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Show Two Kinds of Horses By VIC YARDMAN (Associated Newspapers WNU Service.) C" " KING at her friend, Libby Miller, sitting on the veranda of the Lazy Y dude ranch, Evelyn Billings thought: "Libby's hard and callous. She hasn't any feelings." She saw Rus Crandall, the tall, handsome dude wrangler approaching from the horse corral leading a mount. Rus' face was grave and somewhat pathetic. pa-thetic. Impulsively Evelyn turned to Libby: Lib-by: "Lib, do you realize you're breaking that girl's heart, I mean Hope Palmer, the little western girl who works at the ranch here. She's dreadfully in love with Rus. They were going to be married." Rus Crandall had reached the foot of the veranda steps and doffed his hat. He sat there, watching Libby, Lib-by, waiting. His attitude was that of servitude; his smile almost beseeching. be-seeching. Libby stood up and smiled down at her friend. "Darling," she said, "that little western girl was all that saved the affair from being horribly dull." She smiled again and crossed toward the steps. "Hello, Bill Hart. Planning on going somewhere?" The extra horse stood quietly and submissively while Libby vaulted lightly from the third step into the saddle. A bewildered expression had appeared on Rus Crandall's face. "Why, yes," he said, "I was planning plan-ning on taking you ridin. Wasn't it today you told me we'd go?" "It was today I told you I'd go. If you don't mind I think I'll ride alone." Libby tried not to lose her head, tried not to let her thought dwell on stories she'd heard of the dreadful dread-ful things that happen to tenderfeet lost in the hills. She sat very still, trying to think of some plan, unconsciously un-consciously loosening her grip on the reins. Abruptly the pony turned completely com-pletely around and set oft at a Jogging Jog-ging walk. Libby caught up the reins with an angry gesture, and as quickly loosened them again. A thought had flashed through her mind, something someone had once said about western ponies finding their way home. And then she remembered re-membered how a few hours ago the pony had seemed reluctant to follow fol-low the direction she wanted. The memory caused her heart to leap. She slumped in her saddle and let the reins hang loose. The panic and fear that had possessed her were gone. Curiously she had a sudden faith in the plodding pony. She felt relieved and suddenly weary. The pony's gait was steady and smooth. It made Libby drowsy and she dozed. Once during a waking moment she laughed out loud. She had called her pony dull and stupid, and now here he was carrying her safely home. She wondered if she had been as far wrong in judging western men as she had western horses. She thought of Rus Crandall, Cran-dall, and knew a pang of regret. Perhaps, Per-haps, like the pony, he had qualities quali-ties worth having, qualities which had remained concealed because occasion oc-casion hadn't demanded their display. dis-play. Dreamingly she told herself she had been unwise to cast Rus aside so easily; he would bear further fur-ther consideration. Libby dozed and woke intermittently. intermit-tently. Presently the pony ceased its jogging gait and Libby opened her eyes. The animal had stopped near a structure that proved to be the Lazy W. horse corral. Beyond, lights from the main ranch house winked in the darkness. Libby sat still a moment, conscious con-scious of a stiffness in her muscles, grateful for the instinctive knowledge knowl-edge of her pony and regretful because be-cause of her previous contempt for it; thinking, too of Rus Crandall. Abruptly she heard voices. Figures Fig-ures came toward her, paused near the corral, unaware of her presence there. She heard the silvery laugh of Hope Palmer and deep-throated chuckle of Rus' voice. " Yep, in two weeks' time we'll be shet of them eastern folks, an' it'll be a relief not to have that Miller girl around. Eastern folks is like eastern east-ern horses, I guess, honey. Spirited an' all, but without a lick of sense. Say, it must be awful to be as dumb as that." , There followed a pause. Libby felt her cheeks burning, despite the cool night air. Impulsively she made as if to speak, and hesitated. "We'll be married then and buy that ranch we've been savin' for, honey. Then we'll be shet of easterners east-erners once an' for all." The figures passed on. Libby sat still for a minute. Then abruptly she dismounted and set off toward the house. There was a smile on her lips. She was thinking of what Rus had said about the spirit of eastern horses and eastern women. Do you realize you're breaking that girl's heart? She's dreadfully in love with Rus. "Oh, 1 see," Rus, seeming a little chagrined, turned his horse away, but hesitated as Libby called to him. "Wait a minute, Bill Hart," she said. "You'd better ride to the fork in the trail with me. Then folks won't think I've ridden off alone, and worry." From the corner of her eye Libby had seen Hope Palmer appear at a corner of the horse corral and stand watching them. She didn't want the little western girl to think she was entirely through with her boy friend, just yet. There were still two weeks more of vacationing. Rus Crandall followed her through the ranch gate, his expression still a little puzzled. Once in the trail he tried to catch up, but Libby put her own mount in the way and kept the lead. At the fork she spurred ahead dismissing him with a farewell fare-well wave and a flashing smile. Libby had no special desire to ride alone that afternoon. Only she thought it was high time Rus Crandall Cran-dall got it through his thick skulJ that their little affair was ended. It had been fun, so long as he acted shy and indifferent to her bewitching bewitch-ing smile. But now that he had come to heel, the glamour of the thing was gone. Despite his western west-ern drawl and western mannerisms, he wasn't unlike a dozen other men whom Libby had known and broken back east Dull and stupid, she thought. Just like the rest Just like these western west-ern horses. You break their spirit and they're nothing but a means of transportation. They haven't sense enough to get in out of the rain. Libby rode farther than she had planned. The longer she stayed ; away the more Rus Cranclall would wonder where she was, and worry. Thoughts of him worrying were satisfying sat-isfying and amusing. Toward four o'clock Libby turned about and headed back toward the ranch. Her pony seemed reluctant to go, and his stubbornness annoyed an-noyed her. Once or twice she jerked savagely on the reins when he wan- ! dered from the trail. An hour later Libby drew to a halt and looked around. She was in a little pocket, or valley, in the mountains, moun-tains, and nowhere, in any direction, did she see a familiar landmark. Feeling vaguely uneasy she guided guid-ed the pony up the nearest slope and surveyed the surrounding country. And in that moment an icy hand clutched at her heart, a feeling of panic swept through her. She was lost Realization of her predicament became more and more vivid during dur-ing the next hour. Night was shutting shut-ting down, and a cold breeze was whipping across the hills. The country coun-try through which she rode was entirely en-tirely strange and unfamiliar. Fear possessed her, fear and horror of what was to come. |