When the valley was friendly once more, the rancher drew his horse up before the girl, waist deep in her moon poppies, stringing the finest blossoms for seed. He had brought the check for the hay, with a notation of his measurements.
“I can’t say anything definite about next year,” he told her regretfully, “but for this year, I’m grateful—”
Without finishing he touched the sorrel into a lope, and for once the girl from the Humbert stood to look after him, the white slip of paper blowing in her hand.
A gorgeous story from Mari Sandoz showing us a feud that persists long after its original kindlers are dead and the burdens of continuing someone else’s hatred.
Human in its detail and not a bad lesson to remind oneself of.