When it came to ridin' a bucker or shootin' off an eye-winker or expressin' herself free an' frank, she didn't have to import no testimony to prove 'at she was his daughter either. She had him skinned on ridin' though; 'cause while he was able to set anything on four feet, he allus showed 'at he had begun late in life, an' he sometimes jerked the bit unintentional; while she—well, I reckon she must 'a' been born on hoss-back, an' besides, I had give her all the pointers the' was.
One mornin' about ten days after I'd come back, I heard 'em discussin' purty heatedly out back of the corral; an' I just sauntered over to harken to it. It wasn't a case of eavesdroppin', 'cause when them two had any comments to make they didn't care a blue bean what the prevailin' style in opinions happened to be, they nailed their own personal jedgments on the wall an' then stuck around handy to back 'em up. I was particular anxious to know what they was crossin' words over, 'cause I couldn't get it out o' my head but what my comin' back an' findin' 'em peaceable betokened something.
Jabez was standin' with his feet wide apart, his hands on his hips, his hat tilted over one ear, his chin stickin' out with the lips pursed up, an' his eyes had a dogged look in 'em. Line by line an' feature by feature, she shadowed him to the last item; an' neither one of 'em saw a twinkle o' comicalness in it, neither.
"Do you know who you're talkin' to?" he yells just as I arrived. "I'm your father!"
"What of it?" she snaps back. "It's too late to remedy that—I just got to make the best of it. But do you know who you're talkin' to? I'm the future owner of the Diamond Dot, an' I ain't a-layin' no plans to have the lala-kadinks from the civilized parts o' this country come out an' round up my langwidge, same as they gather Injun speciments. You may be my father, but you can just bet your saddle that before I reach the end o' my trail, a stranger won't be able to guess it from our talk."
Now the old man was mighty savin' with his cuss-words, a' he put out a purty tol'able fair grade o' grammar; but the girl had an eye in her head and an ear to listen with, an' she had been for a long time takin' notice o' the side winks o' the Easterners. Some Easterners put on their manners the same as their complexions, an' the open air is apt to put cracks in 'em.
The of man looked at her a good long while, but she never blinked a winker; an' he finally turned away an' said in a soft-like voice, "I know, child, I ain't been able to fill the part full measure—but it ain't 'cause I haven't tried. I reckon you'll have to go, honey; but it'll sure be lonesome while you're away; an' when you do come back you'll never be my little kid any more." His voice kept gettin' sadder an' sadder until I about snuffled myself when he continued "I'll rub up my talk all I can while you're away, an' then if you bring out any friends next summer you can tell 'em that I'm the foreman an' that you let me eat in the house while your father is takin' a trip to Europe."
The ol' man would have played that part about as natural as a bull buffalo, but he fooled himself into believin' it, an' his voice was purty shaky at the end. Barbie's eyes filled up with tears, an' when he stopped an' began to totter feebly toward the house, she ran up an' threw her arms about his neck, an' said. "Dad. I just hate you—you don't play fair. You start the game under one set o' rules an' then when you get the worst of it you just simply crawfish. When we were sayin' mean things out in the open, I just natchly put it all over you; an' now you flop over on your back an' work that 'coals o' fire' stunt, an' I just hate you. You know in your heart I'd be proud of you in any company on earth, but the' is a heap o' difference between you an' me. You have been successful, an' strangers will respect you for it; but it's got to be a show-down with me every time. If I don't learn the new gaits, so a stranger will think I'm city-broke, some fresh tourist is apt to get the idee that I'm as uncivilized as my manners, an' it won't do to tramp on my toes—not overly often. But I don't have to leave you. I'll just turn in an' do the job right here on the ranch, an' accordin' to the very latest models. You get me a lot o' books an' all the magazines an' fashion papers, an' hanged if I don't turn out a job 'at'll fool the best of 'em. You're a mean old Daddy, you are, for a fact; but we snake too dandy a duet for me to go away an' leave you to grind out a solo all alone. But—but I sure wanted to go."
Well, Jabez grinned all over; but I saw that he wasn't through with it so easy. Barbie wasn't the one to throw her rope before she was all braced for the jerk, an' the' wouldn't be any kinks in her logic, neither. She had thrown a purty stout string of arguments, an' I was full prepared when they told me that he was to have his way about it, an' she was to go to college that very fall.
She did go in less'n a month to a prep-school clear down East. A prep-school is a sort of a calf college, you know; an' she had to train there a solid year before they had the nerve to turn her loose on a full-grown university. But she had a head on her, Barbie had; an' when she got squared away, she made 'em all get down an' scratch. They do say that she put more life an' vim in that institution than anybody what had ever give it a work-out before.