“Out here,” said Chita, “we drive our cows—we don’t follow them.”
“Perhaps that’s the difference between the East and the West,” said King. “Out here you blaze your own trails. I guess that’s where you get your self-confidence and initiative.”
“And it may account for some of our shortcomings, too,” she replied. “When you’re just following cows you have lots of time to think of other things and improve yourself, but when you’re driving them you haven’t time to think of anything except just cows. That’s the fix I’m in now.”
“When you have discovered that you might learn to love me you will have time for other things,” he reminded her.
“Time to improve myself?” she teased.
“Nothing could improve you in my eyes, Chita,” he said, honestly. “To me you are perfect.”
“If Margaret Cullis hadn’t taught me that it was vulgar I should say ‘Rats’ to that.”
“Please don’t.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “And now you must run along. You know your orders never said anything about spending two hours at the Billings ranch this afternoon. What will your detachment think?”
“They’ll think I’m a fool if I don’t stay all afternoon and ride back to the post in the cool of the night.”