He told her, then, about his gentle laughing mother, and his loving but unreliable father who had made too much money gambling and had lived too fast and died too young. And he told her about his Uncle George who had not only stolen most of the family property but had tried to rule Ellis with an iron rod, had disrupted all his plans and made a fool of him before his friends, and who had ended up by receiving a punch in the jaw from his outraged nephew. He told her of his one good year at college, of his falling in love with Mary Harkness and his following her across the country. He told her of his moodiness (which she already knew) and of his quick temper (which she already knew) and he told her that he was ashamed of his temper and that he recognized that it was a remnant of his childhood, and that most of the time it was unjustified, and that he couldn't promise to get rid of it immediately but that he would keep on trying until he did. He spared himself nothing, and only by reading between the lines was she able to see a young man buffeted and lonely, but eager for friendship and love, with a wealth of devotion to offer, a true humility and a burning desire for truth and honesty above all things. How different was this blurted, forthright account from the smooth, polished presentation of a Hugo Gearey! He had stopped talking and now they lay quietly, looking up into the darkness. He had confided all of himself, placed all of his faith in her understanding. And even now he asked nothing, made no demands. Ellis Garner was an amazing young man. She felt that there was much, much more to know about him, but everything that she already knew she could respect. She turned to him. In the darkness, their arms found each other and their lips met. This, Barbara thought, was a dream come true. This was what she thought of when she thought of marriage. Thus, out of the storm, was born their love. * * * * * After Barbara and Ellis left, Joe went back to his woodcutting. He worked steadily, almost savagely, but for the first time in days there was no joy in labor. Joe felled and trimmed another tree and immediately attacked the next one. He shook his head doggedly, knowing that he missed Barbara and Ellis but not wanting to admit it to himself. He looked anxiously up when the wind shifted from north to east but he did not recognize the meaning behind its shift. He was uneasy about the clouds. He decided that Barbara and Ellis must be in Laramie. At the same time, he knew that he was merely trying to reassure himself about some peril that he sensed but could not see. They couldn't be in Laramie by this time even if they'd galloped all the way. Shortly before noon, the wind began to scream and Joe knew. Mounting the mare mule, he held his ax very tightly and drove both mules at a dead run all the way back to the cabin. But before he got there, the snow started.