Her little work-roughened hands fallen loosely by her side, Angella sat at the crude wooden table of her own making, and tried to figure a way out of the appalling problem now facing her. She had bought her implements on the installment plan, and the money was now due; she owed the municipality for her seed; a chattel mortgage was on her stock. That year's crop would have wiped out all her indebtedness, and left her free and clear.
When her crops had failed before, she had made up her losses by working at the Bar Q, and the small proceeds of the sale of eggs and butter; but now she had not only herself to consider. There were two other living creatures entirely dependent upon her. To the desolate, heart-starved woman, Nettie and her baby had become nearer and dearer to her than her own kin.
Nettie, still lying on the bitten down stubble, was roused from her stupor of grief by a pulling at her sleeve, and looking up, she saw the half-breed Jake. He was kneeling beside her, holding out a little bunch of buttercups, and in the poor fellow's face she read his grief and anxiety. Nettie tried to smile through her tears, and she took the flowers gratefully.
"Thank you, Jake. Where'd you come from?" she asked, wiping her eyes, though her breath still came in gasping sobs, and she could not hide her tears.
"Jake come out like 'Hell on fire' in Doctor's nortermobile. Beeg, beeg ride—run like wind—run like hell on road. Doc"—he jerked his thumb back—"go into house. He eat foods. Jake got a hongry inside too. She tell Jake she give'm molasses and sugar." He smacked his lips at thought of his favorite food, but the next moment he was studying Nettie's wet face in troubled bewilderment.
"What's matter, Nettie? Him hurt Nettie yes again?"
"Oh, yes, Jake, again." Her lip quivered.
The half-breed's face flamed savagely.
"The Bull! He no good! Jake kill 'im some day sure."