"What did she say?" sez I.
"She looked me plumb in the eyes, an' said, 'Do you want me to ask you
what I want to find out?'"
"What did you say?" sez I.
"Why, I said, 'Yes, Barbara, if it is something you ought to know.'"
"Well?" I sez, after waitin' a bit.
"Why, she flared up," sez Jabez, "an' went on sarcastic about it bein'
strange to her why girls was so much different from other folks, an'
there bein' so many things 'at they wasn't fit to know; an' finally she
said to me point blank, 'Do you want me to ask you what I want to know,
an' if I do ask you will you answer?'"
"What did you say?" I sez.
"I didn't know what to say," sez Jabez. "She looked different from any
way she had ever looked before, and after a minute I sez, 'No, Barbara,
I don't think you had better ask me, an' I don't think you had better
think of it any more.' Don't you think I did right?"
"No," sez I, "you did not. You simply side-stepped; you wilted under
fire, an' she hates a coward as much as you do. Why didn't you face it
right then?"
"Happy," he sez, an' his voice wrung my heart, "the' 's things she'll
have to know sometime, but she ain't old enough to know 'em yet." He
stopped, an' his face grew hard as stone when he went on. "But the' 's
some things that she never can know, an' I don't want her to even learn
that there are such things. That's why you have to find out what's on
her mind."
"Now you know, Jabez, that I have my own ideas on what I have to do;
but you tell me what kind o' things there are that she mustn't ever
learn, an' maybe I'll see your way of it."
Jabez looked down at the ground, an' the sweat broke out on his
forehead before he answered me. When he did the' wasn't a trace of
friendliness in his tone. "You have done a heap for me, Happy, and if
there's anything in the money line that you think I owe you, why, name
it an' it's yours; but you can see for yourself that we can't go on
this way. I haven't asked you to do anything unreasonable and you have
refused point blank. I don't intend to explain myself to one of my own
men, and I don't intend to have an argument with him every time I want
anything done my way. This is my ranch and as long 's my own way suits
me, that's the only man it has to suit."
"Yes, you own this ranch," sez I; "but you don't own the earth, so I'll
move on."
"I haven't fired you," sez Jabez. "You're welcome to work here as long
as you want to; but you'll have to be like the other men from this on.
You've been like one of the family so long 'at we don't pull together
any more, and so if you stay I'll have to send you out with the riding
gangs."
I looked into his face and laughed, though even then I was sorry for
him. He led a lonely life, an' I knew 'at he'd miss me; but we was both
as we was, so I rolled up my stuff, loaded up Starlight, an' said
good-bye to little Barbie. That was the hard part of it. She didn't cry
when I told her I was goin'--that would 'a' been too girlish-like for
her; she just breathed hard an' jerky for a couple o' minutes while we
looked in opposite directions, an' then she said, "How'll you come back
next time, Happy? It's over three years ago since you left that other
time, an' you came back just as you said, ridin' on a black hoss with
silver trimmed leather. How'll you come back next time?"
"I don't know, Barbie," I said, "but I'll sure come back, true to you."
"Yes," she said, "an' I'll sure be true to you, all the time you're
away and when you come back."
"Barbie," I said, "you haven't treated your father right. You've let
him see that you're worryin' about somethin', an' it bothers him."
"I ain't made out o' wood," she snaps out fierce. "I try to be
contented, but I get tired o' bein' a girl. I've half a mind to go with
you, Happy."
"Yes, but the other half of your mind is the best half, Barbie," I
said. "Now I'm goin' to tell you a secret; your daddy is twice as
lonesome as you are, and he's been through a heap of trouble sometime.
You miss the mother that you never did see, but he misses the mother
that he knew and loved; and I want you to promise to do all you can to
cheer him up and make him happy."
"I never thought o' that before," said she, "I'll do the best I
can--but you'll come back to me sometime, won't you, Happy?"
"I sure will," I said, an' we shook hands on it. Then I decided that
I'd leave Starlight with her. He wasn't as good for knockin' around as
a range pony, and I didn't know what I'd be doin', so I took my stuff
off him, picked out a tough little mustang from the home herd, shook
hands with her again, an' started. I glanced up toward old Savage, and
she read my thoughts. "I'll take flowers to him now and again," sez
she, "and I'll go up there and talk to him about you; and Happy, Happy,
we'll both be lonesome until you come back!" And so I kissed her on the
lips, and rode away the second time.