Frederick R. Bechdolt

“ Rafe's eyes narrowed.
“Reckon he tol' the truth,” Savage said drily.
“Yo' bet!” The foreman swore with vigor. “He's a better buster than I be.” But there was a note in his voice which showed that the admiration was for the riding, not the rider.
There was a catlike grace about the new hand, a slippery litheness in his ever changing postures, which held the pair on the corral fence fascinated. Four cowboys, who had postponed mounting their own ponies to witness the show, were draped over various other portions of the barrier, their hard young faces alight with interest. ”

“ Yo' boys stick here till the shootin' starts. Hilton, yo' come along with me.”
Rafe Lawton had taken a step toward him as he was speaking. At those last words the foreman halted abruptly. He stood silent, caught in the middle of his stride, as if the thing which he had heard had frozen him. So, while the two men turned to their ponies tightening the latigos, and after they had swung into their saddles, he remained without stirring, unconscious of the murmurs of incredulity about him and of all else save the one fact—Bill Savage had chosen another man to ride with him where there was danger. ”

“ He jerked his head to indicate the center of a swirling dust cloud wherein the forms of horse and rider appeared, now clearly, now swathed in a brown haze.
“That's him.” Rafe's lips went tight. They sat with their backs bent, their hands folded between their knees, regarding the spectacle in the corral; the older man, dark eyed, broad shouldered, short of stature; the younger, tall and blond, his fine gray eyes aglow with recklessness. ”

“ Rafe wheeled and faced her.
“Molly, yo' must not ride that hoss,” he told her quietly. She flushed at his tone.
“I certainly am going to ride him,” she answered.
Had he been as apt at wooing as at warfare he would not have said that. Thereafter when evening came he usually found Bill Savage inside the house; Molly and the new hand had taken possession of the veranda.
Life went along by day as usual. Every morning the riders sallied forth in pairs to visit the far corners of the range, returning at nightfall to report conditions to the foreman. ”

“ Molly went on. “He rides a center fire saddle and uses one of those sixty foot ropes. He calls it a reata.” She smiled humorously.
“What's he call himself?” her father muttered.
“Hilton.” She smiled again at his look of surprise. “Nobody seems to know his first name. He's very good looking.”
“Humph!” Savage finished his coffee and rose from his chair. “I'm going down to the corrals,” he told her. “No nickname. Reckon the boys don't like him.”
Rafe Lawton, the foreman, was sitting on the topmost rail of the round pole corral. He turned his head as Bill Savage climbed beside him. ”

“ The Texan said no word to his companion. The soft thud of the ponies' hoofs in the deep dust of the roadway was the only sound save the faint creaking of their stirrup leathers. Buildings appeared on either side, vague blots of shadow deeper than the night about them. ”

“ Bill Savage was mutely cognizant of it, and by his tacit acquiescence gave it sanction. It was beginning to be assumed by everyone about the place, that the courtship was well along.
This evening there was bookkeeping to do. When they had finished Molly spoke her mind concerning the affair in the corral. If she owned a greater volubility than her father, she had at least inherited his directness.
“It seems to me, Rafe,” she said, “that if you want to kill a man you could find a fairer way than giving him Colonel to ride.”
“Meaning Hilton?” Rafe smiled broadly. ”

“ The voice was Hilton's. Soldier Jones did not so much as look at him, but his eyes were narrow as he addressed Savage.
“They're headed back fer Galeyville, Bill.”
“We'll bury Bud,” the cowman said, “then saddle up.”
Dawn was beginning to leak over the eastern horizon when the eight riders set forth. For the first time in weeks Savage was keeping his foreman by his side. The others trooped behind. So through the long day they traveled northward along the valley's level floor. The flaming sun dipped behind the ragged summits of the western mountains; dusk came on. ”

“ Owlhead Johnson told Soldier Jones, “an' Bill got Mimbres. I reckon that will hold 'em.”
They traveled slowly on their homeward journey and they were still far up the valley when Bill Savage, who was riding on ahead, caught sight of the approaching buckboard. He called his foreman to his side.
“There comes the women folks to meet us, Rafe,” said he. The other looked him in the eyes. ”

“ The silence with which the remark was received was in part due to the fact that the others were accustomed to saying nothing of their intentions in such matters, in part because the cowman had walked in on them.
The days passed by. Hilton's evening calls on Molly had become a regular thing.
“Gall is what a man needs,” Soldier Jones told his companions in the bunk house. “Gall and a line of talk. That gets the women. ”

“ His smile returned and there was a light in his young face which softened all the reckless lines and made it very tender. “All I've got against him is his ways. Been here four days, and makes as free as if he'd been raised with the family. ”