Ladybird by Grace Livingston Hill Page B

every once an’ awhile. She’s allus fussin’ up when he comes. His name’s Pierce somethin’. I didn’t rightly git the last name, an’ I won’t ast Car’line, it would give her too much satisfaction. But I don’t like his eye. It ain’t nice. I donno why, but it ain’t. Say, whyn’t you stay over a week er so an’ be comp’ny fer Car’line? It might kinda make her more contented like.”
    “Oh, I couldn’t,” said Fraley in a small disturbed voice. “I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t. I really ought to go on tonight. You see, I’m in a great hurry. I’ll just ride as far as you go, and by that time I’ll be rested and can go on. I really must get on tonight.”
    There was actual panic in her voice. Brand and Pierce! Then she was not out of their region after all. Perhaps she was getting into an even worse place. Perhaps Brand or Pierce would come tonight and find her in this woman’s house.
    “Naw, you can’t go on ta-night,” said the woman, eyeing her curiously. “I ain’t lettin’ no kid like you go gallivantin’ out in the dark. There’s wolves beyond the ranch in the forest. They come out sometimes. My Jimmy seen ’em. You ain’t got no gun, hev ye? Well, you jest better wait till daylight. It’ll be plumb dark now afore we git to my shack an’ time fer you ta rest. My Car’line, she’ll git ya off at daybreak, ef that’ll suit ya, but I ain’t lettin’ no child wander off ta get lost in the desert this time o’ night. Ef you’d get inta the desert alone an’ lose yer way yer bones might bleach white afore anyone found ’em. You trust me.”
    Fraley’s face could turn no whiter, but she said nothing more. Perhaps there would be a chance to sneak away in the night.
    The sky ahead was showing pearly tints with blue and green and fire pink like an opal. When she turned to look behind her, the sun was a burning ball just touching the rim of the horizon, and poised above a dark mountain. But she was relieved to see that so far there was no traveler in the long, beaten strip of white road that rose and fell and rose again mile after mile as far as she could see, until the forest through which she had come intercepted.
    The woman began to talk of her home and the children, telling bits of family life, until Fraley grew interested. Her heart leaped at the thought of knowing another girl. Only once or twice had she seen girls of her own age—once when a party of tourists lost their way and stopped at the cabin to inquire. There had been two pretty girls in that company, dressed in lovely garments the likes of which she had never seen before. And once she had seen some girls in the town when her father took her with him to buy her shoes. The ride had taken all day, and she had been very tired. He never took her again. He said it was too much trouble. It would be nice to know a girl and to see some children. There had been no children near the cabin since her baby brother died of croup, and she was a tiny thing then herself.
    It was quite dark when at last they came in sight of a speck of light in the distance. She could see nothing in the blackness but that light like a red berry, and she began to be afraid again.
    “That’s my place,” announced the woman cheerfully. “Now, we’ll have some grub. I’m gettin’ hungry. What about you? There! Hear the dogs howl! They know it’s me just as well ’zif they cud see me. We keep five dogs around the place an’ there couldn’t no stranger come within a half a mile ’thout we’d know it. You like dogs? Ever have one?”
    “I had a dog but it is dead,” said Fraley in a low voice, and the woman could see the tears were not far away.
    “Well, they will die, too. That’s so! But they’re right useful while they live. I reckon Car’line’s got hot bread fer supper. You like hot bread? Car’line kin make it good. She knows how to housekeep real well, an’ she c’n work the farm, too, only I won’t let her. I say that’s