Down to a Soundless Sea Read Online Free PDF

the springs where the trail comes close to the cliffs. I swear that bear was big enough to take down a horse and rider with one stroke, but it didn’t. Just stared down at me like Saint Peter. Then it reared up on its hind legs, as big as a barn. I almost soiled my pants, by God. The mare spooked like a scalded cat. Can’t say I blame her much with the colt in tow. I swear she almost flew. It was all I could do to bring her in check before she took a header and killed us both.”
    Joe W. Post looked at John hard and long and then looked at his mare. A broad grin broke across his wise old face and he laughed. “Pig’s feathers! Son, there haven’t been bears like that in these parts since my father was a boy, all killed off years ago. My grandfather said one of those monsters could pick up a whole steer and walk off with it still kicking. You couldn’t have seen a Great Sur Bear, John. They’re all dead, son; take my word for it. You’ve been daydreaming again. Now you go saddle up that buckskin like I told you. You’re holding up the parade.” Ramon Castro brought up Joe Post’s saddled horse and the old Indian mounted, calling his schoolboys, wranglers, and vaqueros to follow his example.
    John took no offense from Mr. Post’s words. He knew what he had seen, of that there was no doubt, but he wasn’t about to make himself look ridiculous by arguing the pointwith a respected Sur veteran like Mr. J. W. Post. John took the mare’s reins and started toward the barn to do as he’d been told. The colt happily followed.
    John heard Joe Post call after him. “This is going to be a tough season, John. If you don’t cut down on the woolgathering and keep your mind on your job, those pretty Salinas girls will find you with empty pockets come the fall term.” John nodded politely and led his mare into the barn.
    No one enjoys being called a liar, not in so many words, and John relished the stamp less than most. He also knew the futility of heated debates with experts. Cattle, water, and fresh grass would certainly take precedence over John’s illusory bear. In any event the whole incident was soon forgotten. Forgotten by everyone, that is, except John.
    Without making it obvious, he was determined to find some evidence of his doubted discovery before the season was out. To that end, he even purchased some plaster of Paris from a local blacksmith to make castings of the bear’s prints, should he be lucky enough to pick up the bear’s trail again. He was most careful not to divulge the plaster’s intended purpose, wanting to avoid any further homespun ridicule.
    The phantom bear had become John’s secret “questing beast.” Like King Pelinor and his dragon, John was determined to find proof of his own fabled beast. Unfortunately, there had been intermittent rains that washed the game trails clean every few days. He was also burdened with having to work remote sections of land that were far from his last sighting of the bear. This led John to initiate clandestine forays away from work. Despite his supposed secrecy, these sojourns hardly went unnoticed by Joe Post or the other hands.
    Though little was said at the time, John found the pointwell taken every payday when he discovered his salary docked for this or that. But with his honor at stake he thought the sacrifice worth the expenditure. The discovery and exhibition of the truth possessed a potential glory beyond the value of money. John believed exoneration was a feast best enjoyed by the light of another’s blushing embarrassment.
    To John’s way of thinking, the search for the great bear had become as unique and important as Arthur’s Grail. Consequently, he redoubled his efforts by riding out on long evening searches. His dedication, however, to the romantic vision of his own vindication almost cost him his horse and his life one night.
    While following a steep game trail north of the ranch, John’s mare lost her footing, and both horse and rider tumbled