him. A girl’s voice.
“You must have been very tired, Lance.”
Unbelieving, he sat up. Nita sat a dozen feet away, her rifle across her knees, her lips widening in the quick, amused smile he knew so well.
“Where…where did you come from?”
“Should I be poetic, Lance? Should I say that I’m your past returned to haunt you? No, I’ll tell the truth. I was restless last night. I could not stay in the house any longer so I gave them all the slip. I caught Glory—remember my black filly? I saddled her and rode west. Ever since I’ve been here I’ve been worried by this Ridge—I wanted to see what lay over here, so I came over just before daybreak and what do I find—you.”
“And I didn’t hear you.”
“You wouldn’t have heard if the Ridge had collapsed. If the moon ran into the world and they burst, you wouldn’t have heard it. I never knew a man could sleep like that.”
“It’s lucky it wasn’t Tetlow—or Havalik.”
She was suddenly serious. “Lance, you’re the same. You haven’t changed.”
“Are you saying that, or asking?”
“Both. You’re the same as I see you. I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
He got to his feet, running his fingers through his black hair which was all awry. He must look like hell. Needing a shave, tired, red-eyed and hair all on end. How could a woman ever—or maybe she didn’t. Maybe she had changed. He looked at her, trying to guess.
“You—you’re so beautiful it hurts.”
“Hurts who? Not you surely. You ran off and left me. I can hardly believe that. You’re the only man who ever ran away from me, Lance—and the only one I ever wanted to stay.”
He looked at her quickly. “You still mean that?”
“I said it, didn’t I?”
She got to her feet, tall, lissome, her skin a beautiful olive, her eyes—“It’s been a long time.” Her eyes widened a little, and her lips parted, he could see the sudden hunger in her eyes, and he stepped toward her, half-frightened by the feeling that shook him. Roughly, he took her arms and pulled her to him and she reached hungrily for his lips and they melted together and deep within him something seemed to well up and the cold dams across his feelings were gone.
He pushed her away, her breath coming quickly, his own ragged with emotion. “It’s no good,” he said hoarsely, “no good at all. You’ve too much to waste on me. I’m a drifter, Nita, a saddle-bum, a man with a gun and a few days, weeks or months to live. It might come tomorrow.”
“It might,” she agreed, “but don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Don’t you think I know?” Her voice rose. “Lance, look at the time we’ve lost. Yesterday, and all the days before that, the long days after you left the border country, and the days after we were together in Cedar—you know and I know we’ve wasted that time. I know it may not be long, and yet it may be forever. Who knows how long it is for anyone? All of us, all over the world, all of us walk along a thin edge between life and death and it takes so little for us to fall.
“It isn’t tomorrow I want unless it comes. It’s today, Lance! We women, we don’t have so much imagination about some things. We’re realistic. You think about what it may mean to me tomorrow, if I lose you. I think about what it means today, if I don’t have you.
“It doesn’t matter! None of it does. I know how you live, I know what drives you, and I know that maybe the Tetlows, maybe Dee Havalik, maybe someone else will kill you. Or you may kill them and have long years ahead. After all, I’ve known some of your like who died in bed, and you may. You think about it too much.”
“I live with it,” he said somberly. “What kind of life is it for a woman when her man never leaves the house walking but she’ll fear his body may be carried back? If there’s enough of him to carry? Sure, I’ve stayed away from you and I’ve hated it, but only because I wanted to spare you
“You must have been very tired, Lance.”
Unbelieving, he sat up. Nita sat a dozen feet away, her rifle across her knees, her lips widening in the quick, amused smile he knew so well.
“Where…where did you come from?”
“Should I be poetic, Lance? Should I say that I’m your past returned to haunt you? No, I’ll tell the truth. I was restless last night. I could not stay in the house any longer so I gave them all the slip. I caught Glory—remember my black filly? I saddled her and rode west. Ever since I’ve been here I’ve been worried by this Ridge—I wanted to see what lay over here, so I came over just before daybreak and what do I find—you.”
“And I didn’t hear you.”
“You wouldn’t have heard if the Ridge had collapsed. If the moon ran into the world and they burst, you wouldn’t have heard it. I never knew a man could sleep like that.”
“It’s lucky it wasn’t Tetlow—or Havalik.”
She was suddenly serious. “Lance, you’re the same. You haven’t changed.”
“Are you saying that, or asking?”
“Both. You’re the same as I see you. I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
He got to his feet, running his fingers through his black hair which was all awry. He must look like hell. Needing a shave, tired, red-eyed and hair all on end. How could a woman ever—or maybe she didn’t. Maybe she had changed. He looked at her, trying to guess.
“You—you’re so beautiful it hurts.”
“Hurts who? Not you surely. You ran off and left me. I can hardly believe that. You’re the only man who ever ran away from me, Lance—and the only one I ever wanted to stay.”
He looked at her quickly. “You still mean that?”
“I said it, didn’t I?”
She got to her feet, tall, lissome, her skin a beautiful olive, her eyes—“It’s been a long time.” Her eyes widened a little, and her lips parted, he could see the sudden hunger in her eyes, and he stepped toward her, half-frightened by the feeling that shook him. Roughly, he took her arms and pulled her to him and she reached hungrily for his lips and they melted together and deep within him something seemed to well up and the cold dams across his feelings were gone.
He pushed her away, her breath coming quickly, his own ragged with emotion. “It’s no good,” he said hoarsely, “no good at all. You’ve too much to waste on me. I’m a drifter, Nita, a saddle-bum, a man with a gun and a few days, weeks or months to live. It might come tomorrow.”
“It might,” she agreed, “but don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Don’t you think I know?” Her voice rose. “Lance, look at the time we’ve lost. Yesterday, and all the days before that, the long days after you left the border country, and the days after we were together in Cedar—you know and I know we’ve wasted that time. I know it may not be long, and yet it may be forever. Who knows how long it is for anyone? All of us, all over the world, all of us walk along a thin edge between life and death and it takes so little for us to fall.
“It isn’t tomorrow I want unless it comes. It’s today, Lance! We women, we don’t have so much imagination about some things. We’re realistic. You think about what it may mean to me tomorrow, if I lose you. I think about what it means today, if I don’t have you.
“It doesn’t matter! None of it does. I know how you live, I know what drives you, and I know that maybe the Tetlows, maybe Dee Havalik, maybe someone else will kill you. Or you may kill them and have long years ahead. After all, I’ve known some of your like who died in bed, and you may. You think about it too much.”
“I live with it,” he said somberly. “What kind of life is it for a woman when her man never leaves the house walking but she’ll fear his body may be carried back? If there’s enough of him to carry? Sure, I’ve stayed away from you and I’ve hated it, but only because I wanted to spare you
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