I turned to see Haidee standing there. She had looped up the masses of her black hair, and discarded the scarlet cape for a white corduroy jacket. A white duck skirt gave her an immaculate appearance.
“I want that fir left,” she explained.
“Your cabin is in jeopardy while it stands,” I assured her.
“Oh, I’ll take the risk,” she said carelessly.
“It is foolish to take a risk,” I countered.
She smiled. “Are all woodsmen as cautious as you?”
Now, I am convinced she was only bantering me, but I chose to take offense. I looked at her cool daintiness, and met her level gaze with shifting sullen eyes. I was unpleasantly aware of the figure I presented, with my grimy hands and soiled clothing, and red, streaming face. I reached for my handkerchief, remembered that I had lent it to Joey, and used the back of my hand, instead, to wipe my beaded forehead.
“It is sometimes fortunate for the new-comer that we woodsmen are before-handed,” I said pointedly.
At this, a stain of carmine crept into the flawless face. Resentment deepened in her eyes. “Thank you for your morning’s work, my man,” she said, as if to an inferior. “How much do I owe you?”
A vast slow anger shook me. I saw her through hot eyes. I did not answer. She lifted her shoulders with a forebearing shrug, and tendered me a coin on a palm that was like a pink rose petal. I snatched at the coin. I sent it spinning into the buck brush. And I turned on my heel.