"There's a cupple of trunks," said the porter.
"We'll come back for them," Sam told him and helped him pile in the smaller baggage.
Keith descended first, Molly darted by his extended hand and ran straight to Sandy, who had dismounted.
"I'm going to hug you, and Mormon and Sam, as soon as we get home to the ranch," she cried. "Home! I'm so glad to be here. Pronto, you beauty, and my own bay, Blaze! Do you remember the trip over the mesa, Blaze? How did you know I wanted to ride to Three Star instead of drive?"
"Took a chance," said Sandy. "Do you?" The old woman-shyness had come over him, fighting with his knowledge of the child who had changed into a woman. And the pongee duster deceived him.
"Do I? Didn't I write you I was aching to fork a saddle? Look!"
She unbuttoned the duster with swift fingers and stripped it off, standing revealed in riding togs of smallest black and white checks, coat flaring out from the trim waist, slim straight legs in breeches and riding boots, a white stock about the slender, rounded neck. She gave one hand to Mormon, the other to Sam, gazing at her in admiration that was radiant and goggle-eyed.
"You're losing weight, Mormon," she said. "I believe you must be in love."
"I allus was, with you," gallantried Mormon.
"You stand aside, you human chuckawalla!" said Sam. "Miss Molly, you sure look good to sore eyes. An' I'm sure happy you're in my debt, if you ain't grown up too fur to pay yore dues."