Wyoming | Page 8

of their plaint. "Any spinster can teach kids C-A-T, Cat, but
only one in several thousand can be the prettiest bride in Kalamazoo."
None of them, however, had been able to drive the point sufficiently

home, and it is probable that she would have continued to devote
herself to Young America if an uncle she had never seen had not died
without a will and left her a ranch in Wyoming yclept the Lazy D.
When her lawyer proposed to put the ranch on the market Miss Helen
had a word to say.
"I think not. I'll go out and see it first, anyhow," she said.
"But really, my dear young lady, it isn't at all necessary. Fact is, I've
already had an offer of a hundred thousand dollars for it. Now, I should
judge that a fair price "
"Very likely," his client interrupted, quietly. "But, you see, I don't care
to sell."
"Then what in the world are you going to do with it?"
"Run it."
"But, my dear Miss Messiter, it isn't an automobile or any other kind of
toy. You must remember that it takes a business head and a great deal
of experience to make such an investment pay. I really think--"
"My school ends on the fourteenth of June. I'll get a substitute for the
last two months. I shall start for Wyoming on the eighteenth of April."
The man of law gasped, explained the difficulties again carefully as to a
child, found that he was wasting his breath, and wisely gave it up.
Miss Messiter had started on the eighteenth of April, as she had
announced. When she reached Gimlet Butte, the nearest railroad point
to the Lazy D, she found a group of curious, weatherbeaten individuals
gathered round a machine foreign to their experience. It was on a flat
car, and the general opinion ran the gamut from a newfangled sewing
machine to a thresher. Into this guessing contest came its owner with so
brisk and businesslike an energy that inside of two hours she was
testing it up and down the wide street of Gimlet Butte, to the wonder
and delight of an audience to which each one of the eleven saloons of
the city had contributed its admiring quota.
Meanwhile the young woman attended strictly to business. She had
disappeared for half an hour with a suit case into the Elk House; and
when she returned in a short-skirted corduroy suit, leggings and
wide-brimmed gray Stetson hat, all Gimlet Butte took an absorbing
interest in the details of this delightful adventure that had happened to
the town. The population was out en masse to watch her slip down the
road on a trial trip.

Presently "Soapy" Sothern, drifting in on his buckskin from the
Hoodoo Peak country, where for private reasons of his own he had
been for the past month a sojourner, reported that he had seen the
prettiest sight in the State climbing under a gasoline bronc with a
monkey-wrench in her hand. Where? Right over the hill on the edge of
town. The immediate stampede for the cow ponies was averted by a
warning chug-chug that sounded down the road, followed by the
appearance of a flashing whir that made the ponies dance on their hind
legs.
"The gasoline bronc lady sure makes a hit with me," announced
"Texas," gravely. "I allow I'll rustle a job with the Lazy D outfit."
"She ce'tainly rides herd on that machine like a champeen," admitted
Soapy. "I reckon I'll drift over to the Lazy D with you to look after yore
remains, Tex, when the lightning hits you."
Miss Messiter swung the automobile round in a swift circle, came to an
abrupt halt in front of the hotel, and alighted without delay. As she
passed in through the half score of admirers she had won, her dark eyes
swept smilingly over assembled Cattleland. She had already met most
of them at the launching of the machine from the flat car, and had
directed their perspiring energies as they labored to follow her orders.
Now she nodded a recognition with a little ripple of gay laughter.
"I'm delighted to be able to contribute to the entertainment of Gimlet
Butte," she said, as she swept in. For this young woman was possessed
of Western adaptation. It gave her no conscientious qualms to exchange
conversation fraternal with these genial savages.
The Elk House did not rejoice in a private dining room, and
competition strenuous ensued as to who should have the pleasure of
sitting beside the guest of honor. To avoid ill feeling, the matter was
determined by a game of freeze-out, in which Texas and a mature
gentleman named, from his complexion, "Beet" Collins, were the lucky
victors. Texas immediately repaired to the general