When the Greasewood is in Bloom
Big things were in the air, as all the horsemen knew. Blazing Star had
wintered well and, being a four-and-a-half-year-old, was in his prime.
Red Rover in the adjoining stable was watched with equal care. Prairie
hay was judged good enough for the country horses; but baled timothy, at
shocking prices, was brought from Pierre for the two racers; and, after
a brief period of letdown on clover and alfalfa, the regular routine
diet of a race horse was begun, as a matter of course. Little Breeches
had left, chiefly because of unpleasant remarks that he continued to
hear in the stable. He had taken a springtime job among the cattle. So
Peaches, having no other string to his bow, allowed the officers "to
secure his services as second assistant trainer," as he phrased it, or,
as they with brutal simplicity put it, "as stable boy." He accepted this
gravely responsible position on the explicit understanding that
allusions to the late race were in bad taste.
Why should these two horses be so carefully trained? There was no race
on the calendar. No, but every one assumed that there would be a
challenge, and nobody dreamed of declining it. So, one day when all the
plains were spangle-glint with grass and bloom, the sentry reported
horsemen in the south, a band of Indians, probably Sioux. It was an hour
before they halted near the Fort, and Red Cloud, on a fine strong pony,
came with his counsellors around him to swing his hand in the free grace
of the sign talk, to smoke and wait, and wait and smoke, and then speak,
as before, on the Colonel's porch.
"Did the Soldier High Chief want a race this year?"
"Sure thing," was all the interpreter had to transmute.
"When?"
"As before."
"When the greasewood blooms, on the white man's big noisy wet Sunday?"
For the treaty money was to be paid that day. And Colonel Waller's eyes
lit up.
So it was arranged that the Fourth of July they should race as before on
the Fort Ryan track; the horses were to be named on the day of the race.
And Red Cloud rode away.
Jim Hartigan was present at that interview; he watched their every move,
he drank in every word, and he rode at a gallop till he found Belle.
"Belle, the race is on for the Fourth of July, they're going to enter
Blazing Star. Oh, glory be! I'll see that race; I'll see Blazing Star
show all the country how."
"Yes, unless you are sent back to college."
"Oh, Belle, that's a cruel one. Just as everything looks gay, you hand
me that," and his face clouded. He knew too well that there was little
likelihood of an extension; it was most unusual. Why should an exception
be made in his case?
"You know, Jim," she said very seriously, "we have been trying to move
the president of the college; and the fact that you are so much of a
favourite is additional reason for getting you back. The president has
turned us down."
"Well, Belle, I simply won't go."
"You mean you will break with the Church?"
"I'll avoid that as long as possible, but I won't go back--at least, not
now."
"Jim," she said, with a twinkle in her eye, "the president turned down
Dr. Jebb and John Higginbotham and you; but we were not licked. Mrs.
Jebb, Hannah Higginbotham, and myself went after the president's wife,
and this morning Dr. Jebb got a new mandate; not all we asked, but your
furlough is extended for six months more."
"Hooray! Whoop!" was the response.
"Yes, I thought so," said Belle. "That's why I asked Dr. Jebb to let me
break the news. For a serious divinity student, it's wonderful what a
good imitation you can give of a man who hates books."
"Well, now, Belle, you know, and I know, and all the world knows, I can
preach a better sermon than Dr. Jebb, although he has studied a thousand
books to my one and knows more in a minute of time than I can ever know
in a month of Sundays. And, if I go to college and learn to talk like
him, I'll put people to sleep in church just as he does. Hasn't the
attendance doubled since I came?" There was no question of that due in
part to the growth of the town, and partly also to Hartigan's winning
personality and interesting though not very scholarly sermons.
"All right," said Belle. "You are saved from the terrible fate for six
months. Be happy."
And he was. To such a buoyant soul a guarantee of six months' freedom
put slavery so very far away that it was easy to forget it.