"Him!" She knew whom Jake meant by "him" and threw up her arm as if to shield herself from a blow. At that moment his shadow loomed above her and she cowered and cringed from it.
"How'd you git here?" He looked up at the window. "You got to cut out this damn nonsense. I ain't aimin' to hurt you, but you can't lay out here. Here, I'll carry you into the house. Keep still, will yer? D'you want me to tie you?"
Her struggles ceased. Eyes closed, she submitted limply as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the house. Jake followed, wringing his hands and whimpering like a dog.
On the fourth day, holding to the bannisters, she managed to limp downstairs. For a long time she sat on the hard kitchen chair, staring with unseeing eyes before her. Even when she heard the heavy tramp of the Bull's feet on the outside porch she did not raise her head and as he came in her hopeless gaze remained still fixed on space.
"Hello! Whatchu doin' down here? How'd you get down here?"
"I come down myself," said Nettie listlessly. "My ankle ain't hurtin' me no more."
"I'd a' carried you down if you asked me," he grunted angrily. "I done everything a man could for a girl. Who's been waiting on you hand and foot these last four days just's if you was a delicate lady instead of a hired girl on a ranch. What more d'you want? The more you do for some folks the more they want."
Nettie said nothing, but two great tears suddenly rolled out of her eyes and splashed slowly down her cheeks. She resented those tears—a sign of weakness, where she felt hard and frozen within, and she peevishly brushed them away.
"What you cryin' about?"