for her."
"Then I give her to you, Francie," Dolores said quickly. "Now she's your dog."
"Really? Can I really have her, Mama?"
Her face was alive with happiness, and Dolores felt suddenly sad. She thought that poor little Francie never had anything, and she wondered, whatever would happen to her when she was gone. "Of course she's yours, darling. And now a dog must have a name, so what are you going to call her?"
"Why, Princess, of course," Francie said proudly. "After all, she's the daughter of a prince." And they all laughed.
She had never had anyone of her own to love before and Princess fulfilled all her needs. She was a big, shambling, sand-colored puppy with huge paws, intelligent amber eyes, and a very large wet tongue that she used lavishly on Francie's face every morning when she awoke. She slept on Francie's bed, made pools on her floor and sometimes, when no one was looking, ate from the same bowl. It was a mutual love affair; Francie adored her and Princess adored Francie and they were inseparable.
The De Soto Ranch was not really a working one; it was just forty acres with a few cattle, the Jersey cows and a dozen chickens scratching in the sandy backyard. Each morning Francie would take her basket and search eagerly for the eggs they laid in odd places, behind the rain barrel or in the hedgerows, and carry them triumphantly back for breakfast. There were geese by the pond that cackled and flapped their wings ferociously at them whenever she and Princess came near, and there were half a dozen horses in the paddock which she would eye longingly, leaning on the rough post fence, her chin on her arms, watching Zocco and Pepe, the Mexican ranch-hands, as they saddled up and galloped off toward the distant hills to fix fences and clear the scrub and check for stray cattle in the arroyos.
Then one day Zocco lifted her onto the bare back of the small chestnut mare called Blaize. Francie just sat there, her legs sticking out, her hands resting on the animal's neck. She felt the mare quiver in anticipation and the warm smoothness of her coat under her bare thighs and when Zocco guided her forward a few steps, she laughed in delight.
"You learn ride bareback," the Mexican told her. "Is better this way. Then you never fall off, ever."
Zocco held the mare on a leading rein and for fifteen wonderful minutes they paced slowly around the paddock, the big puppy ambling at their heels. Francie thought it was the best thing that had ever happened in her whole life, except for Princess, of course. She made Zocco promise he would teach her every day and then she ran excitedly back to the ranch house to tell her mother and to fetch a piece of sugar for the mare.
In a few weeks she could control Blaize herself, and holding the reins loosely so she wouldn't damage the little mare's tender mouth, she trotted proudly around and around the paddock for her mother to see.
"Wonderful, darling," Dolores called from her chair. "I learned the same way when I was a child."
Francie reined in her horse. "When you were a child, Mama?" she said, amazed at the very idea. "Were you like me then?"
Dolores shook her head and laughed. "I was a well-brought-up girl in a dozen petticoats and starched pinafores and high-button boots. And you are a ragged little tomboy, running around barefoot with not even a governess to teach you your lessons." She sighed. "I must speak to your father about that."
"Oh, Mama, don't. Please." Francie slid from the horse and through the fence and flung her arms around her mother. "It's so lovely here, just the two of us together. Please, please, Mama, let's not spoil it with silly governesses."
Dolores stroked her blond hair thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose there will be plenty of time for lessons later," she said quietly. "And I confess I like having you all to myself, Francie."
They beamed at each other and Francie slid back through the fence. Dragging over a wooden crate, she stepped up on it to unfasten the
"Then I give her to you, Francie," Dolores said quickly. "Now she's your dog."
"Really? Can I really have her, Mama?"
Her face was alive with happiness, and Dolores felt suddenly sad. She thought that poor little Francie never had anything, and she wondered, whatever would happen to her when she was gone. "Of course she's yours, darling. And now a dog must have a name, so what are you going to call her?"
"Why, Princess, of course," Francie said proudly. "After all, she's the daughter of a prince." And they all laughed.
She had never had anyone of her own to love before and Princess fulfilled all her needs. She was a big, shambling, sand-colored puppy with huge paws, intelligent amber eyes, and a very large wet tongue that she used lavishly on Francie's face every morning when she awoke. She slept on Francie's bed, made pools on her floor and sometimes, when no one was looking, ate from the same bowl. It was a mutual love affair; Francie adored her and Princess adored Francie and they were inseparable.
The De Soto Ranch was not really a working one; it was just forty acres with a few cattle, the Jersey cows and a dozen chickens scratching in the sandy backyard. Each morning Francie would take her basket and search eagerly for the eggs they laid in odd places, behind the rain barrel or in the hedgerows, and carry them triumphantly back for breakfast. There were geese by the pond that cackled and flapped their wings ferociously at them whenever she and Princess came near, and there were half a dozen horses in the paddock which she would eye longingly, leaning on the rough post fence, her chin on her arms, watching Zocco and Pepe, the Mexican ranch-hands, as they saddled up and galloped off toward the distant hills to fix fences and clear the scrub and check for stray cattle in the arroyos.
Then one day Zocco lifted her onto the bare back of the small chestnut mare called Blaize. Francie just sat there, her legs sticking out, her hands resting on the animal's neck. She felt the mare quiver in anticipation and the warm smoothness of her coat under her bare thighs and when Zocco guided her forward a few steps, she laughed in delight.
"You learn ride bareback," the Mexican told her. "Is better this way. Then you never fall off, ever."
Zocco held the mare on a leading rein and for fifteen wonderful minutes they paced slowly around the paddock, the big puppy ambling at their heels. Francie thought it was the best thing that had ever happened in her whole life, except for Princess, of course. She made Zocco promise he would teach her every day and then she ran excitedly back to the ranch house to tell her mother and to fetch a piece of sugar for the mare.
In a few weeks she could control Blaize herself, and holding the reins loosely so she wouldn't damage the little mare's tender mouth, she trotted proudly around and around the paddock for her mother to see.
"Wonderful, darling," Dolores called from her chair. "I learned the same way when I was a child."
Francie reined in her horse. "When you were a child, Mama?" she said, amazed at the very idea. "Were you like me then?"
Dolores shook her head and laughed. "I was a well-brought-up girl in a dozen petticoats and starched pinafores and high-button boots. And you are a ragged little tomboy, running around barefoot with not even a governess to teach you your lessons." She sighed. "I must speak to your father about that."
"Oh, Mama, don't. Please." Francie slid from the horse and through the fence and flung her arms around her mother. "It's so lovely here, just the two of us together. Please, please, Mama, let's not spoil it with silly governesses."
Dolores stroked her blond hair thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose there will be plenty of time for lessons later," she said quietly. "And I confess I like having you all to myself, Francie."
They beamed at each other and Francie slid back through the fence. Dragging over a wooden crate, she stepped up on it to unfasten the
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