There was not an idle moment from breakfast to dark. They went out to
gather wildflowers on the western hill from the house; they sat on the
veranda where Kate told Joan stories of the ranch and pointed out the
distant mountains which were its boundaries, and explained that all between
them would one day be her own land; that the men who rode yonder were doing
her work; that the cattle who ranged the hills were marked with her brand.
She said it all in small words so that Joan could understand, but as far as
Buck and Lee could make out, there was never a flicker of intelligence or
interest in the eyes of the child.
It was a hard battle every hour, and after supper Kate sat in a big chair
by the fire with her eyes half closed, admitting defeat, perhaps. For Joan
was curled up on the couch at the farthest, dimmest end of the room, and
with her chin propped in both small hands she stared in silence through the
window and over the darkening hills. Buck and Lee were there, never speaking,
but now and then their eyes sought each other with a vague hope.
Pages:
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360