"Give it to him?" Call asked, surprised. Newt, who overheard, was surprised too. The woman who drove such a hard bargain wanted to give him a horse.

"Yes, I'm making him a gift," Clara said. "I'd feel better knowing Newt was well mounted, if you're really going to take him to Montana." With that she went back to the house.

Call looked at the boy. "Why'd she do that?" he asked. Of course it was fine for the boy to have the horse-it saved fifty dollars.

"I don't know," Newt said.

"That's the whole trouble with women," Call said, as if to himself. "They do things that don't make sense. She wouldn't give a nickel on the rest of them horses. Most horse traders would have taken off a dollar just to help the deal."

AFTER CALL AND NEWT LEFT with the horses, Clara lit a lantern and took Augustus up to the room where her husband lay. Lorena sat at the kitchen table with the girls, playing draughts. July watched, but could not be persuaded to take part in the game. Even Betsey, his favorite, couldn't persuade him, and Betsey could usually get July to do anything she wanted him to do. Lorena's presence made him shy. He enjoyed sitting and looking at her in the lamplight, though. It seemed to him he had never seen anyone so beautiful. He had only seen her before on that dreadful morning on the plains when he had had to bury Roscoe, Joe and Janey, and had been too stricken to notice her. Then she had been bruised and thin from her treatment by Blue Duck and the Kiowas. Now she was neither bruised nor thin.

Clara and Augustus sat for an hour in the room where Bob lay. Augustus found it difficult to get used to the fact that the man's eyes were open. Clara had ceased to care, or even notice.

"He's been that way two months," she said. "I guess he sees some, but I don't think he hears."

"It reminds me of old Tom Mustard," Augustus said. "He rangered with us when we started the troop. His horse went over a cutbank on the salt fork of the Brazos one night and fell on him. Broke his back. Tom never moved a muscle after that, but his eyes were open when we found him. We started back to Austin with Tom on a travois, but he died a week later. He never closed his eyes in all that time, that I know of."

"I wish Bob would go," Clara said. "He's no use to himself like this. All Bob liked to do was work, and now he can't."

They walked out on the little upper porch, where it was cooler. "Why'd you come up here, Gus?" she asked. "You ain't a cowboy."

"The truth is, I was hoping to find you a widow," he said. "I didn't miss by much, either."

Clara was amused that her old beau would be so blunt. "You missed by years," she said. "I'm a bony old woman now and you're a deceiving man, anyway. You always were a deceiving man. I think the best thing would be for you to leave me your bride to be and I'll see if I can give her some polish."

"I never meant to get in the position I'm in, to be truthful," Augustus said.

"No, but you like it, now that you're in it," Clara said, taking his hand. "She's got nearly as high an opinion of you as you have of yourself, Gus. I could never match it. I know your character too well. She's younger and prettier, which is always a consideration with you men."

Augustus had forgotten how fond she was of goading him. Even with a dying husband in the next room, she was capable of it. The only chance with Clara was to be as bold as she was. He looked at her, and was thinking of kissing her.

Clara saw the look and was startled by it. Although she kissed her girls every day and lavished kisses on the baby, it had been years since she had been kissed by a man. Bob would occasionally kiss her cheek if he had returned from a trip-otherwise kissing played no part in his view of married love. Looking off the porch, with Augustus standing near her, Clara felt sad. She mainly had snatched kisses from her courtship, with Gus or Jake, twenty years before, to remember.

She looked at Gus again, wondering if he would really be so bold or so foolish. He didn't move to kiss her, but he still stood close and looked into her face.

"The older the violin, the sweeter the music," he said with a smile.

"That proves you're a deceiving man, if you think that," she said. "You've had a long ride for nothing, I guess."

"Why, no," he said. "It's happiness to see you."

Clara felt a sudden irritation. "Do you think you can have us both?" she said. "My husband isn't dead. I haven't seen you in sixteen years. I've mostly raised children and horses during those years. Three of the children died, and plenty of the horses. It took all the romance out of me, if romance is what you were hoping for. I read about it in my magazines but I left it behind for myself when I left Austin."

"Don't you regret it?" Augustus asked.

"Oh, well," Clara said, "yes and no. I'm too strong for the normal man and too jealous once my feelings get started. I'm surprised you dare bring another woman into my house."

"I thought you liked her," he said.

"I do like her," Clara said. "I mind you doing it, though. Don't you understand the facts of nature yet? She's younger and prettier."

"It happened accidentally, like I mentioned," Augustus said.

"I never noticed you having such accidents with ugly girls," Clara said. "I don't care how it happened. You've been my dream, Gus. I used to think about you two or three hours a day."

"I wish you'd wrote, then," he said.

"I didn't want you here," she said. "I needed the dreams. I knew you for a rake and a rambler but it was sweet to pretend you only loved me."

"I do only love you, Clara," he said. "I've grown right fond of Lorie, but it ain't like this feeling I have for you."

"Well, she loves you," Clara said. "It would destroy her if I was to have you. Don't you know that?"

"Yes, I know that," Augustus said, thinking there would never again be such a woman as the one who looked at him with anger in her face.

"Would you destroy her, then, if I said stay?" Clara asked.

"I expect so," Augustus said.

"That ain't an answer."

"Yes, you know I would," he said. "I'd smother Bob for you and send Lorie to perdition."

Clara sighed, and her anger wore out with the sigh.

"Such talk," she said. "Bob'll die when he can manage it, and I'll see what I can do for your bride. It's just her beauty that set me off. I was always the youngest and prettiest, and now I'm not."

"You're mighty pretty, and anyway pretty ain't everything," he said.

"Where men like you are concerned it's ninety-nine percent," she said. "You ain't had time to look at me close. I ain't the prettiest anymore. The prettiest is downstairs."

"I'd still like a kiss," he said.

A tickle of amusement took her. He saw her smile and took it for encouragement. When he bent forward the result was so bland that after a moment Clara drew back her head and laughed.

"You've ridden a long way for some pretty weak courting," she said, but she felt better. Gus looked rather hangdog at his failure-one of the few times she had ever seen him look that way.

"You beat any woman I ever saw for taking the starch out of a man," he said, a little perplexed. Despite all the complications, he felt his old love for her returning with its old power. So much feeling flooded him, just looking at her, that he felt shaky. It was a puzzle to him that such a thing could happen, for it was true she had become rather bony and her face had thinned too much, and certainly she was as taxing as a woman could be. And yet the feeling made him shaky.

"Think I'm rough, Gus?" she asked with a smile.

"I ain't been scorched by lightning, but I doubt it could be hotter than being scorched by you," he said.

"Still think you'd have been up to being married to me?"