“I hope you found a nice place and that you’re having an enjoyable time,” Connie said pleasantly.
“It hasn’t turned out that way yet. I was looking for a nice, quiet ranch where Doris could run wild and grow healthy and strong. Perhaps you’ve heard of Silverhorn Ranch?”
“Oh, yes,” nodded Connie, “only it isn’t really a ranch at all. Don’t you find it more on the order of a big tourist hotel?”
“That’s it exactly! Something going on from morning to night. I’ve made up my mind to move out. But you’re not interested in my difficulties. Tell me about yourself.”
“There is really nothing to tell,” said Connie evasively.
“You are too modest, I fear,” smiled the old gentleman. “I remember you now. You are the young lady who won the bronco riding contest. Come, let’s go somewhere away from the crowd. I’d like to talk with you.”
By this time Connie had gathered that James Postil was a man of considerable wealth, and she half suspected that he meant to offer her money for saving his grandchild. Of course she would refuse.
Mr. Postil seemed to sense the girl’s attitude, for he led up to the subject very gradually. First he told her more about himself. The head of a large manufacturing company in the east, he found himself at sixty-eight, lonely and alone in the world save for his one grandchild.
“I’ve done my best to raise her up right,” he told Connie, “but Doris has been too much under the care of a governess. That’s why I cut loose this summer and brought her out here. I thought I’d try to give her a little personal looking-after. So far the idea hasn’t turned out very well.”
“You’ll probably find a more satisfactory place to stay than Silverhorn Ranch, Mr. Postil. I can understand that it wouldn’t be suitable for Doris at all.”