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Updated: May 5, 2025
"You mind the time, Joan, four years ago it was the winter past, when you stood a full head shorter than you stand today, when the range was snowed in, and the sheep was unable to break the crust that froze over it, and was huddlin' in the cañons starving wi' the hunger that we couldn't ease? Heh ye mind that winter, Joan, gerrel?"
"You'd run sheep till you was bent and gray, and the rheumatiz' got set in your j'ints, me gerrel, before you'd win to the half of half a million. Here it comes to you while you're young, with the keenness to relish it and the free hand to spend the interest off of it, and sail over the seas and see the world you're longin' to know and understand."
"Joan's heart is in the sheep range she couldn't tear it away if she tried. She thought she wanted to go, but I'll have hard work to get her farther than Jasper. Joan had the lonesomeness; she's cured now." "She had, poor gerrel! I didn't see it, but I see it now. But you'll be comin' back!" "Yes.
And how you took the wagons and the teams and drove that bitter length in wind and snow to old Wellfleet's place down on the river, and brought corn that saved to me the lives of no less than twenty thousand sheep? It's not you and me, that's gone through these things side by side, that forgets them in the fair days, Joan, my little darlin' gerrel.
"I don't want to go," said Joan, coldly. "There you'd be taught the true speech of a lady, and the twist of the tongue on French, and the nice little things you've missed here among the sheep, Joan darlin', and that neither me nor your mother nor John Mackenzie good lad that he is, though mistaken at times, woeful mistaken in his judgment of men can't give you, gerrel."
I can't give what you ask today, Dad; I can't give you that." "Now, Joan, take it easy a bit, draw your breath on it, take it easy, gerrel." Joan's chin was up again, the tremor gone out of it, the shudder of sorrow for the lost years stilled in her beautiful, strong body.
You've been the gerrel that's worked the sheep over this range in rain and shine, askin' me nothing, not a whimper or a complaint out of ye that's what you've been to me, Joan. It's been a hard life for a lass, it's been a hard and a lonesome life." Joan nodded, her head drooping just a little from its proud lift. Tears were on her face; she turned it a bit to hide them from his eyes.
She did not turn to face him, her head high that way, her chin up, her nose in the wind as if her assurance lay in its warm scents, and her courage came on its caress. "You've been the gerrel that's gone out in the storm and the bitter blast to save the sheep, and stood by them when their poor souls shook with the fright, and soothed down their panic and saved their lives.
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