Fire on the Mountain by Edward Abbey Read Free Book Online

bunch and see if that pony’s been down here.”
    “Do you think the lion might’ve got him?” I asked.
    “No.”
    “A lion’s mighty lucky to catch a full-grown horse,” Lee said. “Even a scatterbrain like Rascal.”
    “Rascal’s not scatterbrained,” I said.
    “How would you phrase it?”
    “Will a lion attack a man?” I asked.
    “What for?” Grandfather said.
    “The meat.”
    Lee grinned at me. “A lion will never attack a man unless the lion is too old or too sick to catch decent game. Or unless the lion is cornered, or angry, or wounded, or bored, or curious, or very hungry, or just plain mean.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “That answers my question.”
    “Are you gentlemen ready to proceed?” Grandfather asked.
    “We are.”
    “Then meet me about one hundred and eighty degrees from here.” He started off to the right in a big circle that would take him around the windmill and around the cattle, examining the ground as he went. Lee moved off to the left; I followed Lee.
    “What are we looking for?” I asked.
    “Tracks. What are you looking for?”
    “Trouble.”
    “You’re a hard customer, Billy Starr. But you came to the wrong country. People out here don’t like trouble. They don’t even like people. That’s why they live out here.”
    I stared up at the hard and silent hills; the rocks would soon begin to bake. “Why do you live in Alamogordo, Lee? Don’t you like it out here anymore?”
    He studied the sandy desert floor ahead as the horses ambled forward. “Cow and calf. Whiptail lizard. Road runner. More cows. No horse. Raven. Another lizard. Little birds. Cow and calf. Coyote. Everybody comes down here for a drink.”
    “Why, Lee?”
    He kept his eyes on the ground. “Why, Billy? A man gets ideas, Billy.” He spoke slowly and gently. “Sometimes he wants to do something—something big. He wants to play a part in things, have something to say about the way things go—and grow. Sure I liked it out here—I loved it. But ten years is a long time. The world is changing, Billy. Your grandfather don’t like to admit it but the world is changing. And even New Mexico is part of the world now. You’ll know what I mean, Billy, pretty soon.”
    My heart sank a little as I listened to those quiet words—they had a knell-like tone. I had no answer for them.
    Lee halted his horse and looked at me, his dark eyebrows arched at a quizzical angle, his expression kindly but serious. For a long moment he gazed at me with that grave, disheartening seriousness on his face; then his dark eyes lit up again, warm and gay, he broke into that flashing smile, reached out and thumped my back. “Hey, buddy, get that funeral look off your face! Cheer up and smile. The end of the world’s still a long way off.” He watched me steadily until my face began to reflect his contagious humor. “There, that’s better—my God, Billy, for a minute you looked exactly like oneof those shoe clerks up in Albuquerque. Now come on, let’s join up with the old man.”
    We started up our horses again, completed our half of the circle without finding any sign of Rascal, and met Grandfather on the far side of the windmill. “Well,” he said.
    “No sign,” Lee said.
    “No, I didn’t expect we’d find any. He’s still up there in the hills, somewhere, damn his ornery nature. Let’s go tank up on water and then we’ll make tracks for the sky.”
    We turned and rode slowly toward the windmill. The heat was rising; already I saw the first whirlwind standing up out in the desert, a pillar of dust that spun crazily for a few seconds, crashed into a giant yucca and collapsed. I was thirsty enough to smell the water.
    “I see one sick calf in that bunch,” Lee said, uncoiling his rope and shaking out the loop. The cattle began to move.
    “Somebody build a fire,” the old man said wearily. “I was afraid of this.”
    I recognized an order when I heard it; much as I needed a drink, I dismounted on the way to