Because he so greatly desired an excuse for delay, they tricked Noches
with a broken willow branch that in the deceptive moonlight appeared to
be but the shadow of the branch above it. It caught him just under an
outflung knee as he galloped and flipped him neatly, heels to the stars.
He did not struggle to his feet even when Valencia himself, a bit dazed
by the fall, pulled upon the reins and called to him to rise. The horse
lay inert, a steaming, black mass in the road. The moon was sliding down
behind the Santa Cruz Mountains, and the chill breeze whispered that
dawn was coming fast upon the trail of the moonbeams.
Valencia, when he saw that Noches would never gallop again, because he
had managed to break his sweat-lathered neck in the fall, sat down
beside the trail and rolled a corn-husk cigarette. His mood swung from
regret over the passing of as fleet and true a horse as ever he
bestrode, to gratitude to the saints for their timely hindrance of his
prompt delivery of the note. Truly it was now no fault of his that he
could never reach the hacienda before Manuel! He would have to walk and
carry his saddle, heavy with silver and wide skirts of stamped leather;
and he was a long way from the end of his journey, when he must cover
the distance with his own feet. Eight or ten miles, he estimated it
roughly; for he had passed Jose's hacienda some time before, and had
resisted the temptation to turn aside and find out if Manuel were there
or had gone on.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193