“Thank you ever so much now,” said the girl. “She mustn’t have any more at present. Now I’ll ride around in front and wait for my brother.”
“Stick here five minutes and give the little mare another drink.”
“No, thank you. I think that will be too soon.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, perhaps you don’t know her as well as I do.”
“How ’bout yourself, then?”
“I don’t understand,” Manzanita answered, her lips straight. She was reaching for the reins, which he had taken when the mare forced her head into the bucket, and now seemed loath to surrender.
“Why, you ain’t had a drink yourself.”
“I don’t care for any, thanks.” In truth her throat was uncomfortably dry at that very moment. “I’ll take the reins now, please. Thank you again.”
“Kinda anxious, ain’t you?”