This action of stabling the horses—a perfectly innocent and natural one for her—led one of the hands, a coarse-minded sneak, to watch them from a corral. “I wonder how Cliff would like that?” he evilly remarked.
Berea was frankly pleased to see Wayland, and spoke of the improvement which had taken place in him. “You’re looking fine,” she said, as they were returning to the house. “But how do you get on with the boys?”
“Not very well,” he admitted. “They seem to have it in for me. It’s a constant fight.”
“How about Frank?”
“He’s the worst of them all. He never speaks to me that he doesn’t insult me. I don’t know why. I’ve tried my best to get into his good graces, but I can’t. Your uncle I like, and Mrs. Meeker is very kind; but all the others seem to be sworn enemies. I don’t think I could stand it if it weren’t for Landon. I spend a good deal of time with him.”
Her face grew grave. “I reckon you got started wrong,” she said at last. “They’ll like you better when you get browned up, and your clothes get dirty—you’re a little too fancy for them just now.”
“But you see,” he said, “I’m not trying for their admiration. I haven’t the slightest ambition to shine as a cow-puncher, and if those fellows are fair samples I don’t want anybody to mistake me for one.”
“Don’t let that get around,” she smilingly replied. “They’d run you out if they knew you despised them.”
“I’ve come down here to confer with you,” he declared, as they reached the door. “I don’t believe I want any more of their company. What’s the use? As you say, I’ve started wrong with them, and I don’t see any prospect of getting right; and, besides, I like the rangers better. Landon thinks I might work into the service. I wonder if I could? It would give me something to do.”
She considered a moment. “We’ll think about that. Come into the kitchen. I’m cook to-day, mother’s gone to town.”