I remember what a hard lot the men of my family had.

But poor as they were, they had a roof over their heads, a hearth with a fire, a warm bed--somebody to love them.

And you, Duane--oh, my God! What must your life be?
You must ride and hide and watch eternally.

No decent food, no pillow, no friendly word, no clean clothes, no woman's hand! Horses, guns, trails, rocks, holes--these must be the important things in your life.

You must go on riding, hiding, killing until you meet--" She ended with a sob and dropped her head on her knees.