She looked pale, but she was smiling, and
there was a dark gleam of excitement in her blue eyes. She did not have on her
sombrero. She wore her hair in a braid, and had a red band tight above her
forehead. Bostil took her in all at a glance. She meant business and she
looked dangerous. Bostil knew once she slipped out of that skirt she could
ride with any rider there. He saw that she had become the center toward which
all eyes shifted. It pleased him. She was his, like her mother, and as
beautiful and thoroughbred as any rider could wish his daughter.
"Lucy, where's your hoss?" he asked, curiously.
"Never you mind, Dad. I'll be there at the finish," she replied.
"Red's your color for to-day, then?" he questioned, as he put a big hand on
the bright-banded head.
She nodded archly.
"Lucy, I never thought you'd flaunt red in your old Dad's face. Red, when the
color of the King is like the sage out yonder. You've gone back on the King."
"No, Dad, I never was for Sage King, else I wouldn't wear red to-day.
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