xymnovel Chapter 15 Horse Racing
Chapter 15 Horse Racing
The pioneering journey was mostly tedious.
But there are always people who can find fun in the mundane, like Elsa and Ennis.
Tom could see the two chatting animatedly from afar, smiles occasionally spreading across their faces.
He rode his horse towards them, its hooves kicking up clouds of dust as it drew ever closer.
"Elsa, catch!"
Before the words were even finished, a golden arc flashed and landed precisely in Elsa's arms.
"Huh? What's this?" Elsa caught it hastily, looked down, and her eyes lit up instantly. "A gold pocket watch?!"
She stroked the heavy, gleaming, exquisite pocket watch in her hand and blurted out, "Isn't this what you got from..." She stopped abruptly, glanced quickly at Ennis beside her, and swallowed the rest of her sentence.
"What do you mean?" Elsa looked up, staring at Tom with a puzzled expression.
"Here you go," Tom said casually, as if it were a routine matter.
"What?!" Elsa could hardly believe her ears.
Tom smiled at the "silly girl," and said, "Consider it a gift! From now on, whenever you see this pocket watch, you'll remember me, right? Isn't that great!"
Elsa grinned, revealing a bright smile, and clutched the pocket watch tightly: "You really gave it to me? You're not kidding?"
"Hmm!" Tom nodded in agreement, but his gaze drifted almost imperceptibly to Ennis beside him, a playful smile playing on his lips. "I heard... you're the best cowboy in this group?"
Ennis was taken aback. Who had spread this rumor? He had no idea. But how could he show weakness in front of Elsa?
"Ahem," he straightened his back, trying to make his voice sound steady, "that's what everyone... says."
Tom's smile widened instantly, tinged with a smug satisfaction at his successful scheme: "Then... shall we have a race?"
"Huh?" Ennis didn't react.
"Cowboy horse racing, huh?" Tom gestured with his chin, his tone clearly provocative. "You haven't... ever done it before, have you?"
This seemingly casual provocation struck the girl he admired, and Ennis's fighting spirit flared up instantly. How could he back down?
"Now?" He squinted.
"Sure!" Tom immediately chimed in, pointing to the convoy ahead. "Right now! Get to the front of the line, then turn back. Whoever gets back here first wins! You got it?"
Under the blazing sun, the boundless western wilderness was scorched, and the air distorted in the heatwave.
The two riders shot out like arrows released from a bow, kicking up clouds of reddish-brown dust!
The man on the left is a man with a full beard, riding a sleek chestnut Quarter Horse.
He was practically lying on the horse's back, the brim of his wide-brimmed hat pressed tightly against his head by the wind, revealing his sun-reddened neck.
His rough, large hands gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. The spurs slammed against the ribs of his mount, producing a piercing metallic scraping sound.
"Giddy up!" he growled, his voice drowned out by the thunderous sound of hooves.
The Quarter Horse unleashed an astonishing burst of power, its muscles bulging beneath its taut skin, its hooves flying, each stomp kicking up pebbles and grass, each step shortening the distance to the horizon ahead.
The one on the right is a lean boy with sharp, eagle-like eyes.
He rode a mule with a coat the color of a blue coat, his body moving with remarkable stability as he galloped, as if he and his mount were one.
Unlike his companions, he didn't lower himself; instead, he leaned back slightly, skillfully using the wind. The reins in his hands were more like a dancer's ribbon, relaxed yet precisely controlled.
"Keep up, loach!" he shouted, his voice not loud but with great penetrating power.
The blue mule responded to its master's trust, its mane dancing wildly in the wind, its long limbs stretched to the limit, its stride astonishingly large, each step carrying an elegant yet deadly power, biting tightly at the chestnut horse's side and rear.
The two mules rode side by side, like two bolts of lightning tearing the earth apart!
The heavy horseshoes pounded violently on the dry, hard earth, producing a dense drumbeat of "thud thud! clatter clatter!" that made the sparse cacti along the roadside tremble.
The dust kicked up formed a long, rolling "yellow dragon" that followed them closely, obscuring the figures of the spectators cheering them on from behind.
Sweat soaked through the cowboys' rough canvas shirts, clinging to their backs.
The wind lashed their cheeks like knives, carrying the scent of dust and wild grass.
Quartema, with his explosive power, briefly took the lead by half a body length, and a smile of impending victory appeared on the man's face.
But the blue mule had amazing stamina. Under the skilled control of the boy cowboy, its pace was steady and its breathing was long and deep, like a tireless cheetah. With only a hundred yards left to the finish line, the elegant blue figure began to steadily catch up inch by inch, and then... overtake!
"Whoa—!" With the finish line in sight, the boy suddenly pulled on the reins. The blue mule let out a long neigh, its front hooves off the ground, and it reared up, leaving a breathtaking silhouette in the swirling dust, announcing the ultimate winner of this wilderness race.
"Sorry, I won!"
The result was a foregone conclusion. Everyone could see that Tom won, and it was clear that he had been holding back from the beginning, only easily overtaking Tom at the last moment.
Surprisingly, Ennis showed no sign of frustration at losing the race. He reined in his horse and stared intently at Tom and the strange blue mule beneath him.
"You're really amazing!" Ennis exclaimed sincerely. A mule actually beat his carefully selected swift horse? This mule itself was extraordinary!
But Ennis knew even better: the person who could tame such an extraordinary mule was the truly hidden master!
At the very front of the group, Captain Shay and his second-in-command Thomas rode side by side.
"This kid... he's got some skills!" Thomas couldn't help but exclaim in admiration as he watched Tom gallop along on his mule.
"Hmm, good cowboy material." Shay nodded, his gaze sweeping thoughtfully over the marching group before finally settling on James.
At this moment, he understood that Tom did indeed have the confidence to leave the team.
Not far away, James rode alongside Margaret, gazing at Tom from afar.
"What is Tom up to now?" James was completely baffled.
Margaret couldn't help but roll her eyes. The most beautiful heifer in the pen hadn't even been branded yet, and wolves were already swarming around, sniffing out the scent. The father was still standing there like a wooden stake!
"You're lecturing me!" she snapped irritably.
"Huh? Who are you lecturing?" James was even more confused.
Margaret, too lazy to explain, muttered to herself, "Your son is much smarter than you!"
Meanwhile, "clever" Tom put on that harmless, warm smile again, as if someone else had just won the game.
"How about another round?" he suggested with a smile.
Ennis frowned slightly, somewhat puzzled.
"Tom, didn't you already win?" Elsa was also confused, not understanding what he wanted to compete in.
Tom shook his head, somewhat exasperated by the "silly girl's" slowness.
He stopped beating around the bush and turned his gaze to Ennis, a hint of playful provocation in his eyes:
"Let's have a marksmanship contest! Whoever shoots more accurately wins! Are you in?"