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If you're not careful you'll
marry one of them. . . . One of these wild riders! As bad as a Ute
Indian! . . . Wetherby is young and he idolizes you. In all common sense
why don't you take him?"
"I don't care for him," replied Lucy.
"You like him as well as anybody. . . . John Bostil, what do you say? You
approved of Wetherby. I heard you tell him Lucy was like an unbroken colt and
that you'd--"
"Sure, I like Jim," interrupted Bostil; and he avoided Lucy's swift look.
"Well?" demanded his sister.
Evidently Bostil found himself in a corner between two fires. He looked
sheepish, then disgusted.
"Dad!" exclaimed Lucy, reproachfully.
"See here, Jane," said Bostil, with an air of finality, "the girl is of age
to-day--an' she can do what she damn pleases!"
"That's a fine thing for you to say," retorted Aunt Jane. "Like as not she'll
be fetching that hang-dog Joel Creech up here for you to support."
"Auntie!" cried Lucy, her eyes blazing.
"Oh, child, you torment me--worry me so," said the disappointed woman.


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