"One other thing, Willy," Doc Smith said.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I might as well say this now as later. It's about the race tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"First, I want you to know that I think you're a darn fool for using your college money to enter that race."
Little Willy's eyes looked to the floor. "Yes, ma'am."
"But, since it's already been done, I also want you to know that I'll be rooting for you."
Little Willy looked up. "You will?"
"Win, Willy. Win that race tomorrow."
Little Willy beamed. He tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. Embarrassed, he backed over to the door, gave a little wave, then turned quickly to leave.
"And, Willy..."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"If you stay a minute, you can have some of that cinnamon cake I've got in the oven."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Later, on his way to town, little Willy sang at the top of his lungs. The sled's runners cut through the snow with a swish. This was a treacherous road at night, but the moon was out and Searchlight could see well. And, anyway, they knew this road by heart. Nothing was going to happen.
Lester gave little Willy a big bottle of what looked like dirty milk.
"How's your grandfather doing?" Lester asked.
"Not so good. But after I win the race tomorrow, he'll get better. Doc Smith thinks so too."
Lester smiled. "I admire you, Willy. You got a heap of courage, going up against the likes of Stone Fox. You know he's never lost, don't you?"
"Yes, I know. Thank you for the medicine."
Little Willy waved good-bye as Searchlight started off down Main Street.
Lester watched the departing sled for a long time before he yelled, "Good luck, son!"
On his way out of town, along North Road, little Willy heard dogs barking. The sounds came from the old deserted barn near the schoolhouse.
Little Willy decided to investigate.
He squeaked open the barn door and peeked in. It was dark inside and he couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything either. The dogs had stopped barking.
He went inside the barn.
Little Willy's eyes took a while to get used to the dark, and then he saw them. The five Samoyeds. They were in the corner of the barn on a bed of straw. They were looking at him. They were so beautiful that little Willy couldn't keep from smiling.
Little Willy loved dogs. He had to see the Samoyeds up close. They showed no alarm as he approached, or as he held out his hand to pet them.
And then it happened.
There was a movement through the darkness to little Willy's right. A sweeping motion, fast at first; then it appeared to slow and stop. But it didn't stop. A hand hit little Willy right in the face, sending him over backward.
"I didn't mean any harm, Mr. Stone Fox," little Willy said as he picked himself up off the ground, holding a hand over his eye.
Stone Fox stood tall in the darkness and said nothing. Searchlight barked outside. The Samoyeds barked in return.
Little Willy continued, "I'm going to race against you tomorrow. I know how you wanna win, but...I wanna win too. I gotta win. If I don't, they're gonna take away our farm. They have the right. Grandfather says that those that want to bad enough, will. So I will. I'll win. I'm gonna beat you."
Stone Fox remained motionless. And silent.
Little Willy backed over to the barn door, still holding his eye. "I'm sorry we both can't win," he said. Then he pushed open the barn door and left, closing the door behind him.
In the barn, Stone Fox stood unmoving for another moment; then he reached out with one massive hand and gently petted one of the Samoyeds.
That night little Willy couldn't sleep--his eye was killing him. And when little Willy couldn't sleep, Searchlight couldn't sleep. Both tossed and turned for hours, and whenever little Willy looked over to see if Searchlight was asleep, she'd just be lying there with her eyes wide open, staring back at him.
Little Willy needed his rest. So did Searchlight. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. The biggest day of their lives.
8
THE DAY
THE DAY OF the race arrived.
Little Willy got up early. He couldn't see out of his right eye. It was swollen shut.
As he fed Grandfather his oatmeal, he tried to hide his eye with his hand or by turning away, but he was sure Grandfather saw it just the same.
After adding more wood to the fire, little Willy kissed Grandfather, hitched up Searchlight, and started off for town.
At the edge of their property he stopped the sled for a moment and looked back at the farmhouse. The roof was covered with freshly fallen snow. A trail of smoke escaped from the stone chimney. The jagged peaks of the Teton Mountains shot up in the background toward the clear blue sky overhead. "Yes, sir," he remembered Grandfather saying. "There are some things in this world worth dying for."
