He knew, as his arms went around her, that he had entered upon the greatest joy of his life.
CHAPTER VII
FATE FLINGS OPEN A CLOSED DOOR
ROWAN McCOY drove his new car—it was a flivver, though they did not call it that in those days—with the meticulous care of one who still distrusts the intentions of the brute and his own skill at circumventing them.
As he skidded to a halt in front of the store with brakes set hard a woman came out to the porch and nodded to him. She waited until the noise of the engine had died before she spoke:
“Going down to Wagon Wheel, Mac?”
“If I can stay with this gasoline bronc that far. Anything I can do for you, Mrs. Stovall?”
The woman hesitated, her thin lips pressed tight in an habitual expression of dry irony. She moved closer.
“That houn’ Joe Tait has been a-beatin’ up Norma again. She phoned up she wanted to get down to the train. I’ve a fool notion she’s quittin’ him for good.”