On the word she faltered, confused. She did not know why. She stammered: “Because of what you have done—of what we owe you.”
“We?”
“My brothers and I. Derek’s still alive. I almost think he’s sleeping better—more natural. When—when Garth comes home, he’ll thank you as I’d like to.”
She looked up into the shadowed face, wistfully. He had turned from her again, and was gazing down the trail. After a moment, he said: “There’s coffee on the back of the stove, and some cornbread. You’d better eat it. I’ve had some.”
She went meekly, shamed that she had slept while her saviour served himself. She would have liked to serve him. Something strange and stormy was shaking her; she had no name for it. The food choked her, hungry as she was, but she ate it obediently.
She had scarcely finished, when he called her. She ran and joined him at the door. Something in his voice thrilled her; she saw in him again that strange and threatening immobility of the night before.
He said, swiftly: “You’re lookin’ for your brother to come back?”
“Yes, yes. Any time.”
“With another man?”
“With the doctor. Why?”