“Fortunately, your messenger found me at home. As for the rest, Sade, here, hasn’t her beat in the cow country, if she is only a cow pony, eh, Sade?”
At that moment, Mary Williston came into the open doorway of the rude claim shanty set down in the very heart of the sun-seared plain which stretched away into heart-choking distances from every possible point of the compass. And sweet she was to look upon, though tanned and glowing from close association with the ardent sun and riotous wind. Her auburn hair, more reddish on the edges from sunburn, was fine and soft and there was much of it. It seemed newly brushed and suspiciously glossy. One sees far on the plains, and two years out of civilization are not enough to make a girl forget the use of a mirror, even if it be but a broken sliver, propped up on a pine-board dressing table. She looked strangely grown-up despite her short, rough skirt and badly scuffed leather riding-leggings. Langford stared at her with a startled look of mingled admiration and astonishment. She came forward and put her hand on the mare’s bridle. She was not embarrassed in the least. But color came into the stranger’s face. He swept his wide hat from his head quickly.
“No indeed, Miss Williston; I’ll water Sade myself.”
“Please let me. I’d love to.”
“She’s used to it, Langford,” said Williston in his quiet, gentlemanly voice, the well-bred cadence of which spoke of a training far removed from the harassments and harshnesses of life in this plains country. “You see, she is the only boy I have. She must of necessity be my chore boy as well as my herd boy. In her leisure moments she holds down her kitchen claim; I don’t know how she does it, but she does. You had better let her do it; she will hold it against you if you don’t.”
“But I couldn’t have a woman doing my grooming for me. Why, the very idea!”
He sprang into the saddle.
“But you waited for me to do it,” said the girl, looking up at him curiously.
“Did I? I didn’t mean to. Yes, I did, too. But I beg your pardon. You see—say, look here; are you the ‘little girl’ who left word for me this morning?”
“Yes. Why not?”