| Author: | Carol Norton | ISBN: | 9781537824109 |
| Publisher: | Jovian Press | Publication: | January 19, 2018 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Carol Norton |
| ISBN: | 9781537824109 |
| Publisher: | Jovian Press |
| Publication: | January 19, 2018 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
A whirl of gleaming sand and dust on a cross desert road in Arizona. The four galloping objects turned off the road, horses rearing, riders laughing; the two Eastern girls flushed, excited; the pale college student exultant; the cowboy guide enjoying their pleasure. A warm, sage-scented wind carried the cloud of dust away from them down into the valley. "That was glorious sport, wasn't it, Mary?" Dora Bellman's olive-tinted face was glowing joyfully. "Wouldn't our equestrian teacher back in Sunnybank Seminary be properly proud of us?" Lovely Mary Moore, delicately fashioned, fair as her friend was dark, nodded beamingly, too out of breath for the moment to speak. Jerry Newcomb in his picturesque cowboy garb, blue handkerchief knotted about his neck, looked admiringly at the smaller girl. "I reckon you two'll want to ride in the rodeo. I never saw Easterners get saddle-broke on cow ponies as quick as you have." Then his gray eyes smiled at the other boy, tall, thin, pale, who was wiping dust from his shell-rimmed glasses. "Dick Farley, I reckon you've ridden before."
A whirl of gleaming sand and dust on a cross desert road in Arizona. The four galloping objects turned off the road, horses rearing, riders laughing; the two Eastern girls flushed, excited; the pale college student exultant; the cowboy guide enjoying their pleasure. A warm, sage-scented wind carried the cloud of dust away from them down into the valley. "That was glorious sport, wasn't it, Mary?" Dora Bellman's olive-tinted face was glowing joyfully. "Wouldn't our equestrian teacher back in Sunnybank Seminary be properly proud of us?" Lovely Mary Moore, delicately fashioned, fair as her friend was dark, nodded beamingly, too out of breath for the moment to speak. Jerry Newcomb in his picturesque cowboy garb, blue handkerchief knotted about his neck, looked admiringly at the smaller girl. "I reckon you two'll want to ride in the rodeo. I never saw Easterners get saddle-broke on cow ponies as quick as you have." Then his gray eyes smiled at the other boy, tall, thin, pale, who was wiping dust from his shell-rimmed glasses. "Dick Farley, I reckon you've ridden before."