Little Willy loved this country. He loved to hike and to fish and to camp out by a lake. But he did not like to hunt. He loved animals too much to be a hunter.
He had killed a bird once with a slingshot. But that had been when he was only six years old. And that had been enough. In fact, to this day, he still remembered the spot where the poor thing was buried.
Lost in his thoughts, little Willy got to town before he knew it. As he turned onto Main Street, he brought the sled to an abrupt halt.
He couldn't believe what he saw.
Main Street was jammed with people, lined up on both sides of the street. There were people on rooftops and people hanging out of windows. Little Willy hadn't expected such a big turnout. They must have all come to see Stone Fox.
Searchlight pulled the sled down Main Street past the crowd. Little Willy saw Miss Williams, his teacher, and Mr. Foster from the bank, and Hank from the post office. And there were Doc Smith and Mayor Smiley and Dusty the drunk. The city slickers were there. And even Clifford Snyder, the tax man, was there. Everybody.
Lester came out of the crowd and walked alongside little Willy for a while. It was one of the few times little Willy had ever seen Lester without his white apron.
"You can do it, Willy. You can beat him," Lester kept saying over and over again.
They had a race for the youngsters first, and the crowd cheered and rooted for their favorites. It was a short race. Just down to the end of Main Street and back. Little Willy didn't see who won. It didn't matter.
And then it was time.
The old church clock showed a few minutes before ten as the contestants positioned themselves directly beneath the long banner that stretched across the street. They stood nine abreast. Stone Fox in the middle. Little Willy right next to him.
Little Willy had read all about the other contestants in the newspaper. They were all well-known mountain men with good racing records and excellent dog teams. But, even so, all bets were on Stone Fox. The odds were as high as a hundred to one that he'd win.
Not one cent had been bet on little Willy and Searchlight.
"What happened to Willy's eye?" Doc Smith asked Lester.
"Bumped it this morning when he got up, he told me. Just nervous. Got a right to be." Lester was chewing on his hand, his eyes glued on Stone Fox. "Big Indian," he whispered to himself.
Although little Willy's eye was black, puffy, and swollen shut, he still felt like a winner. He was smiling. Searchlight knew the route as well as he did, so it really didn't matter if he could see at all. They were going to win today, and that was final. Both of them knew it.
Stone Fox looked bigger than ever standing next to little Willy. In fact, the top of little Willy's head was dead even with Stone Fox's waist.
"Morning, Mr. Stone Fox," little Willy said, looking practically straight up. "Sure's a nice day for a race."
Stone Fox must have heard little Willy, but he did not look at him. His face was frozen like ice, and his eyes seemed to lack that sparkle little Willy remembered seeing befor
e.
The crowd became silent as Mayor Smiley stepped out into the street.
Miss Williams clenched her hands together until her knuckles turned white. Lester's mouth hung open, his lips wet. Mr. Foster began chewing his cigar. Hank stared without blinking. Doc Smith held her head up proudly. Dusty took a powerful swig from a whiskey bottle. Clifford Snyder removed a gold watch from his vest pocket and checked the time.
Tension filled the air.
Little Willy's throat became dry. His hands started to sweat. He could feel his heart thumping.
Mayor Smiley raised a pistol to the sky and fired.
The race had begun!
9
THE RACE
SEARCHLIGHT SPRANG FORWARD with such force that little Willy couldn't hang on. If it weren't for a lucky grab, he would have fallen off the sled for sure.
In what seemed only seconds, little Willy and Searchlight had traveled down Main Street, turned onto North Road, and were gone. Far, far ahead of the others. They were winning. At least for the moment.
Stone Fox started off dead last. He went so slowly down Main Street that everyone was sure something must be wrong.
Swish! Little Willy's sled flew by the schoolhouse on the outskirts of town, and then by the old deserted barn.
Swish! Swish! Swish! Other racers followed in hot pursuit.
