Eyes Of Silver, Eyes Of Gold Part 22

Frank ignored Edward Wells' worries and Elroy Turrell. "So what was the other time?" he asked.

Into the spirit of the story telling now, Anne made a wry face and continued with the final encounter with Cord before last October. It was the only time she didn't get in trouble, because no one ever knew.

"I took a shortcut through that same alley again, and there was a half grown kitten just huddling back there. He didn't even try to get away when I picked him up. One hind leg had a horrible wound that looked all infected, and he seemed just sick and dull. I knew I couldn't take him home. Father doesn't believe in pets. I couldn't think of anyone in town who might help, and I was really upset, when all of a sudden there was Cord, wanting to know if I was hurt."

"He probably lurked in that alley ever since the first time, waiting to knock you over again," Rob said.

"Don't be silly. This was years later. After I got back from Chicago. He'd been gone for years too."

Cord had examined the little cat with gentle hands and then told her he would take it home and fix it. She gave the kitten to him, not knowing anything better to do. She often wondered in the years since if he had lied to her, told her he would fix it when he couldn't or wasn't going to bother just to make her feel better - had wondered until last fall, when she saw the same cat in the barn, easy to recognize by the unique white mark on its face.

"I call him Paddy because he's orange and looks sort of Irish to me," she told them seriously. "Cord said he thought about trying to tell me Paddy healed and was fine, but he knew if he talked to me and anybody saw it would cause trouble again. He knew about the other times, you see. There's so much gossip in the town."

Frank pressed for more information. "Do you know where he was those years he was gone from here? What he did?"

"Yes, I do, but those are his stories. If you want to hear them, you'll have to ask him yourself."

"He'd never tell us a word, you know. We didn't know he'd been in Utah or Texas until that day Noah was here after the fight."

"Maybe you never asked him nicely."

Frank started to argue, but right then Luke came in, wanting hot water for cleaning Red's wound. Anne rose from her chair. "I'll come help."

Luke gave her his engaging, teasing grin. "No you won't. Cord says if you don't stay here and mind your own business, he'll tell Uncle Eph how to keep a hold of you."

She shot right back, "You tell him if he tells Ephraim anything of the sort, it will be the last time he keeps a hold of me," but she sat down.

It was not, Luke a.s.sured her, a bad or dangerous wound, just ugly from neglect, and the horse seemed quite happy to be rescued from Lennie's care.

A short while later, Cord and Anne started for home in the buggy, Red trailing along behind with no fuss at all.

The Bennetts discussed what they had learned about their brother. Frank felt his att.i.tude was vindicated. "I knew he'd never have invited her in or tried to help her that day Wells found her there unless there was a reason. Even then, he figured he owed her - from way back when they were kids."

Ephraim looked at it differently. "It sounds like he liked her - from way back when they were kids."

Frank said cynically, "As much as he likes anyone maybe. You hear the way he talks to her. Does it sound affectionate to you?"

Shaking his head, Ephraim had to concede the point. "No, it sure doesn't sound affectionate, but I don't know, Frank, that woman is.... Would she stay with him unless he's being decent to her?"

Frank had a ready answer to that, one which Ephraim conceded had merit. "Think about how she grew up with Wells for a father. She probably has no idea of how a decent man acts."

CHAPTER 29.

EVEN THOUGH THE VERY THOUGHT of the race made her stomach clench, Anne admitted to herself she was looking forward to the weekend of the race like a child does a birthday. Frank had agreed to send a young cowboy who could milk cows to stay at their house and care for the stock from Friday afternoon until Sunday evening. Billy James showed up right on time, leaving Cord and Anne free for a leisurely ride to town.

Anne rode Red. Cord rode Keeper and led Lady, packed with everything they'd need for the weekend, including Anne's dress for the post-race dance. When Martha showed them to a spare bedroom with two narrow beds, both freshly made up, Anne winked wickedly at Cord. It was a good thing they were both thin, or they'd never fit together in one of those skinny beds.

The next morning, Cord ate no breakfast, drank only one cup of coffee. As Anne refilled her own coffee cup at the stove, Martha whispered her amazement.

