Chapter 6

• The dusty twilight in the frontier town had a way of magnifying every small sound and gesture, every whisper of wind, every furtive glance. Under the waning light of a blood-orange sky, the crowd’s laughter rang out_ Cole now burst forth in hearty guffaws, echoing long into the twilight.
• "Now listen here, if you’re bent on charity," Cole drawled, his eyes glinting like flint, "perhaps we might find another wager that suits your fancy!"
• Grinder’s temper flared like a desert sun, his voice hot as molten lead. "Name it, and I’ll ride it!"
• Grimwood’s words danced in the air, a challenge wrapped in the promise of a test of mettle. "I suppose you're a rider of some renown, eh?" he teased, half-amused, half-skeptical.
• Grinder scoffed. "I’ve seen my share of horses; none have outrun me so long as I’m on their back."
• "Ah, but you never pulled leather 'til you've ridden a beast that would not yield without a battle," Grimwood countered, his tone dipped in irony.
• At that, his keen gaze fell upon a tall, nervous roan, its coat a mottled tapestry of dusk and dawn, restless as if aware of the impending trial. "Behold that roan yonder_ do you see him?" Grimwood said, pointing at the animal. "I wager you can reclaim that lost hundred if you ride him for but two minutes. Do you dare accept this fate?"
• Grinder’s eyes narrowed as he studied the trembling creature. The roan was a paradox_ its wild spirit clashing with an inner timidity, rearing sporadically and tossing its head as if in defiance of unseen chains. Yet the sting of lost money and the sharp burn of public humiliation had already carved themselves into Grinder’s pride. With a gritted determination, he declared, "I accept."
• A high, thrilling whistle floated faintly from the distance a call to the wild, a summons of destiny. Ted Danny, ever the observer, remarked with a sly smirk, "That fellow on the black steed down the road, I reckon he’s the only one who can land the four dollars? Ha! Ha!"
• Grimwood grinned, his voice low and teasing. "Listen to his whistle, my friend! We shall see if fate will favor another bet from our saloon-keeper should this roan prove too much of a challenge. Behold his stance_ look at him now!"
• Grinder’s struggle with the stirrup was almost balletic in its desperation, as the roan reared, plunging him into a chaotic danced with fate. With two burly men holding his head, the saloon-keeper swung Grinder onto the animal’s back. For a brief, tension-filled silence, the creature hesitated, as if contemplating the audacity of bearing such a burden. Then, like a spirit of the wild refusing captivity, the roan pranced a few uncertain steps before rearing skyward in a defiant snort. The crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers, a sound so profound it sent the beast racing off, its hooves thundering along the road.
• In that frantic moment, as Grinder lurched forward with a blend of hope and despair, his grip on the saddle became his only tether to the fate he so desperately sought to defy. Not far off, the man on the black stallion_ Jack watched with a calm resolve. His horse, Nightfall, seemed to embody a quiet ferocity, its dark eyes fixed on the horizon. The chase was on.
• Grinder's cry rang out, a mix of defiance and terror, as he swung his quirt in a futile attempt to recapture control. But the roan, with the unpredictability of a tempest, sprinted away with a speed that defied mortal limits. With every stride, the horse mocked its rider’s efforts, until, at a critical juncture near Jack’s path, it halted abruptly with a Ricky and a lurch_ a move that snapped Grinder from his tenuous hold and cast him from the saddle like a stone hurled from a sling. The crowd’s laughter and hat-waving were a cruel serenade to his fall.
• "Grab the reins!" Cole Grimwood bellowed, his voice a mix of exasperation and a touch of sympathy amid the chaos. Yet even as Grinder lunged after the runaway roan, his efforts were as futile as trying to harness the wind.
• Amid the uproar, voices mingled with curses and exclamations. "Look out! That roan’s gone!" someone cried, while another hollered, "Saddles! We’ll catch him!" But Grimwood, his tone darkening with bitter humor, remarked, "Catch hell, I say_ no horse on this earth can catch him now that he’s unburdened by a rider. He’ll flee the wind itself!"
• And so the wild chase ensued. The nimble roan, unencumbered by the weight of human folly, sped along the road with a grace that belied its tumultuous nature. Meanwhile, the legend of Trillin’ Jack began to take shape. On a black stallion, handicapped many yards at the start but fueled by the spirit of untamed freedom, Jack and his steed, Nightfall, were engaged in a contest of wills with the mercurial roan.
