The Sheriff's Son
and intelligence, eager to reach out and leave behind him the sunny miles.
Near the upper end of the park she swung up an arroyo that led to Big Flat Top. A drawling voice stopped her.
"Oh, you, Beulah Rutherford! Where away this glad mo'ning?"
A loose-seated rider was lounging in the saddle on a little bluff fifty yards away. His smile reminded her of a new copper kettle shining in the sun.
"To find columbines for church decorations," she said with an answering smile.
"Have you been building a church since I last met up with you?"
"There will be services in the schoolhouse tomorrow at three p.m., conducted by the Reverend Melancthon Smith. Mr. Charlton is especially invited to attend."
"Maybe I 'll be there. You can't sometimes 'most always tell. I'm going to prove I 've got nothing against religion by going with you to help gather the pulpit decorations."
"That's very self-sacrificing of you." She flashed a look of gay derision at him as he joined her. "Sure you can afford to waste so much time?"
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