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Farlane nagged her occasionally about her rides into
the sage, insisting that she must not go so far and stay so long. And after
Van's return to work he made her ride Sarchedon.
Things had happened at the Ford which would have concerned Lucy greatly had
she not been over-excited about her own affairs. Some one had ambushed Bostil
in the cottonwoods near his house and had shot at him, narrowly missing him.
Bostil had sworn he recognized the shot as having come from a rifle, and that
he knew to whom it belonged. The riders did not believe this, and said some
boy, shooting at a rabbit or coyote, had been afraid to confess he had nearly
hit Bostil. The riders all said Bostil was not wholly himself of late. The
river was still low. The boat had not been repaired. And Creech's horses were
still on the other side.
These things concerned Lucy, yet they only came and went swiftly through her
mind. She was obsessed by things intimately concerning herself.
"Oh, I oughtn't to go," she said, aloud. But she did not even check
Sarchedon's long swing, his rocking-chair lope.


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