As Nella-Rose tried to pass, Marg caught her by the arm.
“Burke’s back!” she whispered, “he’s hiding up to Devil-may-come! He’s been seen and you know it!”
“What if I do?” Nella-Rose never ignored a possible escape for the future.
“You’ve been up there—to meet him. You ought to be licked. If you don’t let him alone—let him and me alone—I’ll turn Jed on him, I will; I swear it!”
“What is he—to you!” Nella-Rose confronted her sister squarely. Blue eyes—bold, cold blue they were—looked into dark ones even now so soft and winning that it was difficult to resist them.
“If you let him alone, he’ll be everything to me!” Marg blurted out. “What do you want of him, Nella-Rose?—of him or any other man? But if you must have a sweetheart, pick and choose and let me have my day.”
The rough appeal struck almost brutally on Nella-Rose’s ears. She was as un-moral, perhaps, as Marg, but she was more discriminating.
“I’m mighty tired of cleaning and cooking for—for father and you!” Marg tossed her head toward Lone Dome. “Father’s mostly always drunk these days and you—what do you care what becomes of me? Leave me to get a man of my own and then I’ll be human. I’ve been—killing the hog to-day!” Marg suddenly and irrelevantly burst out; “I—I shall never do it again. We’ll starve first!”
“Why didn’t father?” Nella-Rose said, softly.
“Father? Huh! he couldn’t have held the knife. He went for the jug—and got it full! No, I had to do it, but it’s the last time. Nella-Rose, tell me where Burke is hidden—tell me! Leave me free to—to win him; let me have my chance!”