His wife interrupted his meditations. He was to learn later that this
is a habit of all wives.
"Miguel, dear, what are you thinking about?"
"I cannot take time to tell you now, Kay, because my thoughts, if
transmuted into print, would fill a book. Mostly, however, I have been
thinking how happy and fortunate I am, and how much I love you and
that--yonder. And when I look at it I am reminded that but for you it
would not be mine. Mine? I loathe the word. From this day
forward--ours! I have had the ranch homesteaded, little wife. It
belongs to us both now. I owed you so much that I could never repay in
cash--and I couldn't speak about it until I had the right--and now that
Bill Conway has taken up all of his promissory notes to you, and his
suit against your father has been dismissed and we've all smoked the
pipe of peace, I've come to the conclusion that I cannot keep a secret
any longer. Oh, my dear, my dear, you loved me so you wouldn't let
them hurt me, would you?"
She was holding his hand in both of hers and she bent now and kissed
the old red scar in the old tender, adoring way; but said nothing. So
he was moved to query:
"And you, little wife--what are you thinking of now?"
"I was thinking, my husband, of the words of Ruth: entreat me not to
leave thee, and to return from following after thee: for whither thou
goest I will go; and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy people shall
be my people and thy God my God.
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