"First off," he said, "it's going to take them some time while they investigate us to make sure we're not rustlers. Then it's going to take some more time until someone else comes through that can sell us a mule. And meanwhile the best plowing and planting time is getting away from us every day that we wait."
"They'll sell us an army mule," Ellis said, with the bland optimism of youth.
"Not a chance," said Joe glumly. "Those army men are only interested in one thing—regulations."
"Just the same," said Ellis, "we can explain to them about plowing and planting time. Obviously we can't make a crop if we can't reach our land on time. Even an Army man can understand that."
"Army regulations," said Joe, "do not concern themselves with the planting time of strangers."
Ellis chuckled. "Army men can be human, like anybody else." He smiled softly, because Barbara had just slipped over into the circle of his arm. "I'm for looking on the bright side of things," he insisted.
"Naturally," Joe grinned. He left them and walked over to the wagon. By the fire's light he examined the plow. Joe ran his fingers over the implement, and in his soul felt a vast longing to take it off and use it. A plow meant to him what a rifle meant to Jim Snedeker. It was part of his life, a tool he had been born to use. Joe left the wagon and sat on a block of firewood very close to Emma. Emma's face was upturned to the sky, and she breathed deeply of the fragrant prairie breeze. Joe's hand stole out to hers, and she turned eagerly to him.
"It's like being born again, isn't it?"
"Are you glad we came, darling?"
"Oh, yes I am! Now I am! Lots of times along the way I had regrets. And then, I was cowardly at the beginning."