Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 4, 1922 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

TWO-GUN SUE. the ranch at all, for Wes Hayward was per- fectly able to run everything, but she sim- ply would! Of course no—no girl back East where you come from would think of doing such things.” ‘“‘T doubt if many of them are strong and clever enough to be able to learn; certainly none that I know would be capable of running a great cattle ranch.” Garry smiled to himself at the mental picture which rose before him of some of the femi- nine members of his own set, with whom he played about in town and at the seashore and country clubs, if they were suddenly to be transplanted to the Circle Six; stately, languid blondes like Daisy Acheson, and dark, vivid, sensation-seeking neurasthenics such as Alix Westervelt! What could she be like, the hard-riding, straight-shooting sister of this animated pink-and-white doll at his side? For the first time since he had heard of her, Garry felt an active curiosity concerning Susanna Poindexter, and a whimsical determination was born to meet this elusive amazon. ‘“‘ Your sister wasn’t at the Bar D dance, was she?” he asked, pursuing his own train of thought. ‘ Doesn’t she care for such things?” ° “I suppose so; I don’t know.” ‘There was a trace of petulance in Sylvia’s tone. “Sue hardly ever goes. She is out and about the ranch from dawn, you know, and evenings she fusses over the accounts and talks business with Wes Hayward. She hasn’t been any fun at all since father died, and she won’t let me do half the things I want to, or go visiting anywhere. You see, Sue brought me up, and she can’t seem to realize that I’m not a child any longer.” ‘Elder sisters cannot, sometimes, I’m told,” Garry laughed. Could it be that Susanna was a dour, weather-beaten old maid? Somehow that was not the impres- sion he had formed of her from the honest if rough admiration he had heard expressed by the boss of the Bar D outfit and more than one of Dexter’s leading citizens. Sheriff “‘ Big Matt” Cooley, for instance, had boasted with respectful pride that it was he who had taught Miss Susanna to shoot from the hip as soon as her small fin- ger had strength enough to pull the trigger, 325 and Big Matt himself was obviously not far over the forty mark. Miss Susanna could therefore not be as much older as her little sister had unconsciously given him te infer. But had it been done quite unconscious- ly? Was there latent if crudely practiced guile beneath this ingenious unsophistica- tion? Garry turned slightly and glanced at the young girl by his side, to find her staring straight before her with a little angry light in her eyes and her rosebud mouth drawn down resentfully at the cor- ners, but as though conscious of his gaze she turned to him with a smile half mirth- ful and half defiant. “Sue will have to realize that I am grown up soon, for when I am of age I mean to sell out my third of the ranch and go everywhere and have everything that other girls have,’ she declared. Then her eyes fell and a dainty flush swept over her cheeks. ‘‘ But you—you’re not interested in the troubles of poor little me!” “Indeed I am!” he played up mechan- ically. “If you are not in sympathy with the plans of your sister and brother, and unsuited to the rough sort of existence out here, it would be a shame for you to bury yourself on the plains. It is a hazardous life, too, for a woman, isn’t it? Of course, the dangers of pioneer days are long past, but there are tales of cattle thieves—”’ ‘“Rustlers?” Sylvia shrugged. “ The half-breeds run off a few of our cows now and then, but I shouldn’t be allowed out of a corral if there were any real danger. There’s the pool, straight ahead.” The road dipped sharply and curved to avoid a gully walled with rocks, between which rose clumps of trees to shade the rippling pool below. The springs which fed it on either side had caused the creek to widen out here into a natural basin, and from the outlet the tinkle of falling water came refreshingly to their ears. The bronchos picked their way eagerly though surefootedly down the steep path, and after permitting them to drink spar- ingly Garry tethered them and joined Syl- via, who had seated herself on a mossy rock beside a merrily bubbling spring. ‘“Tt’s pretty here, isn’t it?” she asked. ‘An enchanted spot!”’’ Garry agreed en- COmiclbooks.Gonn