XXX
The longest of her life was that day to June. The anxiety in times
of war for the women who wait at home is vague because they are
mercifully ignorant of the dangers their loved ones run, but a
specific issue that involves death to those loved ones has a
special and poignant terror of its own. June knew her father's
plan, the precise time the fight would take place, and the
especial danger that was Hale's, for she knew that young Dave
Tolliver had marked him with the first shot fired. Dry-eyed and
white and dumb, she watched them make ready for the start that
morning while it was yet dark; dully she heard the horses snorting
from the cold, the low curt orders of her father, and the exciting
mutterings of Bub and young Dave; dully she watched the saddles
thrown on, the pistols buckled, the Winchesters caught up, and
dully she watched them file out the gate and ride away, single
file, into the cold, damp mist like ghostly figures in a dream.
Once only did she open her lips and that was to plead with her
father to leave Bub at home, but her father gave her no answer and
Bub snorted his indignation--he was a man now, and his now was the
privilege of a man.
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