Women were queer.
Witness his own late experience with one.
Being thus in a finely soured mood, Ford suggested that, as she no doubt
knew the shortest way to the nearest ranch, they at least make a start
in that direction.
"How?" asked the girl, staring up at him from where she sat beside the
rose bushes.
"By walking, I suppose--unless you expect me to carry you." Ford's tone
was not in any degree affable.
"I fancy it would be asking too great a favor to suggest that you catch
my horse for me?"
Ford dropped Rambler's reins and turned to her, irritated to the point
where he felt a distinct desire to shake her.
"I'd far rather catch your horse, even if I had to haze him all over
the country, than carry you," he stated bluntly.
"Yes. I suspected that much." She had plucked a red seed-ball off the
bush nearest her and was nibbling daintily the sweet pulp off the
outside.
"Where is the horse?" Ford was holding himself rigidly hack from an
outburst of temper.
"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure." She picked another seed-ball and began
upon it. "He should be somewhere around, unless he has taken a notion to
go home.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80