The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open Country
Page 24
CHAPTER XXIII
Blazing Star
The Angel of Destiny who had special charge of Jim had listed andmeasured his failings and had numbered them for drastic treatment. Thebrawling spirit of his early days, the proneness to drink, the bigotedintolerance of any other mode of thought than his own, the strangemistake of thinking physical courage the only courage, a curiousdisregard for the things of the understanding--each was the cause ofbitter suffering. Each in its kind was alloy, dross, and for each themetal had to pass through the fires and, purified, come forth.
Hartigan's love of sport was rooted deep in his nature and Fate gave ita long fling. It took no cruel or destructive form, nor did it possesshim as a hate; but certain things held him in passionate allegiance, sodeep and so reckless that when their fever was upon him nothing elseseemed worth a thought. And the chiefest of these was his love ofhorses. A noble thing in itself, a necessary vent, perhaps, for theuntamed spirit's love of untrammelled motion but it was inwrought withdangers. Most men in the West in Hartigan's day--as now--were by naturehorse-lovers; but never, so far as Cedar Mountain knew, had there been aman so horse-crazy as the Rev. James Hartigan. Already, he was known asthe "Horse Preacher."
It was seldom that an animal received so much personal care as BlazingStar; it was seldom that a steed so worthy could be found; and theresults were for all to behold. The gaunt colt of the immigrant becamethe runner of Cedar Mountain, and the victory won at Fort Ryan was thefirst of many ever growing in importance.
You can tell much of a man's relation to his horse when he goes to bringhim from pasture. If he tricks and drives him into a corner, and then bysudden violence puts on the bridle, you know that he has no love, nodesire for anything but service; in return he will get poor service atbest, and no love at all. If he puts a lump of sugar in his pocket andgoes to the fence, calling his horse by name, and the horse comesjoyously as to meet a friend, and with mobile, velvet lips picks thesugar clean from the offering palm and goes willingly to saddle and bit,then you know that the man is a horse man, probably a horseman; by thebond of love he holds his steed, and will get from him twice the serviceand for thrice as long as any could extort with spur and whip.
"Whoa, Blazing Star, whoa", and the gold-red meteor of the prairie wouldshake his mane and tail and come careering, curvetting, not direct, butround in a brief spiral to find a period point at the hand he loved.
"Ten times," said Colonel Waller, of the Fort, "have I seen a man sobound up in the friendship of his dog that all human ties had secondplace; but never before or since have I seen a man so bonded to hishorse, or a horse so nobly answering in his kind, as Hartigan and hisBlazing Star."
The ancients had a fable of a horse and a rider so attuned--so whollyone--that the brain of the man and the power of the horse were a singlebeing, a wonderful creature to whom the impossible was easy play. Andthere is good foundation for the myth. Who that has ridden on the polofield or swung the lasso behind the bounding herd, can forget the manytimes when he dropped the reins and signalled to the horse only by thegentle touch of knee, of heel, by voice, by body swing, by _wishing_thus and so, and got response? For the horse and he were perfectlyattuned and trained--the reins superfluous. Thus, centaur-like, theywent, with more than twice the power that either by itself possessed.
Fort Ryan where the Colonel held command, was in the Indian reserve andfive miles south of Cedar Mountain. The life of the garrison was veryself-contained, but Cedar Mountain had its allurements, and there weresome entertainments where civilian and soldier met. The trail betweenwas a favourite drive or ride and to Hartigan it became very familiar.
There was one regular function that had a strong hold on him. It tookplace every other Saturday afternoon on the parade ground, and wascalled general riding exercises, but was really a "stunt show" of trickriding. After they began to know him, the coming of Hartigan with hishorse was hailed by all with delight. The evenings of these festal dayswere spent in the gymnasium, when there was an athletic programme withgreat prominence given to sword play, boxing, and singlestick, in whichHartigan was the king; and here his cup of joy was full.
"Ain't it a shame to waste all that stuff on a preacher?" was thefrequent expression of the soldiers. Though what better use they wouldhave made of it, was not clear.
Many a dark night Hartigan rode home from the Fort after the evening'sfun was over leaving it entirely to his horse to select the road, afterthe manner of the wise horseman. In mid-August there had been one of thetypical Black Hill storms. After a month of drought, it had rainedinches in a few hours. The little Rapid Fork of the Cheyenne was a broadflood which carried off most of its bridges, including that on the trailto the Fort. The rain had ceased the day before, but the flood hadsubsided very little by Saturday night as Hartigan mounted Blazing Starand set out for the fortnightly affair at Fort Ryan.
The sky was still blocked with clouds and at eight o'clock it was blackdark, so Hartigan left the selection of the trail, as a matter ofcourse, to Blazing Star. From the time of leaving the last light inCedar Mountain till they drew up under the first lantern at Fort Ryan,Hartigan never saw the horse he was riding, much less the road he wasriding on: nor had he touched the reins or given by word or pressure ofknee any signal of guidance. The night was too black for his senses, buthe knew he was committing his way to senses that were of a keener orderthan his own, and he rode as a child might--without thought of fear. Hecould feel it when they were going down into the canyon of the RapidFork, and at the bottom of the slight descent he heard the rush ofwaters, and noted that Blazing Star lowered his head and snorted softlymore than once. He heard the tap of the hoofs on the timber of thebridge, and then they ascended and came in a little while to the lanternat the door of the gymnasium in the barracks.
"Hello, Hartigan! Where in the world did you come from?" was the cordialgreeting of Colonel Waller.
"Where could I come from but Cedar Mountain?"
"The deuce you did."
"Why not?"
"How did you cross the creek?"
"By the bridge."
"Oh, no, you didn't."
"I surely did," said the Preacher.
"Well, you didn't, because there isn't any bridge. It all went out lastnight," was the Colonel's astounding answer.
"Be that as it may," said the Preacher, "I have come here direct fromCedar Mountain. I left at eight o'clock and here I am, arrived by theroad at eight forty-five; and I crossed the Rapid Fork of the Cheyenneon the bridge. I didn't see it. I didn't see my horse from start tofinish. I didn't see one inch of the road; but I heard it and felt it.Anyway, I'm here."
That night the Preacher stayed at the Fort, but he was up at daylight.So were the officers, for they had laid bets on this matter. They cameto the little canyon, the river, and the place of the bridge; the bridgewas gone; but, yes, surely there was one long stringer left. It had beenheld by the bolt at one end, and the officer charged with repairing thebridge had swung it back into place that very afternoon, and made itfirm to serve as a footbridge, though it was barely twelve inches wide.
There, plainly written in the soft earth, was the story of the crossing.Blazing Star had descended the bank, and had missed the narrow stringerby a yard. He had nosed along till he found it and had crossed over onthat with the delicate poise and absolute sense of certainty that wouldhave been destroyed had the rider tried to give a guiding hand. And theend would have been sure death had Hartigan not trusted to his horse soutterly. The best of steed and man had thus begot a creature on a higherplane--in spirit and effect the centaur of the ancient tale.