• Nightfall’s movements were poetry in motion_ a blend of raw muscle and refined discipline. His smooth shoulders rippled beneath the tension of each stride, each powerful, measured beat of his gallop speaking of a unity of man and beast. Trillin’ Jack leaned into the ride, his body and mind a single force, a centaur of flesh and steel, his quiet murmurings barely audible above the rush of wind. Their silent communion was one of ancient magic, a testament to the bond that transcends mere rider and horse.
• As the race stretched on, the roan, though blessed with heart and the freedom of an empty saddle, began to falter under the relentless pursuit. The black stallion closed the gap_ first inch by inch, then with every stride, their noses drawing ever closer until at last, as if by the hand of fate, the moment of reckoning arrived. With a sudden, deft maneuver, Jack shifted his weight; his left foot gripped the opposite stirrup while his right leg swung free in a daring pirouette.
• The roan swerved violently in response_ a desperate danced to avoid the inevitable_ and then, in a moment that seemed torn from the pages of myth, a shadow plunged through the air. With a thunderous impact, an iron hand reined in the creature's wild spirit. Bushy Fury, known for his temper and his fear of men, felt the crushing weight of destiny on his back. The new burden was not the familiar pressure of reins but a force that shattered his rebellious will_ a force that, in its calm authority, reshaped his very essence. The beast’s frantic gallop dwindled, first to a halting trot, then to a measured canter, as it was turned back toward Grinder’s domain.
• Beside them, Nightfall’s progress continued, the black stallion now a silent arbiter of fate, his mighty frame setting a pace that redefined the very limits of man and beast. Grim Fang, the dog with a loyalty as fierce as any warrior’s shield, trotted under Nightfall’s head, occasionally looking upward with a comical air, as though he were the unwitting guide in this ballet of destiny.
• At length, the two horses converged upon Grinder, who had begun to nurse his pride and his battered body. "That red devil cost me a hundred bones and left my knees raw as desert rock," Grinder grumbled bitterly, though his eyes, burning with a grudging admiration, betrayed a spark of wonder at the spectacle he had just witnessed. "Jack, your stunt on the run_ I'll be damned_ I’ve never seen such audacity!"
• Jack, ever the calm in the storm, replied quietly, "If you were hurt in that fall, why not ride Nightfall back? He won’t stir, steady as the hand of fate itself."
• Grinder’s laugh was a rumble of disbelief. "I’d wager my life on Nightfall, but this fool’s no place for a man who fears his own shadow!" Yet, as he edged toward the imposing black stallion, his steps faltered before an unforeseen adversary. Grim Fang, once the jovial companion, now transformed into a snarling guardian_ a green-eyed devil with bristling hair and teeth bared like the fangs of a cornered beast. Nightfall, too, shifted, his ears pinned back in a silent declaration of defiance.
• "If I'm to ride Nightfall, I'll first have to silence that mutinous cur and blindfold the beast of his will," Grinder declared, half in jest, half in desperation.
• "No, you don't," interjected Jack with calm authority. "None has ever taken the reins of Nightfall, yet I believe this stallion may offer a temporary reprieve for your wounded pride." With a steady hand, Jack commanded, "Steady, boy. And you, Fang, hold your tongue and your eyes."
• Reluctantly, the once-charming canine retreated, its gaze never leaving Grinder. Nightfall, however, snorted in protest and withdrew, until Jack’s soft but firm guidance restored order. Despite Grinder’s trembling hand on the bridle and his whispered words of coaxing, the stallion’s fear and anger swirled like a tempest beneath the calm veneer of command. The saloon-keeper, witnessing the unfolding drama, turned his back in resigned silence.
• "Thanking you just the same, Jack," Grinder muttered, his pride wounded further. "I can barely walk on my own. I'd sooner ride a tame tornado than trust this beast."
• With Jack at his side, Grinder limped along the road, Grim Fang faithfully shadowing him. In a moment of strained sincerity, Grinder leaned toward Jack and said, "I need a favor_ a big one. There’s a skunk out there, sharp-eyed and quicker with a gun than a rattlesnake. He once picked me for fifty Rickys, nailing a dollar I tossed from twenty yards, then took a hundred more when I couldn’t ride his hoss. I've spun a tale about you, Jack, promising that you'd have your back turned as the coins flew, ready to snatch four dollars before they touched the ground. I may have exaggerated a trifle. What do you say?"
