Wildfire and the Heritage of the Desert by Zane Grey Read Free Book Online Page B

went up with a snort and came down pounding the sand. Quick as lightning Lucy was out of the saddle.
    â€œLemme your quirt,” said Joel, showing his teeth like a wolf.
    â€œNo. I wouldn’t let you hit Sarch. You beat him once, and he’s never forgotten,” replied Lucy.
    The eye of the horse and the man met and clashed, and there was a hostile tension in their attitudes. Then Lucy dropped the bridle and drew Joel over to a huge drift-log, half buried in the sand. Here she sat down, but Joel remained standing. His gaze was now all the stranger for its wistfulness. Lucy was quick to catch a subtle difference in him, but she could not tell wherein it lay.
    â€œWhat’d you want?” asked Joel.
    â€œI’ve heard a lot of things, Joel,” replied Lucy, trying to think of just what she wanted to say.
    â€œReckon you have,” said Joel, dejectedly, and then he sat down on the log and dug holes in the sand with his bare feet.
    Lucy had never before seen him look tired, and it seemed that some of the healthy brown of his cheeks had thinned out. Then Lucy told him, guardedly, a few of the rumors she had heard.
    â€œAll thet you say is nothin’ to what’s happened,” he replied bitterly. “Them riders mocked the life an’ soul out of me.”
    â€œBut, Joel, you shouldn’t be so—so touchy,” said Lucy, earnestly. “After all, the joke was on you. Why didn’t you take it like a man?”
    â€œBut they knew you stole my clothes,” he protested.
    â€œSuppose they did. That wasn’t much to care about. If you hadn’t taken it so hard they’d have let up on you.”
    â€œMebbe I might have stood that. But they taunted me with bein’—loony about you.”
    Joel spoke huskily. There was no doubt that he had been deeply hurt. Lucy saw tears in his eyes, and her first impulse was to put a hand on his and tell him how sorry she was. But she desisted. She did not feel at her ease with Joel.
    â€œWhat’d you and Van fight about?” she asked, presently.
    Joel hung his head. “I reckon I ain’t a-goin’ to tell you.”
    â€œYou’re ashamed of it?”
    Joel’s silence answered that.
    â€œYou said something about me?” Lucy could not resist her curiosity, back of which was a little heat. “It must have been—bad—else Van wouldn’t have struck you.”
    â€œHe hit me—he knocked me flat,” passionately said Joel.
    â€œAnd you drew a gun on him?”
    â€œI did, an’ like a fool I didn’t wait till I got up. Then he kicked me!… Bostil’s Ford will never be big enough fer me an’ Van now.”
    â€œDon’t talk foolish. You won’t fight with Van.… Joel, maybe you deserved what you got. You say some—some rude things.”
    â€œI only said I’d pay you back,” burst out Joel.
    â€œHow?”
    â€œI swore I’d lay fer you—an’ steal your clothes—so you’d have to run home naked.”
    There was indeed something lacking in Joel, but it was not sincerity. His hurt had rankled deep and his voice trembled with indignation.
    â€œBut, Joel, I don’t go swimming in spring-holes,” protested Lucy, divided between amusement and annoyance.
    â€œI meant it, anyhow,” said Joel doggedly.
    â€œAre you absolutely honest? Is that all you said to provoke Van?”
    â€œIt’s all, Lucy, I swear.”
    She believed him, and saw the unfortunate circumstance more than ever her fault. “I’m sorry, Joel. I’m much to blame. I shouldn’t have lost my temper and played that trick with your clothes.… If you’d only had sense enough to stay out till after dark! But no use crying over spilt milk. Now, if you’ll do your share I’ll do mine. I’ll tell the boys I was to blame. I’ll persuade them to let you alone. I’ll go to