Barney laughed.
“He’s a first rate little horse, ma’am and any lady could ride him—who knows how to stick on,” he added in a lower voice.
But Barney knew he could trust Billie on a Texas pony, having seen her take a canter on his own lean animal.
“I haven’t any habit,” announced Billie.
“Rosina keeps this one for the ladies who stop here,” said Barney, disclosing a khaki divided skirt which had been in a bundle under his arm.
Ten minutes later, Billie was waiting at the long low shed which answered for a stable, while Barney led forth a small gray horse called Jocko. Two little impish devils peeped from the depths of Jocko’s eyes, but he flicked his tail lazily and lowered his head in a deceivingly humble manner.
Rosina was to ride with them. Miss Campbell would on no account permit Billie to ride unchaperoned on the plains, even with the trustworthy Barney as a companion.
The mistress of the rancho presently emerged from the stable, leading a small sorrel horse. She also wore divided skirts, and with one bound leapt into the saddle, a feat Billie had not expected from her awkward, rather dumpy appearance. But it was very evident Rosina enjoyed the sport. With a curious cry, not unlike that given by her brother, Blackthorn Hawkes, the night before, when he danced the Indian war dance, she flew over the plains, followed by Barney and Billie.
Never had Billie enjoyed anything so much as that wild morning ride. The air was cool and crisp. The sky intensely blue, and everywhere, as far as the eye could see, were the rolling purple prairies, dotted with wild flowers.
She forgot Miss Campbell, forgot her three friends, indeed her mind was filled only with the joy of the moment.