For all her dislike of him she could not but admit that he was the beau ideal of the fine horseman.

The dominant leader showed in every line and it was no wonder that the cowpunchers feared and respected him.

Besides, there were many tales of his prowess with rifle and revolver to make him stand out in bolder relief.
She saw the riders disappear in the direction of the corrals and then turned back towards the house.

Unquestionably it was to avoid sight of his men returning from their day's work that Oliver Jordan usually drove off at this time of the day; it brought home to him too keenly the many times when he himself had ridden back by the side of Lew Hervey from a day of galloping in the wind; it crushed him with a sense of the impotence into which his life had fallen.

Indeed, unless some vital change came, her father must soon mourn himself into a grave.