"Don't touch me." Her eyes sparked fire.
"You're mighty high-heeled for a nitchie. I reckon you forget you're
Sleeping Dawn, daughter of a Blackfoot squaw."
"I'm Jessie McRae, daughter of Angus, and if you insult me, you'll have to settle with him."
He gave a short snort of laughter. "Wake up, girl. What's the use of foolin' yourself? You're a breed. McRae's tried to forget it and so have you. But all the time you know damn well you're half Injun."
Jessie looked at him with angry contempt, then wheeled for the door.
Whaley had anticipated that and was there before her. His narrowed, covetous eyes held her while one hand behind his back slid the bolt into place.
"Let me out!" she cried.
"Be reasonable. I'm not aimin' to hurt you."
"Stand aside and let me through."
He managed another insinuating laugh. "Have some sense. Quit ridin' that high horse and listen while I talk to you."