Part 10 (2/2)

The horse stood watching him suspiciously, ready to run if given the opportunity.

”Where shall we try him?” Jane asked.

”In the big corral,” he replied and led the sorrel through the gate.

The colt, closely snubbed, stood trembling while the blanket was put on; then flinched and breathed loudly as the weight of the saddle was gently placed on his back. He stepped about and kicked as the cinch was drawn tight and resisted a long time the efforts of the man to slip a bit between his teeth.

Jane stood by watching, her attention divided between admiration of the man and the horse. The former was a.s.sured, gentle, positive in every move; the latter alarmed, rebellious but recognized the fact that he was under control.

”Now, if you'll shorten the stirrups I'll try him,” she said.

”_You_'ll try him, ma'am? Why, this horse ain't been ridden three times in his life. He'll buck an' buck hard.”

”So much more reason why I should try him. We spoke of reputations last night; they can only be formed at the cost of knocks. There are many things I must try to do out here; there are bound to be some that I can't even try but this is not one.”

”But you--”

”Must I order you to let me ride him?”

There was no lightness in the question; she meant business, Beck realized. And her bruskness delighted him for when he turned to give the cinch one more hitch--his only reply to her question--he was smiling merrily.

It was not much of a ride as western riding goes. Beck blindfolded the sorrel with the black silk scarf he wore about his neck, helped Jane to mount, saw that she had both stirrups, took the rope cautiously from the trembling bronco's neck and, at her nod, drew off the blind.

For a moment the great colt stood there as if bewildered. Then, with a grunt and a bound, he bowed his back, hung his head and pitched.

”Keep his head up! His head!” warned Beck, watching with intense interest. ”Watch him....”

The horse went straight forward for a half dozen jumps. Erect in the saddle, sitting too far back, trusting too much to her stirrups, Jane rode.

The violence of the lunging jerked her head unmercifully but she had her balance.... Until he sunfished, with a wrenching movement that heaved her forward against the fork, dangerously near a fall.

”Grab it all!” called Beck, not remembering that his injunction to hang on was as Greek to her. ”He--Look out!”

With a vicious fling of his whole body the sorrel swapped ends and as he came down, head toward the man, the girl shot into the air, turned completely over and struck full on her back.

Beck ran to her, heedless of the horse, which circled at a gallop. She lay very still with her eyes closed; a smudge of dirt was on her white cheek. He knelt beside her.

”Are you hurt, ma'am?” he asked, and when she did not reply raised her head to his knee. Her body was surprisingly light, surprisingly firm, as he held it with an arm beneath her shoulders. He was fumbling with her collar to open it, knuckles against her soft throat, when she opened her eyes and gasped and coughed. She tried to speak but for a moment continued to choke; then smiled and said weakly:

”I didn't ... ride him.”

”But you made a fine try!” he said with more enthusiasm than she had seen him display. ”And I sure _am_ glad you ain't hurt bad!”

She laughed feebly and he felt her breath on his cheek, for their faces were very close; he felt his heart leap, too, and helped her up, saying words of which he was not conscious.

”I can stand alone,” she said after he had steadied her an interval and reluctantly he took his arm from about her. ”I'd like to try him again.”

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