• Jack’s soft eyes crinkled with a knowing smile. "Nick four round boys before they hit the dust? Perhaps I might, though I can’t risk it now_ I've sworn to my father, old Harrington, never to draw a gun amidst such a crowd."
• Grinder’s sigh was one of resignation and stubborn hope. "But you promised, Jack_ your word is your honor!"
• Jack’s shoulders shrugged, a silent concession. "I've given you my word, and I shall deliver_ though I fear my dear old Dad Harrington might take it as a grievous betrayal."
• Their banter was punctuated by the growing clamor of the approaching crowd. Money exchanged hands like fleeting sparks amid the laughter and curses that filled the air. Suddenly, Cole Grimwood emerged from the throng, his brow furrowed in anger as he approached the assembled riders.
• "What have you done to my hoss?" Cole demanded, his voice a low rumble of discontent.
• "He’s been hypnotized, my friend," Jim Case replied with a grin that revealed yellowed teeth, satisfaction glinting in his eyes.
• "Get off that saddle posthaste!" Grimwood roared, his tone a dark promise of retribution. "I won't have you treating my hoss like a plough-beast. If you’ve attempted any fancy stunts_ "
• "Easy now," Case interrupted, his voice smooth and mocking, as Jack dismounted without a trace of anger. "Easy now. You’re a poor loser. When I saw the black stallion settle into his work, I knew he’d nail him in the end, so I staked twenty on your friend here. A fine change of hosses indeed!"
• Curses and clinks of coins filled the air as more men joined in the revelry, their wagers and exclamations blending into a chaotic tapestry of sound. Grimwood, ever the scrutinizer, examined the roan with a scowl, while Will Durov and Jim Case advanced toward Nightfall to scrutinize his every mark. Case, ever brash, reached toward the bridle until a murderous snarl from Grim Fang made him recoil with a startled shout. Quickly, he drew his gun, his gaze fixed on the snarling beast at his feet.
• "Who’s got money to bet this damn wolf lives more than five seconds?" Case growled, his words laced with danger.
• "I do," Jack replied calmly.
• "Who in blazes are you? What do you mean by trailing that man-killer around?" Case demanded, his gun never lowering.
• "Fang isn’t a killer," Jack said softly, his tone gentle and disarming, "but he does not take kindly to strangers approaching the hoss."
• Case slowly lowered his weapon, his eyes still burning with challenge. "Very well then, but if that wolf of yours dares look at me with a cross-eyed glare again, he’ll find himself on a never-ending trail."
• "Sure enough," Jack murmured, a placid smile touching his lips.
• With a subtle shift in the air, Grimwood’s gaze turned darkly upon Jack. "How about it, bar-keep? Is this the deadshot you’ve been prattling on about?" he sneered.
• Jack, incapable of grasping the broad insult, merely smiled with an almost childlike wonder. "Keep your distance, stranger," Grinder warned him. "Just because he rode your hoss doesn’t give you cause to hunt him down. He’s been schooled in the art of non-violence."
• Grimwood’s eyes narrowed, his scorn deepening. "He sticks to his daddy’s lessons_ quiet and proper, like a gentleman of another sort. In my neck of the woods, we dress such men in women’s garb so no one would dare mar their pretty faces. Best you head home to your ma. This isn’t the place for you among men."
• A hushed expectation fell over the crowd, quickly followed by a thunderous yell of delight. Jack, ever the picture of untroubled resolve, met Grimwood’s icy glare with innocent wonder. "If I’m not wanted here, then I see no reason to linger. You don’t truly mean to be mad at me, do you?"
• The laughter swelled into a cacophony of cheers and jeers, even Grimwood’s face betraying a slight, almost imperceptible smile of careless contempt. "No, kid," he finally said with a hint of finality, "if I were truly angry, you’d know it without question." With that, he turned away slowly, his retreat marked by the unspoken promise of future retribution.
• As the throng’s mirth mingled with the clatter of coins and the murmurs of fate, Grimwood added with a wry chuckle, "Perhaps I’ve got a touch of jaundice, but it appears I see something kind of yellow about now!"
• The subtle irony of his remark unleashed another wave of boisterous laughter. Jack shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked to Grinder for some hint of meaning. The saloon-keeper, approaching with a grin that belied the chaos of the day, said reassuringly, "It’s all right, Jack_ don’t let them rile you."
• "And you’ve nothing to fear," Grimwood declared, his tone laced with certainty, "for such deeds cannot be done in the face of true resolve."