Beyond
that was the home stretch up the valley, whose gradual slope could be seen
only at a distance. Here was a straight, broad trail, not too soft nor too
hard, and for all the years she could remember riders had tried out and
trained their favorites on that course.
Lucy reached down to assure herself that the cinch was tight, then she pulled
her sombrero down hard, slackened the bridle, and let the King go. He simply
broke his gait, he was so surprised. Lucy saw him trying to look back at her,
as if he could not realize that this young woman rider had given him a free
rein. Perhaps one reason he disliked her had been always and everlastingly
that tight rein. Like the wary horse he was he took to a canter, to try out
what his new freedom meant.
"Say, what's the matter with you?" called Lucy, disdainfully. "Are you lazy?
Or don't you believe I can ride you?"
Whereupon she dug him with her spurs. Sage King snorted. His action shifted
marvelously. Thunder rolled from under his hoofs. And he broke out of that
clattering roar into his fleet stride, where his hoof-beats were swift,
regular, rhythmic.
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