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Updated: June 16, 2025
Puss told them every one was at the river. McCloud did not approve Dicksie's plan of going down to see her cousin first. "Why not let me ride down and manage it without bringing you into it at all?" he suggested. "It can be done." And after further discussion it was so arranged.
But the spirited controversy on this point, as on many others Dicksie's haughtiness and Marion's restraint, quite unmoved by any show of displeasure ended always in drawing the two closer to each other. At home Dicksie's fancies at that time ran to chickens, and crate after crate of thoroughbreds and clutch after clutch of eggs were brought over the pass from far-away countries.
The storm driving into Dicksie's face cooled her. Every moment she recollected herself better, and before her mind all the aspects of her venture ranged themselves. She had set herself to a race, and against her rode the hardest rider in the mountains. She had set herself to what few men on the range would have dared and what no other woman on the range could do.
Not till half the fried chicken, with many compliments from McCloud, had disappeared, and the plate had gone out for the second dozen biscuits, did he notice Dicksie's abstraction. "I'm sure you need worry no longer about the water," he observed reassuringly. "I think the worst of the danger is past." Dicksie looked at the table-cloth with wide-open eyes. "I feel sure that it is.
"But I will get dinner for you." "You need not. I can get it for myself." "You are perfectly absurd, and if we stand here disputing, Marion won't have anything to eat." They went into the kitchen disputing about what should be cooked. At the end of an hour they had two fires going one in the stove and one in Dicksie's cheeks. By that time it had been decided to have a luncheon instead of a dinner.
McCloud could not have ridden from the house to the barn in the utter darkness, but his horse followed Dicksie's. She halted frequently on the trail for him to come up with her, and after they had crossed the alfalfa fields McCloud did not care whether they ever found the path again or not. "It's great, isn't it?" he exclaimed, coming up to her after opening a gate in the dark. "Where are you?"
Beth was sitting on a rail, with her arm round Dicksie's neck, as he stood on one side of her; Alfred being on the other, with his arm round her, supporting her. They were talking about flowers. Alfred was great on growing flowers. The vicar had given him a piece of the vicarage garden for his own, and he was going to build a little green-house to keep Beth well supplied with bouquets.
McCloud is so hard on Mr. Sinclair Mr. Sinclair seems so kind and good-natured." Whispering Smith looked from the fire into Dicksie's eyes. "What should you say if I gave you a confidence?" She opened her heart to his searching gaze. "Would you trust me with a confidence?" He answered without hesitation. "You shall see. Now, I have many things I can't talk about, you understand.
"She feels she ought to know because she is in a way Dicksie's chaperone, you know, and she feels that you are willing she should know. I don't want to be too serious, but answer yes or no. Are you engaged to Dicksie?" "Why, yes. "That's all; go back to the porch," directed Whispering Smith. McCloud obeyed orders.
Spring found the construction of the valley line well advanced, and the grades nearing the lands of the Dunning ranch. Right-of-way men had been working for months with Lance Dunning, over the line, and McCloud had been called frequently into consultation to adjust the surveys to objections raised by Dicksie's cousin to the crossing of the ranch lands.
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