"Nothing ever affects his appet.i.te. Surely he's not nervous about this, is he?"

Anne didn't answer but intended her pat on Martha's arm to rea.s.sure the older woman.

It didn't. Martha began to look nervous herself.

Soon after, the rest of the Bennetts began arriving. Luke and Pete had ridden to town with Riley. Frank brought Judith and the younger children in the carriage. Echoing Cord's brief greetings, Anne put them all out of her mind and followed her husband to the barn.

She told herself the sunny, clear day was a good omen, then realized the horse himself was a better one. After two months of zealous grooming and careful conditioning, Red was all but bursting out of his gleaming hide with good health and energy. Anne did the final brus.h.i.+ng as Cord buckled protective leather boots on all four legs.

Close to the starting line, with half an hour left before the ten o'clock start time, Anne held Red while Cord worked his way through the crowd. There were fifteen horses entered this year, and he observed each before returning. She questioned him with raised eyebrows.

"Four, I think. Lathrum's sent two really grand looking bay stallions. There's a good chestnut gelding from the Bar S and a cla.s.sy brown mare from Wyoming."

These were, Anne knew, the four he felt would have the speed and endurance for this grueling contest, the ones that, barring an all too likely unhappy twist of fate, had the best chance of winning.

As the time for the start grew closer, the family began to show up, surrounding them with partisan good wishes, obviously believing that Cord planned a slow, safe ride through the course, and was only going through the motions. Recognition that something else was going on began to dawn on them when the Bennetts saw one of the Stones'

English saddles on the stallion.

It was Gil, too young for caution, who asked, "What's the pimple for?"

Anne knew Cord was less likely to indulge in small talk than usual, and Gil's derogatory reference to the small saddle didn't help. She did the explaining. "Most of the other horses are being ridden by boys or small, lightweight men. That saddle takes more than twenty pounds off Red. He'll still be carrying close to two hundred pounds."

Frank and Ephraim stared at her, understanding spreading across their faces. Going through the motions did not require lightening the horse's load by twenty pounds. Their concerned expressions sharpened after Cord mounted and trotted Red toward the starting line when Anne pulled a small sheaf of bills from her pocket and said, "Luke, do you think you and Pete could bet this for me? On Red to win?"

The two young men had learned their lesson the last time Anne bet on Cord and the red horse. As they walked toward the tables where most of the betting was taking place, Pete could be heard asking Luke, "How much spare cash you got on you?"

Frank asked no one in particular, "What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

Anne gave him what she hoped was an innocent smile.

For spectators, the best feature of the race was that from a position near the starting line, one could look down into the wash where the worst of the race took place and see everything except parts of the Narrows. Anne worked her way to a good vantage point and then turned to watch the start. The family joined her, a small crowd within the crowd, and then the Stones pushed their way to her side too.

For a seeming eternity, first one horse and then another broke formation at the starting line, until finally all fifteen were aligned for the seconds necessary for the starter to fire his gun. They broke towards the wash in a herd, an indistinguishable blur of s.h.i.+ning bay, chestnut, and brown.

Slowly, over the first mile, the group began to string out. As Cord had predicted, Lathrum's leggy bays led the pack. Even as Anne spotted the pretty brown mare and the Bar S chestnut, the mare pa.s.sed two other horses. Red was definitely last, running several lengths behind the last of the ten horses in a pack behind the leaders. He seemed to lose even more ground as the animals ahead of him began to run through the overturned trees and deadwood covering the first part of the wash.

By the time Red came to that part of the course, the pack had streamed through, leaving his way clear. He picked his way neatly through the litter strewn trail. One of the horses in the pack ahead was already pulling up lame.

The leaders were now splas.h.i.+ng through the treacherous stream bed. The next casualty was the brown mare. She was ridden out of the stream, out of the way of the oncoming riders, barely putting weight on one hind leg.

Anne could not stop a moan from escaping. "Poor pretty brown lady."

John Stone's voice came sharp and sarcastic. "Save your sympathy. We're going to need it." The Stones must have really believed the lure of keeping the prize money would make Cord forget any scruples he had and push their horse through the course full tilt.

