“More fire?” she asked as the rumble of the thunder smote her ears.
“Well, not quite that bad. Just a thunderstorm.”
Helen shivered. “We’ll catch our death of cold,” she groaned, and Janet had to admit that Helen’s fears were not unwarranted. After the heat of the fire and the fatigue, they would be excellent candidates for severe colds or anything else that happened along.
Several of the men who had been hunting around the ranchyard returned to the well.
“Can’t even find half a board,” one of them reported. “The fire swept everything clean.”
Billy Fenstow turned to Janet and explained.
“I had a couple of the boys out looking for some boards or anything we could use to build a shelter for you girls.”
“That was thoughtful,” replied Janet, “but we’ll get along all right.”
Billy grumbled to himself. He wasn’t so sure. The girls had stood a lot already and there was a limit to their endurance.
A patter of rain struck them, the drops sizzling as they came down on the remains of the ranchhouse.