"I beat you for the first quarter of a
mile and then this fool of a horse--I'm going to give him away."
"The black," said Pierre, assuming an air of quiet and superior
knowing which always aggravated her most, "is a good second-rate
cayuse when someone who knows horses is in the saddle. I'd give you
fifty for him on the strength of his looks and keep him for a
decoration."
She could only glare her speechless rage for a moment. Then she
changed swiftly and threw out her hands in a little gesture of
surrender.
"After all, what difference does it make? Your Mary can beat him in a
long run or a short one, but it's your horse, Pierre, and that takes
the sting away. If it were anyone else's I'd--well, I'd shoot either
the horse or the rider. But my partner's horse is my horse, you know."
He swerved his mare sharply to the left and took her hand with a
strong grip.
"Jack, of all the men I've ever known, I'd rather ride with you, I'd
rather fight for you."
"Of all the _men_ you ever knew," she said, "I suppose that I am.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163