“That may be why he is drinking. I’m really sorry about it.”
“I liked Prentice, Mr. Grant.”
“We all did; but business is business, Johnson.”
CHAPTER IX: A RUINED RANCH
That same day Nan rode with Len Ayres. Sailor had a touch of rheumatism, which made riding a painful pastime, so he stayed at the ranch.
By this time Nan had become accustomed to the saddle, and was really enjoying the riding. Len had never had much to say to her about himself or his past, and most of his conversation consisted in explaining the duties connected with running a successful cattle ranch.
This particular day he was more quiet and thoughtful than ever. They rode westward from the Box S, crossed the railroad tracks and forded the river between Lobo Wells and the OK ranch. They followed the river for a short distance, but swung west again along a small stream, until they reached a tumbledown sort of a small cattle ranch.
They drew rein on a slope above the cluster of small houses, which were deserted, and Len studied them for a long time. Finally he turned to Nan, a whimsical smile in his greenish-gray eyes.
“There’s a monument to busted hopes,” he said slowly.
“I don’t understand, Len,” she said.