Honoré Willsie

“ With unmitigated enthusiasm, the mare tore across the corral, again reared and again came down on her side. Edith clambered up beside Pink Marshall.
"Will she kill him?" she asked.
"Shucks! Nobody hardly ever gets killed by horses out in this country," he answered. "You've got to hand it to old John! Sixteen minutes, and she ain't budged him."
Edith drew a deep breath. Her eyes swept the glowing beauty of the ranges, then dropped back to the blue roan and the rider whose soft silk shirt was wet with sweat. ”

“ Edith stared at his grim face, puzzled for a moment, then she exclaimed: "Oh, I see! But I'm not going to let you lie for me. Lies are very difficult. I never have met any one I thought clever enough to lie. And what about the story Holton will tell?"
"I'll bet Dick tells nothing and I'll bet he never stays in Lost Trail so long as I'm in it. And Lawson may shoot him up again for stealing the blue roan. He's good for a long stay in Rawlins if he gets well, and when he gets out of Rawlins, or before, if I can get at him, I am going to beat him up so his own mother won't know him. ”

“ But John did not offer his knee. Instead, he stepped up on the log, put his great hands around Edith's waist and swung her to the saddle as if she were a child.
"Shucks!" cried Charley. "You don't have to do that. She can get on as well as anybody."
"That will do, Charles!" said Edith. "You may go now. We'll see you at the ranch to-morrow, then, Mr. Hardy?"
"Yes; I'll be along." John mounted and turned Nelly's head up the mountain. At the turn of the trail he looked back. Edith was still before the schoolhouse door. ”

“ Lawson was dispensing coffee.
"I'd like to ride the blue roan," said Edith.
"You let her alone," John returned slowly, "till she's well broke. And I don't think Lawson can lady-break her. Maybe he'll let me do it for him."
"Riding makes me sleep," sud Edith. "For a year before I came to Lost Trail, I hadn't had a real night's sleep."
"What was the trouble?"
"Too much teaching and other things."
"A man?" asked John slowly.
Edith smiled. "I've liked many men, but I certainly never would admit that one of them had given me insomnia. ”

“ Mrs. Lawson was established on the hay wagon and Edith was perched on the top bar of the corral gate, hugging the post. Hank Lawson was standing in the corral holding a blue-roan mare by a lariat round her neck. John dismounted and tied Nelly to the hay-rack.
"You're just in time, John!" cried Mame Lawson. "She's thrown the hull of 'em. She just dumped Dick and they had to rope her to keep her from climbing the fence."
John lighted a cigaret and threw his long legs over the fence beside the other riders.
"She's sure a bird!" panted Lawson. "But ain't she a beauty? ”

“ He pulled on his coat and went out to the corral. He mounted Pete and led Miss Lucky with a light pack on her saddle. The moon was just slipping over the far-flung silver line of the Indian range when Pete trotted out of the gate. John's first stop was at the Lawsons' for news.
"We ain't got a trace," reported Mame, "except one of the children found a little piece of her bath-robe on a nail in the corral. Looks like she must have dreamed of the blue roan." ”

“ Lawson looked from Edith's puzzled eyes to the row of grinning riders.
"Well, she's got to be broke, ain't she?"
"I don't see why. You've lots of horses you never break."
"Yes; but she's a beauty and she's got to be broke. Come on, John!"
John put his hand on the reins. The roan jerked her head high in the air. Lawson now shortened the lariat till he reached the animal's head, then, with the mare backing and plunging violently, he loosened the noose and slipped the rope.
"You get on the fence, Hank," ordered John, "and don't make any more noise than you naturally feel you have to." ”

“ Some of them said he was too lazy to make love. Some of them said that a man who was soft with horses, like John, never made a successful lover; others that John was too stupid to find a wife. All of which merely goes to prove that Lost Trail women were poor judges of men.
Quite unknown to me rest of the valley, John was in love; deeply, passionately in love, and had been ever since the new schoolma'am had come to the log schoolhouse on the mountainside. Not that Edith Archer, the schoolma'am, guessed this fact. ”

“ She's the only woman in the valley that don't bleat every time she opens her mouth."
One of the older men, Hank Lawson, spoke. "I'm going to make a try at breaking the blue roan mare to-morrow. Better come up, John."
"Handsomest horse in the valley! I wish you'd sell her to me, Hank," said John.
Hank shook his head. "Anybody in Lost Trail that hasn't offered to buy the blue roan from you, Lawson?" asked Pete.
"Everybody's on record but Dick," replied the rancher.
Pete laughed. "Well, some folks has a prejudice against paying money for horse-flesh." ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1940, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 83 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”