"He took your place, and drew us after him," he said. Then, after a pause. "Say, he did a big thing, Kate, and--he did it with his eyes wide open."

But Kate was not listening. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she sat a poor, suffering, bowed creature whose spirit could no longer support the strain of her remorse. Her confession was complete, and again the horrors of her earlier sufferings were a.s.sailing her weakened spirit.

Fyles waited for the storm to lessen. He no longer had doubts. His pity was for the reckless heart so hopelessly crushed. He had no blame, only pity, and--love. He knew now that all he had hoped and longed for was to be his. Kate cared for him. She had loved him from the start. His were the arms that would shelter her. His were the caresses that must woo that warm, palpitating spirit back to its confidence and strength.

What was her past recklessness to him? He pa.s.sed it by, and thanked G.o.d that, for all its wrong against the laws, she a.s.sessed a courage so fearless, and a brain so keen. There was no evil in her. She was a woman to love and live for. To work, and--to die for. And his feelings he knew had been shared by another.

He rose from his chair and pa.s.sed behind Kate's rocker. He leaned down and kissed her ma.s.ses of beautiful dark hair.

"Look up, Kate. Look up, dear. The old pine has fallen at last, and now--now there is to be peace in the valley for all time. Peace for you. Peace for me. We will go away together now, dear. And presently, please G.o.d, we'll come back to our--home."

Two days later Stanley Fyles and Big Brother Bill were standing at the doorway of Kate's house. It was evening, and four saddle horses were tied together in a bunch, ready saddled for the road.

Bill stood chewing his thumb in silence. His thoughtful, blue eyes were gazing out across the valley at the little ranch house on the hill.

Fyles was equally thoughtfully filling his pipe.

"We haven't talked much about things before," he said, pressing the tobacco firmly into the bowl of his pipe with his little finger.

"Guess there wasn't much room for talk between--you and me. But we had to say things sooner or later, on--account of--the girls. It's bad med'cine starting out brothers with any trouble sticking out between us. That's why I've started talking now--with the horses waiting saddled."

Bill nodded.

"I was desperate sore," he said, his blue eyes coming back to the other's face. "You see, I couldn't think right at first, back there in Amberley, and I blamed you to death. Still, I've done a big think since then. Yes, a huge big think. And--do you know I'm kind of sure now Charlie was just glad to do what he did." Then his voice dropped to an awed undertone. "It's queer how thinking makes you see things right. I kind of feel now, if Charlie was here, he'd tell us right away he's gladder he is where he is than ever he was--here. I'm just certain of it. That's the best of thinking hard. You sort of understand things better. I'm going to shake hands with you. Guess Charlie 'ud like me to--now. And it'll be a mighty hard shake, so you'll know I've thought hard, and--and just understood."

Fyles winced under the giant's grip. But he smiled and nodded. Bill smiled and nodded, too, and then released the injured limb. It was the way of two men who understand.

A sound came from within the house. It was the jingle of a spur and a swish of skirts.

Fyles indicated the direction with his pipe.

"Best quit talking now," he said. "It's--it's the girls."

Bill wagged a sapient head, and moved over to the horses.

"Right ho, Stanley."

"Right ho, Bill."

The big blue eyes met the steady brown eyes in a final, smiling glance of mutual understanding as Kate and Helen appeared in the doorway.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

THE WAY OF THE STRONG

THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK

THE NIGHT-RIDERS

THE ONE-WAY TRAIL

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THE SHERIFF OF d.y.k.e HOLE

THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS

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