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Left motherless at an early age, the ranchman's daughter had grown to her sixteenth year different from most girls. Even different from most other girls of the plains and ranges. For ten years there was not a woman's face white, black, or red on the Bar-T acres. The Captain had married late in life, and had loved Frances' mother devotedly.
It would seem that having introduced himself into the ranchman's home, he would have been content to follow the purpose that had taken him thither, without giving more attention to the white man, whom he had certainly spared for the time, when he was in his power.
The ranchman's voice was harsh as he said: "Look here, my friend, you're on the wrong track. The fellow I was with had nothing to do with this affair. Would you know your man? Did you get a look at him?" "No. But I reckon Don Ricardo could tell his horse." "Humph!" Austin grunted, disagreeably. "So just for that you come prowling around threatening my help, eh? Trying to frame up a case, maybe?
"But I killed it with a revolver!" exclaimed the young fellow, struggling to his feet again. "That pistol throws a good-sized bullet," said the ranchman's daughter, smiling. "But I'd never think of picking a quarrel with a lion unless I had a good rope, or something that threw heavier lead than birdshot."
There's room for more fools than one in hell. Here! Here's your medicine." He rose and passed a glass across to Jim, while the other he held aloft. "Here, boy," he cried, smiling down into Jim's face "Here, I'll give you a toast." The stormy light in the ranchman's eyes had died out, and in them there lurked a question that had something like fear in it.
But Frances did not look back. She pushed Molly for the now distant wagon. In a moment she knew that Ratty was thundering after her. What did he mean by such conduct? To tell the truth, the ranchman's daughter was troubled. Surely, the reckless fellow did not propose to attack Mack and herself on the open trail and in broad daylight?
The ranchman's face flushed with anger: "What the hell do I care about you an' your friends. Git offen this ranch, I tell you!" "Oh, yes, an' while you're gettin' the outfit together just you slip in a cinch, an' a quart or two of hooch, case we might get snake-bit." Beside himself with rage, the man raised his foot to the stirrup.
Most of the others were young people, although nearer Pratt's age than that of the ranchman's daughter. Sue Latrop was the only one from the East. She had been to Amarillo before, and she evidently had much influence over her girl friends from that Panhandle city, if over nobody else.
The ranchman's son told me that he had never but once had a peccary assail him unprovoked, and even in this case it was his dog that was the object of attack, the peccary rushing out at it as it followed him home one evening through the chaparral. Even around this ranch the peccaries had very greatly decreased in numbers, and the survivors were learning some caution.
Nor did she look back again to see what became of the group of riders who were with Mrs. Edwards and Pratt. Frances had no heart for such company just then. Sue Latrop's manner had really hurt the Western girl. Perhaps Frances was easily wounded; but Sue had plainly revealed her opinion of the ranchman's daughter. The contrast between them cut Frances to the quick.
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