Cord pulled Red down to a walk. The horse picked his way along the stream as if he had all the time in the world and racing was the furthest thing from anyone's mind.

Another of the pack behind the three leaders pulled over, also limping badly.

John Stone's voice dripped with scorn. "Does he have a theory he can win by attrition?"

Anne pretended not to hear.

The three leaders were out of the part of the course that required staying the stream, running their mounts across firm ground back to the steep bank that descended to the water again. They crossed the stream and were starting up the steep bank of the far side before Cord finished guiding Red carefully through the water-covered hazards. Out of the stream and away from the dangerous footing, he let Red extend into a full run, still far behind all the other racers.

The other riders had all slowed their horses coming into the trees before the descent to the stream bed. Cord did not. He disappeared from sight on the horse's side, Comanche style, as the horse ran under tree limbs that barely cleared the saddle. He regained his seat only just in time, as Red launched from the bank's edge in a smooth broad jump. He landed on the far bank with feet to spare, and Cord disappeared from the saddle again until they were past the last of the low-hanging trees on the far bank.

The jump made up half the distance between Red and the last of the eleven horses still in front.

The leaders were now entering the Narrows. First Lathrum's darker bay horse disappeared from sight, then the chestnut gelding, then Lathrum's lighter bay. To enter the Narrows, the horses had to slow considerably, for the course headed between two markers straight for a vertical, undercut bank, then swerved abruptly to the left.

The horses still tightly grouped as if in a second race behind the leaders slowed and aggressively jockeyed for position heading into the turn. One was pushed outside the course markers. This was a disqualification under the rules and left only seven in the group still in the race. The disqualified rider dismounted and kicked at the course marker in disgust.

Cord had again lost ground between his horse and the pack ahead. This time the onlookers could see it was deliberate. There was no mistaking the tight rein, the horse's shaking head as he fought the restraint.

As the last horse ahead of Red disappeared into the Narrows, instead of staying slowed to make the turn, Cord gave the horse more rein. He accelerated smoothly, heading straight for the ma.s.sive bank at a never slacking pace, angling in to pa.s.s between the required course markers. The undercut bank loomed like a cliff as the horse came in under it with no loss of speed.

Anne clenched her fists, leaning forward as if she could help, not caring who heard her whisper, "Now, love, now!"

Muscles bunched and strained in the red horse's haunches as he leapt up in what seemed an impossible jump. Cord's hands, Anne knew, were woven in the mane just behind the horse's ears, his body flattened out along the horse as still as possible. Red's front legs landed well up on top of the bank; his hind legs scrambled for interminable seconds, loosing showers of dirt before he got firm purchase. Then he was up top, in balance again, galloping straight across the plateau that the Narrows wound tortuously around.

Frank's hand was on her shoulder, and there was awe in his voice. "Anne?"

"Wait and see. The worst part is yet to come."

"How high is that bank?"

"Just under six feet." Difficult, but not impossible for a good jumper, and Red was a very good jumper.

The far side of the plateau was the same as the side they had come up. The bank on that side was actually higher, almost seven feet. John Stone asked the obvious question as Cord headed for the opposite bank. "How's he going to get down from there?"

Anne didn't bother responding, as everyone saw the answer. The horse launched off the far bank, descending at a sickening looking angle, and almost went to his knees on landing, but the ground there was, Anne knew, fairly soft sand.

Red recovered and was off again. It was another hundred yards back to the part of the course where the other horses would emerge from the Narrows. Between Cord and Red and that path was an almost impa.s.sable tangle of heavy brush and dead trees. Red jumped the one opening in the otherwise impenetrable wall, a fallen tree that had caught so much debris it made a solid four-foot by four-foot obstacle. He landed only a few strides before the course markers ending the Narrows.

In what Anne knew Cord considered the most difficult maneuver of all, he straightened in the saddle, managing to slow the horse and execute the necessary ninety-degree turn to pa.s.s between the markers. He then pulled the horse down to a walk.

