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.Chavis and Pickett still retained their old positions, but Ruth noticed that they did not spend so much of their time around the bunkhouse as formerly, they seemed to have work enough to keep their time fully employed.Nor did Masten accompany them very often.He seemed to take a new interest in Ruth; he found various pretexts to be near her, and Ruth secretly congratulated herself on her wisdom in securing her new range boss.She had scarcely expected such amazing results.She was conscious of a vague disappointment, though.For she would have liked to see more of her range boss.Twice, under pretense of wanting to look over the property, she had accompanied him to outlying cow camps, and she had noted that the men seemed to like him—they called him “Rex,” and in other ways exhibited their satisfaction over his coming.Several times she had observed meetings between him and Chavis and Pickett; invariably Chavis was sullen and disagreeable in his presence, and a number of times she had seen Pickett sneer when Randerson’s back was turned.No one had told her of the open enmity that existed between Pickett and Randerson; the latter had not hinted of it.And Randerson was at the ranchhouse even less frequently than his predecessor; he spent much of his time with the outfit.But he came in one afternoon, after Ruth’s friendship with Hagar Catherson had progressed far, and met the nester’s daughter on the porch as he was about to enter the house.By ingenious artifice and persuasion Ruth had induced the girl to accept for her own many of the various garments in the alluring trunk, and Ruth herself had been surprised at the wonderful transformation in her appearance when arrayed in them.Hagar was attired this afternoon in a dark-blue riding habit, with short skirt—shortened by Aunt Martha—riding boots, a waist with a low collar and a flowing tie, and a soft hat that Ruth had re-made for her.She had received lessons in hair-dressing, and her brown, wavy tresses were just obstinate enough, through long neglect, to refuse to yield fully to the influence of comb and brush; they bulged under the brim of the soft hat, and some stray wisps persisted in blowing over her face.She had just taken leave of Ruth who, at the instant Randerson stepped on the porch, was standing inside the doorway, watching her.She had given the girl a trinket that had long been coveted by her, and Hagar’s eyes were bright with delight as she took leave of her friend.They grew even brighter when she saw Randerson on the porch, and a swift color suffused her face.The girl stood still, looking at the range boss.A sudden whim to discover if he recognized her, took possession of her—for she had known him long and he had been a friend to her father when friends were few; she stood looking straight at him.He gave her one quick, penetrating glance, and then stepped back, astonishment and recognition in his eyes.Then he took a quick step forward and seized her hands, holding her at arm’s length, his eyes leaping in admiration.“Why, if it ain’t Hagar Catherson!” he said, wonder in his voice.“Have you just got out of a fairy book?”Old friendship was speaking here; Ruth could not fail to understand that.But he had not yet finished.“Why, I reckon—” he began.And then he saw Ruth, and his lips wreathed in a delighted grin.“You’re the fairy, ma’am.” And then he sobered.“Shucks.I’m talkin’ nonsense, ma’am.I’ve come to tell you that the grass ain’t what it ought to be where we’ve been, an’ tomorrow we’re drivin’ past here to go down the river.” He was still holding Hagar’s hands, and now he seemed to realize that perhaps he had been too effusive, and he flushed and dropped them.“You was just goin’, I reckon,” he said to the girl.And at her nod, and a quick, pleased glance from her eyes, he added: “Tell your dad that I’m comin’ over to see him, pretty soon.I’d have been over before, but I’ve been sort of busy.”“We’ve been a-hopin’ you’d come,” answered Hagar.And with another smile at Ruth she stepped off the porch and mounted her pony.Randerson went directly to his room, and Ruth stood for a long time at the door, watching Hagar as she rode her pony over the plains.There was a queer sensation of resentment in her breast over this exhibition of friendship; she had never thought of them knowing each other.She smiled after a while, however, telling herself that it was nothing to her.But the next time that she saw Hagar she ascertained her age.It was seventeen.The outfit came in the next morning—fourteen punchers, the horse-wrangler having trouble as usual with the remuda, the cook, Chavis, and Pickett.They veered the herd toward the river and drove it past the ranchhouse and into a grass level that stretched for miles.It was near noon when the chuck wagon came to a halt near the bunkhouse door, and from the porch of her house Ruth witnessed a scene that she had been anticipating since her first day in the West—a group of cowboys at play
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