little mud-daubed bedroom she had called her own.

Three days later 'Lindy wakened to find a broad ribbon of sunshine across
the floor of the cabin. Her husband had not come home at all the night
before. She shivered with self-pity and dressed slowly. Already she knew
that her life had gone to wreck, that it would be impossible to live with
Dave Roush and hold her self-respect.

But she had cut herself off from retreat. All of her friends belonged to
the Clanton faction and they would not want to have anything to do with
her. She had no home now but this, no refuge against the neglect and
insults of this man with whom she had elected to go through life. To her
mind came the verdict of old Nance Cunningham on the imprudent marriage
of another girl: "Randy's done made her bed; I reckon she's got to lie
on it."

A voice hailed the cabin from outside. She went to the door. Ranse Roush
and the red-haired preacher had ridden into the clearing and were
dismounting. They had with them a led horse.

"Fix up some breakfast," ordered Ranse.

The young wife flushed. She resented his tone and his manner. Like Dave,
he too assumed that she had come to be a drudge for the whole drunken
clan, a creature to be sneered at and despised.

Silently she cooked a meal for the men. The girl was past tears. She had
wept herself out.

While they ate the men told of her father's fury when he had discovered