Then he glanced down at the steaming food, and a sound escaped him like a laugh of self-derision.
“Surely I’ll stop around, little gal, with you needin’ me,” he went on. “If you need him here, you must have him. If you figger to hand him over your farm, you must hand it. If he’s your man, then that’s surely so, an’ I ain’t another word. If he acts right, an’ treats you right, may the good Lord be good to him, an’ so’ll I. If he don’t— Say, I’ll eat that feed right away, little Molly. An’ I’ll try an’ remember I’m your hired man, an’ fergit some day I’ll hev to be his.”
CHAPTER XXIII
Blanche Learns the Truth
IT was noon when Blanche rode up to the barn, to be greeted by a glance of genuine admiration which the old cattleman divided between the golden sorrel and its rider.
She nodded with great friendliness as Lightning bared his head. Then she lightly slipped out of the saddle, and looked up into the keen old eyes.
“Molly gotten back from her dance?” she inquired.
Lightning took possession of her horse. Stooping, he ran a comprehending hand down the creature’s forelegs.
“She surely has, ma’am,” he said. “She’s by the house. An’ I’d say she’s most like a pore tired kid yearnin’ for a play game she don’t know about.” He straightened himself up. “I’d say, them legs is clean as a gun bar’l, ma’am.”
Blanche nodded. Lightning’s downright love of horseflesh appealed to her.
“He surely is a gentleman,” she laughed.