“That’s love, Sarg.”
Skeeter Bill squinted closely at Kirk’s face and looked back toward the cabin door.
“Love—eh? Heat and dirt and the smell of sheep! Old rickety cabin, canned food and swappin’ lead with the cattlemen. No other women; lonesome as ——!”
Skeeter looked down at Kirk and nodded slowly.
“Yeah, I reckon it must be love, pardner,” he went on. “I ain’t never seen it in that kind of a package before, so I didn’t sabe it on sight.”
“She’s my pal—my bunkie,” said Kirk slowly. “She’s willing to go fifty-fifty with me in everything.”
“Thasso? About bein’ a pal—I didn’t know that a woman could be thataway. Women, t’ me, have always been kinda—mebbe I didn’t look at ’em right, Kirk. I kinda like that bunkie idea, y’betcha.”
“She’s the best in the world,” said Kirk softly as they neared the house.
“I s’pose,” nodded Skeeter. “I s’pose that’s right.”
The supper was meager in variety as well as in quantity, but it was well cooked.