh, there comes Dad! He mustn't see me.I must run....Lin, don't leave Bostil's Ford--don't go--DON'T!"Then she flew round the comer of the house, to disappear.Slone stood there transfixed and thrilling.Even Bostil's heavy tread did not break the trance, and a meeting would have been unavoidable had not Bostil turned down the path that led to the back of the house.Slone, with a start collecting his thoughts, hurried into the little room that had been his and gathered up his few belongings.He was careful to leave behind the gifts of guns, blankets, gloves, and other rider's belongings which Bostil had presented to him.Thus laden, he went outside and, tingling with emotions utterly sweet and bewildering, he led the horses down into the village.
Slone went down to Brackton's, and put the horses into a large, high-fenced pasture adjoining Brackton's house.Slone felt reasonably sure his horses would be safe there, but he meant to keep a mighty close watch on them.And old Brackton, as if he read Slone's mind, said this: "Keep your eye on thet daffy boy, Joel Creech.He hangs round my place, sleeps out somewheres, an'
he's crazy about hosses."
Slone did not need any warning like that, nor any information to make him curious regarding young Creech.Lucy had seen to that, and, in fact, Slone was anxious to meet this half-witted fellow who had so grievously offended and threatened Lucy.That morning, however, Creech did not put in an appearance.
The village had nearly returned to its normal state now, and the sleepy tenor of its way.The Indians, had been the last to go, but now none remained.The days were hot while the sun stayed high, and only the riders braved its heat.
The morning, however, did not pass without an interesting incident.Brackton approached Slone with an offer that he take charge of the freighting between the Ford and Durango."What would I do with Wildfire?" was Slone's questioning reply, and Brackton held up his hands.A later incident earned more of Slone's attention.He had observed a man in Brackton's store, and it chanced that this man heard Slone's reply to Brackton's offer, and he said: "You'll sure need to corral thet red stallion.Grandest hoss I ever seen!"That praise won Slone, and he engaged in conversation with the man, who said his name was Vorhees.It developed soon that Vorhees owned a little house, a corral, and a patch of ground on a likely site up under the bluff, and he was anxious to sell cheap because he had a fine opportunity at Durango, where his people lived.What interested Slone most was the man's remark that he had a corral which could not be broken into.The price he asked was ridiculously low if the property was worth anything.An idea flashed across Slone's mind.He went up to Vorhees's place and was much pleased with everything, especially the corral, which had been built by a man who feared horse-thieves as much as Bostil.The view from the door of the little cabin was magnificent beyond compare.Slone remembered Lucy's last words.They rang like bells in his ears.
"Don't go--don't!" They were enough to chain him to Bostil's Ford until the crack of doom.He dared not dream of what they meant.He only listened to their music as they pealed over and over in his ears.
"Vorhees, are you serious?" he asked."The money you ask is little enough.""It's enough an' to spare," replied the man."An' I'd take it as a favor of you.""Well, I'll go you," said Slone, and he laughed a little irrationally."Only you needn't tell right away that I bought you out."The deal was consummated, leaving Slone still with half of the money that had been his prize in the race.He felt elated.He was rich.He owned two horses--one the grandest in all the uplands, the other the faithfulest--and he owned a neat little cabin where it was a joy to sit and look out, and a corral which would let him sleep at night, and he had money to put into supplies and furnishings, and a garden.After he drank out of the spring that bubbled from under the bluff he told himself it alone was worth the money.
