Merrick rode away and a few minutes later Wong Lee rang the dinner bell. Peggy and Laura did not eat with the boys, but a little later Hashknife wandered around the rear of the house and found Peggy sitting on an old bench in the shade of the cottonwoods, a picture of abject lonesomeness.
Hashknife squatted down on his heels against the tree and rolled a cigaret. Neither of them had spoken. Peggy sighed and leaned back against the bole of the tree, watching Hashknife’s long, lean fingers fashion a cigaret.
“My, it’s shore peaceful out here!” said Hashknife.
Peggy nodded slowly.
“Yes, it is peaceful.”
“It kinda looks as though we were imposin’ on yuh.”
“You are not,” declared Peggy quickly. “I’m glad you came. And I don’t know why I’m glad. Queer, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s queer. Life’s a queer thing. Yesterday we were on our way East in that caboose, when the bridge caught fire and changed everythin’. Yuh never know what will come tomorrow.”
“I realize that, Mr. Hartley. I suppose Honey has told you of the things that have happened lately.”
“Well, yeah, I reckon we’ve heard quite a lot about it, ma’am. It shore was tough luck. Are yuh goin’ away with Miss Hatton?”