THE CONTRAST
"Frances!"
Pratt Sanderson fairly shrieked the ranch girl's name. He could do
nothing to save Sue Latrop himself, nor could the other visitors from
Amarillo. Silent Sam and his men were too far away.
If with anybody, it lay with Frances Rugley to save the Boston girl.
Frances already had her rope circling her head and Molly was coming on
the jump!
The wicked little black steer was almost upon the gangling Eastern horse
ere Frances stretched forward and let the loop go.
Then she pulled back on Molly's bridle reins. The cow-pony began to
slide, haunches down and forelegs stiffened. The loop dropped over the
head of the black steer.
Had Blackwater been a heavier animal, he would have overborne Frances
and her mount at the moment the rope became taut. For it was not a good
job at all--that particular roping Frances was afterward ashamed of.
To catch a big steer in full flight around the neck only is to court
almost certain disaster; but Blackwater did not weigh more than nine
hundred pounds.
Nor was Molly directly behind him when Frances threw the lariat. The
rope tautened from the side--and at the very instant the mad steer
collided with Sue Latrop's mount.
The wicked head of the steer banged against the horse's body, which gave
forth a hollow sound; the horse himself squealed, stumbled, and went
over with a crash.
Fortunately Sue had known enough to loosen her foot from the stirrup. As
Frances lay back in her own saddle, and she and Molly held the black
steer on his knees, Pratt drove his mount past the stumbling horse, and
seized the Boston girl as she fell.
She cleared her rolling mount with Pratt's help. Otherwise she would
have fallen under the heavy carcase of the horse and been seriously
hurt.
Blackwater had crashed to the ground so hard that he could not
immediately recover his footing. He kicked with a hind foot, and Frances
caught the foot expertly in a loop, and so got the better of him right
then and there. She held the brute helpless until Sam and his assistants
reached the spot.
It was Pratt who had really done the spectacular thing. It looked as
though Sue Latrop owed her salvation to the young man.
"Hurrah for Pratt!" yelled one of the other young fellows from the city,
and most of the guests--both male and female--took up the cry. Pratt had
tumbled off his own grey pony with Sue in his arms.
"You're re'lly a hero, Pratt! What a fine thing to do," the girl from
Boston gasped. "Fancy my being under that poor horse."
The horse in question was struggling to his feet, practically unhurt,
but undoubtedly in a chastened spirit. One of the boys from the branding
pen caught his bridle.
Pratt objected to the praise being showered upon him. "Why, folks, I
didn't do much," he cried. "It was Frances. She stopped the steer!"
"You saved my life, Pratt Sanderson," declared Sue Latrop. "Don't deny
it."
"Lots of good I could have done if that black beast had been able to
keep right on after your horse, Sue," laughed Pratt. "You ask Mr. Sam
Harding--or any of them."
Sue's pretty face was marred by a frown, and she tossed her head. "I
don't need to ask them. Didn't you catch me as I fell?"
"Oh, but, Sue----"
"Of course," said the Boston girl, in a tone quite loud enough for
Frances to hear, "those cowmen would back up their employer. They'd say
she helped me. But I know whom to thank. You are too modest, Pratt."
Pratt was silenced. He saw that it was useless to try to convince Sue
that she was wrong. It was plain that the girl from Boston did not wish
to feel beholden to Frances Rugley.
So the young man dropped the subject. He ran after his own pony, and
then brought Sue's stubborn mount to her hand. Sue was being
congratulated and made much of by her friends. None of them spoke to
Frances.
Pratt came over to the latter before she could ride away after the
bawling steer. Blackwater was going to be branded this time if it took
the whole force of the Bar-T to accomplish it!
"Thank you, Frances, for what you did," the young man said, grasping her
hand. "And Bill will thank you, too. He'll know that it was your work
that saved her; Mrs. Edwards isn't used to cattle and isn't to be
blamed. I feel foolish to have them put it on me."
Frances laughed. She would not show Pratt that this whole series of
incidents had hurt her deeply.
"Don't make a mountain out of a mole-hill, Pratt," she said. "And you
did do a brave thing. That girl would have been hurt if you had not
caught her."
"Oh, I don't know," he grumbled.
"I reckon she thinks so, anyway," said Frances, her eyes twinkling. "How
does it feel to be a hero, Pratt?"
Pratt blushed and turned away. "I don't want to wear any laurels that
are not honestly my own," he muttered.
"But you don't object to Miss Boston's expression of gratitude, Pratt?"
teased Frances.
He made a little face at her as he went back to the ranchman's wife and
her guests; without another word Frances spurred Molly in the other
direction, and before Mrs. Bill Edwards could speak to her the girl of
the ranges was far away.
She headed for the West Run, where a large herd of the Bar-T cattle
grazed. Nor did she look back again to see what became of the group of
riders who were with Mrs. Edwards and Pratt.
Frances had no heart for such company just then. Sue Latrop's manner had
really hurt the Western girl. Perhaps Frances was easily wounded; but
Sue had plainly revealed her opinion of the ranchman's daughter.
The contrast between them cut Frances to the quick. She keenly realized
how she, herself, must appear in the company of the pretty Eastern girl.
"Of course, Pratt, and Mrs. Edwards, and all of them, must see how
superior she is to me," Frances thought, as Molly galloped away with
her. "But just the same, I don't like that Sue Latrop a bit!"