CHAPTER 37
When she first glimpsed Bear Valley from the summits of the Blue
Mountains, it seemed to her a small paradise. And as she rode lower and
lower among the hills, the impression gathered strength. So she came out
onto the road and trotted her cow-pony slowly under the beautiful
branches of the silver spruce, and saw the bright tree shadows reflected
in Bear Creek. Surely here was a place of infinite quiet, made for
happiness. A peculiar ache and sense of emptiness entered her heart, and
the ghost of Terry Hollis galloped soundlessly beside her on flaming El
Sangre through the shadow. It seemed to her that she could understand him
more easily. His had been a sheltered and pleasant life here, half
dreamy; and when he wakened into a world of stern reality and stern men,
he
