It seemed like he had been riding long enough for the night to be over, but it wasn't, and the sand still stung his skin. They cut the men down and buried them in one grave. Roscoe had never expected to hear such a speech, and he had no idea how to reply to it. It was something, what must go through men's minds where women were concerned, to cause them to behave so strangely.
It puzzled him how the years could have moved so, to bring them from such happy times to the moment at hand. Call had known the famous cattleman since the Fifties, and they had ridden together a few times in the Frontier Regiment, before he and Gus were sent to the border. No woman had affected his heart in the way she had. Home and hearth don't interest us.
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