The Golden Woman

Those were precious moments to Joan. They were so precious, indeed, that she quite forgot the purpose which had brought her there. She forgot that it was hers to tend and feed these great, helpless creatures. It was enough for her to sit on the swinging bail between the stalls, and revel in the gentle nuzzling of two velvety noses. In those first moments her sensations were unforgettable. The joy of it all held her in its thrall, and, for the moment at least, there was nothing else in the world.

The moments passed unheeded. Every sound was lost to her. And so it came about that she did not hear the galloping of a horse approaching. She did not hear it come to a halt near by. She did not even notice the figure that presently filled the doorway. And only did her first realization of the intrusion come with the pleasant sound of a man's deep voice.

"Bob an' Kitty's kind o' friendly, Miss Joan," it said.

The girl turned with a jump and found herself confronted by Buck's smiling face. And oddly enough her first flash of thought was that this man had used her own name, and not her nickname, and she was grateful to him.

Then she saw that he had the fork in his hand with which she had first seen him, and she remembered his overnight promise to do those very things for her which she had set out to do, but, alas! had forgotten all about.

His presence became a reproach at once, and a slight pucker of displeasure drew her even brows together.

"You're very kind," she began, "but----"

Buck's smile broadened.

"'But's' a ter'ble word," he said. "It most always goes ahead of something unpleasant." He quietly laid the fork aside, and, gathering an armful of hay, proceeded to fill Kitty's manger. "Now what you wer' going to say was something like that old--I mean your housekeeper--said, only you wouldn't say it so mean. You jest want to say I'm not to git around doing the chores here for the reason you can't accept favors, an' you don't guess it would be right to offer me pay, same as a 'hired' man."

He hayed Bob's manger, and then loosened both horses' collar chains.

"If you'll sit on the oat-box I'll turn 'em round an' take 'em to water at the trough. That's it."

Joan obeyed him without a word, and the horses were led out. And while they were gone the girl was left to an unpleasant contemplation of the situation. She determined to deal with the matter boldly, however, and began the moment he returned.