And her reply. "I—I don't know, Ellis."
For a few days after that she had avoided him and secretly had been a little afraid of him. But she had always gone back because there was something about him that drew her back.
Now, as she studied his profile, she knew that her answer was the only one she could have given. She hadn't known and she still didn't know. Ellis turned suddenly and Barbara glanced quickly away.
"Race you!" he said.
"Oh, Ellis—"
"Come on!"
He touched his knees to his horse and Barbara accepted the challenge. Side by side they thundered down the Trail, and Barbara let the reins slacken while, with an almost fierce will, she urged her horse on. She wanted to win. But she could not win. Her mount was good, but Ellis's was better. He drew ahead, widened the gap between them, and as soon as he was ten yards in the lead he stopped and turned to grin.
"I win!"
"You should, with that horse."
Ellis said, and Barbara had an easy feeling that her father would have said it in almost the same way, "He's as good as there is. It's the sort of horse a man should have. Want to ride him?"