« Say, ain’t you Miss Haas, from Snowbird Pass? »
« Who else would I be, standing in my own yard? Arm around my shoulders. Now, on three. »
It took them ten minutes to cover the forty feet to her door. When she finally got him onto the rag rug in front of the stove, he lay flat on his back and laughed weakly.
« Earl Jessup. Ride for the Bar T. Don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. »
« We aren’t going to be until I’ve looked at that leg. »
She pulled off his boot as gently as she could. He went white and gripped the rug.
« Hold still. My father was a horse doctor in Bavaria, Ohio, and this territory, and I held the lantern for him for twenty years. I know a broken leg. It’s broke clean below the knee. It’ll set. »
She sat back on her heels.
« Your horse is worse. He’s lamed. I’ll see to him. »
« Don’t shoot him, » Earl said quickly. « Please, ma’am, that’s Biscuit. I raised him from a colt. »
