THE 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!