s and her independence: She
made an uncertain movement toward sitting up and facing things calmly,
man-fashion; then she leaned and dropped her very independent brown
head back upon Lite's shoulder, and behind her handkerchief she cried
quietly while Lite held her close.

"Now, that's long enough to cry," he whispered to her, after a season
of mental intoxication such as he had never before experienced. "I
started out three years ago to be the boss. I ain't been working at it
regular, as you might say, all the time. But I'm going to wind up that
way. I hate to turn you over to your dad without some little show of
making good at the job."

Jean gave a little gurgle that may have been related to laughter, and
Lite's lips quirked with humorous embarrassment as he went on.

"I don't guess," he said slowly, "that I'm going to turn you over at
all, Jean. Not altogether. I guess I've just about got to keep you.
It--takes two to make a home, and--I've got my heart set on us making a
home outa the Lazy A again; you and me, making a home for us and your
dad. How--how does that sound to you, Jean?"

Jean was wiping her eyes as unobtrusively as she might. She did not
answer.

"How does it sound, you and me making a home together?" Lite was
growing pale, and his hands trembled. "Tell me."

"It sounds--good," said Jean unsteadily.

For several minutes Lite did not say a word. They sat there holding
hands quite foolishly, and stared out at the drenched desert.

"Soon as your dad comes," he said at last, very simply, "we'll be
married." He was silent another minute, and added under his breath
like a prayer, "And we'll all go--home."

CHAPTER XXVI

HOW HAPPINESS RETURNED TO THE LAZY A

When Lite rapped with his knuckles on the door of the room where she
was waiting, Jean stood with her hands pressed tightly over her face,
every muscle rigid with the restraint she was putting upon herself.
For Lite this three-day interval had been too full of going here and
there, attending to the manifold details of untangling the various
threads of their broken life-pattern, for him to feel the suspense
which Jean had suffered. She had not done much. She had waited. And
now, with Lite and her dad standing outside the door, she almost
dreaded the meeting. But she took a deep breath and walked to the door
and opened it.

"Hello, dad," she cried with a nervous gaiety. "Give your dear daughter
a kiss!" She had not mean