Lucy bowed her head at that. "I--I couldn't resist!"
Bostil stroked the bright head. What a quandary for a thick-skulled old
horseman! "Wal, it seems to me Slone didn't act so bad, considerin'. You'd
told him you cared for him. If it wasn't for thet! . . . I remember I did much
the same to your mother. She raised the devil, but I never seen as she cared
any less for me."
"I'll never forgive him," Lucy cried, passionately. "I hate him. A man who
breaks his word in one thing will do it in another."
Bostil sadly realized that his little girl had reached womanhood and love, and
with them the sweet, bitter pangs of life. He realized also that here was a
crisis when a word--an unjust or lying word from him would forever ruin any
hope that might still exist for Slone. Bostil realized this acutely, but the
realization was not even a temptation.
"Wal, listen. I'm bound to confess your new rider is sure swift. An', Lucy,
to-day if he hadn't been as swift with a rope as he is in love--wal, your old
daddy might be dead!"
She grew as white as her dress.
Pages:
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352