Diane shrank before the scathing blast of that sightless fury. But she rallied to protest.
“It is the women-folk, father.”
“Women-folk? Bah!”
He threw up his hands in ineffable scorn, and shuffled away into the house.
Jake, still smarting under the attack, stood leaning against the verandah post. He was looking away down at the bunkhouse, where a group of the men were gathered about Archie Orr, who, seated on his horse, was evidently telling his tale afresh.
Diane approached him. He did not even turn to meet her.
“Jake, I want Bess at once. Hitch her to the buckboard, and have her sent round to the kitchen door.”
“What are you goin’ to do, my girl?” he asked, without shifting his gaze.
“Maybe I shall drive over to see those poor women.”