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Updated: May 23, 2025
Derrick and Hilma sat in the back seat of the carry-all, behind young Vacca. Mrs. Derrick, a little disturbed by such a great concourse of people, frightened at the idea of the killing of so many rabbits, drew back in her place, her young-girl eyes troubled and filled with a vague distress.
Rather than to take his arm from around Hilma's waist he would have lost his whole stable. At last, however, he bestirred himself and began to talk. He thought it time to formulate some plan of action. "Well, now, Hilma, what are we going to do?" "Do?" she repeated. "Why, must we do anything? Oh, isn't this enough?" "There's better ahead," he went on.
He prayed, he knew not what, vague words, wordless thoughts, resolving fiercely to do right, to make some return for God's gift thus placed within his hands. Where once Annixter had thought only of himself, he now thought only of Hilma.
Annixter crossed over to the stables reflecting that he could ride the buckskin to the Trees' cottage and tell Hilma that he would not be home to supper. The conference at Los Muertos would be an admirable excuse for this, and upon the spot he resolved to go over to the Derrick ranch house, after all.
"Oh, I know what this is," he observed, carelessly trying to restrain her busy hands. "It isn't anything. Just some machinery. Let it go." But already she had pulled away the excelsior. Underneath, in temporary racks, were two dozen Winchester repeating rifles. "Why what what " murmured Hilma blankly. "Well, I told you not to mind," said Annixter. "It isn't anything. Let's look through the rooms."
He had two deputies with him; and the chap in the white slouch hat was the sheriff from Visalia." "By the Lord, they aren't far behind," declared Annixter. As the men turned towards the house again they saw Hilma and Mrs. Dyke in the doorway of the little house where the latter lived. They were looking out, bewildered, ignorant of what had happened.
"Christmas Day it is, and mine family and mine friends have party, now, all day." "Where?" Hilma jerked her head toward the window. "Oh, you mean in town? Why can't you go?" "I work. And never before am I from home Christmas day." Betty shivered. "Never before am I from home Christmas day," she whispered. She went close to the girl, very tall and slim and bright beside the dumpy, flaxen Hilma.
Instead of speaking to her as he intended, he affected not to see her, but passed by, his head in the air, pretending a sudden interest in a Japanese lantern that was about to catch fire. But he had had a single distinct glimpse of her, definite, precise, and this glimpse was enough. Hilma had changed. The change was subtle, evanescent, hard to define, but not the less unmistakable.
"Say, dose fellers come, hey? Me, I'm alretty, see I hev der guhn." "They've jumped the ranch, little girl," said Annixter, putting one arm around Hilma. "They're in our house now. I'm off. Go to Derrick's and wait for me there." She put her arms around his neck. "You're going?" she demanded. "I must. Don't be frightened. It will be all right. Go to Derrick's and good-bye." She said never a word.
A realization of his boundless happiness in this love he gave and received, the thought that Hilma TRUSTED him, a knowledge of his own unworthiness, a vast and humble thankfulness that his God had chosen him of all men for this great joy, had brought him to his knees for the first time in all his troubled, restless life of combat and aggression.
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