Her decision to go to her dad had been born with the
words on her lips. But it was a lusty, full-voiced young decision, and
it was growing at an amazing rate.
Of course she would go to her dad in Idaho! She was astonished that the
idea had never before crystallized into action. Why should she feed her
imagination upon a mimic West, when the great, glorious real West was
there? What if her dad had not written a word for more than a year? He
must be alive; they would surely have heard of his death, for she and
Royal were his sole heirs, and his partner would have their address.
She walked fast and arrived at the telephone booth so breathless that
she was compelled to wait a few minutes before she could call her
number. She inquired about trains and rates to Echo, Idaho.
Echo, Idaho! While she waited for the information clerk to look it up
the very words conjured visions of wide horizons and clean winds and
high adventure. If she pictured Echo, Idaho, as being a replica of the
"set" used in the movie serial, can you wonder? If she saw herself, the
beloved queen of her father's cowboys, dashing into Echo, Idaho, on a
crimply-maned broncho that pirouetted gaily before the post-office while
handsome young men in chaps and spurs and "big four" Stetsons watched
her yearningly, she was merely living mentally the only West that she
knew.
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