The morning-glory vines on the lattice reached up and out; brushed by the wind, they made a sheltering veil. He drew her closer. He lifted her face to his by a smoothing caress of her hair. He kissed her.
He shook his head roguishly at her. "So wild, she was, with the bit in her teeth. And now--she eats right out of my hand."
Then, roguish no longer, he lifted her two hands, turned them--palms up--and touched them with his lips.
"Ah, dear, there must be no more going-it-alone. I want to take care of you after this. We won't wait, will we?"
"Just the minute a minister can be reached?"
"I've a mind to bribe Mike into taking us up to Bismarck after breakfast!"
"You're too sick." Her face was grave, her eyes watched him anxiously. "All night I thought about you: How I went running off when I heard that shot. Oh, suppose, _suppose_----"
"I'll be over this in a day. And I know you went because you had to. Don't I know you weren't afraid? Don't I know why you left Marylyn behind at the trees? Dallas--you're a wife for a man out here!"
"There'll be other things coming up to fight," he went on. "That's the beauty of this West--it keeps you busy. But we'll be together to make the fight. I don't ask anything more."
After a time, they walked to the top of the steps.
Across the river, at the centre of the yellow bend, it stood--the squat shack.
"You wouldn't like to leave it. You can go to Bismarck, you know, or East, or anywhere."
"We'll stay--right over there. Then, when the town comes, and it gets too populous--if you like, and if Marylyn's not at this post--we'll go farther up, to open country again."
"We'll take your share of the Clark herd," she said.
"I've got a _fine_ little saddle-mare for you," he said.
Somebody entered the parlour behind them--two somebodies, hand in hand.
The storekeeper went in, Dallas with him. "Bless your sweet hearts," he said when he faced the couple. "Marylyn, you rested? Fraser, you look idiotically happy."
"I'm not alone," retorted the lieutenant. "I'd hate to describe you this minute, your face beaming through all that lint."
"Save yourself the trouble, here, before my future wife."
Fraser turned to Marylyn. "Phew! But we're important! Listen to him!"
"Dallas wants to get back to the shack. Can a' ordinary, everyday trooper look after the finest two-year-old and the finest team in Dakota? Not by a long shot! And I'm not going to let her go alone," soberly, "after what's happened. Can't take any more chances."