Stone Fox (3 page)

L
ITTLE
W
ILLY WENT
to see Mayor Smiley at the city hall building in town to sign up for the race.

The mayor’s office was large and smelled like hair tonic. The mayor sat in a bright red chair with his feet on his desk. There was nothing on the desk except the mayor’s feet.

“We have a race for you youngsters one hour before.” Mayor Smiley mopped sweat from his neck with a silk handkerchief, although little Willy thought it was quite cool in the room.

“I wanna enter the
real
race, Mr. Mayor.”

“You must be funning, boy.” The mayor laughed
twice and blotted his neck. “Anyway, there’s an entrance fee.”

“How much?”

“Fifty dollars.”

Little Willy was stunned. That was a lot of money just to enter a race. But he was determined. He ran across the street to the bank.

“Don’t be stupid,” Mr. Foster told little Willy. “This is not a race for amateurs. Some of the best dog teams in the Northwest will be entering.”

“I have Searchlight! We go fast as lightning. Really, Mr. Foster, we do.”

Mr. Foster shook his head. “You don’t stand a chance of winning.”

“Yes, we do!”

“Willy…the money in your savings account is for your college education. You know I can’t give it to you.”

“You have to.”

“I do?”

“It’s
my
money!”

Little Willy left the bank with a stack of ten-dollar gold pieces—five of them, to be exact.

He walked into the mayor’s office and plopped the coins down on the mayor’s desk. “Me and Searchlight are gonna win that five hundred dollars, Mr. Mayor. You’ll see. Everybody’ll see.”

Mayor Smiley counted the money, wiped his neck, and entered little Willy in the race.

When little Willy stepped out of the city hall
building, he felt ten feet tall. He looked up and down the snow-covered street. He was grinning from ear to ear. Searchlight walked over and stood in front of the sled, waiting to be hitched up. But little Willy wasn’t ready to go yet. He put his thumbs in his belt loops and let the sun warm his face.

He felt great. In his pocket was a map Mayor Smiley had given him showing the ten miles the race covered. Down Main Street, right on North Road—little Willy could hardly hold back his excitement.

Five miles of the race he traveled every day and knew with his eyes closed. The last five miles were back into town along South Road, which was mostly straight and flat. It’s speed that would count here, and with the lead he knew he could get in the first five miles, little Willy was sure he could win.

As little Willy hitched Searchlight to the sled,
something down at the end of the street—some moving objects—caught his eye. They were difficult to see because they were all white. There were five of them. And they were beautiful. In fact, they were the most beautiful Samoyeds little Willy had ever seen.

The dogs held their heads up proudly and strutted in unison. They pulled a large but lightly constructed sled. They also pulled a large—but by no means lightly constructed—man. Way down at the end of the street the man looked normal, but as the sled got closer, the man got bigger and bigger.

The man was an Indian—dressed in furs and leather, with moccasins that came all the way up to his knees. His skin was dark, his hair was dark, and he wore a dark-colored headband. His eyes sparkled in the sunlight, but the rest of his face was as hard as stone.

The sled came to a stop right next to little
Willy. The boy’s mouth hung open as he tilted his head way back to look up at the man. Little Willy had never seen a giant before.

“Gosh,” little Willy gasped.

The Indian looked at little Willy. His face was solid granite, but his eyes were alive and cunning.

“Howdy,” little Willy blurted out, and he gave a nervous smile.

But the Indian said nothing. His eyes shifted to Searchlight, who let out a soft moan but did not bark.

The Giant walked into the city hall building.

Word that Stone Fox had entered the race spread throughout the town of Jackson within the hour, and throughout the state of Wyoming within the day.

Stories and legends about the awesome mountain man followed shortly. Little Willy heard many of them at Lester’s General Store.

“Was this time in Denver he snapped a man’s back with two fingers,” said Dusty, the town drunk. But nobody believed him, really.

Little Willy learned that no white man had ever heard Stone Fox talk. Stone Fox refused to speak with the white man because of the treatment his people had received. His tribe, the Shoshone, who were peaceful seed gatherers, had been forced to leave Utah and settle on a reservation in Wyoming with another tribe called the Arapaho.

Stone Fox’s dream was for his people to return to their homeland. Stone Fox was using the money he won from racing to simply buy the land back. He had already purchased four farms and over two hundred acres.

That Stone Fox was smart, all right.

