“I’m not mad, Len.”
“That’s fine. I reckon I got kinda rough with yuh, but when I look down at that place I kinda lose faith in women and men. That’s where my boy was born, Nan. I remember that night so well. I rode for the doctor to Lobo Wells and got him out of bed. He wanted to hitch up his buggy horse, but I made him pile on to my bronc, ’cause we needed him bad.
“I said I’d hitch up his horse and foller behind. I was so excited that I plumb forgot that I was ridin’ a bad bronc, and about halfway between here and the town I picked up the doctor. He was scratchin’ matches in the middle of the road, tryin’ to find his medicine case. The bronc throwed him flat. But we got there in time.
“Oh, he was a fine little boy. I was the nurse. The cattle business went flat with me. We didn’t have no cook; so I done the cookin’ and the nursin’. This is the first time I’ve seen the old place in over five years, Nan—and it hurts. Memories hurt, even if they’re happy memories. Mine are both kinds.”
“Was she happy with this other man, Len?”
“Quién sabe? I hope she was, Nan. Everybody is entitled to happiness. Accordin’ to my viewpoint, she didn’t play square. She wasn’t happy nor satisfied for a long time. Nan, a woman has got to love a man to live with him in the range country. Not only that, but she’s got to sacrifice a lot. Girls who are born to it get along the best. They don’t know anythin’ else.”
“It is a lonesome life,” said Nan slowly. “But I think I could learn to love it, Len. The city seems so narrow beside this country. I could understand hate in a city, but not out here.”
“There will always be hate, as long as men live, Nan.”
“Did you love your wife, Len?”
He looked queerly at her, turned away and rubbed the palm of his right hand on his saddle-horn.