Make him stop, she repeated, blind to Mellys gestures. It is uncivilized to treat a horse so!
Uncivi Good God Almighty! Cal burst out. How in hell do you think horses get gentle enough to be ridden?
Not by being tortured, certainlynot back East! she informed him.
He was getting heartily sick of her condescending attitude. We have to do it like this, he said. It isnt hurting the horse. Jack is only wearing him down. It isnt cruel.
Nora dabbed at her face with the handkerchief. The dust is sickening, she was saying. And the heat and the smell!
Then why dont you go back to the nice cool ranch house and sip a cold drink? he suggested with icy calmness.
A laudable idea, Nora said firmly. Come, Melly.
Melly exchanged helpless glances with Cal and rode after her cousin.
Nora muttered all the way home about the poor horse. It didnt help that a gang of tired cowboys passed them on the way back. One was mad at his sidekick and using colorful language to express himself. Noras face went scarlet at what she overheard, and she was almost shaking with outrage when they reached the barn at last.
Knights of the range, indeed! she raged on the way to the front door, having left the horses in the charge of a young stable hand. They stink and curse and they are cruel! It is nothing like my stories, Melly. It is a terrible country!
Now, now, give it a chance, Melly said encouragingly. Youve only been here a short while. It gets easier to understand, truly it does.
I cannot imagine living here, Nora said heavily. Not in my wildest imaginings. How do you bear it?
I love it, the younger woman said simply, and her brown eyes reflected her pleasure in it. Youve lived such a different life, Nora, so sheltered and cushioned. You dont know what it is to have to scratch for a living.
Noras thin shoulders rose and fell. I have never had to. My life has been an easy one, until the past year. But I know one thing. I could never live here.
You dont want to go home already? Melly asked worriedly.
Nora saw her concern and forced herself to calm down. No, of course not. I shall simply have to stay away from the men, that is all. I do miss Greely. He, at least, was a refreshing change from those barbarians out there!
Greely hasnt been around lately, Melly agreed. I wonder why.
NEITHER KNEW THE ANSWER to the question of Greelys absence. Days passed, and the cowboys began to look a little less like dirty tramps and a little more like men as Noras first impression began to waver and then fade. Nora became able to recognize faces, even thick with dust and dirt. She recognized voices, as well, especially Mr. Bartons. It was deep and slow, and when he was angry, it got deeper and slower. She marveled at the way he used inflection to control his men, and the way they responded to even the softest words. He projected authority in a way that made her wonder about his past. Perhaps hed been in the military.
He could have been, with that bearing.
He came riding up the next to the last Friday afternoon of August with a bunch of disheveled, hot and dirty men. He dismounted at the front steps and tossed his reins to the stable hand, so that his horse could be attended to.
Nora, who was on the porch, stepped back when he approached, because he was dirtier than shed ever seen him, and he had a three days growth of beard. She thought that if she met him on the road, shed expect him to have a pistol in either hand and a mask over his nose and mouth.
He noticed her withdrawal with cold fury. Since her remarks out at the corral, hed been waiting for an opportunity to tell her how much her superior attitude irritated him. She had no right to look down her nose at hardworking men because they didnt smell like roses or live up to her idea of civilized behavior.
Wheres Chester? he asked curtly.
Why, he drove my aunt and Melly into town in the buggy, she said. Is there anything I can do?
He pursed his lips and studied the lines of the sleek, soft gray dress that clung to her slender figure. Do you always dress like that? he asked with cool mockery. Like you were going to some fancy city restaurant in one of Mr. Fords fancy automobiles?
She bristled. The automobile is more civilized than a horse, I tell you, she said haughtily. And we have electric streetcars back East as well as automobiles.
What a snob you are, Miss Marlowe, he said pleasantly. His smile didnt reach his cold, silver eyes. Not at all. She felt chilled by them. One wonders why you came out here at all when you find us and the work we do so distasteful.
She wrapped her arms across her small breasts and felt herself shiver. The heat was uncomfortable. She hoped she wasnt having a chill, because she knew what it presaged. No. She couldnt have an attack here, she just couldnt!
With her dignity intact, she smiled at him. Why, I came because of the books.
Books? he asked, frowning.
Yes! Ive read all about cowboys, you know, she told him seriously. Mr. Beadles dime novels portray the cowboy as a knight of the range, a hero in chaps and boots, a nobleman in spurs.