But he could not laugh it off. The mention of a woman brought Wilson’s daughter back vividly before him. “She’s a man’s girl,” he found himself, saying.
He sat up with a shock at his own words. Then he rested his chin on his hands and gazed long at the blank wall before him. That was life—his life. That blank wall was his life.... If only it had a window in it; a bright space through which the vision could catch a glimpse of something broader and better.... Well, he could put a window in it. He could put a window in his life.
The next noon Frank Wilson looked up with surprise to see Y.D. riding into his yard. Wilson stiffened instantly, as though setting himself against the shock of an attack, but there was nothing belligerent in Y.D.‘s greeting.
“Wilson,” he said, “I pulled a dirty trick on you yesterday, an’ I got more than I reckoned on. The old Y.D. would have come back with a gun for vengeance. Well, I ain’t after vengeance. I reckon you an’ me has got to live in this valley, an’ we might as well live peaceful. Does that go with you?”
“Full weight and no shrinkage,” said Wilson, heartily, extending his hand. “Come up to the house for dinner.”
Y.D. was nothing loth to accept the invitation, even though he had his misgivings as to how he should meet the women folks. It turned out that Mrs. Wilson had been at a neighboring ranch for some days, and the girl was in charge of the home. The flash in her eyes did not conceal a glint of triumph—or was it humor?
“Jessie,” her father said, with conspicuous matter-of-factness, “Y.D. has just dropped in for dinner.”
Y.D. stood with his hat in his hand. This was harder than meeting Wilson. He felt that he could manage better if Wilson would get out.
“Miss Wilson,” he managed to say at length, “I just thought I’d run in an’ thank you for what you did yesterday.”
“You’re very welcome,” she answered, and he could not tell whether the note in her voice was of fun or sarcasm. “Any time I can be of service—”