a timid knock. Bo looked
up brightly and ran to open the door.
"Oh! It's only--YOU!" she uttered, in withering scorn, to the one who
knocked.
Helen thought she could guess who that was.
"How are you-all?" asked a drawling voice.
"Well, Mister Carmichael, if that interests you--I'm quite ill," replied
Bo, freezingly.
"Ill! Aw no, now?"
"It's a fact. If I don't die right off I'll have to be taken back to
Missouri," said Bo, casually.
"Are you goin' to ask me in?" queried Carmichael, bluntly. "It's
cold--an' I've got somethin' to say to--"
"To ME? Well, you're not backward, I declare," retorted Bo.
"Miss Rayner, I reckon it 'll be strange to you--findin' out I didn't
come to see you."
"Indeed! No. But what was strange was the deluded idea I had--that you
meant to apologize to me--like a gentleman.... Come in, Mr. Carmichael.
My sister is here."
The door closed as Helen turned round. Carmichael stood just inside with
his sombrero in hand, and as he gazed at Bo his lean face seemed hard.
In the few months since autumn he had changed--aged, it seemed, and the
once young, frank, alert, and careless cowboy traits had merged into the
making of a man. Helen knew just how much of a man he really was. He had
been her mainstay during all the complex working of the ranch that had
fallen upon her shoulders.
"Wal, I reckon you was deluded, all right--if you thought I'd crawl like
them other lovers of yours," he said, with cool deliberation.
Bo turned pale, and her eyes fairly blazed, yet even in what must have
been her fury Helen saw amaze and pain.
"OTHER lovers? I think the biggest delusion here is the way you flatter
yourself," replied Bo, stingingly.
"Me flatter myself? Nope. You don't savvy me. I'm shore hatin' myself
these days."
"Small wonder. I certainly hate you--with all my heart!"
At this retort the cowboy dropped his head and did not see Bo flaunt
herself out of the room. But he heard the door close, and then slowly
came toward Helen.
"Cheer up, Las Vegas," said Helen, smiling. "Bo's hot-tempered."
"Miss Nell, I'm just like a dog. The meaner she treats me the more I
love her," he replied, dejectedly.
To Helen's first instinct of liking for this cowboy there had been added
admiration, respect, and a growing appreciation of strong, faithful,
developing character. Carmichael's face and hands were red and chapped
from winter winds; the leather of wrist-bands, belt, and boots was a
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