“We haven’t talked much about things before,” he said, pressing the tobacco firmly into the bowl of his pipe with his little finger. “Guess there wasn’t much room for talk between – you and me. But we had to say things sooner or later, on – account of – the girls. It’s bad med’cine starting out brothers with any trouble sticking out between us. That’s why I’ve started talking now – with the horses waiting saddled.”

Bill nodded.

“I was desperate sore,” he said, his blue eyes coming back to the other’s face. “You see, I couldn’t think right at first, back there in Amberley, and I blamed you to death. Still, I’ve done a big think since then. Yes, a huge big think. And – do you know I’m kind of sure now Charlie was just glad to do what he did.” Then his voice dropped to an awed undertone. “It’s queer how thinking makes you see things right. I kind of feel now, if Charlie was here, he’d tell us right away he’s gladder he is where he is than ever he was – here. I’m just certain of it. That’s the best of thinking hard. You sort of understand things better. I’m going to shake hands with you. Guess Charlie ’ud like me to – now. And it’ll be a mighty hard shake, so you’ll know I’ve thought hard, and – and just understood.”

Fyles winced under the giant’s grip. But he smiled and nodded. Bill smiled and nodded, too, and then released the injured limb. It was the way of two men who understand.

A sound came from within the house. It was the jingle of a spur and a swish of skirts.

Fyles indicated the direction with his pipe.

“Best quit talking now,” he said. “It’s – it’s the girls.”

Bill wagged a sapient head, and moved over to the horses.

“Right ho, Stanley.”

“Right ho, Bill.”

The big blue eyes met the steady brown eyes in a final, smiling glance of mutual understanding as Kate and Helen appeared in the doorway.