pass back 'n' forth once in a while, to look like you're there. That'll
fool 'em good. They'll wait till the light's been out quite a while before
they start in. You go ahead and git married at seven, jest as you was going
to--and if Kent'll have the team ready somewheres, I can easy sneak you out
the back way."

"I couldn't get the team out of town without giving the whole deal away,"
Kent objected. "You'll have to go horseback.".

"Val can't ride," Fleetwood stated, as if that settled the matter.

"Damn it, she's got to ride!" snapped Kent, losing patience. "Unless you
want to stay and go on a toot that'll last a week, most likely."

"Val belongs to the W.C.T.U.," shrugged Fleetwood. "She'd never--"

"Well, it's that or have a fight on your hands you maybe can't handle. I
don't see any sense in haggling about going, now you know what to expect.
But, of course," he added, with some acrimony, "it's your own business. I
don't know what the dickens I'm getting all worked up over it for. Suit
yourself." He turned toward the door.

"She could ride my Mollie--and I got a sidesaddle hanging up in the coal
shed. She could use that, or a stock saddle, either one," planned Mrs.
Hawley anxiously. "You better pull out, Man."

"Hold on, Kent! Don't rush off--we'll go," Fleetwood surrendered. "Val
won't like it, but I'll explain as well as I can, without--Say! you stay
and see us married, won't you? It's at seven, and--"