In the next week little Willy and Searchlight went over the ten-mile track every day, until they knew every inch of it by heart.

Stone Fox hardly practiced at all. In fact, little Willy only saw Stone Fox do the course once, and then he sure wasn’t going very fast.

The race was scheduled for Saturday morning at ten o’clock. Only nine sleds were entered. Mayor Smiley had hoped for more contestants, but after Stone Fox had entered, well…you couldn’t blame people for wanting to save their money.

It was true Stone Fox had never lost a race. But little Willy wasn’t worried. He had made up his mind to win. And nothing was going to stop him. Not even Stone Fox.

I
T WAS
F
RIDAY
night, the night before the race, when it happened.

Grandfather was out of medicine. Little Willy went to see Doc Smith.

“Here.” Doc Smith handed little Willy a piece of paper with some scribbling on it. “Take this to Lester right away.”

“But it’s nighttime. The store’s closed.”

“Just knock on the back door. He’ll hear you.”

“But…are you sure it’s all right?”

“Yes. Lester knows I may have to call on him any time—day or night. People don’t always get sick just during working hours, now, do they?”

“No, I guess they don’t.” Little Willy headed for the door. He sure wished he could stay and have some of that cinnamon cake Doc Smith was baking in the oven. It smelled mighty good. But Grandfather needed his medicine. And, anyway, he wouldn’t think of staying without being asked.

“One other thing, Willy,” Doc Smith said.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I might as well say this now as later. It’s about the race tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“First, I want you to know that I think you’re a darn fool for using your college money to enter that race.”

Little Willy’s eyes looked to the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

“But, since it’s already been done, I also want you to know that I’ll be rooting for you.”

Little Willy looked up. “You will?”

“Win, Willy. Win that race tomorrow.”

Little Willy beamed. He tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words. Embarrassed, he backed over to the door, gave a little wave, then turned quickly to leave.

“And, Willy…”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“If you stay a minute, you can have some of that cinnamon cake I’ve got in the oven.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Later, on his way to town, little Willy sang at the top of his lungs. The sled’s runners cut through the snow with a swish. This was a treacherous road at night, but the moon was out and Searchlight could see well. And, anyway, they knew this road by heart. Nothing was going to happen.

Lester gave little Willy a big bottle of what looked like dirty milk.

“How’s your grandfather doing?” Lester asked.

“Not so good. But after I win the race tomorrow, he’ll get better. Doc Smith thinks so too.”

Lester smiled. “I admire you, Willy. You got a heap of courage, going up against the likes of Stone Fox. You know he’s never lost, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know. Thank you for the medicine.”

Little Willy waved good-bye as Searchlight started off down Main Street.

Lester watched the departing sled for a long time before he yelled, “Good luck, son!”

On his way out of town, along North Road, little Willy heard dogs barking. The sounds came from the old deserted barn near the schoolhouse.

Little Willy decided to investigate.

He squeaked open the barn door and peeked in. It was dark inside and he couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything either. The dogs had stopped barking.

He went inside the barn.

Little Willy’s eyes took a while to get used to the dark, and then he saw them. The five Samoyeds. They were in the corner of the barn on a bed of straw. They were looking at him. They were so beautiful that little Willy couldn’t keep from smiling.

Little Willy loved dogs. He had to see the Samoyeds up close. They showed no alarm as he approached, or as he held out his hand to pet them.

And then it happened.

There was a movement through the darkness to little Willy’s right. A sweeping motion, fast at first; then it appeared to slow and stop. But it didn’t stop. A hand hit little Willy right in the face, sending him over backward.

“I didn’t mean any harm, Mr. Stone Fox,” little Willy said as he picked himself up off the ground, holding a hand over his eye.

Stone Fox stood tall in the darkness and
said nothing. Searchlight barked outside. The Samoyeds barked in return.

Little Willy continued, “I’m going to race against you tomorrow. I know how you wanna win, but…I wanna win too. I gotta win. If I don’t, they’re gonna take away our farm. They have the right. Grandfather says that those that want to bad enough, will. So I will. I’ll win. I’m gonna beat you.”

Stone Fox remained motionless. And silent.

Little Willy backed over to the barn door, still holding his eye. “I’m sorry we both can’t win,” he said. Then he pushed open the barn door and left, closing the door behind him.

In the barn, Stone Fox stood unmoving for another moment; then he reached out with one massive hand and gently petted one of the Samoyeds.

