“Lame! There was a lame man. No, I never spoke to him.”
“We weren’t much in Nome,” the woman explained. “Our claims are out on Glaysher River, and we were at our camp there most of the time.”
Hildegarde leaned against the brilliant dado of Delicious Tomato Soup, and she looked so disheartened the man said, “Was you thinkin’ o’ goin’ out?”
“Yes, I’m going to him.”
“Big party?”
“No, no party at all.”
“You’re not goin’ alone?”
“Yes, I’m the only one of my family who has time.”
The pale eye fell on Hildegarde’s list, which she still had in her hand. “If your father’s there you won’t have to take supplies.”
“I must go prepared for—anything.” And she turned her face away.