Horse Heaven Hill. Zane Grey
speak of, except this dress,” returned Lark simply.
“You poor kid. Well, that’s not much, old and faded. I’ve a lot of dresses I’ll give you to make over, if you’ll have them. And you’ll need something new, too.”
“You’re very good, Marigold.”
“We’ll drive to town soon,” said Marigold brightly. “You can buy some goods. Lark, what’ve you been used to down there in Idaho?”
“Ranch life. Work. Horses. Cattle.”
“Any cowboys?”
“No. I have an old man who has been with us for years taking care of the place.”
“Far from any town?”
“Yes. All-day ride for a horse.”
“Any social life?”
“Not much. No neighbors. I’ve been to a few dances and weddings, christenings and such.”
“Of course your town has a meeting house for dancing?”
“No. We used the schoolhouse. I have books too, but no late ones. We’ve been poor since my father died.”
“Have you had fellows—beaux, I mean?”
“Sometimes, on Sundays. And not of my choice,” rejoined Lark demurely.
“You’ve been really isolated. Lark, do you know you’re not bad looking?”
“I hope I’m not.”
“I’ll bet when you’re dressed you’ll be a knockout. You’ll need to change your hair—put it up.”
“Cousin, my hair’s unruly—and it’s not very long anyhow.”
“I see. It isn’t so long at that. You can make it do. You’ve lovely hair, Lark. I adore that ripple. And such a soft silky brown with red glints . . . El said you were good looking.”
“Who’s El?”
“My brother, Ellery. He’s no good on earth. Only son, you know. Spoiled. Don’t let him bother you, Lark. He imagines he’s a devil with the women. But he’s no good. We don’t get along. Look out for El. He’ll be after you, and I feel responsible for you, Lark. When Dad told us about you, and your situation down there, I persuaded him to send for you. You’ll be a fleecy little lamb among wolves, I fear. But I don’t want my brother to frighten you.”
“Thank you, Marigold. But I can take care of myself,” replied Lark with spirit, now that she thought she understood.
“Let me give you a hint about the rest of our family,” went on Marigold. “Dad and Mom are blind about El. They think the sun rises and sets on him. They just can’t see him as he is. So if he does get infatuated with you, it’s not going to be easy. No girl is good enough for El, according to Mom. And Dad wants him settled. Dad has a big merchandise store in town. El hangs out there, where he’s supposed to work. But outside of him, Dad and Mom are regular human beings, almost. Mom is easygoing, but Dad lets out a yell occasionally about money. That is when he’s short of it. He sold a trainload of cattle lately and he’s flush. So it’ll be a good time for me to talk to him about going to town to shop. Let’s go down and ask him right now.”
Lark, thrilled and excited, though somewhat surprised at her cousin’s point of view, tripped after Marigold downstairs. Mr. Wade was smoking in a chair, before a fire smoldering in the open grate. He was a well-preserved man, not much over fifty, with keen blue eyes and a tawny beard sprinkled with gray. It was plain where Marigold got her handsome features.
“Looks like a drive to me,” he remarked quizzically, laying aside his paper. “Evidently you girls have got acquainted already.”
“Give us time, Dad,” replied Marigold. “Lark is not so easy to get acquainted with. She’s lived pretty much alone down there on that ranch. I’d like to take her to town. She hasn’t any clothes, naturally. May we go?”
“Reckon it’s half a dozen for Lark an’ six for you, eh?” he asked, laughing. “Sure you can go. Come here, Lark.”
He appeared kindly and sympathetic, and as she stepped to his chair he took her hand and looked up with thoughtful, penetrating eyes. “Your father an’ I were in the cattle business once, years ago, before you were born. He liked the unfenced ranges an’ I leaned toward the settlements. I saw your mother once, just after her marriage. She was a dusky-eyed beauty. Indian blood, wasn’t it?”
“My grandma was part Nez Percé, so Father used to say,” replied Lark shyly.
“You favor your mother. Well, someday you must tell me all about yourself an’ that ranch down in Idaho. You must try to fit in here an’ make it home. I reckon it won’t be easy at first.”
“I’d like to work, Mr. Wade. Couldn’t you give me work in your store?”
“Well!” Mr. Wade looked surprised. “It’s not a bad idea—if Mother an’ Mari—”
“Mom wouldn’t hear of it,” interrupted Marigold.
“Daughter, there’s nothin’ like work an’ independence,” returned her father mildly. “Perhaps your cousin has been used to work. How about it, Lark?”
“I’m afraid I have,” said Lark frankly, and she held out her hands. They were shapely, brown hands, but on the inside they were callused.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Marigold.
“I see. Those hands haven’t been idle,” rejoined Mr. Wade, and Lark imagined his tone had added respect to its kindliness. “But, my dear, we can hardly let you do ranch work here.”
“Can I have a horse?” asked Lark eagerly.
“I reckoned you liked horses, especially wild ones. Yes, you can take your pick.”
“I love wild horses, Mr. Wade. I have caught them myself and broken them, too.”
“All by yourself?” ejaculated Marigold incredulously.
“Yes. It’s nothing to trap a wild pony. But it’s a good deal to break him right.”
“How old are you, Lark?”
“I’m not sure. I guess I’m going on nineteen.”
“Nineteen and never had a beau?” asked Marigold flippantly. It might have been that she did not altogether like her father’s sympathetic attitude.
“I’m sure about that last, cousin,” returned Lark with just a note of aloofness.
“Lass, you an’ I will get along,” interposed the rancher. “Now you just settle yourself here an’ make the best of it. Find some work, so you won’t be too idle, as Mari is. Help around the house, read, an’ ride all you want. I will talk with Mother about arrangin’ an allowance for you.”
“It’s so wonderful—so good—of you,” murmured Lark, feeling a birth of something warm and sweet in her. She liked the rancher’s eyes. She sensed that all was not as he might have wanted it in that home.
“Dad, you are good,” put in Marigold, kissing him. “We’ll go to town tomorrow.”
“All right, daughter. Get an early start, so you can be back early. It was past midnight last time.”
“Remember, Dad, the buckboard broke a wheel,” interrupted Marigold gaily. “I promise you not to be late. Come on, Lark. We’ll run up to your room and make out a list.”
“Say, Dad likes you,” went on Marigold, when they were upstairs again. “He hasn’t much use for flighty girls.”
“I sure like him too,” replied Lark fervently. “You don’t know what it is to be without a father. Once I thought I’d never, never get over it.”
“Say,