Bob looked at June, whose sullen eyes were fighting those of her father’s guest. She had forgotten he was there. Without a word Bob vanished.
“So you love me well enough to shoot me, do you?” Houck jeered.
“I wish I could!” she cried furiously.
“But you can’t. You had yore chance, an’ you couldn’t. What you need is a master, some one you’ll have to honor an’ obey, some one who’ll look after you an’ take the devil outa you. Meanin’ me—Jake Houck. Understand?”
“I won’t! I won’t!” she cried. “You come here an’ bully me because—because of what you know about Father. If you were half a man—if you were white, you wouldn’t try to use that against me like you do.”
“I’m using it for you. Why, you li’l’ spitfire, can’t you see as Jake Houck’s wife you get a chance to live? You’ll have clothes an’ shoes an’ pretties like other folks instead o’ them rags you wear now. I aim to be good to you, June.”
“You say that. Don’t I know you? I’d ’most rather be dead than married to you. But you keep pesterin’ me. I—I—” Her voice broke.
“If you don’ know what’s best for you, I do. To-morrow I got to go to Meeker. I’ll be back Thursday. We’ll ride over to Bear Cat Friday an’ be married. Tha’s how we’ll fix it.”
He did not take her in his arms or try to kiss her. The man was wise in his generation. Cheerfully, as a matter of course, he continued:
“We’ll go up to the house an’ tell Tolliver it’s all settled.”