“I reckon, but I don't know what,” replied Carmichael, drawing a long breath. “Folks, I must be gettin' old. For I shore felt orful queer till I seen Bo. She was ridin' down the ridge across the valley. Ridin' some fast, too, an' she'll be here right off, if she doesn't stop in the village.”
“Wal, I hear her comin' now,” said Roy. “An'--if you asked me I'd say she WAS ridin' some fast.”
Helen heard the light, swift, rhythmic beat of hoofs, and then out on the curve of the road that led down to Pine she saw Bo's mustang, white with lather, coming on a dead run.
“Las Vegas, do you see any Apaches?” asked Roy, quizzingly.
The cowboy made no reply, but he strode out from the porch, directly in front of the mustang. Bo was pulling hard on the bridle, and had him slowing down, but not controlled. When he reached the house it could easily be seen that Bo had pulled him to the limit of her strength, which was not enough to halt him. Carmichael lunged for the bridle and, seizing it, hauled him to a standstill.
At close sight of Bo Helen uttered a startled cry. Bo was white; her sombrero was gone and her hair undone; there were blood and dirt on her face, and her riding-suit was torn and muddy. She had evidently sustained a fall. Roy gazed at her in admiring consternation, but Carmichael never looked at her at all. Apparently he was examining the horse. “Well, help me off--somebody,” cried Bo, peremptorily. Her voice was weak, but not her spirit.
Roy sprang to help her off, and when she was down it developed that she was lame.
“Oh, Bo! You've had a tumble,” exclaimed Helen, anxiously, and she ran to assist Roy. They led her up the porch and to the door. There she turned to look at Carmichael, who was still examining the spent mustang.
“Hey, there, Las Vegas!” called Roy. “Rustle hyar, will you?”
When Bo had been led into the sitting-room and seated in a chair Carmichael entered. His face was a study, as slowly he walked up to Bo.
“Girl, you--ain't hurt?” he asked, huskily.
“It's no fault of yours that I'm not crippled--or dead or worse,” retorted Bo. “You said the south range was the only safe ride for me. And there--I--it happened.”
She panted a little and her bosom heaved. One of her gauntlets was gone, and the bare band, that was bruised and bloody, trembled as she held it out.