"You said you would tell me on the road back."
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me the condition on which you will have me."
He leaned over and put his arm around her. This time she did not elude him. He clasped her and sought her lips and she allowed her head to sink on his shoulder while he gathered the reins of both horses in his hand, that they might not separate. She seemed content.
"You do care for me, don't you?" she whispered.
"Oh, Belle! I'd do anything for you. I'd give my life for you."
"You would? Anything?"
"Only try me."
"Would you give up the ministry if I asked you?"
"If—if—you thought it was right—I know it would be right. Yes, I'd do it."
"Then I won't ask that. I'll put you to a smaller test. Will you face it?"
"I'll promise now; I give you my word before you name it."
"Then this is what I ask—that you sell Blazing Star to Colonel Waller right now, this very day."
"Oh, oh, Belle!" he said, feebly; "Blazing Star!"
"Yes, Jim, that is the condition. I love you, Jim; but you must choose now between us. Is it Belle or Blazing Star?"
For a moment he seemed stunned but he tightened his arms about her, and tense the answer came. "I can't do without you, Belle, I can't do without you. I've given you my word. I take you on your terms."
"Oh, Jim!" and she broke down, passionately sobbing in his arms. "Oh, Jim! You great, glorious, wonderful, blind Jim Hartigan, don't you know that I love you? Don't you know I have thought it all out? Can't you see where Blazing Star was taking you? It is not caprice; you will know some day."
"I know, I know now. I'll do what you say."
"Then turn right around and go back to Fort Ryan." They turned; she led; and they raced without pulling rein.
"Colonel, I've come to take your offer," said Hartigan.
"You're a wise man," said the Colonel. "Come into the office." He drew up a check for five hundred dollars. Jim put it in his wallet and said feebly, "He's yours. You'll be kind to him?" Then he covered his face with his hands, and the tears splashed through his fingers to the floor.
"Never mind," said the Colonel, deeply touched. "He'll be treated like a king. You'll see him in the race next summer and you'll see him win."
In all the blackness of that hour of loss that thought was the one gleam of comfort in the realm of horse. Now he would see his racer on the track. The Church held him, but held his horse no longer.
Then the Angel of Destiny as he downward gazed, said to the Angel of the Fire—and his voice trembled a little as he spoke—"Rejoice, for the furnace was heated exceeding hot and the metal is shining brighter, far brighter than before."
BOOK IV
THE HORSE PREACHER AFOOT
CHAPTER XXXII
The Advent of Midnight
The ride home after that fateful decision was an event to be remembered. Jim was on a cavalry mount, loaned for the occasion. Belle felt that since he had given up so much for her, it was her part now to prove how good a bargain he had made; and she exerted all her powers to double her ample hold on his love and devotion. She had no reason to question her power; she had almost overmuch success. Jim wanted her to name the day, but whatever her wishes might have been, her judgment held her back.
"Jim, dear love, don't you see? We must wait a long time. Your income is barely enough for one. You are only a probationer with one year's leave from college, and, at most, an extension of another year possible. What little I can bring as my share of the 'combine' won't go very far."
"Well," said Jim, "I've got the cash to furnish our house with, anyway," and he slapped his hand on his wallet pocket. "I'll put that in the bank till we need it."
"Good boy!" and Belle smiled happily.
Arrived at Cedar Mountain, Jim took the cavalry mount to the livery stable; and three days later, the little stable he had built for Blazing Star was torn down and carried away.
Jim was looking for a new mount, when one day Cattleman Kyle appeared in the town, and they met for a few minutes at the blacksmith shop.
"Hello, Jim! What are you riding these days?" was his greeting.
"To tell the truth, I'm afoot, hard afoot," was the reply.
"Anything in sight?"
"Not yet."
"Come with me for a minute. I'm cutting down my saddle stock for the winter. I've got a bunch of bronchos in the corral by the river. Have a look at them."
Jim went rather reluctantly; his heart was still sore over Blazing Star, and he was not ready yet to put another into the vacant place. After a silent five minutes' walk, they reached the corral with fifty horses of all colours, sizes, and shapes. Then Kyle said: "Jim, I've been thinking, preachers ain't exactly broken-backed carrying their spondulix. I kind o' think I owe ye something in the way of possibilities for putting Blazing Star in hands which may be a big help to me. So there's my bunch; you can go over them at your own time and pick the best as a free gift."
"Ye mean it?"
"That's what I mean, and there's my hand on it," said Kyle. And it was so. That was the way of the old-time cattleman. If he lived at all, his money came in large chunks. He lived lavishly, and made a fortune, if moderately lucky. So they were a generous lot; they were truly cattle kings.
But the cattle king reducing his horse herd does not select his best stock for the hammer; quite the reverse. Some would have called his bunch the scrubs and tailings of the Circle K ranch. Hartigan knew that; but he also knew that it must contain some unbroken horses and he asked to see them. There were ten, and of these he selected the biggest. A man of his weight must have a better mount than a pony. So the tall, rawboned, black three-year-old was roped and handed over to the Preacher. Kyle did not fail to warn him that "Midnight" had a temper.
"Faith, it's mesilf can see that," said Hartigan, "but he isn't broken yet, and that means his temper isn't spoiled. And it's mesilf will bring him to time, and he never will be broke. If your broncho-busters take him in hand, they'll ride him in a week, but they'll make a divil of him. I'll take him in hand and in three months I'll have him following me round with tears in his eyes, just begging me to get on his back, and go for a run."
Who that knows the horse will doubt it? Hartigan's first aim was to convince the black colt that men were not cruel brutes, and that he, Hartigan, was the gentlest and kindest of them all. And this he did by being much with him, by soft talking, by never being abrupt, and by bringing him favourite food. Not in a stable—it was a month before the wild horse would consent to enter a stable—this first period of training was all in a corral. Then came the handling. Midnight was very apt to turn and kick when first a hand was laid on him, but he learned to tolerate, and then to love the hand of his master; and when this treatment was later reinforced with a currycomb, the sensation pleased him mightily. The bridle next went on by degrees—first as a halter, then as a hackimore, last complete with bit. The saddle was the next slow process—a surcingle, a folded blanket and cinch, a double blanket and cinch, a bag of oats and cinch and, finally, the saddle and rider. It was slow, but it was steadily successful; and whenever the black colt's ears went back or his teeth gave a rebellious snap, Jim knew he was going too fast, and gently avoided a clash. Never once did he fight with that horse; and before three months had passed, he was riding the tall black colt; and the colt was responding to his voice and his touch as a "broken" horse will never do.
"Yes," said Kyle, "I know all about that. It costs about twenty-five dollars to learn a horse that way, and it costs about five dollars to break him cowboy way. An average horse is worth only about twenty-five dollars. The cowboy way is good enough for our job, so I don't see any prospect of change till we get a price that will justify the 'training.'"