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Updated: June 28, 2025
So it was my wantin' to marry Bonita my bein' glad to marry her that made her grow soft an' sweet an' pretty as as a mountain quail. Gene fetched up Padre Marcos, an' he married us." Danny paused in his narrative, breathing hard, as if the memory of the incident described had stirred strong and thrilling feeling in him. Stillwell's smile was rapturous.
"Miss Majesty, all I said is not the half, nor the quarter, nor nuthin' of what's troublin' me," answered he, sadly. "Very well; unburden yourself." "Wal, the cowboys, exceptin' Gene, have gone plumb batty, jest plain crazy over this heah game of gol-lof." A merry peal of mirth greeted Stillwell's solemn assertion. "Oh, Stillwell, you are in fun," replied Madeline.
It was then that Florence's face, changing, took on the hard, stern sharpness so typical of a cowboy's. Madeline had caught glimpses of that expression in Alfred's face, and on Stewart's when he was silent, and on Stillwell's always. It was a look of iron and fire unchangeable, unquenchable will.
Templeton was not unwilling to avail herself though never with any loss of dignity but always with appearance of bestowing rather than of receiving a favour. As to the young ladies, Adrien rarely allowed herself the delight of a motor ride in Rupert Stillwell's luxurious car. On the other hand, had her mother not intervened, Patricia would have indulged without scruple her passion for joy-riding.
"I suggest you let all your boys drive from the tee and choose the two who drive the farthest," said Madeline. Stillwell's perplexed face lighted up. "Wal, that's a plumb good idee. The boys'll stand for that." Wherewith he broke up the admiring circle of cowboys round the ladies. "Grap a rope I mean a club all you cow-punchers, an' march over hyar an' take a swipe at this little white bean."
This was one of the hall-marks of that terrible Montana prairie fire through which he had fought to save the life of a child. Madeline did not forget it, and all at once she wanted to take Monty's side. Remembering Stillwell's wisdom, however, she forebore yielding to sentiment, and called upon her wits.
"That's what a Westerner always asks any one from the East. Can you ride like a man astride, I mean? Oh, that's fine. You look strong enough to hold a horse. We have some fine horses out here. I reckon when Al comes we'll go out to Bill Stillwell's ranch. We'll have to go, whether we want to or not, for when Bill learns you are here he'll just pack us all off. You'll love old Bill.
She overestimated her strength, and more than once had to be lifted from her horse. Stillwell's pleasure in her attendance gave place to concern. He tried to persuade her to stay away from the round-up, and Florence grew even more solicitous. Madeline, however, was not moved by their entreaties.
They rushed out, unfastened their horses, and left in a gallop for Stillwell's, two miles away, on the south side of Otter Creek, out in the woods. As they dashed up to the little old log cabin they saw my father out near the barn; the one with the letter waved it aloft, calling at the top of his voice: "Letter from your boy, Jerry!"
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