Cowboys -- Fiction; Ranch life -- Fiction; Texas -- Fiction; Western stories
"By God!" he whispered, his voice hoarse with passion, his hot breath
fanning the brown hair on her forehead; "this has gone far enough! I'll
tell you what you want me to say--I'll say it! And it's the truth--I
love you--love you--_love you_! Yes!" And he shook her toward him. "Do
you hear me? I love you--love you--so much it hurts! Now laugh! Now make
fun of me! I know I'm a fool. I know where I stand! I know I don't
belong in your crowd--I ain't fit to mix with 'em! I ain't been raised
like you was raised. You don't need to tell me that! I know it already!
I know there's somethin' a man has to have besides what he gets on th'
open range among th' cattle--an' th' bronchos--an' th'
rattlesnakes--he's got to be ground in th' mill of schoolin'--of books;
he's got to be hammered into shape under th' heels of 'civilization';
he's got to be trained to jump through and roll over an' know which fork
to eat with before a girl like you--"
His hands relaxed, but before his fingers loosened their grip on her
shoulders Carolyn June's own soft palms reached up and caught the man's
sun-tanned cheeks between them. Her eyes burned back into its own. Once
more the laugh rippled from the full pulsing throat.
"Ramblin' Kid, oh, Ramblin' Kid," she murmured, while the long lashes
lifted over brown pools tenderness, "a man--my man--does not need to be
or to know all of those things, any of those things, before a girl like
me--"
He crushed her to him and stopped the words on her lips.
"My God--don't fool me--be sure you know!" he cried, his whole body
quivering with the intensity of his feelings; "don't tell me you love
me--unless you mean it! I can stand to love you--without hope--in
silence--alone! But I can't--an' I swear I wont, be lifted up to Paradise
just to be dropped again into the depths of hell! Don't say you love me
unless you know it is _all_ love! Half love ain't love--it's a lie! An'
love ain't to play with! Don't insult God by makin' a joke of th' thing
He made an' planted in th' hearts of all Creation to hold th' Universe
together."
"Ramblin' Kid," she whispered softly, "God himself is looking down into
my heart!"
He smothered her mouth with his own--they drank each other in, their
souls mingled in a mad-sense-reeling, time-defying pressure of lips!
It was their hour, as was the next and yet the one that followed that.
When the old-rose of dawn melted the gray above the sand-hills behind
them and the white moon was fading in the zenith above the Kiowa; when
the cottonwoods beside the Cimarron began to shake their leaves in the
morning breeze that tripped across the valley; when the low buildings of
the Quarter Circle KT silhouetted against the bench beyond the meadows;
when the smooth surface of the beach of quicksand under which the body
of Old Blue was hidden began to look smoother yet and still more firm,
the Ramblin' Kid and Carolyn June parted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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