Spring and summer were the busiest months, clearing the ground around the trees, pruning the dead branches, clearing the deadfall, and maintaining the small irrigation ditches from the stream that coursed down the mountain a quarter of a mile away. It was strenuous. The winter rains and freezes uprooted rocks and crumbled banks. Then the spring rains brought the weeds and grasses, the tough mesquite, and, higher up, the ironlike manzanita that had to be cleared from the ditches first by axe, then by shovel, until the ditches once again flowed, at least until the summer rains began obliterating them.

That had been Sallie Richards's life, a tender of the orchard. She worked along with the men—her father, uncle, and brothers—through the warm seasons, side by side, and, often enough, alone while the men rode fences, branded cattle, and cut the calves. She was strong, her arms as hard as any man's.

She was known as “boy crazy” among the townsfolk and the cowboys who followed the rodeo. But Ola May knew it was not boy craziness that drove Sallie to follow the rodeos and the cowboys who rode in them. It was a fundamental loneliness. Sallie was a woman who lived the life of a man, who worked with men, fought with them, tolerated and imitated them. If she was a tomboy, it was because she lived that life, hard and tough, self-reliant and distant. On the weekends, she wanted the company of anyone who would talk to her, dance with her, and know that she was a woman, not a cowboy.

Sallie and Ola had barely known each other in their earlier years. Ola was outgoing and popular, and Sallie was shy and withdrawn. But as they grew, their lives taking up similar tracks of living the life of men in the world of men, they became friends, and Ola sought out the shy, quiet girl who smiled the sweetest smile, the smile that hid nothing and laid bare her loneliness.

Tom had discovered her, too, as recognition of her grew among the cowboys. A woman who demanded little of anyone, who was glad to share whatever she could with anyone willing to spend some of their time with her, to pay attention to her, all their attention, if only for a while, and who would not demand some recompense for that time. But Tom, like the others, spent time with her, got tired of her quiet and obeisance, and moved on to the livelier girls who offered challenges and dares.