Wildfire. Zane Grey

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СКАЧАТЬ no idea," replied Bostil. Yet he looked as if he was perfectly sure.

      "Cordts! … Cordts, an' four of his outfit. Two of them I didn't know. Bad men, judgin' from appearances, let alone company. The others was Hutchinson an'—Dick Sears."

      "DICK SEARS!" exclaimed Bostil.

      Muncie and Williams echoed Bostil. Holley appeared suddenly interested. Creech alone showed no surprise.

      "But Sears is dead," added Bostil.

      "He was dead—we thought," replied Brackton, with a grim laugh. "But he's alive again. He told me he'd been in Idaho fer two years, in the gold-fields. Said the work was too hard, so he'd come back here. Laughed when he said it, the little devil! I'll bet he was thinkin' of thet wagon-train of mine he stole."

      Bostil gazed at his chief rider.

      "Wal, I reckon we didn't kill Sears, after all," replied Holley. "I wasn't never sure."

      "Lord! Cordts an' Sears in camp," ejaculated Bostil, and he began to pace the room.

      "No, they're gone now," said Brackton.

      "Take it easy, boss. Sit down," drawled Holley. "The King is safe, an' all the racers. I swear to thet. Why, Cordts couldn't chop into thet log-an'-wire corral if he an' his gang chopped all night! They hate work. Besides, Farlane is there, an' the boys."

      This reassured Bostil, and he resumed his chair. But his hand shook a little.

      "Did Cordts have anythin' to say?" he asked.

      "Sure. He was friendly an' talkative," replied Brackton. "He came in just after dark. Left a man I didn't see out with the hosses. He bought two big packs of supplies, an' some leather stuff, an', of course, ammunition. Then some whisky. Had plenty of gold an' wouldn't take no change. Then while his men, except Sears, was carryin' out the stuff, he talked."

      "Go on. Tell me," said Bostil.

      "Wal, he'd been out north of Durango an' fetched news. There's wild talk back there of a railroad goin' to be built some day, joinin' east an' west. It's interestin', but no sense to it. How could they build a railroad through thet country?"

      "North it ain't so cut up an' lumpy as here," put in Holley.

      "Grandest idea ever thought of for the West," avowed Bostil. "If thet railroad ever starts we'll all get rich. … Go on, Brack."

      "Then Cordts said water an' grass was peterin' out back on the trail, same as Red Wilson said last week. Finally he asked, 'How's my friend Bostil?' I told him you was well. He looked kind of thoughtful then, an' I knew what was comin'. … 'How's the King?' 'Grand' I told him—'grand.' 'When is them races comin' off?' I said we hadn't planned the time yet, but it would be soon—inside of a month or two. 'Brackton,' he said, sharp-like, 'is Bostil goin' to pull a gun on me at sight?' 'Reckon he is,' I told him. 'Wal, I'm not powerful glad to know thet. … I hear Creech's blue hoss will race the King this time. How about it?' 'Sure an' certain this year. I've Creech's an' Bostil's word for thet.' Cordts put his hand on my shoulder. You ought to 've seen his eyes! … 'I want to see thet race. … I'm goin' to.' 'Wal,' I said, 'you'll have to stop bein'—You'll need to change your bizness.' Then, Bostil, what do you think? Cordts was sort of eager an' wild. He said thet was a race he jest couldn't miss. He swore he wouldn't turn a trick or let a man of his gang stir a hand till after thet race, if you'd let him come."

      A light flitted across Bostil's face.

      "I know how Cordts feels," he said.

      "Wal, it's a queer deal," went on Brackton. "Fer a long time you've meant to draw on Cordts when you meet. We all know thet."

      "Yes, I'll kill him!" The light left Bostil's face. His voice sounded differently. His mouth opened, drooped strangely at the corners, then shut in a grim, tense line. Bostil had killed more than one man. The memory, no doubt, was haunting and ghastly.

      "Cordts seemed to think his word was guarantee of his good faith. He said he'd send an Indian in here to find out if he can come to the races. I reckon, Bostil, thet it wouldn't hurt none to let him come. An' hold your gun hand fer the time he swears he'll be honest. Queer deal, ain't it, men? A hoss-thief turnin' honest jest to see a race! Beats me! Bostil, it's a cheap way to get at least a little honesty from Cordts. An' refusin' might rile him bad. When all's said Cordts ain't as bad as he could be."

      "I'll let him come," replied Bostil, breathing deep. "But it'll be hard to see him, rememberin' how he's robbed me, an' what he's threatened. An' I ain't lettin' him come to bribe a few weeks' decency from him. I'm doin' it for only one reason. … Because I know how he loves the King—how he wants to see the King run away from the field thet day! Thet's why!"

      There was a moment of silence, during which all turned to Creech. He was a stalwart man, no longer young, with a lined face, deep-set, troubled eyes, and white, thin beard.

      "Bostil, if Cordts loves the King thet well, he's in fer heartbreak," said Creech, with a ring in his voice.

      Down crashed Bostil's heavy boots and fire flamed in his gaze. The other men laughed, and Brackton interposed:

      "Hold on, you boy riders!" he yelled. "We ain't a-goin' to have any arguments like thet. … Now, Bostil, it's settled, then? You'll let Cordts come?"

      "Glad to have him," replied Bostil.

      "Good. An' now mebbe we'd better get down to the bizness of this here meetin'."

      They seated themselves around the table, upon which Bostil laid an old and much-soiled ledger and a stub of a lead-pencil.

      "First well set the time," he said, with animation, "an' then pitch into details. … What's the date?"

      No one answered, and presently they all looked blankly from one to the other.

      "It's April, ain't it?" queried Holley.

      That assurance was as close as they could get to the time of year.

      "Lucy!" called Bostil, in a loud voice.

      She came running in, anxious, almost alarmed.

      "Goodness! you made us jump! What on earth is the matter?"

      "Lucy, we want to know the date," replied Bostil.

      "Date! Did you have to scare Auntie and me out of our wits just for that?"

      "Who scared you? This is important, Lucy. What's the date?"

      "It's a week to-day since last Tuesday," answered Lucy, sweetly.

      "Huh! Then it's Tuesday again," said Bostil, laboriously writing it down. "Now, what's the date?"

      "Don't you remember?"

      "Remember? I never knew."

      "Dad! … Last Tuesday was my birthday—the day you DID NOT give me a horse!"

      "Aw, so it was," rejoined Bostil, confused at her reproach. "An' thet date was—let's see—April sixth. … Then this is April thirteenth. Much СКАЧАТЬ