“Let’s hope nothing will prevent them. I’m afraid I’d be lost without you now, Shannon. You can never know what it has meant to me to have you here. I was sort of going to pot after Grace left—blue and discouraged and discontented; and I was drinking too much. I don’t mind telling you, because I know you’ll understand—you seem to understand everything. Having you to ride with and talk to pulled me together. I owe you a lot, so don’t let me impose on your friendship and your patience. Any time you want an afternoon off,” he concluded, laughing, “don’t be afraid to ask for it—I’ll see that you get it with full pay!”
“I don’t want any afternoons off, because I enjoy the rides as much as you, and they have meant even more to me. I intend to see that nothing prevents them, if I can.”
She was touched and pleased with Custer’s sudden burst of confidence, and thankful for whatever had betrayed him into one of those rare revelations of his heart. She wanted to be necessary to him, in the sweet and unemotional way of friendship, so that they might be together without embarrassment or constraint.
They had been standing at the fork, talking, and now, as she started Baldy again in the direction of her own place, Custer reined the Apache to accompany her.
“You needn’t come down with me,” she said. “It’s nearly lunch time now, and it would only make you late.”
“But I want to.”
“No!” She shook her head. “You go right home.”
“Please!”
“This is my afternoon off,” she reminded him, “and I’d really rather you wouldn’t.”
“All right! I’ll drive down in the car early, and we’ll have a swim before dinner.”