exasperating man had his mouth open, snoring!
II
No sooner had they gone than Rafe, turned quiet, cautiously opened one eye. By the bend and color of the sun coming in it was apparent the evening was pretty well along. He looked around for his clothes. 'A pretty kettle of fish!' he growled when, unable to discover them, he shoved his legs out from under the bedding. Whatever this pair had in their minds for him it boded no good, he was convinced of that.
In the light of past experience he could hardly be blamed for his dark suspicions. Over in West Texas a law- abiding Rebel didn't have no more rights than chicken has drawers. Carpetbaggers was all over that country, grabbing and yanking like a clutch of snapping turtles, confiscating ranches and every sort of business that might be bludgeoned into yielding faintest sign of a profit. What couldn't be snatched by sheer push and beller they picked up through the courts at twenty cents on the dollar. Any God-fearing native that cared to keep up his health had to learn to eat crow and bow and scrape like a lackey while they took away his substance and made tramps of his women. Rafe was almighty sure this redhaired Delilah and her overgrown moose of a father hadn't done what they was doing out of plain Christian charity or the milk of human kindness. There was a long sharp hook tucked away in this deal some place.
He had felt a sight better in that bed than he did on his feet. With the sweat cracking through the pores of his skin he shook like a shaft of wheat in a windstorm, swaying and jiggling bad as Pike's three chins. The room dived and rocked like a cork in a millrace while the broth sloshed inside him till he expected any moment to find it spewed on the floor.
He took hold of the bed with both hands, locking his teeth until the room settled down. He hadn't come nearer groaning in the war with that horse on him. He couldn't figure how he come to be so danged poorly, so paperbacked and gut-shrunk, without that pair had poisoned him.
Holding fast to whatever was handiest he finally got as far from the bed as the chest with the tin-framed Mexican mirror hung over it. Maybe they'd stashed his clothes in here. At least he might come across a weapon, something to give him hope of getting clear.
The first drawer he looked in was empty except for a sachet of scent and a flutter of bright colored frilly squares hardly bigger than gunpatches that it finally got through to him must be some kind of dandified nose blowers. The next drawer stuck. When it finally came loose he jumped back white as chalk.
It was no snake made his eyes bug out like knots or the breath so rattly sounding in his throat. With cheeks red as fire he slammed the drawer shut, remembering the curtains, wildly staring at the bed, seeing now the God Bless sampler, the embroidery on the pillows; knowing at last, aghast, the girl had given up her room, indeed her very own bed to him!
Catching a glimpse of his face in the hand-rolled wavery glass of the mirror he staggered, clammy, on legs that seemed no firmer than rubber till, finding the bed against the backs of his knees, he collapsed with a quaver.
Never had he felt more mortification or been prey to such a host of conflicting emotions till it abruptly came over him that these people were Yankees. He got the sheet up, covering his nakedness and, thus reminded of it, felt a little better; even then he couldn't get halfways comfortable. Putting him here was just a part of the trap—they sure as hell figured to get
With this salubrious thought his punished flesh overcame him and he slipped down a dark spiral into the black of exhausted sleep.
*****
He felt more nearly himself the next time he roused and found her hand on his forehead. It looked to be mid-morning, the room filled with sunshine and delectable odors which he shortly discovered to be emanating from the tray reposing on a nearby stool.
Bunny, cheerfully smiling, voiced a friendly good morning, helped him sit up, bunched the pillows behind him. Then she fetched up the tray which she laid across his lap, whisked off the cloth and advised him to pitch in.
Rafe didn't wait for additional urging. He was hungry enough to bite a bear with the hide on. Bacon and eggs, a great heaping plate of them. Coffee in a pot. Toast with real butter, and strawberry preserves. 'If there's anything else you want, just holler.'
He contained himself till the door shut behind her, then he grabbed up the fork. The bacon and most of the eggs went down like a jugful of syrup being poured through a sieve. And the first cup of java. The third piece of toast took a little longer; when he got it inside him he was filled to the gills. He did eventually swallow a little more of the coffee. He was glad to lean back and let her pick up the tray.
This time she was gone for maybe half an hour. Rafe fetching her back with howls for his clothes. What she brought was a washcloth and razor and a mug with a brush in it.
Rafe said suspiciously, 'What's them for?'
'Don't you want to freshen up?'
'What I want is my clothes!'
'Patience,' she smiled. 'Mending a body isn't done in one day.'
'If you think,' Rafe glared, 'I'm about to be a guinea pig for your ol' man—'
'Don't you want to get your strength back?'
'I'll git it back, don't you worry about that!'
She considered him doubtfully. 'Well, I'll speak to Daddy.'
'What is this—some kind of nut house?' Rafe shouted. 'I tell you, by godfreys, I'm gittin' out of here!' With a week's growth of whiskers and his hair every whichway it was no wonder Bunny, blanching, hastily backed out of reach.
'I'll fetch Daddy,' she said, hand on the door.
'You fetch my horse an' git my clothes or I'm bustin' outa here just like I am!' he yelled, shoving up, and Bunny left on the run.
