Her Prairie Knight by B. M. Bower (short novels to read .TXT) 📕

“Well, are we all ready?” Dick gathered up his reins, and took critical inventory of the load. His mother peered under the front seat to be doubly sure that there were at least four umbrellas and her waterproof raglan in the rig; Mrs. Lansell did not propose to be caught unawares in a storm another time. Miss Hayes straightened Dorman's cap, and told him to sit down, dear, and then called upon Sir Redmond to enforce the command. Sir Redmond repeated her command, minus the dear, and then rode on ahead to overtake Beatrice and Keith, who had started. Dick climbed up over the front wheel, released the brake, chirped at the horses, and they were off for Lost Canyon.

Beatrice was behaving beautifully, and her mother only hoped to heaven it would last the day out; perhaps Sir Redmond would be able to extract some sort of a promise from her in that mood, Mrs. Lansell reflected, as she watched Beatrice chatting to her two cavaliers, with the most decorous impartiality. Sir Redmond seemed in high spirits, which argued well; Mrs. Lansell gave herself up to the pleasure of the drive with a heart free from anxiety. Not only was Beatrice at her best; Dorman's mood was nothing short of angelic, and as the weather was simply perfect, the day surely promised well.

For a mile Keith had showed signs of a mind not at ease, and at last he made bold to speak.

“I thought Rex was to be your saddle-horse?” he said abruptly to Beatrice.

“He was; but when Dick brought Goldie home, last night, I fell in love with him on sight, and just teased Dick till he told me I might have him to ride.”

“I thought Dick had some sense,” Keith said gloomily.

“He has. He knew there would be no peace till he surrendered.”

“I didn't know you were going to ride him, when I sold him to Dick. He's not safe for a woman.”

“Does he buck, Mr. Cameron? Dick said he was gentle.” Beatrice had seen a horse buck, one day, and had a wholesome fear of that form of equine amusement.

“Oh, no. I never knew him to.”

“Then I don't mind anything else. I'm accustomed to horses,” said Beatrice, and smiled welcome to Sir Redmond, who came up with them at that moment.

“You want to ride him with a light rein,” Keith cautioned, clinging to the subject. “He's tenderbitted, and nervous. He won't stand for any jerking, you see.”

“I never jerk, Mr. Cameron.” Keith discovered that big, baffling, blue-brown eyes can, if they wish, rival liquid air for coldness. “I rode horses before I came to Montana.”

Of course, when a man gets frozen with a girl's eyes, and scorched with a girl's sarcasm, the thing for him to do is to retreat until the atmosphere becomes normal. Keith fell behind just as soon as he could do so with some show of dignity, and for several miles tried to convince himself that he would rather talk to Dick and “the old maid” than not.

“Don't you know,” Sir Redmond remarked sympathetically, “some of these Western fellows are inclined to be deuced officious and impertinent.”

Sir Redmond got a taste of the freezing process that made him change the subject abruptly.

The way was rough and lonely; the trail wound over sharp-nosed hills and through deep, narrow coulees, with occasional, tantalizing glimpses of the river and the open land beyond, that kept Beatrice in a fever of enthusiasm. From riding blithely ahead, she took to lagging far behind with her kodak, getting snap-shots of the choicest bits of scenery.

“Another cartridge, please, Sir Redmond,” she said, and wound industriously on the finished roll.

“It's a jolly good thing I brought my pockets full.” Sir Redmond fished one out for her. “Was that a dozen?”

“No; that had only six films. I want a larger one this time. It is a perfect nuisance to stop and change. Be still, Goldie!”

“We're getting rather a long way behind—but I fancy the road is plain.”

“We'll hurry and overtake them. I won't take any more pictures.”

“Until you chance upon something you can't resist. I understand all that, you know.” Sir Redmond, while he teased, was pondering whether this was an auspicious time and place to ask Beatrice to marry him. He had tried so many times and places that seemed auspicious, that the man was growing fearful. It is not pleasant to have a girl smile indulgently upon you and deftly turn your avowals aside, so that they fall flat.

“I'm ready,” she announced, blind to what his eyes were saying.

“Shall we trek?” Sir Redmond sighed a bit. He was not anxious to overtake the others.

“We will. Only, out here people never 'trek,' Sir Redmond. They 'hit the trail'.”

“So they do. And the way these cowboys do it, one would think they were couriers, by Jove! with the lives of a whole army at stake. So I fancy we had better hit the trail, eh?”

“You're learning,” Beatrice assured him, as they started on. “A year out here, and you would be a real American, Sir Redmond.”

Sir Redmond came near saying, “The Lord forbid!” but he thought better of it. Beatrice was intensely loyal to her countrymen, unfortunately, and would certainly resent such a remark; but, for all that, he thought it.

For a mile or two she held to her resolve, and then, at the top of a long hill overlooking the canyon where they were to eat their lunch, out came her kodak again.

“This must be Lost Canyon, for Dick has stopped by those trees. I want to get just one view from