Know about the dance?"
"Nope."
"Down to Singer's place. Betty goin' with you?"
He jerked open the door and barked down at her: "Who else would she be
goin' with?"
"Don't start pullin' leather before the horse bucks," said Mrs. Pym. "I
don't know who else she'd be goin' with. You sure look fine in that red
shirt, Vic!"
He grinned, half mollified, half shame-faced, and ducked back into the
room, but a moment later he clumped stiffly down the stairs, frowning. He
wondered if he could dance in those boots.
"Feel kind of strange in these clothes. How do I look, Nelly?" And he
turned in review at the foot of the stairs.
"Slick as a whistle, I'll tell a man." She raised her voice to a shout as
he disappeared through the outer door. "Kiss her once for me, Vic."
In the center of the little pasture he stood shaking out the noose, and the
three horses raced in a sweeping gallop around the fence, looking for a
place of escape, with Grey Molly in the lead. Nothing up the Doane River,
or even down the Asper, for that matter, could head Molly when she was full
of running, and the eyes of Gregg gleamed as he watched her.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37