Red ambled along with his neck stretched and lowered, shaking himself slightly, looking for all the world like a horse through for the day. There was a mile and a half of uphill run left to the finish line.

Stone almost screamed at Anne. "What the h.e.l.l's the matter with him? Surely he didn't go through all that just to quit now?

She would not have deigned to answer Stone, but the questioning looks from the Bennetts and Frank's repeated, "Anne?" made her explain.

"He says those three horses in the lead are all faster than Red in a straight run. Red's exerted just as much effort in those jumps as they have running the longer distance, so the difference will be that right now Red's getting a few lungsful of air and his heart is getting a little rest. He still isn't sure he can beat them, but he said if he had this much lead at this point he thought he could. From here on it's just a horse race."

As she spoke Red moved into a trot, Cord keeping an eye behind him. When the leading horse came into sight emerging from the Narrows, Cord leaned forward and almost disappeared in the flame-colored mane, and Red took off, running flat out. There was less than a mile and a quarter to go from there to the finish line.

Seeing the red horse ahead of them, the three leading riders gave furious cries. All reached for quirts and began rhythmically las.h.i.+ng their horses on. Near the finish line, the crowd watched in silence as the three gained on the streaking, fiery stallion.

Then Lathrum's light bay began to fade as if it had hit a wall. The dark bay stallion and chestnut gelding relentlessly closed the distance. The pursuing riders whipped their mounts with every stride. There was no movement at all from Red's back.

The Bar S chestnut suddenly stopped gaining ground. It would finish third, slowing all the way. The dark bay stallion was all courage, head extended, eyes rolling white, teeth bared.

Red crossed the finish line not quite two lengths ahead, winning on a few lungsful of air.

The instant Cord crossed the finish line Anne took off running to the place behind one of the houses lining the road where he had promised to wait. He was checking the stallion for cuts or injuries as she flew around the corner and headed straight for him, calling his name.

The heady wine of victory for these few minutes dissolved all his reserve. He lifted her right off the ground in an enthusiastic hug, returning her excited kiss.

"It was beautiful to watch, just beautiful. Was it as beautiful to ride?"

The momentary absence of the impa.s.sive mask left his face almost boyish. "No, not beautiful, scary. We went into that bank and all I could think was we measured wrong.

Looked more like sixty feet than six. I kept thinking it was the stupidest thing I'd ever done. Then we were up top and jumping off, and I knew, no, that was the stupidest thing I'd ever done. If I'd had breakfast I'd have lost it all right then. My stomach was ten feet behind the rest of me."

His eyes were alight with the triumph, warm and full of life. "You just saw my debut and retirement as a race rider, babe. That's it."

The steely self-control slid back into place almost with an audible snap. "We'd better get back out there so they can tell us we cheated and didn't really win."

She gave him a last hug. "You did win. You know it, I know it, and so will they, no matter what they say."

"Sure. How about you lead him ahead, and I'll watch how he goes."

Anne led the horse back to the roadway that was still filled with milling compet.i.tors and spectators. Cord walked behind the horse, watching for any signs of lameness.

Groups of chattering, gesturing people fell silent at their approach. Obviously they were debating the outcome of the race.

The Stones fell on them almost at once. John had been exultant when the race ended, now he was in a rage. Words boiled out of him. "You realize you didn't win that. You cheated. Everyone says so."

Virginia Stone put her gloved hand on her husband's arm, and tugged slightly, "John, I think...."

Stone turned on his wife. "Shut up, Ginny. You don't think. That's your problem."

White-faced with humiliation, Virginia Stone dropped her hand from his arm and stood rigidly, making no further attempt to partic.i.p.ate in the conversation.

Cord ignored the byplay between the couple and answered the accusation thrown at him. "No, Mr. Stone, if you read the rules, I didn't cheat. You have to pa.s.s through all the markers and you can't turn back and pick them up if you miss them. There are no markers in the Narrows."

"I suppose you expect me to go up to the race committee and try to convince them of that and get you your thousand dollars."

Cord's voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "No, I expect you to agree with them that Lathrum's bay won. Maybe they'll let you give him the check."