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Updated: May 7, 2025
The winter birds between her and the lake lifted their wings and mounted against the wind, some driving in flocks, others now and then by twos and threes. Tess followed their flight through the storm.... How strong and happy they seemed! For an instant she paused at the gate in front of Deforrest Young's empty house. The snow had drifted until the path could no longer be discerned.
Hovering over her, chattering, was Andy Bishop, the dwarf, the condemned murderer of Ebenezer Waldstricker, Sr. During Professor Young's instant of hesitation on the threshold, the wind gusted sheets of snow into the Skinner shanty. Quieting the dog by a low-spoken word, Deforrest stepped in and closed the door against the storm.
Tessibel glanced down at her own dress; at her rounded arms shining white under the little ruffle of fine lace. Her dress was pretty, the prettiest she'd ever had, and gratitude toward the woman at her side overcame for the moment her embarrassment. Presently Waldstricker came to them with the request for a song, and Deforrest Young escorted Tess to the piano.
She was alone in the room, yes, in her own room at the lake. Something had hurt her dreadfully, for even her arms ached so she couldn't move them. She wondered where Andy was, and Mother Moll, and if Deforrest were home. She tried to sit up, but the pains shooting through her body made her content to be quiet.
She stood tall and slender before him, dressed like a stripling youth in one of Deforrest Young's riding suits, boots on her feet and a cap in her hand. "I couldn't walk in a dress," she explained simply. "Help me wrap up my hair. I've got to go cross-lots." Quickly, Andy fastened the shining curls under the big cap. Elsie was still asleep in the blankets.
The husband and wife watched the big squatter going down the rock path, the tissue-wrapped flowers in his hand, then looked at each other and laughed in perfect comprehension. "I wonder if he gets 'er," chuckled Mrs. Brewer. "I'll bet a bullhead he don't," grinned Jake. Sandy Letts wasn't anxious to meet Deforrest Young, but just how to avoid it he hadn't figured out.
"Your heart is so tender.... My poor little Madelene I fear the shock will kill her. She doesn't know yet that she really had no husband." Tessibel's eyes grew large with astonishment. Then, Frederick had exonerated her to Waldstricker. Her eyes sought Deforrest Young's. "Mr. Waldstricker told me downstairs about it, my darling," he said tenderly. "My brave little girl!"
Watching from the sitting room window, Tess seemed to find diversion in the wind-driven snow, as though the blizzard's riot met and matched the aching bewilderment in her own breast. Nor did she pay any attention to a knock which resounded above the beating of the storm. Deforrest went to the door and carried on an undertoned conversation with some one outside.
"He kissed and kissed me," she said, choking, "and just then Waldstricker came and ... saw." "Oh, God help me!" the heavy voice pleaded. Tess knelt again. His supplicating cry aroused her faith to vivid activity. Deforrest had prayed, "God help me!" and, oh, so differently than the same words used by Frederick a short time previous. He was bearing pain for her.
Waldstricker shrank from the scorn in his brother-in-law's voice, opened the door and strode out. "Tess," Deforrest said, putting an arm around her, "when are you going to let me take you away from such things as this? I shudder to think what might have happened if I hadn't come today, and I've got to go away again." Tess smiled up at the big man.
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