"What about the cow-girl last year that you bought the horses from?"
He chuckled deep in his throat.
"Shucks! I know a pretty girl when I see one, that's all. I knew how to appreciate that skin of hers, and her riding, and the way she lifted her feet when she walked, and how she wore her clothes—though they weren't much, were they? And I bet they don't half prize her where she comes from. A chap like me who's known the two best women in the world can spot a real pippin any time; and he sort of owes it to the world to pass the message along. Shucks, girl! You didn't think—say, you didn't think I was sidling up to her, or anything like that? All I did was to touch her arm. I wanted to see if they were all alike, like yours. And look what she gave me!"
He made a grimace and drew a finger along a dim line cutting down his cheek.
"She couldn't have been the nice girl I thought," he reflected, "or she wouldn't have got on her high-and-mighty just for a little thing like that."
"Anyway," sighed the girl, snuggling deeper in his arms, "I was real proud of you when she brought that quirt across your face, and your cheek all bleeding, and it looked as if your eye was gone. You just laughed and borrowed my handkerchief."
He laughed again now. "You didn't think I'd slam at her with one of these big fists, did you? I believe I kind of enjoyed wiping away the blood."
"And you paid her every cent without a word."
"O' course! That hadn't anything to do with our little tiff. Didn't I owe the money? I got them horses cheap enough, goodness knows! I'd take a thousand of them any day in the week she trotted 'em along. Easiest way to make a fortune I know."
Tressa eased herself away to look gravely in his face. "Did you ever think those horses might be stolen ones?"