"Of course. But he mayn't know anything about it. Good night, Jake."
He watched her out of sight before he closed the doors of the old wagon shed which was now the garage. He was puzzled and uneasy; maybe it was a good thing after all; at least she knew now about Clare Hamel. But if she was as crazy about him as all that
He grunted and made his way past the dairy to his own cottage. The milk cows were resting in their yard outside, and a calf, escaped from the enclosure, ran toward him, hesitated and then loped away. Tired as he was he opened the gate and drove the awkward thing back to its mother. "Go on in there, little feller." The calf shot by him, tail high in the air. He opened the door of his cottage—no doors were ever locked on the ranch—and found his wife still awake, in the double white iron bed with its sagging springs.
"What about Tom, Jake? Did you see him?"
"Yeah. He's on his way out now."
"Are you taking him back?"
"I'll make a few conditions," he told her grimly, and began removing his clothes. "He was with that Hamel girl."
"She'd better let him alone." She lowered her voice. "I kinda wish you'd let him go, Jake." She made a cautious gesture toward the next room, where Nellie lay asleep. "I don't know why girls are so crazy about him. He'd make any girl he married miserable."
Jake glanced uneasily toward the room she had indicated.
"What's wrong now?" he said, cautiously.
"I don't know. She's been crying today. Says it's a toothache, but I don't believe it."
Sitting up in her bed, her muslin nightgown buttoned to the throat, she gazed at him anxiously.
"He's a good hand," Jake said, after a pause.
"And she's a good girl," she flashed back at him. Then she lay down again and turned on her side. Jake, blowing out the lamp and crawling in beside her, felt that she was crying and put his arm over her.
