The Skinner home was resting in its winter calm. Daddy Skinner was gone. Andy still crept about the dark garret, and Tessibel passed her days in study, performing the few duties the small shack required.
When Deforrest Young had gone away a few days after Daddy's funeral, he'd smiled into her eyes and had bidden her to be of good courage. Henceforth, he said, she was to be his charge. She felt a little lighter hearted. It made her happier, too, to think he knew about Andy Bishop and was going to help him.
The only person she feared was Sandy Letts. She'd not seen him since that day in the church when he had tried to draw her nearer the minister. Bitterly angry, she knew he must be. That he had delayed his revenge so long seemed to her rather menacing than comforting.
Her mind was drifting back over all the events of the past few months, when a shadow passed over the curtain at the window. She stole to the door and placed her ear to the latch. From that position she could plainly hear creeping footsteps crawling closer.
With her ear glued to the crack, she listened. There was no sound now of walking. The outsider was listening, too. Suddenly, he knocked heavily. Tess glanced to the garret. The dwarf's face was not in sight. Then the knock came again.
"Who air there?" Tess called, her breath catching.
There was no answer, save another knock.
Tessibel spoke once more. After a pause, Sandy Letts' voice came gruffly to her.
"Open the door, Tess. It air me, Sandy."
"What do ye want?" demanded Tess.
Sandy growled inarticulately, gave a kick to the floor, and rattled the latch.
"I want to come in, I said. I air goin' to talk to ye!"
Tessibel thought of Ben Letts and of how he, too, had demanded entrance to her home in just such a manner as his cousin was doing now. She glanced about for something with which to protect herself if needed. She wished with all her soul the brindle bull were with her then in the shanty.
Sandy gave another rough pull at the latch-string.
"Open the door, Tess," he growled again, "or I'll bust it down."
Tess knew Sandy would carry out his threat, and, if he broke down the door, his temper would be worse than now. She muttered a prayer to quiet the terror in her heart, and slipped up the bar. Sandy, gun in hand, stepped into the kitchen, and Tess closed the door.
"What do ye want, Sandy?" she questioned.
"I want to talk to ye, what do ye 'spose I want?" he flung out, swaggering his shoulders.