I know you're a fine man, all right, but you're only a poor
cow-puncher just the same. I'm speakin' for your own good, Phil, as well
as for Kitty's," he added, with an effort at kindliness.
"Then, if I had a good business, it would be different?"
"Yes, son, it would sure make all the difference in the world."
"Thank you," said the cowboy quietly, as he handed Mr. Reid a very legal
looking envelope. "I happen to be half owner of this ranch and outfit.
With my own property, it makes a fairly good start for a man of my age.
My partner, Mr. Lawrence Knight, leaves the active management wholly in
my hands; and he has abundant capital to increase our holdings and
enlarge our operations just as fast as we can handle the business."
The big man looked from the papers to the lad, then back to the papers.
Then a broad smile lighted his heavy face, as he said, "I give it
up--you win. You young fellers are too swift for me. I've been wantin'
to retire anyway." He raised his voice and called, "Kitty--oh, Kitty!"
The girl appeared in the doorway.
"Come and get him," said Reid. "I guess he's yours."
Helen Manning was sitting on the front porch of that little cottage on
the mountain side where she and Stanford began their years of
home-building.
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