"Go, Searchlight! Go!" little Willy sang out. The cold wind pressed against his face, causing his good eye to shut almost completely. The snow was well packed. It was going to be a fast race today. The fastest they had ever run.
The road was full of dangerous twists and turns, but little Willy did not have to slow down as the other racers did. With only one dog and a small sled, he was able to take the sharp turns at full speed without risk of sliding off the road or losing control.
Therefore, with each turn, little Willy pulled farther and farther ahead.
Swish! The sled rounded a corner, sending snow flying. Little Willy was smiling. This was fun!
About three miles out of town the road made a half circle around a frozen lake. Instead of following the turn, little Willy took a shortcut right across the lake. This was tricky going, but Searchlight had done it many times before.
Little Willy had asked Mayor Smiley if he was permitted to go across the lake, not wanting to be disqualified. "As long as you leave town heading north and come back on South Road," the mayor had said, "anything goes!"
None of the other racers attempted to cross the lake. Not even Stone Fox. The risk of falling through the ice was just too great.
Little Willy's lead increased.
Stone Fox was still running in last place. But he was picking up speed.
At the end of five miles, little Willy was so far out in front that he couldn't see anybody behind him when he looked back.
He knew, however, that the return five miles, going back into town, would not be this easy. The trail along South Road was practically straight and very smooth, and Stone Fox was sure to close the gap. But by how much? Little Willy didn't know.
Doc Smith's house flew by on the right. The tall trees surrounding her cabin seemed like one solid wall.
Grandfather's farm was coming up next.
When Searchlight saw the farmhouse, she started to pick up speed. "No, girl," little Willy yelled. "Not yet."
As they approached the farmhouse, little Willy thought he saw someone in Grandfather's bedroom window. It was difficult to see with only one good eye. The someone was a man. With a full beard.
It couldn't be. But it was! It was Grandfather! Grandfather was sitting up in bed. He was looking out the window.
Little Willy was so excited he couldn't think straight. He started to stop the sled, but Grandfather indicated no, waving him on. "Of course," little Willy said to himself. "I must finish the race. I haven't won yet."
"Go, Searchlight!" little Willy shrieked. "Go, girl!"
Grandfather was better. Tears of joy rolled down little Willy's smiling face. Everything was going to be all right.
And then Stone Fox made his move.
One by one he began to pass the other racers. He went from last place to eighth. Then from eighth place to seventh. Then from seventh to sixth. Sixth to fifth.
He passed the others as if they were standing still.
He went from fifth place to fourth. Then to third. Then to second.
Until only little Willy remained.
But little Willy still had a good lead. In fact, it was not until the last two miles of the race that Stone Fox got his first glimpse of little Willy since the race had begun.
The five Samoyeds looked magnificent as they moved effortlessly across the snow. Stone Fox was gaining, and he was gaining fast. And little Willy wasn't aware of it.
Look back, little Willy! Look back!
But little Willy didn't look back. He was busy thinking about Grandfather. He could hear him laughing...and playing his harmonica...
Finally little Willy glanced back over his shoulder. He couldn't believe what he saw! Stone Fox was nearly on top of him!
This made little Willy mad. Mad at himself. Why hadn't he looked back more often? What was he doing? He hadn't won yet. Well, no time to think of that now. He had a race to win.
"Go, Searchlight! Go, girl!"
But Stone Fox kept gaining. Silently. Steadily.
"Go, Searchlight! Go!"
The lead Samoyed passed little Willy and pulled up even with Searchlight. Then it was a nose ahead. But that was all. Searchlight moved forward, inching her nose ahead. Then the Samoyed regained the lead. Then Searchlight...
When you enter the town of Jackson on South Road, the first buildings come into view about a half a mile away. Whether Searchlight took those buildings to be Grandfather's farmhouse again, no one can be sure, but it was at this time that she poured on the steam.
Little Willy's sled seemed to lift up off the ground and fly. Stone Fox was left behind.
But not that far behind.
