“Neal tells me there is some one in town who has been looking for us,” John told his sisters.
“Oh!” Christine’s first thought flew to Steve, but she immediately realized that he would have been on hand to meet them, knowing when the steamboat was expected. “Who can it be?” she said.
“I don’t know who it is,” Neal answered. “Lon Davis was asking where you-alls was going. He said there was some one, a gal, a female woman, I took it, that was out at his house waiting for you to get here.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised if it were Fidgetty Lou,” exclaimed Alison. “When did she come? How did she get here?”
“Came on a broadhorn with the Simmonses. They went further up country, and she said she was going to stick right here till John Ross and his sisters come, if it was a year.”
“Did you see her? What did she look like?” questioned Alison.
“I sorter disremember,” said Neal, “but it strikes me, if she’s the one I saw get off the boat, she’s got red hair. She might have been a Simmons, but I noticed one of the gals didn’t look like the rest, wa’n’t as tall and had a different build, but it runs that way sometimes, even among cattle, and I never thought but she was a Simmons. Of course the boys take right smart of notice of the new arrivals, and I run ’em all over pretty sharp, though I didn’t fancy any of the bunch very much.” He spoke quite honestly and as if it were a matter of course that the subject should be discussed in this way.
Christine dimpled and looked at Alison who did not quite understand this outspoken criticism. She had been away at school for two years and had yet to learn the characteristic manner of Texans.
“If you-all think it’s the gal you know, and you want to see her,” Neal continued, “I don’t mind ropin’ her in for you, but if she’s somebody you don’t want to meet up with, why I’ll chase her out of your way.”
“Oh, we want to see her, surely,” said Alison.