Even as he and Ben were following Elsie inside the house, a fierce norther exploded across northern Texas, rattling windows with pellets of hail and driving temperatures lower by the minute. Rain and mud had already chilled Pinto Lowery to the bone, and now he could hardly keep his teeth from shaking his jaw off. “Winifred, help me set another kettle to boil,” Elsie called as she stumbled over beside the stove. Pinto took one look at the inside of the small picket cabin and sighed. Lace curtains graced the windows, and there wasn’t a particle of dust to be found anywhere. Now along came Pinto with his muddy boots and sodden clothes to undo all that effort. “Ma’am, I’ll muddy yer rug sure,” Pinto objected. “Well, why should you be different?” Elsie replied. “I’ve already done it myself, and Ben is sure to spatter his way over every inch of the place. Brax, find Mr. Lowery a blanket.
