Wildfire and the Heritage of the Desert Read Free Page B

Bostil, gruffly.
    â€œI don’t know any more than is gossiped. That I told you. Have you ever asked Lucy about him?”
    â€œI sure haven’t,” said Bostil, bluntly.
    â€œWell, ask her. If she tells you at all she’ll tell the truth. Lucy’d never sleep at night if she lied.”
    Aunt Jane returned to her housewifely tasks, leaving Bostil thoughtfully stroking the hound and watching the fire. Presently Lucy returned—a different Lucy—one that did not rouse his rider’s pride, but thrilled his father’s heart. She had been a slim, lithe, supple, disheveled boy, breathing the wild spirit of the open and the horse she rode. She was now a girl in the graceful roundness of her slender form, with hair the gold of the sage at sunset, and eyes the blue of the deep haze of distance, and lips the sweet red of the upland rose. And all about her seemed different.
    â€œLucy—you look—like she used to be,” said Bostil, unsteadily.
    â€œMy mother!” murmured Lucy.
    But these two, so keen, so strong, so alive, did not abide long with sad memories.
    â€œLucy, I want to ask you somethin’,” said Bostil, presently. “What about this young Joel Creech?”
    Lucy started as if suddenly recalled, then she laughed merrily. “Dad, you old fox, did you see him ride out after me?”
    â€œNo. I was just askin’ on—on general principles.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œLucy, is there anythin’ between you an’ Joel?” he asked, gravely.
    â€œNo,” she replied, with her clear eyes up to his.
    Bostil thought of a bluebell. “I’m beggin’ your pardon,” he said, hastily.
    â€œDad, you know how Joel runs after me. I’ve told you. I let him till lately. I liked him. But that wasn’t why. I felt sorry for him—pitied him.”
    â€œYou did? Seems an awful waste,” replied Bostil.
    â€œDad, I don’t believe Joel is—perfectly right in his mind,” Lucy said, solemnly
    â€œHaw! Haw! Fine compliments you’re payin’ yourself.”
    â€œListen. I’m serious. I mean I’ve grown to see—looking back—that a slow, gradual change has come over Joel since he was kicked in the head by a mustang. I’m sure no one else has noticed it.”
    â€œGoin’ batty over you. That’s no unusual sign round this here camp. Look at—”
    â€œWe’re talking about Joel Creech. Lately he has done some queer things. To-day, for instance. I thought I gave him the slip. But he must have been watching. Anyway, to my surprise he showed up on Peg. He doesn’t often get Peg across the river. He said the feed was getting scarce over there. I was dying to race Buckles against Peg, but I remembered you wouldn’t like that.”
    â€œI should say not,” said Bostil, darkly.
    â€œWell, Joel caught up to me—and he wasn’t nice at all. He was worse to-day. We quarreled. I said I’d bet he’d never follow me again and he said he’d bet he would. Then he got sulky and hung back. I rode away, glad to be rid of him, and I climbed to a favorite place of mine. On my way home I saw Peg grazing on the rim of the creek, near that big spring-hole where the water’s so deep and clear. And what do you think? There was Joel’s head above the water. I remembered in our quarrel I had told him to go wash his dirty face. He was doing it. I had to laugh. When he saw me—he—then—then he—” Lucy faltered, blushing with anger and shame.
    â€œWell, what then?” demanded Bostil, quietly.
    â€œHe called, ‘Hey, Luce—take off your clothes and come in for a swim!’”
    Bostil swore.
    â€œI tell you I was mad,” continued Lucy, “and just as surprised. That was one of the queer things. But never before had he dared to—to—”
    â€œInsult you. Then what’d you do?”