“Yes,” he admitted. “I reckon if I’d thought of that—”
Even as the laughter rippled from her throat she gave a gesture of impatience. There were times when self-depreciation ceased to be a virtue. She remembered a confidence Blister had once made to her.
“T-Texas man,” she squeaked, stuttering a little in mimicry, “throw up that red haid an’ stick out yore chin.”
Up jerked the head. Bob began to grin in spite of himself.
“Whose image are you m-made in?” she demanded.
“You know,” he answered.
“What have you got over all the world?”
“Dominion, ma’am, but not over all of it, I reckon.”
“All of it,” she insisted, standing clean of line and straight as a boy soldier.
“Right smart of it,” he compromised.