first came I…"
She stopped him. "I remember."
"Well, then, why? You're happy at Wagon. You told me that yourself. You know how I feel about you. Jen, let's close up the house in town until they find a new schoolmarm. We can get married tomorrow. I've got to see the winter through out here, but come spring we can honeymoon in Chicago… New York… What's the matter?"
Her eyes were filled with tears. "Please don't say any more. It sounds too wonderful, and I might let myself say something I know I don't mean. I can't marry you, Kirby. Not now, maybe never." She stopped and searched his amazed face.
"There's too much between us. It's no good. We can't."
"There's nothing between us, Jen. Of course if you don't love me—"
She stopped him by pulling his lips down to her own. "That will tell you just a little of how much I love you." Breathlessly she thrust away his hungry arms and patted her rumpled curls.
"Well, then, what's to stop two people who love each other from getting married?" He tried a somewhat feeble smile. "It's a custom I've heard is real successful."
She tried to match his light tone, but again her eyes filled with tears and she turned away, her words almost lost in the wind whipping around their shelter.
"Kirby, your Dad and Mother were not only the finest but the happiest people I have ever known. It seemed that each was a part of the other. What one thought, the other thought; if you hurt one the other would know it. I want us to be like that. Ever since I can remember, I've wanted to be to Wagon what Ma Street was, to fill your life the way Ma brought completion to Muddy's. But I can't do that now, not the way things are." She was crying openly and unashamedly.
"It isn't your fault, Kirby. I suppose, in a way, it isn't Bill's either, because he's doing what he thinks is right. But when I marry, I'll give myself to my man forever and ever. If we got married tomorrow, the next day you might be lying stretched in the mud of Streeter, without ever beginning the thing that Ma and Muddy built for years."
"If this trouble is ever over, then we'll talk about it again. But for now, I think I'd better get back to town, to the kids that need to learn their A B C's. It won't be what I want, but it will have to do. I don't ever want just a part of you, and if I married you now, with this trouble hanging over your head, I'd be getting what was left…"
Her words were interrupted by the crash of a rifle. Her horse gave a scream of pain and fright and would have bolted had not the trailing reins caught on a rock and brought her around so quickly that she nearly stumbled and fell. Kirby raced to her, his feet slipping in the soft shale underfoot. In a moment Jen was at his side, her hair loosened and flying in the wind.
For a moment they stared at the filly. High up on her foreleg, the saddle blanket almost covering it, an ugly round hole was beginning to ooze blood. Speaking soothingly, Kirby managed to reach the reins. Jen held her while he made a more careful examination. "The bullet didn't go clean through," he said. "It went deep enough, but it must have glanced off the bone and come out here." He lifted the saddle blanket to show her. "We'll have to get her home quick. Maybe, with luck, we can pull her through." He stared in the direction from which the single shot had come. "It's bad enough to shoot at an armed man from ambush," he said between clenched teeth, "but when they start shooting defenseless animals out of sheer spite, it's time they were stopped, once and for all."
Jen watched his face, her eyes troubled as she stroked the trembling mare.
"We've put off riding to Lazy B about that gather snatched across the river. I reckon the time has come to start asking some questions."
Jen was puzzled. "But why would anyone want to shoot my horse? Maybe it was an accident… maybe they were aiming at one of us."
Kirby shook his head. "Whoever fired that rifle was a good shot. He missed hitting a vital
She stopped him. "I remember."
"Well, then, why? You're happy at Wagon. You told me that yourself. You know how I feel about you. Jen, let's close up the house in town until they find a new schoolmarm. We can get married tomorrow. I've got to see the winter through out here, but come spring we can honeymoon in Chicago… New York… What's the matter?"
Her eyes were filled with tears. "Please don't say any more. It sounds too wonderful, and I might let myself say something I know I don't mean. I can't marry you, Kirby. Not now, maybe never." She stopped and searched his amazed face.
"There's too much between us. It's no good. We can't."
"There's nothing between us, Jen. Of course if you don't love me—"
She stopped him by pulling his lips down to her own. "That will tell you just a little of how much I love you." Breathlessly she thrust away his hungry arms and patted her rumpled curls.
"Well, then, what's to stop two people who love each other from getting married?" He tried a somewhat feeble smile. "It's a custom I've heard is real successful."
She tried to match his light tone, but again her eyes filled with tears and she turned away, her words almost lost in the wind whipping around their shelter.
"Kirby, your Dad and Mother were not only the finest but the happiest people I have ever known. It seemed that each was a part of the other. What one thought, the other thought; if you hurt one the other would know it. I want us to be like that. Ever since I can remember, I've wanted to be to Wagon what Ma Street was, to fill your life the way Ma brought completion to Muddy's. But I can't do that now, not the way things are." She was crying openly and unashamedly.
"It isn't your fault, Kirby. I suppose, in a way, it isn't Bill's either, because he's doing what he thinks is right. But when I marry, I'll give myself to my man forever and ever. If we got married tomorrow, the next day you might be lying stretched in the mud of Streeter, without ever beginning the thing that Ma and Muddy built for years."
"If this trouble is ever over, then we'll talk about it again. But for now, I think I'd better get back to town, to the kids that need to learn their A B C's. It won't be what I want, but it will have to do. I don't ever want just a part of you, and if I married you now, with this trouble hanging over your head, I'd be getting what was left…"
Her words were interrupted by the crash of a rifle. Her horse gave a scream of pain and fright and would have bolted had not the trailing reins caught on a rock and brought her around so quickly that she nearly stumbled and fell. Kirby raced to her, his feet slipping in the soft shale underfoot. In a moment Jen was at his side, her hair loosened and flying in the wind.
For a moment they stared at the filly. High up on her foreleg, the saddle blanket almost covering it, an ugly round hole was beginning to ooze blood. Speaking soothingly, Kirby managed to reach the reins. Jen held her while he made a more careful examination. "The bullet didn't go clean through," he said. "It went deep enough, but it must have glanced off the bone and come out here." He lifted the saddle blanket to show her. "We'll have to get her home quick. Maybe, with luck, we can pull her through." He stared in the direction from which the single shot had come. "It's bad enough to shoot at an armed man from ambush," he said between clenched teeth, "but when they start shooting defenseless animals out of sheer spite, it's time they were stopped, once and for all."
Jen watched his face, her eyes troubled as she stroked the trembling mare.
"We've put off riding to Lazy B about that gather snatched across the river. I reckon the time has come to start asking some questions."
Jen was puzzled. "But why would anyone want to shoot my horse? Maybe it was an accident… maybe they were aiming at one of us."
Kirby shook his head. "Whoever fired that rifle was a good shot. He missed hitting a vital
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