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“What’s happened?” Someone in the family must be sick—awful sick, if her father had come to tell her about it. Or maybe one of them had died. Not Dolly, she prayed. Then she thought of Ted and put her hand to her mouth. The dredge boat was a brutal place to work. Men got mangled in the machinery or fell into the water and drowned, although by now, the Swan ought to have been frozen and the boat shut down. For a second, she wondered if Ted had written her about that, but then she realized she hadn’t had a letter for a long time.
    Gus turned and stared at his daughter. He worked his teeth on his lip, agitated, then blurted out, “The ways of a woman and the ways of a snake are deeper than the sea. She captivated him.”
    “What are you talking about?” Lucy asked. She could not imagine.
    “I’ll say it slow so’s you can catch it,” he said, not talking slow, but loud. “They had a rambling time, him and she. I’m not easy in the heart about it. But like I say, she captivated him, primping like she did, stripping her shoulders and baring her legs so she could catch him. I told her he was yours, but did she mind? She was my favorite, but she shamed me.” He shook his head and slumped down into a chair.
    Lucy stared at him, shaking her head a little as if to shake away the thought that had come to her. The old woman, standing, put her arm around the girl. “Tell it to her, Gus,” she said.
    But Gus was still caught up in fury and shook his head. So Aunt Alice said, “Your father came here to tell you that Ted and Dolly went over to Middle Swan and got married day before yesterday. Dolly’s his lawful wife now.” The old woman gripped the girl, propelling her to the sofa.
    Lucy would have fallen if her aunt had not held her, and she let herself be dragged. She was numb, all the way down to her feet, and fell against the cushions. “No,” she whispered as if talking to herself. “He said I was the pretty one.”
    “She said love cried out to them,” Gus said. “I believe he smothered her down. Dolly wouldn’t have gone after him.”
    “Well, it’s disgraceful,” Aunt Alice said. “I won’t give them even a good wish.”
    Lucy’s mind began to work a little, not much, but enough to know a thing. “No, it was Dolly,” Lucy said. “It wasn’t Ted; it was Dolly.”
    Gus ranted, and her aunt clucked, but Lucy paid no attention to them. She lay against the sofa for an hour while they talked in tones that were both angry and soothing. She did not say a word, but only hugged herself to keep from freezing. She was as cold as if she were outside in the blizzard. After a while, the aunt took a crocheted afghan from the back of a chair and put it over Lucy’s knees, but it fell off, and Lucy left it on the floor. Then she stood up, and the two older people stopped talking, and the room was quiet. The girl announced she was going to bed.
    “Ain’t you going to have supper?” her father asked. Nothing had ever upset him enough to miss a meal.
    Lucy did not answer, only went into her room and closed the door, then lay down on the bed with her clothes on. After a time, her aunt came in with a tray containing Lucy’s dinner, setting it on the table beside the bed. And later, she came back and removed the untouched tray and spread a blanket over Lucy. The girl didn’t respond, only stared at the ceiling.
    The house grew quiet, and Lucy lay there, listening to the wind batter the walls and send cold seeping through the boards, because the little cottage was poorly built. But the cold did not numb her thoughts. She did not sleep, and when morning came and she heard the sounds of her father and aunt in the kitchen, she threw aside the blanket and went out to face them.
    “I’ve thought about it,” she announced. “I’ll have my teaching certificate in May, and I’ll get a job here in Denver and live with you, Aunt Alice, if you’ll let me. I will pay you room and board, and I’ll send Papa half of