They went back to the house and sat down on the porch. Sleepy sat on the steps, hugging his knees and watching Nan, as they talked. She had absorbed considerable range knowledge from the three men at the ranch and was able to discuss the cattle business rather fluently for a beginner.
Hashknife mentioned different ranges and the things they had seen in their wanderings from Alberta to the Mexican border, and Nan seemed greatly interested. “You must have done a lot of wandering in your time,” she said.
“Quite a little,” agreed Hashknife thoughtfully. “There’s a lot of trails behind us, and I hope there’s a lot ahead. But yuh never can tell. That’s the best of life—the uncertainty of the future. Always gamblin’ with to-morrow; takin’ a chance. Do you believe in takin’ chances, Miss Singer?”
Nan looked away quickly to escape those level gray eyes of the tall, serious-faced cowboy. Did she believe in taking chances? It seemed to her as though this man knew.
“I suppose we all take chances,” she said softly, not looking at him.
“Yeah, that’s true. When we get up in the mornin’ we take chances.”
“Might choke on a aig,” drawled Sleepy, and they all laughed.
“Do yuh like this life?” asked Hashknife.
“I don’t know,” said Nan quickly. “I have never been so lonesome in my life, and yet I am happier than I have ever been. Why, I haven’t seen a woman since I’ve been here. I’ve been too busy to go to Lobo Wells. I suppose there are women in the town.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen some,” nodded Hashknife. “But not the kind you’ve been used to seein’. Paint, powder and styles don’t mean anythin’ to ’em. They’re hard-workin’ folks and they don’t get much enjoyment out of life, but they’re human. They won’t never say mean things about yuh, and no matter who yuh are or what you’ve been, they’ll shoot square with yuh. It ain’t a case of the survival of the fittest out here, like it is in the city. They don’t drive the weak ones to the outside of the herd for the wolves to pull down. All they ask is honesty, ma’am. Yore word is yore security.”