Fraley she drew rein and stopped, gazing at her pleasantly and not at all curiously.
“Howdy,” she said with a kindly leather smile, “want a lift?”
Fraley half rose, a frightened look in her eyes, ready for almost anything but glad that it was a woman.
“Want a
what?”
she asked doubtfully.
“Goin’ my way?” explained the woman questioningly. “Want a lift? It’s late fer walkin’. Hop in!”
“Oh!” said the girl, beginning to comprehend. “Thank you. How much will it be to ride a little way?”
“Not a cent!” responded the woman heartily. “We don’t charge fer lifts out our way. I’m gettin’ back to the ranch before dark ef I kin make it. Left the children alone with the dogs. Gettin’ oneasy about ’em, so hop in quick. I ain’t got time to waste!”
Fraley was coming down the bank swiftly now. The invitation sounded too good to be true, for her weary feet would hardly carry her down the slope and the bag dragged heavily on her shoulder as if it were weighted with iron.
“You are very kind!” she said shyly as she climbed up beside the woman. It was only after the old horse had started on his jog trot again that she thought this might possibly be a person sent by her enemies to lure her back to them. So she rested the heavy bag in her lap and sat tongue-tied, choking over the thought.
“How fur be you going?” asked the woman, turning kindly, uncurious eyes upon her.
“A good many miles,” stated Fraley noncommittally. “I’m sure I’m much obliged for the ride,” she added, as her mother had taught her was proper.
“Well, you mustn’t let me carry you outta your way,” said her hostess. “My ranch turns off to the right about fifteen miles beyond here.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Fraley, relieved that it did not turn to the left. Somehow her instinct taught her that the southern route was best, at least until she was farther east.
“Come fur?” asked the woman, still eyeing her admiringly.
“Yes, a good ways,” said Fraley laconically.
“Well, where are you goin’? I don’t wantta take you outta yer way.”
“Why, down this road,” said the girl. “I you see, I’m just traveling.”
“Umm!” observed the woman in a tone that implied her answer was inadequate.
“I’m on my way to New York,” Fraley added desperately, feeling that she must make some explanation. The woman reminded her a little of her mother.
“Umm! Yer young to be goin’that fur alone,” observed the woman affably. “What’s yer ma think o’ yer goin’? I hope ye ain’t running away. Ef ye are, I ken tell ya it don’t pay. I done it, and look at me!”
“Oh,” said Fraley, her tired eyes suddenly filling with tears, “my mother is dead! She told me to go. Yes, I’m running away, but not from anybody that has a right.”
“There, there, honey child, don’t you cry! I hadta ast. You see, I’m a mother, an’ you is too little and sweet eyed to be trampin’ around these here diggins alone so near night. There’s them that might do ya harm.”
“But I have to go. I have people in the East.”
“Well, thank goodness fur that!” said the woman warmly. “An’ I’ll take ye home with me ta-night, and you can have a good supper and a nice sleep before you start on. You look all beat out. And in the morning, my Car’line’ll harness up an’ give ya a lift over ta the railroad. It ain’t so fur, an’ she’s used ta drivin’ alone. She can take Billy along fer comp’ny on the way back.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Fraley again, still frightened at the way her affairs were being managed for her. She didn’t want to go to a strange ranch. There would be men there, and there might be friends of Brand’s or Pierce’s. Then she would not be safe ever, for they would come and hunt her wherever she went if they once got track of her. They would claim she was theirs.
“My old man died three years back and left me with five children,” went on her
“Howdy,” she said with a kindly leather smile, “want a lift?”
Fraley half rose, a frightened look in her eyes, ready for almost anything but glad that it was a woman.
“Want a
what?”
she asked doubtfully.
“Goin’ my way?” explained the woman questioningly. “Want a lift? It’s late fer walkin’. Hop in!”
“Oh!” said the girl, beginning to comprehend. “Thank you. How much will it be to ride a little way?”
“Not a cent!” responded the woman heartily. “We don’t charge fer lifts out our way. I’m gettin’ back to the ranch before dark ef I kin make it. Left the children alone with the dogs. Gettin’ oneasy about ’em, so hop in quick. I ain’t got time to waste!”
Fraley was coming down the bank swiftly now. The invitation sounded too good to be true, for her weary feet would hardly carry her down the slope and the bag dragged heavily on her shoulder as if it were weighted with iron.
“You are very kind!” she said shyly as she climbed up beside the woman. It was only after the old horse had started on his jog trot again that she thought this might possibly be a person sent by her enemies to lure her back to them. So she rested the heavy bag in her lap and sat tongue-tied, choking over the thought.
“How fur be you going?” asked the woman, turning kindly, uncurious eyes upon her.
“A good many miles,” stated Fraley noncommittally. “I’m sure I’m much obliged for the ride,” she added, as her mother had taught her was proper.
“Well, you mustn’t let me carry you outta your way,” said her hostess. “My ranch turns off to the right about fifteen miles beyond here.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Fraley, relieved that it did not turn to the left. Somehow her instinct taught her that the southern route was best, at least until she was farther east.
“Come fur?” asked the woman, still eyeing her admiringly.
“Yes, a good ways,” said Fraley laconically.
“Well, where are you goin’? I don’t wantta take you outta yer way.”
“Why, down this road,” said the girl. “I you see, I’m just traveling.”
“Umm!” observed the woman in a tone that implied her answer was inadequate.
“I’m on my way to New York,” Fraley added desperately, feeling that she must make some explanation. The woman reminded her a little of her mother.
“Umm! Yer young to be goin’that fur alone,” observed the woman affably. “What’s yer ma think o’ yer goin’? I hope ye ain’t running away. Ef ye are, I ken tell ya it don’t pay. I done it, and look at me!”
“Oh,” said Fraley, her tired eyes suddenly filling with tears, “my mother is dead! She told me to go. Yes, I’m running away, but not from anybody that has a right.”
“There, there, honey child, don’t you cry! I hadta ast. You see, I’m a mother, an’ you is too little and sweet eyed to be trampin’ around these here diggins alone so near night. There’s them that might do ya harm.”
“But I have to go. I have people in the East.”
“Well, thank goodness fur that!” said the woman warmly. “An’ I’ll take ye home with me ta-night, and you can have a good supper and a nice sleep before you start on. You look all beat out. And in the morning, my Car’line’ll harness up an’ give ya a lift over ta the railroad. It ain’t so fur, an’ she’s used ta drivin’ alone. She can take Billy along fer comp’ny on the way back.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Fraley again, still frightened at the way her affairs were being managed for her. She didn’t want to go to a strange ranch. There would be men there, and there might be friends of Brand’s or Pierce’s. Then she would not be safe ever, for they would come and hunt her wherever she went if they once got track of her. They would claim she was theirs.
“My old man died three years back and left me with five children,” went on her
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