Lance unfolded his arms and disposed his big body on a bearskin covered lounge where he could take Belle’s hand and pat it and playfully pinch a finger now and then.
“To look at your hand, Belle, a fellow would swear that a blonde manicure girl comes here twice a week,” he said idly. “Where is the schoolhouse going to be built? Why not put it just at the foot of the ridge, at Cottonwood Spring? That’s out of sight of the road, and if the notice said ‘Cottonwood Spring’, folks would know where to head for. It’s close to the line of your land, isn’t it, dad? A 132 yard––corral-size––fenced around the place would keep the cattle off the doorstep, and they could water there just the same. If we’re going to do it, why not do it right?”
“I guess we could get down there with a load,” Tom assented easily. “I’d ruther have it on my land anyways.”
“Don’t think, Tom Lorrigan, that we’d ever take it back from Mary Hope. No matter how Scotty acts up. But if they ever gave her the double-cross and got some one else to teach––why it might be nice to know it’s our schoolhouse, on our land.” Belle pulled her hand away from Lance and went over to the piano. “It’s all done but the shingling,” she said cheerfully. “Come on, Lance, see if you can sing ‘Asleep in the Deep.’ And then show me what you mean by saying you can yodel now better than when I licked you the time you and Duke chased the colt through the corral fence!”
“All done but the shingling––and I ain’t got ’em bought yet!” grumbled Tom, but was utterly disregarded in the sonorous chords of Belle’s prelude to the song.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LANCE RIDES AHEAD
At fifteen minutes to four on a certain Tuesday afternoon, the first really pleasant day after the day of tearing, whooping wind that had blown Tom into the role of school bully, Lance loped out upon the trail that led past the Whipple shack a mile and a quarter farther on. Ostensibly his destination was the town of Jumpoff, although it was not the time of day when one usually started from the Devil’s Tooth ranch to the post-office, with three unimportant letters as an excuse for the trip.