The Sheriff's Son
"Were you born here?" he asked, his thoughts jumping back to the girl beside him.
"Yes."
"And you 've always lived here?"
"Except for one year when I went away to school."
"Where?"
"To Denver."
The thing he was thinking jumped into words almost unconsciously.
"Do you like it here?"
"Like it?" Her dusky eyes stabbed at him. "What does it matter whether I like it? I have to live here, don't I?"
The swift parry and thrust of the girl was almost ferocious.
"I ought n't to have put it that way," he apologized. "What I meant was, did you like your year outside at school?"
Abruptly she rose. "We 'll be going. You ride down. My foot is all right now."
"I would n't think of it," he answered promptly. "You might injure yourself for life."
"I tell you I'm all right," she said, impatience in her voice.
To prove her claim she limped a few yards slowly. In spite of a stubborn will the girl's
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