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And then it will please father. She spoke as though Mr. Morrell was sure to know her decision. He will like it if I go to live with them a spell. He said it is what I need the refining influence of a nice home.
And I would love to be with nice girls again and to hear good music and put on something beside a riding skirt when I go out of the house.
She sighed. One cannot have a cow ranch and all the fripperies of civilization, too. Not very well. I I guess I am longing for the flesh-pots of Egypt. Perhaps poor dad did, too. Well, Ill give them a whirl. Ill go East
Why, wheres that fellows fire?
She was descending the trail into the pall of dusk that had now spread over the valley. Far away she caught a glimmer of light a lantern on the porch at the ranch-house. But right below here where she wished to see a light, there was not a spark.
I hope nothings happened to him, she mused. I dont believe he is one of us; if he had been he wouldnt have raced a pony so close to the edge of the bluff.
She began to co-ee! co-ee! as the ponies clattered down the remainder of the pathway. And finally there came an answering shout. Then a little glimmer of light flashed up again and yet again.
Matches! grumbled Helen. Cant he find anything dry to burn down there and so make a steady light?
She shouted again.
This way, Miss! she heard the stranger cry.
The ponies picked their way carefully over the loose shale that had fallen to the foot of the bluff. There were trees, too, to make the way darker.
Hi! cried Helen. Why didnt you light a fire?
Why, to tell you the truth, I had some difficulty in getting down here, and I I had to rest.
The words were followed by a groan that the young man evidently could not suppress.
Why, youre more badly hurt than you said! cried the girl. Id better get help; hadnt I?
A doctor is out of the question, I guess. I believe that foots broken.
Huh! Youre from the East! she said, suddenly.
How so?
You say guess in that funny way. And that explains it.
Explains what?
Your riding so recklessly.
My goodness! exclaimed the other, with a short laugh. I thought the whole West was noted for reckless riding.
Oh, no. It only looks reckless, she returned, quietly. Our boys wouldnt ride a pony close to the edge of a steep descent like that up yonder.
All right. Im in the wrong, admitted the stranger. But you neednt rub it in.
I didnt mean to, said Helen, quickly. I have a bad habit of talking out loud.
He laughed at that. Youre frank, you mean? I like that. Be frank enough to tell me how I am to get back to Badgers even on ponyback to-night?
Impossible, declared Helen.
Then, perhaps I had better make an effort to make camp.
Why, no! Its only a few miles to the ranch-house. Ill hoist you up on your pony. The trails easy.
Whose ranch is it? he asked, with another suppressed groan.
Mine Sunset Ranch.
Sunset Ranch! Why, Ive heard of that. One of the last big ranches remaining in Montana; Isnt it?
Yes.
Almost as big as 101?
Thats right, said Helen, briefly.
But I didnt know a girl owned it, said the other, curiously.
She didnt until lately. My father, Prince Morrell, has just died.
Oh! exclaimed the other, in a softened tone. And you are Miss Morrell?
I am. And who are you? Easterner, of course?
You guessed right though, I suppose, you reckon instead of guess. Im from New York.
Is that so? queried Helen. Thats a place I want to see before long.
Well, youll be disappointed, remarked the other. My name is Dudley Stone, and I was born and brought up in New York and have lived there all my life until I got away for this trip West. But, believe me, if I didnt have to I would never go back!
Why do you have to go back? asked Helen, simply.
Business. Necessity of earning ones living. Im in the way of being a lawyer when my days of studying, and all, are over. And then, Ive got a sister who might not fit into the mosaic of this freer country, either.
Well, Dudley Stone, quoth the girl from Sunset Ranch, wed better not stay talking here. Its getting darker every minute. And I reckon your foot needs attention.
I hate to move it, confessed the young Easterner.
You cant stay here, you know, insisted Helen. Wheres my rope?
Im sorry. I had to hitch one end of it up above and let myself down by it.
Well, it might have come in handy to lash you on the pony. I dont mind about the rope otherwise. One of the boys will bring it in for me to-morrow. Now, lets see what we can do towards hoisting you into your saddle.
CHAPTER III
THE MISTRESS OF SUNSET RANCH
Dudley Stone had begun to peer wonderingly at this strange girl. When he had first sighted her riding her strawberry roan across the plateau he supposed her to be a little girl and really, physically, she did not seem much different from what he had first supposed.
But she handled this situation with all the calmness and good sense of a much older person. She spoke like the men and women he had met during his sojourn in the West, too.
Yet, when he was close to her, he saw that she was simply a young girl with good health, good muscles, and a rather pretty face and figure. He called her Miss because it seemed to flatter her; but Dud Stone felt himself infinitely older than this girl of Sunset Ranch.
It was she who went about getting him aboard the pony, however; he never could have done it by himself. Nor was it so easily done as said.
In the first place, the badly trained buckskin didnt want to stand still. And the young man was in such pain that he really was unable to aid Helen in securing the pony.
Here, you take Rose, commanded the girl, at length. Shed stand for anything. Up you come, now, sir!
The young fellow was no weakling. But when he put one arm over the girls strong shoulder, and was hoisted erect, she felt him quiver all over. She knew that the pain he suffered must be intense.
Whoa, Rose, girl! commanded Helen. Back around! Now, sir, up with that lame leg. Its got to be done
I know it! he panted, and by a desperate effort managed to get the broken foot over the saddle.
Up with you! said Helen, and hoisted him with a mans strength into the saddle. Are you there?
Oh! Ouch! Yes, returned the Easterner. Im here. No knowing how long Ill stick, though.
Youd better stick. Here! Put this foot in the stirrup. Dont suppose you can stand the other in it?
Oh, no! I really couldnt, he exclaimed.
Well, well go slow. Hi, there! Come here, you Buck!
Hes a vicious little scoundrel, said the young man.
He ought to have a course of sprouts under one of our wranglers, remarked the girl from Sunset Ranch. Now lets go along.
Despite the buckskins dancing and cavorting, she mounted, stuck the spurs into him a couple of times, and the ill-mannered pony decided that walking properly was better than bucking.