“Ain’t you eatin’ your hash, Molly, gal?” he asked kindly, although at the moment his own mouth was filled to overflowing. “It’s real good,” he went on, with a smack of his lips as he swallowed. “You surely hev got the onions good in it. You didn’t eat at midday. An’ you ain’t eatin’ now. There’s a heap o’ work around this layout needs swell muscle, even in a gal like you. Best eat.”
Molly shook her head without withdrawing her gaze. And Lightning could restrain his impulse no longer.
“He ain’t been round, Molly, gal,” he said. “Ain’t you lookin’ fer him to come along?”
Molly sighed pathetically. Her gaze was studiously held to the window. Lightning realised the struggle she was making. Then, when she spoke, her voice was low and unsteady.
“I guess he isn’t through,” she said. “He’ll be haying, too. He’ll surely be haying. You see, he’s such a boy for getting back of his work.”
Lightning could have shouted blasphemy when Molly spoke of her lover’s devotion to work. But, instead, his voice came very gently.
“Sure, he’ll be haying. That’s so. That’s why he ain’t been around. You couldn’t want him to get around when the grass is ripe, and the season’s good. Say”—he passed his plate for another portion of the hash he approved—“why not get your pinto out an’ get a breath of good air, gal? You sure need it. I guess it won’t worry me stackin’ the grass I haul. Beat it over to that boy’s place an’ see the way he’s makin’ out.”
Lightning needed no better reward than the look that responded to his grin. He watched Molly pass to the stove to replenish his plate. And as she passed it back to him, he listened to the reacting hope which sounded in her voice.
“I surely could do that,” she said eagerly. “Maybe it would help him, too. You see, he’s alone. It isn’t the same with him as it is with us. You don’t need to haul to-morrow, anyway. Just cut. That way I could ride out and——”
Lightning felt he had really done a wonderful thing.