“He took your place, and drew us after him,” he said. Then, after a pause. “Say, he did a big thing, Kate, and—he did it with his eyes wide open.”
But Kate was not listening. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she sat a poor, suffering, bowed creature whose spirit could no longer support the strain of her remorse. Her confession was complete, and again the horrors of her earlier sufferings were assailing her weakened spirit.
Fyles waited for the storm to lessen. He no longer had doubts. His pity was for the reckless heart so hopelessly crushed. He had no blame, only pity, and—love. He knew now that all he had hoped and longed for was to be his. Kate cared for him. She had loved him from the start. His were the arms that would shelter her. His were the caresses that must woo that warm, palpitating spirit back to its confidence and strength.
What was her past recklessness to him? He passed it by, and thanked God that, for all its wrong against the laws, she assessed a courage so fearless, and a brain so keen. There was no evil in her. She was a woman to love and live for. To work, and—to die for. And his feelings he knew had been shared by another.
He rose from his chair and passed behind Kate’s rocker. He leaned down and kissed her masses of beautiful dark hair.
“Look up, Kate. Look up, dear. The old pine has fallen at last, and now—now there is to be peace in the valley for all time. Peace for you. Peace for me. We will go away together now, dear. And presently, please God, we’ll come back to our—home.”
Two days later Stanley Fyles and Big Brother Bill were standing at the doorway of Kate’s house. It was evening, and four saddle horses were tied together in a bunch, ready saddled for the road.
Bill stood chewing his thumb in silence. His thoughtful, blue eyes were gazing out across the valley at the little ranch house on the hill.
Fyles was equally thoughtfully filling his pipe.