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Updated: June 2, 2025
I don't want any more, I'm sure. We could sell the cattle and turn our ranges into wheat and milo fields. Then we could live in town part of the year in Amarillo, perhaps!" The thought was a daring one. Indeed, she was not wholly confident that it was not a wicked thought.
It would have been for your mother if she had lived." "But you don't want me to look like a South Sea Island princess, do you, Daddy?" Frances said, laughing. "I can see that the belt and bracelet I wore the night Pratt stopped here rather startled him. He's used to seeing ladies dressed up, in Amarillo, too." "Pooh! In the cities women are ablaze with jewels.
"Yet there isn't a girl who went to school with me at the Amarillo High who looks so well-bred, or who is so sure of herself and so easy to converse with." For her part, Frances was thinking: "And he doesn't remember a thing about me! Of course, he was a senior when I was in the junior class. He has already forgotten most of his schoolmates, I suppose.
During the working season, April to November, my time was mostly spent with the round-up or on the trail, with occasional visits to our head office in Las Vegas, and also to Amarillo on business matters. I nearly always camped out on the prairie, of course cooked my own meals, was out in all kinds of weather sun, rain, heat and drought, blizzards and frightful lightning storms.
An old buffalo hunter loves nothing better than to talk of the wonderful old times. One of the oldest living ranchmen still has a private herd near Amarillo and has made many experiments in breeding the bulls to domestic Galloway cows. The progeny, which he calls cattalo, make excellent beef, and he gets a very big price for the hides as robes.
Of the cavalcade cutting across the range for Mr. Edwards' place, Pratt was the only member that noticed the discharged cowpuncher. And he waited until the latter was well out of sight and hearing before he turned his grey pony's head back toward the river. "Where are you going, Pratt?" demanded one of his friends. "I've forgotten something," the young man from Amarillo replied.
Slipping the end of her rope through the loop that held his feet together, Frances got a purchase by which she could pull the great head of the beast aside and downward, thus holding him helpless. It was impossible for him to get up after he was thus secured. "Got him! Quick, Pratt, this way!" Frances panted. She beckoned to the Amarillo young man, and the latter instantly joined her.
Suddenly shadows appeared on a curtain of one section of the car. The shade flew up and the window was raised. The young man from Amarillo stood right where the lamplight fell upon his features. He found himself staring into the face of a grey-visaged, sharp-eyed old man, who had a great shock of grey hair on the top of his head like a cockatoo's tuft.
"Can't you have the goods come by rail to Jackleg?" asked the foreman, somewhat surprised by the request. Now, Jackleg was not on the same railroad as Amarillo. Frances shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sam. There's something particular I must get at Amarillo." "You going with the wagon, Miss Frances?" "Yes. I want a good man to drive Bender, or Mack Hinkman. None of the Mexicans will do.
She was bruised and suffering pain herself. But Pratt's case was much worse than her own just then and her whole heart went out to the young man from Amarillo. Pete sat over his little fire and smoked. He was evidently expecting Ratty M'Gill to return; but for some reason Ratty was delayed.
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