“Keep smilin’,” he said softly. “Remember how it was here last night? All wind and rain, wasn’t it? And today the sun is shinin’ and the sky is blue. Life’s like that, Peggy. The old sky gets pretty black and all clouded up, but the old sun is always on the job, and it breaks through eventually.”
“It is wonderful to look at things in that way, Hashknife.”
“I think so, Peggy. My old man was that way. He preached the gospel in bunk-houses and out on the range. But he didn’t wear a long face and say long prayers. He said he wasn’t trying to make folks fit to die—he was makin’ ’em fit to live. And after all, that’s the gospel. If yo’re fit to live, yuh’ll be fit to die. And when yo’re fit to live yuh’ll always see the sun behind the clouds.”
Peggy smiled at him through her tears. “I’m glad you came here,” she said simply, and went back to the house.
Hashknife sat down on the bench and rolled a fresh cigaret. Sleepy had been sitting on the bunk-house steps, but now he came up to Hashknife and sat down beside him.
“Well, what do yuh know, cowboy?” queried Sleepy.
“What do I know?” Hashknife grinned wistfully at his smoke. “I know I’ve bit off a ⸺ of a big chew for one man to masticate.”
“Yeah,” nodded Sleepy, “yuh mostly always do, Hashknife.”
“Uh-huh. Where’s Honey?”
“Settin’ on the front porch with Laura. By golly, if this keeps up I’m goin’ to get me a squaw! You at one end of the place and Honey at the other. While Mister Stevens sets on the bunk-house steps all alone. And he’s the best-lookin’ man on the ranch, too.”