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Updated: May 26, 2025
He was originally a maverick a stray from some passing herd and had joined the Bar-T cattle unasked. That was more than two years before. He had remained on the Bar-T ranges, but was evidently determined in his dogged mind not to submit to the humiliation of the branding-iron.
He was the oldest of the Mexican boys employed at the Bar-T, and he had been very friendly with Ratty M'Gill while that reckless individual had belonged to the outfit. It was Victorino who had let Ratty drive the buckboard to the railroad station one particular day when the cowpuncher wished to meet his friend, Pete, at Cottonwood Bottom.
She was hurrying Molly, for she did not want to keep Ratty M'Gill waiting for his money. As she had told him, she wanted the reckless cowboy off the Bar-T ranges before nightfall. She had struck the plain above the river ford when she sighted a single rider far ahead, and going in her own direction.
Maybe he will know enough not to get in with such fellows as that Pete again." "I should have been much afraid had I known what Pratt was getting into out here," Mrs. Sanderson ventured. "Now, now, Sister! Don't try to make a mollycoddle out o' the boy," said Jonas P. Lonergan. "I tell you we're going to make a man out o' Pratt here. I've bought an interest in the Bar-T for him.
She had an opportunity of seeing something more of the Boston girl shortly, for in a day or two Pratt Sanderson came over for the grey pony he had left at the Peckham ranch, and Frances had led back to the Bar-T for him. And with Pratt trailed along Mrs. Bill Edwards and the visitors whom Frances had met twice before.
"But I am indeed curious about this friend of Ratty M'Gill's. And now I'll tell Silent Sam that there is a man lurking about the Bar-T who must be watched." She said nothing to Captain Rugley about sending for Lonergan until she had written. The doctor said it would be just as well not to discuss the matter much until it was accomplished.
She was not sure that she would be able to find many of the girls with whom she had gone to high school. And she was, too, in haste to return to the Bar-T. Although she had left her father better, she worried much about him. Naturally, too, she wished to get back and report to him the adventures which had marked her journey to Amarillo.
There were other good women scattered over the ranges some "nesters," some small cattle-raisers' wives, and some of the new order of Panhandle farmers; but Frances had never been in close touch with them. The social gatherings at the church and schoolhouse at Jackleg had been attended by Frances and Captain Rugley; but the Bar-T folk really had no near neighbors.
There were rugs, and potted plants, and a lounge-swing, with a big lamp suspended from the ceiling, giving light enough over all. But the master of the Bar-T had selected a straight-backed, hard-bottomed chair, of a kind that he had been used to for half a century and more. He brought the front legs down with a bang as the girl and youth approached. "What's kept you, Frances?" he asked, mellowly.
Frances knew that she was a prisoner. The party of visitors to the Edwards ranch tired of jack-shooting and jack-running before noon. José Reposa had cached a huge hamper of lunch which the Bar-T cook had put up, and he softly suggested to Mrs. Edwards that the company be called together and luncheon made ready, with hot coffee for all. "But where's Pratt?" cried somebody.
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