Strangely enough, Lucy might never have encountered Joel Creech out in the sage, for all the thought she gave him.Her mind was busy with the crippled rider.Who was he? Where was he from? What strange passion he had shown over the recovery of that wonderful red horse! Lucy could not forget the feeling of his iron arm when he held her in a kind of frenzied gratitude.A wild upland rider, living only for a wild horse! How like Indians some of these riders!
Yet this fellow had seemed different from most of the uncouth riders she had known.He spoke better.He appeared to have had some little schooling.Lucy did not realize that she was interested in him.She thought she was sorry for him and interested in the stallion.She began to compare Wildfire with Sage King, and if she remembered rightly Wildfire, even in his disheveled state, had appeared a worthy rival of the King.What would Bostil say at sight of that flame-colored stallion? Lucy thrilled.
Later she left her room to see if the hour was opportune for her plan to make up a pack of supplies for the rider.Her aunt was busy in the kitchen, and Bostil had not come in.Lucy took advantage of the moment to tie up a pack and carry it to her room.Somehow the task pleased her.She recalled the lean face of the rider.And that recalled his ragged appearance.Why not pack up an outfit of clothes? Bostil had a stock-room full of such accessories for his men.Then Lucy, glowing with the thought, hurried to Bostil's stock-room, and with deft hands and swift judgment selected an outfit for the rider, even down to a comb and razor.All this she carried quickly to her room, where in her thoughtfulness she added a bit of glass from a broken mirror, and soap and a towel.Then she tied up a second pack.
Bostil did not come home to supper, a circumstance that made Lucy's aunt cross.They ate alone, and, waiting awhile, were rather late in clearing away the table.After this Lucy had her chance in the dusk of early evening, and she carried both packs way out into the sage and left them near the trail.
"Hope a coyote doesn't come along," she said.That possibility, however, did not worry her as much as getting those packs up on the King.How in the world would she ever do it?
She hurried back to the house, stealthily keeping to the shadow of the cottonwoods, for she would have faced an embarrassing situation if she had met her father, even had he been in a good humor.And she reached the sitting-room unobserved.The lamps had been lighted and a log blazed on the hearth.She was reading when Bostil entered.
"Hello, Lucy!" he said.
He looked tired, and Lucy knew he had been drinking, because when he had been he never offered to kiss her.The strange, somber shade was still on his face, but it brightened somewhat at sight of her.Lucy greeted him as always.
"Farlane tells me you handled the King great--better 'n Van has worked him lately," said Bostil."But don't tell him I told you."That was sweet praise from Farlane."Oh, Dad, it could hardly be true,"expostulated Lucy."Both you and Farlane are a little sore at Van now.""I'm a lot sore," replied Bostil, gruffly.
"Anyway, how did Farlane know how I handled Sage King?" queried Lucy.
"Wal, every hair on a hoss talks to Farlane, so Holley says....Lucy, you take the King out every day for a while.Ride him now an' watch out! Joel Creech was in the village to-day.He sure sneaked when he seen me.He's up to some mischief."Lucy did not want to lie and she did not know what to say.Presently Bostil bade her good night.Lucy endeavored to read, but her mind continually wandered back to the adventure of the day.
Next morning she had difficulty in concealing her impatience, but luck favored her.Bostil was not in evidence, and Farlane, for once, could spare no more time than it took to saddle Sage King.Lucy rode out into the sage, pretty sure that no one watched her.
She had hidden the packs near the tallest bunch of greasewood along the trail;and when she halted behind it she had no fear of being seen from the corrals.
She got the packs.The light one was not hard to tie back of the saddle, but the large one was a very different matter.She decided to carry it in front.
There was a good-sized rock near, upon which she stepped, leading Sage King alongside; and after an exceedingly trying moment she got up, holding the pack.For a wonder Sage King behaved well.
Then she started off, holding the pack across her lap, and she tried the King's several gaits to see which one would lend itself more comfortably to the task before her.The trouble was that Sage King had no slow gait, even his walk was fast.And Lucy was compelled to hold him into that.She wanted to hurry, but that seemed out of the question.She tried to keep from gazing out toward the monuments, because they were so far away.
How would she find the crippled rider? It flashed into her mind that she might find him dead, and this seemed horrible.But her common sense persuaded her that she would find him alive and better.The pack was hard to hold, and Sage King fretted at the monotonous walk.The hours dragged.The sun grew hot.And it was noon, almost, when she reached the point where she cut off the trail to the left.Thereafter, with the monuments standing ever higher, and the distance perceptibly lessening, the minutes passed less tediously.
At length she reached the zone of lofty rocks, and found them different, how, she could not tell.She rode down among them, and was glad when she saw the huge mittens--her landmarks.At last she espied the green-bordered wash and the few cedar-trees.Then a horse blazed red against the sage and another shone black.That sight made Lucy thrill.She rode on, eager now, but moved by the strangeness of the experience.
Before she got quite close to the cedars she saw a man.He took a few slow steps out of the shade.His back was bent.Lucy recognized the rider, and in her gladness to see him on his feet she cried out.Then, when Sage King reached the spot, Lucy rolled the pack off to the ground.
"Oh, that was a job!" she cried.
