Hope Hathaway: A Story of Western Ranch LifeParker, Frances
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Hope Hathaway: A Story of Western Ranch Life
Parker, Frances
Ranch life -- Fiction; Western stories
"I'm not afraid of her," replied Hope. "She suspects me of having had a
hand in the shooting that night at the sheep-corrals up there, and in
consequence has a very bad heart for me. Now how could she think such a
thing as that? I don't believe she's much of a witch, though, because
when she gets in one of her fits of passion she'd ride off on a
broomstick if she were."
"She's got eyes like a hawk," said the boy, "always seem' everything
that's goin' on."
"She don't miss much, that's sure," mused Hope, as they passed by the
house and approached the corrals. There the soft-voiced twin was talking
with Carter, praising, enthusiastically, the points of his pinto cayuse,
and comparing it with the blooded saddle horse which Sydney had just
brought from Hathaway's home-ranch at Hope's request. The boy never knew
just how his statements were received, for at sight of Hope the young
man went out into the road to meet her.
She welcomed him with a quick smile, which a year previous would have
been accompanied by a sisterly kiss. Carter noted its omission this day
with singular impatience. How long, he wondered, before she would forget
his foolishness. It occurred to him then, that in spite of her
girlishness she was very much a woman, and his actions toward her, which
now he most heartily regretted, had ignited a spark of self-consciousness
in her nature, raising an effective barrier between them that only time
could wear away.
"I expected Jim with the horse instead of you, Sydney," she said. "How
did it happen?"
"A lot of men are up with the trail herds, and your father needed Jim to
help pay them off, so I brought the horse instead. Jim will be back in a
couple of days," he explained.
"You went down to the ranch, then, with him yesterday evening, I
suppose," said Hope. "What are they all doing there?"
"It looks just as it did any evening last summer, if you happened to
drop in on them. Little Freddie Rosehill thumping away at the piano and
singing bass from the soles of his feet, that tallest Cresmond girl,
with the red hair, yelling falsetto, and the others joining in when they
got the chance. Then down at the other end of the room the usual card
table--your father, mother, Clarice, and O'Hara, and father and mother
Cresmond watching the game and listening to the warbling of their
offspring."
"Is _Larry O'Hara_ there?" asked Hope in surprise. "I thought he was not
coming this year."
"Don't you ever think O'Hara is going to give you up as easy as that,"
replied Sydney, laughing. "He just got there yesterday, and was in the
depths of despair when he discovered you had flown. He told Clarice he
was coming over here to see you as soon as he could decently get away.
His mother's with him, which makes that proposition a little more
awkward for him than if he were alone. It was late when I got there and
I didn't have time to change my clothes, so I just walked in on them in
this outfit. But they seemed pretty glad to see me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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