The morning dragged as such intervening hours ever drag, but at length they were done with, and the momentous time arrived. Neither he nor the Padre had referred again to their talk. That was their way. Nor did any question pass between them until Cæsar stood saddled before the door.
The Padre was leaning against the door casing with his pipe in his mouth. His steady eyes were gravely thoughtful.
"Where you making this afternoon?" he inquired, as Buck swung into the saddle.
Buck nodded in the direction of Joan's home.
"The farm."
The Padre's eyes smiled kindly.
"Good luck," he said. And Buck nodded his thanks as he rode away.
But Buck's outward calm was studied. For once in his life his confidence had utterly failed him. He rode over the trail in a dazed condition which left him almost hopeless by the time he reached the familiar corrals of the girl's home. As a consequence he reduced Cæsar's pace to a walk with something almost childlike in his desire to postpone what he now felt must be his farewell to the wonderful dream that had been his.
But even at a walk the journey must come to an end. In his case it came all too soon for his peace of mind, and, to his added disquiet, he found himself at the door of the old barn. Just for one moment he hesitated. Then he lightly dropped to the ground. The next moment the horse itself had taken the initiative. With none of its master's scruples it clattered into the barn, and, walking straight into its old familiar stall, commenced to search in the corners of the manger for the sweet-scented hay usually awaiting it.
The lead was irresistible to the man. He followed the creature in, removed its bridle and loosened the cinchas of the saddle. Then he went out in search of hay.
His quest occupied several minutes. But finally he returned with an ample armful and filled up the manger. Then came upon him a further avalanche of doubt, and he stood beside his horse, stupidly smoothing the beautiful creature's warm, velvet neck while it nuzzled its fodder.
"Why--is that you, Buck?"
The exclamation startled the man out of his reverie and set his pulses hammering madly. He turned to behold Joan framed in the doorway. For a moment he stared stupidly at her, his dark eyes almost fearful. Then his answer came quietly, distinctly, and without a tremor to betray the feelings which really stirred him.
"It surely is," he said. Then he added, "I didn't know I was coming along when you were up at the fort yesterday."