He lived and moved as one in a dream
surrounded by a world of dreams. His eyes were dull from looking into
the dim distance of strange thoughts, and the smile which was rarely
away from his lips was rather whimsically enduring than a sign of mirth.
But as he looked down at her from the buckboard, Marianne saw his
expression clear to awareness of her. He even reached out and rested his
hand on her head so that her face was tilted up to him.
"Honey," he said, "you're eating your heart out about something. How
come?"
"Red Perris is overdue," she said. "But I don't want to bother you with
my troubles, Dad."
"Red Perris? Who's he?"
"Don't you remember? I told you how he rode Rickety. And now I've sent
for him to come and hunt Alcatraz--because once that man-killing horse
is dead, it will be easy to get the mares back. And every day counts--
every day the mares are getting wilder!"
"What mares?" Then he nodded. "I remember. And they ain't nothing but
that worrying you, Marianne."
His expression of concern vanished; his glance wandered far east where
the shades were already brimming the valleys.
"I'll be getting on, then, honey."
All at once, for pity at thought of him driving into the lonely
silences, she caught his hand.
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