“No. I want you to turn husband. My father takes a drink now and again, and he enjoys a cigar after dinner. I wouldn't deny you that, either, but I wouldn't tolerate that kind of cowboy drinking and smoking that seems to please you so much.”

“A cowboy's life is lonely, Mattie. A cowboy takes pleasures where he finds them.”

“You won't be a cowboy any longer. You will be a rancher, like my father and Will. But I suppose you already figured that angle.”

“I won't lie to you. I have already thought about that. I'm prepared to take on my share of the responsibilities around here. I don't fool myself that I'm in for less work now. If I'm part of running this ranch, I will do the best I can. I would want this ranch to succeed for all of us, and for our children, too.”

“That's why you want to marry me, isn't it? You want to be part of this ranch.”

“No. That's not it. Not all of it. You're a handsome woman, Mattie. I could spend the rest of my life looking at you. You're pretty. Prettier than a beat-up cowboy like me is likely to find.”

“I won't stay this way. I'll get old, and you will, too.”

“I reckon I know that. I'm twenty-four years old. I've been a cowboy for about ten of those years. I'm getting busted up. Between horses and cows, a cowboy's life is about getting shaken to death, and for not much money at that. And I got nothing to show for it. I ain't got much family left. My mother. And brothers, though I got no idea where in hell one's at, and a baby sister. Pardon my French. Will is more brother to me than he is. And Sebe. He's a good man, not exactly a father to me, but someone I can look up to. And that leaves you. I don't want you to be my sister. I want you to be my wife.”

“All right, then. I will.”

“That's wonderful, Mattie, just wonderful. I will work hard to make you a good husband and a good life.”

“Jeff?”

“Yes, Mattie?”

“You're a good-looking man, cleaned up. We'll have nice-looking children.”

CHAPTER THREE

1918

They were losing light when Tom made his way through the bosque to where they had camped. Sisson was sitting under one tree, John's body was on its side under another. Sisson had a rifle aimed at Tom, then turned it away.

“You all right?” Tom asked.

Sisson nodded.

“How about him?”

“He's had a rough go of it. Fell asleep awhile ago. Ain't stirred since. I got the splinter out.”

“That ought to have been fun for the both of you.”

Sisson nodded to where John still lay, unstirring. “You want me to take a look at yours?”

Tom looked back over to John. “Nah. I think I'll take my chances. You take the eye out?”