That night little Willy couldn’t sleep—his eye was killing him. And when little Willy couldn’t
sleep, Searchlight couldn’t sleep. Both tossed and turned for hours, and whenever little Willy looked over to see if Searchlight was asleep, she’d just be lying there with her eyes wide open, staring back at him.

Little Willy needed his rest. So did Searchlight. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. The biggest day of their lives.

T
HE DAY OF
the race arrived.

Little Willy got up early. He couldn’t see out of his right eye. It was swollen shut.

As he fed Grandfather his oatmeal, he tried to hide his eye with his hand or by turning away, but he was sure Grandfather saw it just the same.

After adding more wood to the fire, little Willy kissed Grandfather, hitched up Searchlight, and started off for town.

At the edge of their property he stopped the sled for a moment and looked back at the farmhouse. The roof was covered with freshly fallen snow. A trail of smoke escaped from the
stone chimney. The jagged peaks of the Teton Mountains shot up in the background toward the clear blue sky overhead. “Yes, sir,” he remembered Grandfather saying. “There are some things in this world worth dying for.”

Little Willy loved this country. He loved to hike and to fish and to camp out by a lake. But he did not like to hunt. He loved animals too much to be a hunter.

He had killed a bird once with a slingshot. But that had been when he was only six years old. And that had been enough. In fact, to this day, he still remembered the spot where the poor thing was buried.

Lost in his thoughts, little Willy got to town before he knew it. As he turned onto Main Street, he brought the sled to an abrupt halt.

He couldn’t believe what he saw.

Main Street was jammed with people, lined up on both sides of the street. There were people
on rooftops and people hanging out of windows. Little Willy hadn’t expected such a big turnout. They must have all come to see Stone Fox.

Searchlight pulled the sled down Main Street past the crowd. Little Willy saw Miss Williams, his teacher, and Mr. Foster from the bank, and Hank from the post office. And there were Doc Smith and Mayor Smiley and Dusty the drunk. The city slickers were there. And even Clifford Snyder, the tax man, was there. Everybody.

Lester came out of the crowd and walked alongside little Willy for a while. It was one of the few times little Willy had ever seen Lester without his white apron.

“You can do it, Willy. You can beat him,” Lester kept saying over and over again.

They had a race for the youngsters first, and the crowd cheered and rooted for their favorites. It was a short race. Just down to the end of Main
Street and back. Little Willy didn’t see who won. It didn’t matter.

And then it was time.

The old church clock showed a few minutes before ten as the contestants positioned themselves directly beneath the long banner that stretched across the street. They stood nine abreast. Stone Fox in the middle. Little Willy right next to him.

Little Willy had read all about the other contestants in the newspaper. They were all well-known mountain men with good racing records and excellent dog teams. But, even so, all bets were on Stone Fox. The odds were as high as a hundred to one that he’d win.

Not one cent had been bet on little Willy and Searchlight.

“What happened to Willy’s eye?” Doc Smith asked Lester.

“Bumped it this morning when he got up,
he told me. Just nervous. Got a right to be.” Lester was chewing on his hand, his eyes glued on Stone Fox. “Big Indian,” he whispered to himself.

Although little Willy’s eye was black, puffy, and swollen shut, he still felt like a winner. He was smiling. Searchlight knew the route as well as he did, so it really didn’t matter if he could see at all. They were going to win today, and that was final. Both of them knew it.

Stone Fox looked bigger than ever standing next to little Willy. In fact, the top of little Willy’s head was dead even with Stone Fox’s waist.

“Morning, Mr. Stone Fox,” little Willy said, looking practically straight up. “Sure’s a nice day for a race.”

Stone Fox must have heard little Willy, but he did not look at him. His face was frozen like ice, and his eyes seemed to lack that sparkle little Willy remembered seeing before.

The crowd became silent as Mayor Smiley stepped out into the street.

Miss Williams clenched her hands together until her knuckles turned white. Lester’s mouth hung open, his lips wet. Mr. Foster began chewing his cigar. Hank stared without blinking. Doc Smith held her head up proudly. Dusty took a powerful swig from a whiskey bottle. Clifford Snyder removed a gold watch from his vest pocket and checked the time.

Tension filled the air.

Little Willy’s throat became dry. His hands started to sweat. He could feel his heart thumping.

Mayor Smiley raised a pistol to the sky and fired.

The race had begun!