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book. Using the drawings as a pattern,- we all pitched in to help. Ah could barely hold my tongue 'til you saw it! Ain't it pretty?"
           "Yes . . . it's beautiful," she mumbled.
           Backing out of the doorway, Tillie said, "Well, Ah’ll leave you alone now while you get acquainted with your pretty new things and so you can take a nap. Ah'll call you when supper's ready."
           Blair lay propped on her pillows, hands entwined beneath her head, anger rising in her throat. Although she would never admit it to Warren, the room was pleasing to the eye and she. liked it immensely, however, he had his nerve removing her personal keepsakes without asking her permission. She had made a thorough search of the drawers and storage trunk, and not a single pair of trousers, her boots, a dime novel, or one painting of a horse could be found. It was as though the old Blair had never existed. Warren was so intent upon turning her into a lady, he had apparently forgotten she was an individual with her own distinct tastes. He was forcing her to be something whether she wanted to or not. If he had just let it lay, he would have seen the changes in her and, in all likelihood, would have been pleased. She knew if she allowed him to get by with this invasion of her privacy, he would make her life miserable in the future; perhaps not intentionally, but he was too dominating and she was tired of it.
           All traces of her weariness gone, Blair bounded from the bed and threw a robe around her shoulders, then marched saucily into Coy's room. After rummaging through a trunk containing his old clothing, she found a pair of denim trousers, a shirt, a floppy hat, socks, and a pair of worn boots. "I'll show him just how unladylike I can be!"
           Back in her own room, she held the shirt up, then the trousers, and studied them with an appraising eye. Although the garments had been made for someone much taller, she decided they would serve her purpose. Finding scissors in her sewing basket, she snipped the extra length from the trouser legs.
           Tossing aside her robe and nightgown, she slipped on a pair of bloomers and a camisole, then threaded her arms through the shirt sleeves. The sleeves were too long, but after rolling them up, the shirt fit fine except for her breasts straining at the shirt front. Donning the jeans, she was surprised that they fit snugly through the hips and were loose around the waist. Another search through her sewing basket produced a sturdy strand of yarn to use for a belt. She then stuffed handkerchiefs in the toes of the boots before she slipped them on. She plaited her hair into a single braid then crammed the hat down on her head. The ill-fitting clothes felt uncomfortable after wearing well-constructed gowns and voluminous petticoats, but since her trousers and shirts had mysteriously disappeared, they would have to do.
           An impish smile spread across her face when she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a pathetic waif, and it was exactly how she wanted to look when Warren came home. Giving the mirror a backwards glance, Blair, with a blanket rolled under her arm, left her bedroom and met Tillie in the hallway.
           An expression of sheer bewilderment flashed over Tillie's face when she saw her. "Child, what in heaven's name have you done to yourself?"
           Placing her hands akimbo and splaying her legs in an arrogant stance —a gesture she had seen Warren do a countless number of times — Blair stated firmly, "I am going for a ride. And if I do not return home tonight, don't worry about me. Who knows? I may decide to find the men and give them a hand rounding up cattle."
           Tillie wrung her hands together. She could not imagine what had brought about the change in this        girl. "But . . . but . . . you can't do that! That's men's work. . . . 'Sides, it's too dangerous for a pretty young woman to go