10
THE FINISH LINE
THE CROWD CHEERED madly when they saw little Willy come into view at the far end of Main Street, and even more madly when they saw that Stone Fox was right on his tail.
"Go, Searchlight! Go!"
Searchlight forged ahead. But Stone Fox was gaining!
"Go, Searchlight! Go!" little Willy cried out.
Searchlight gave it everything she had.
She was a hundred feet from the finish line when her heart burst. She died instantly. There was no suffering.
The sled and little Willy tumbled over her, slid along the snow for a while, then came to a stop about ten feet from the finish line. It had started to snow--white snowflakes landed on Searchlight's dark fur as she lay motionless on the ground.
The crowd became deathly silent.
Lester's eyes looked to the ground. Miss Williams had her hands over her mouth. Mr. Foster's cigar lay on the snow. Doc Smith started to run out to little Willy, but stopped. Mayor Smiley looked shocked and helpless. And so did Hank and Dusty, and so did the city slickers, and so did Clifford Snyder, the tax man.
Stone Fox brought his sled to a stop alongside little Willy. He stood tall in the icy wind and looked down at the young challenger, and at the dog that lay limp in his arms.
"Is she dead, Mr. Stone Fox? Is she dead?" little Willy asked, looking up at Stone Fox with his one good eye.
Stone Fox knelt down and put one massive hand on Searchlight's chest. He felt no heartbeat. He looked at little Willy, and the boy understood.
Little Willy squeezed Searchlight with all his might. "You did real good, girl. Real good. I'm real proud of you. You rest now. Just rest." Little Willy began to brush the snow off Searchlight's back.
Stone Fox stood up slowly.
No one spoke. No one moved. All eyes were on the Indian, the one called Stone Fox, the one who had never lost a race, and who now had another victory within his grasp.
But Stone Fox did nothing.
He just stood there. Like a mountain.
His eyes shifted to his own dogs, then to the finish line, then back to little Willy, holding Searchlight.
With the heel of his moccasin Stone Fox drew a long line in the snow. Then he walked back over to his sled and pulled out his rifle.
Down at the end of Main Street, the other racers began to appear. As they approached, Stone Fox fired his rifle into the air. They came to a stop.
Stone Fox spoke.
"Anyone crosses this line--I shoot."
And there wasn't anybody who didn't believe him.
Stone Fox nodded to the boy.
The town looked on in silence as little Willy, carrying Searchlight, walked the last ten feet and across the finish line.
THE IDEA FOR THIS STORY CAME FROM A ROCKY MOUNTAIN LEGEND THAT WAS TOLD TO ME IN 1974 BY BOB HUDSON OVER A CUP OF COFFEE AT HUDSON'S CAFE IN IDAHO FALLS, IDAHO. ALTHOUGH STONE FOX AND THE OTHER CHARACTERS ARE PURELY FICTITIOUS AND OF MY CREATION, THE TRAGIC ENDING TO THIS STORY BELONGS TO THE LEGEND AND IS REPORTED TO HAVE ACTUALLY HAPPENED.
Acknowledgments
I would like to pay credit to Andrew J. Galambos for the many ideas and concepts of his, based on his theory of primary property and the science of volition, that appear in this book.
I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Martin Tahse, without whom this book would not have been written. I am also grateful to Barbara Fenton, my editor, for her solicitous guidance and contributions; Ken Gardiner, my brother, for inspiring me to become a writer; Sylvia Hirsch, my agent, for encouraging me through the years; and Gloria, my wife, for providing the tranquility every writer dreams of.
About the Author
JOHN REYNOLDS GARDINER (1944-2006), who described himself as an "author, engineer, inventor, rock-and-roll singer, door-to-door salesman, songwriter, and Santa Claus," traveled widely throughout his life. Born in California, he lived in Ireland, Germany, Italy, El Salvador, England, and Mexico. He heard the legend that inspired STONE FOX while in Idaho and it became his first published work. His other works include HOW TO LIVE A LIFE THAT'S NOT BORING.
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