"Get a move on
them fried spuds and sashay them down this way, if there's any
left when y'u fill your plate, Missou."
Nor was Reddy the only young man who had dreams those days at the
Lazy D. Cupid must have had his hands full, for his darts
punctured more than one honest plainsman's heart. The reputation
of the young women at the Lazy D seemed to travel on the wings of
the wind, and from far and near Cattleland sent devotees to this
shrine of youth and beauty. So casually the victims drifted in,
always with a good business excuse warranted to endure raillery
and sarcasm, that it was impossible to say they had come of set
purpose to sun themselves in feminine smiles.
As for Nora, it is not too much to say that she was having the
time of her life. Detroit, Michigan, could offer no such field
for her expansive charms as the Bighorn country, Wyoming. Here
she might have her pick of a hundred, and every one of them
picturesquely begirt with flannel shirt, knotted scarf at neck,
an arsenal that bristled, and a sun-tan that could be achieved
only in the outdoors of the Rockies. Certainly these knights of
the saddle radiated a romance with which even her floorwalker
"gentleman friend " could not compete.
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