“Yes, Dawn—I love you.”
“You love me?” slowly.
Neither of them saw Roaring Rigby. He came riding up the dusty road, his horse still dripping from the water of the ford, his horse’s hoofs muffled in the dust. But he saw them, and turned his horse into the shadow of the cottonwood. He dismounted and came ahead on foot, keeping close to the trees.
“I swear I love you, Dawn,” said Jimmy. “I’ve never had a chance to tell you before. Oh, I know our fathers hate each other; but what has that to do with us?”
“I’m Injun,” she said.
“I’m Irish.”
He did not try to go closer to her, and for a long time neither of them spoke. Then:
“I heard that you might marry Roarin’ Rigby,” said Jimmy. “They say he’s been comin’ out to see you, Dawn.”
“He’s a friend of Dad’s.”
“But comin’ out to see you, Dawn.”