“Mine and my brother’s. Shall we get on down? We’ve more than two miles to go.”
“Sure, we’ll get right on down. Say——”
The old man broke off as the horses began the descent. As he made no attempt to add anything further, Blanche spoke, and there was something thrilling in her tone.
“He built all that,” she said. “He built it for a notion. A queer sort of crazy notion. And I sort of feel his dream’s coming true. You’re a cattleman, Lightning. There are cattle down there that’ll make you feel good. There’s the sort of grass you dream about, and the life you know. You’re the first from the outside that’s ever seen it.”
“You’re sure that’s so, ma’am?”
Blanche searched the eyes that were looking into hers.
“There’s only Molly else,” she said. “And maybe she’s not seen it yet,” she added significantly.
“You got folk outside them gates?” Lightning asked, pointing at the headlands.
“Not a soul.”
Lightning suddenly drew rein, and turned about in his saddle. He gazed back over the way they had come.