After years of wandering, the few days he had spent there had meant so much to him, but it had been Virginia’s wish that he seek refuge on this sheep ranch, and so he rode on, wondering what manner of welcome he would receive.
Mr. Wilson and his 18-year-old son, Harry, were mounted and apparently about to ride away from the big white-washed ranch house when they perceived the newcomer and drew rein to await him. They wondered who the visitor might be, as few riders passed that way, the sheep ranch being isolated and difficult of access.
When the lad was within hailing distance, Mr. Wilson, in his bluff, hearty manner, called:
“Welcome, stranger!”
Tom responded to the greeting and said:
“Mr. Wilson, I am from the V. M. Ranch. An old cattleman, whom they call ‘Uncle Tex,’ brought word that you were in need of help and I have come to apply for a position.”
“Good! We do indeed need help,” was the hearty response. “Have you any knowledge of sheep?”
“None whatever,” was the frank reply, “and before I accept a position with you, I would like to tell you just who I am.”
“That is not at all necessary,” Mr. Wilson replied, heartily. “Your honest face and manner are all the recommendations that you need. Your past, my boy, is past. Your present will be what you make it now.” Then he added, “This is my son, Harry. What shall we call you?”
“Tom,” was the simple reply.