“Yes,” nodded the foreman indifferently. “Here, let me take your bags. You must be tired after your long trip.”
“I am,” Connie confessed wearily.
She followed the foreman into the ranch house. A feeling of relief came over her for inside the dwelling very little had been changed. The adobe walls, mellowed by the smoke of the fireplace, were still adorned with her father’s Mexican treasures. The furniture was all massive and hand carved.
A shy Mexican girl whom Connie had never seen before in her trips to the ranch took her bags and led her down a long tiled corridor to the east bedchamber.
Connie unpacked her luggage and changed into a fresh skirt and blouse. She was tired but she felt too excited to lie down. She went to the window and opened it.
Below she could see the corrals and the barn, and beyond, a long stretch of green meadow land.
“I wish I had time for a canter before supper,” Connie thought.
She had forgotten to ask the foreman about her favorite mount, Silvertail. Connie had raised the big gray from a colt and he was the best horse in the Rainbow string.
Leaving the ranch house, the girl walked rapidly toward the barn. But she stopped short as she saw a familiar slouched figure leaning against the corral bars.
“Connie!” cried a gruff voice.