Chapter IX

A full harvest season had come and gone, and Rick Theron had stayed with the Outlanders far longer than he had at first had any intention of doing. Deva was on her feet again. She had a little limp, but it had been a long time since her injury had kept her from running and working with the strongest of the Outlander women.

It was time to be moving on.

Yet, as Rick saw her coming from the cabin he’d helped build for her, something caught again deep in the middle of his chest. He wondered what the day would be like that denied him the sight of that red crest of hair, tumbled by the wind, or bound in tender curls.

He moved toward her resolutely.

“You’re on your way?” she asked.

“Deva,” he said. “I’ve been doing some thinking. We don’t know yet where we’re going to end up, and you and I haven’t got any better friends out here than each other. We’ve made out pretty good so far. Why don’t we just kind of stick together and see what comes of it?”

She looked at him almost shyly, with a slow smile starting at the corners of her mouth. “I was just about to suggest the same thing,” she said.

“You think it could be that the Machine was right about us, after all?”

“It might be wise not to be hasty in going against it,” Deva said.

He reached for her suddenly and gathered her into his arms and kissed her long, and passionately.

“Yes,” she said. “I think I could even learn to like that. In time and with practice, darling.”

Transcriber’s Note:

This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, July 1956 (Vol. 5, No. 6). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, but minor inconsistencies have been retained as printed.

The chapter heading =IX= has been added in this version.