t had never touched hers. Her
love that had met so generous a response, full measure, pressed down
and running over, must be paid out without the stipulation of
recompense. Her vision widened, dimly descried horizons limitless as
the prairies, saw faintly how this unasked giving would transform a
gray and narrow world as the desert's sunsets had done.

So gradually the struggling soul came into being and possessed the
fragile tissue that had once been a girl and was now a woman.

They left the river on a morning in September, the sacks of dust making
the trunk heavy. The old wagon was ready, the mess chest strapped to
the back, Julia in her place. Bella and the children were to follow as
soon as the rains began, so the parting was not sad. The valley
steeped in crystal shadow, the hills dark against the flush of dawn,
held Susan's glance for a lingering minute as she thought of the days
in the tent under the pine. She looked at her husband and met his eyes
in which she saw the same memory. Then the child, rosy with life,
leaped in her arms, bending to snatch with dimpled hands at its
playmates, chuckling baby sounds as they pressed close to give him
their kisses.

Daddy John, mounting to his seat, cried:

"There's the sun coming up to wish us God-speed."

She turned and saw it rising huge and red over the hill's shoulder, and
held up her son to see. The great ball caught his eyes and he stared
in tranced delight. Then he leaped against the restraint of her arm,
kicking on her breast with his heels, stretching a grasping hand toward
the crimson ball, a bright and shining toy to play with.

Its light fell red on the three faces--the child's waiting for life to
mold its unformed softness, the woman's stamped with the gravity of
deep experience, the man's stern with concentrated purpose. They
watched in silence till the baby gave a cry, a thin, sweet sound of
wondering joy that called them back to it. Again they looked at one
another, but this time their eyes held no memories. The thoughts of
both reached forward to the coming years, and they saw themselves
shaping from this offspring of their lawless passion what should be a
man, a molder of the new Empire, a builder of the Promised Land.

FINIS

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Emigrant Trail, by Geraldine Bonner

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMIGRANT TRAIL ***

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