Free Wyoming Wildfire by Leigh Greenwood

gone twenty-five yards.
    Sibyl exulted in the chase and the exhilaration of having a good horse under her and the open prairie ahead. It brought back memories of her childhood, when she rode her pony at a headlong gallop across the countryside, racing pell-mell over every hill, the wind streaming through her long golden hair and bringing tears to her eyes. Sibyl glanced over her shoulder at Burch following her, and she laughed for sheer joy. His powerful stallion covered the ground with enormous strides, but Burch weighed a hundred pounds more than Sibyl and his mount could only cut into her lead by slow inches.
    Sibyl was elated with the success of her gambit. The morning was still cool, and the limitless horizon gave her a feeling of unfettered freedom; and clean, crisp air and vigorous exercise brought a blush to cheeks as soft as down. Burch drove up on her right, shouting and gesturing at something ahead, but she didn’t want to listen; she felt so good she wanted to ride forever, and she swung sharply away from him. Burch yelled his warning again, but the cold fear in his voice was caught and thrown back by the onrushing wind. He set down to ride in earnest, grimly lashing Silver Birch across the shoulders with all his strength.
    Sibyl rode her hardest, but Silver Birch was a magnificent animal and, under Burch’s punishment, closed the gap quickly. Burch caught her bridle and swung her around in a great circle until she came to a stop facing the ranch.
    “Why in hell didn’t you stop when I called you?” he bellowed, his face dark with fury and his features still rigid with alarm. The laughter died in Sibyl’s eyes.
    “I just wanted to beat you,” she answered, baffled by his rage.
    “Wanted to break your neck, you mean.”
    “I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” Sibyl snapped, even more confused by his obvious relief than by his anger. Could he have been afraid she would beat him?
    “What you need is someone to tan your backside when you’re so headstrong.”
    Sibyl’s anger boiled up, shattering all her resolution. “Not even my father dared strike me.”
    “It’s not what I’d like to do myself, but by God I’ll flog you if you ever pull that stunt again.”
    Sibyl forgot she had ever wanted to be nice to him. “If you touch me, I’ll put a hole through you big enough for two weasels to run abreast.”
    “Anyone dumb enough to ride a strange horse at full gallop over unfamiliar ground wouldn’t know which end of a gun to point.”
    “If you think I’m so stupid, you can have your precious horse back and I’ll walk back to the ranch.”
    “You can break your own neck any time you like,” he continued, ignoring her remark, “but I paid two hundred and fifty dollars for that horse, and I’ll not see him killed just because of your childish desire to show off in front of a man.”
    Sibyl was so angry she wanted to cry and scream at the same time. “I don’t know where you got such an exaggerated opinion of your charm and good looks,” she said, spitting out the words like grape seeds after their succulent flesh has been devoured, “but I’m not that desperate. Nor am I impressed by a lot of muscles in leather britches.”
    “I don’t allow cattle to kill themselves without cause, and I see no reason why I should make an exception in your case.”
    Blind rage drove Sibyl to swing at him, but he caught her arm easily. “Monster!” she cried, snatching her hand back to wipe away angry tears.
    “Not monster enough to carry you back to your aunt with a broken neck.”
    “I wouldn’t break my neck in some harmless gallop,” she stormed at him. “I can ride as well as you.”
    “You’d need wings to cross that canyon, and I know your horse can’t fly.”
    “I think you’re crazy, or do you always get drunk after breakfast?’’
    “You really didn’t see it, did you?”
    “I don’t know what you’re raving about,” she said, striving to hold back her tears.
    Against