He placed his hat carefully on the hook and sat down. He was suddenly tired. He ran his fingers through his crisp, dark hair. "Me?" he blinked his eyes and reached for the coffeepot. "I am going to shave and take a bath. Then I'm going to sleep for twenty hours about, and then I'm going to throw the leather on my horse and hit the trail."
"I told you over there," Carol said quietly, "that I didn't want you to go."
"Uh-uh. If I don't go now," he looked at her somberly, "I'd never want to go again."
"Then don't go," she said.
He didn't.
(from "The Man from Battle Flat," by Louis L'Amour)
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