Part 27 (2/2)
THE RODEO
It was with a feeling of some reluctance that Dave drove up to Las Palmas shortly after the lunch hour, for he had no desire to meet ”Young Ed.” However, to his relief, Austin did not appear, and inasmuch as Alaire did not refer to her husband in any way, Dave decided that he must be absent, perhaps on one of his notorious sprees.
The mistress of the big ranch was in her harness, having at once a.s.sumed her neglected duties. She came to welcome her caller in a short khaki riding-suit; her feet were encased in tan boots; she wore a mannish felt hat and gauntlet gloves, showing that she had spent the morning in the saddle. Dave thought she looked exceedingly capable and business-like, and not less beautiful in these clothes; he feasted his eyes covertly upon her.
”I expected you for luncheon,” she smiled; and Dave could have kicked himself. ”I'm just going out now. If you're not in too great a hurry to go home you may go with me.”
”That would be fine,” he agreed.
”Come, then I have a horse for you.” As she led the way back toward the farm buildings she explained: ”I'm selling off a bunch of cattle.
Benito is rounding them up and cutting out the best ones.”
”You keep them, I reckon.”
”Always. That's how I improve the grade. You will see a splendid herd of animals, Mr. Law--the best in South Texas. I suppose you're interested in such things.”
”I'd rather watch a good herd of stock than the best show in New York,”
he told her.
When they came to the corrals, an intricate series of pens and chutes at the rear of the outbuildings, Law beheld two thoroughbred horses standing at the hitching-rail.
”I'm proud of my horses, too,” said Alaire.
”You have reason to be.” With his eyes alight Dave examined the fine points of both animals. He ran a caressing hand over them, and they recognized in him a friend.
”These beauties were raised on Kentucky blue gra.s.s. Brother and sister, aren't they?”
”Yes. Montrose and Montrosa are their names. The horse is mine, the mare is yours.” Seeing that Dave did not comprehend the full import of her words, she added: ”Yours to keep, I mean. You must make another Bessie Belle out of her.”
”MINE? Oh--ma'am'” Law turned his eyes from Alaire to the mare, then back again. ”You're too kind. I can't take her.”
”You must.”
Dave made as if to say something, but was too deeply embarra.s.sed.
Unable to tear himself away from the mare's side, he continued to stroke her s.h.i.+ning coat while she turned an intelligent face to him, showing a solitary white star in the center of her forehead.
”See! She is nearly the same color as Bessie Belle.”
”Yes'm! I--I want her, ma'am; I'm just sick from wanting her, but--won't you let me buy her?”
”Oh, I wouldn't sell her.” Then, as Dave continued to yearn over the animal, like a small boy tempted beyond his strength, Alaire laughed.
”I owe you something, Mr. Law, and a horse more or less means very little to me.”
He yielded; he could not possibly continue his resistance, and in his happy face Alaire took her reward.
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