Tangled Trails | Page 4

red-hot eyes of the brute a devil of fury glared at the men
trying to thrust a gunny sack over its head. The four legs were wide
apart, the ears cocked, teeth bared. The animal flung itself skyward and

came down on the boot of a puncher savagely. The man gave an
involuntary howl of pain, but he clung to the rope snubbed round the
wicked head.
The gunny sack was pushed and pulled over the eyes. Wild Fire
subsided, trembling, while bridle was adjusted and saddle slipped on.
The girl attended to the cinching herself. If the saddle turned it might
cost her life, and she preferred to take no unnecessary chances.
She was dressed in green satin riding clothes. A beaded bolero jacket
fitted over a white silk blouse. Her boots were of buckskin,
silver-spurred. With her hat on, at a distance, one might have taken her
for a slim, beautiful boy.
Wild Rose swung to the saddle and adjusted her feet in the stirrups. The
gunny sack was whipped from the horse's head. There was a wild
scuffle of escaping wranglers.
For a moment Wild Fire stood quivering. The girl's hat swept through
the air in front of its eyes. The horse woke to galvanized action. The
back humped. It shot into the air with a writhing twist of the body. All
four feet struck the ground together, straight and stiff as fence posts.
The girl's head jerked forward as though it were on a hinge. The outlaw
went sunfishing, its forefeet almost straight up. She was still in the
saddle when it came to all fours again. A series of jarring bucks, each
ending with the force of a pile-driver as Wild Fire's hoofs struck earth,
varied the programme. The rider came down limp, half in the saddle,
half out, righting herself as the horse settled for the next leap. But not
once did her hands reach for the pommel of the saddle to steady her.
Pitching and bucking, the animal humped forward to the fence.
"Look out!" a judge yelled.
It was too late. The rider could not deflect her mount. Into the fence
went Wild Fire blindly and furiously. The girl threw up her leg to keep
it from being jammed. Up went the bronco again before Wild Rose

could find the stirrup. She knew she was gone, felt herself shooting
forward. She struck the ground close to the horse's hoofs. Wild Fire
lunged at her. A bolt of pain like a red-hot iron seared through her.
Through the air a rope whined. It settled over the head of the outlaw
and instantly was jerked tight. Wild Fire, coming down hard for a
second lunge at the green crumpled heap underfoot, was dragged
sharply sideways. Another lariat snaked forward and fell true.
"Here, Cole!" The first roper thrust the taut line into the hands of a
puncher who had run forward. He himself dived for the still girl
beneath the hoofs of the rearing horse. Catching her by the arms, he
dragged her out of danger. She was unconscious.
The cowboy picked her up and carried her to the waiting ambulance.
The closed eyes flickered open. A puzzled little frown rested in them.
"What's up, Kirby?" asked Wild Rose.
"You had a spill."
"Took the dust, did I?" He sensed the disappointment in her voice.
"You rode fine. He jammed you into the fence," explained the young
man.
The doctor examined her. The right arm hung limp.
"Broken, I'm afraid," he said.
"Ever see such luck?" the girl complained to Lane.
"Probably they won't let me ride in the wild-horse race now."
"No chance, young lady," the doctor said promptly. "I'm going to take
you right to the hospital."
"I might get back in time," she said hopefully.

"You might, but you won't."
"Oh, well," she sighed. "If you're going to act like that."
The cowboy helped her into the ambulance and found himself a seat.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a smile a bit
twisted by pain.
"I reckon I'll go far as the hospital with you."
"I reckon you won't. What do you think I am--a nice little parlor girl
who has to be petted when she gets hurt? You're on to ride inside of
fifteen minutes--and you know it."
"Oh, well! I'm lookin' for an alibi so as not to be beaten. That Cole
Sanborn is sure a straight-up rider."
"So's that Kirby Lane. You needn't think I'm going to let you beat
yourself out of the championship. Not so any one could notice it. Hop
out, sir."
He rose, smiling ruefully. "You certainly are one bossy kid."
"I'd say you need bossing when you start to act so foolish," she retorted,
flushing.
"See you later," he called to her