Explore "The Riddle of Three-Way Creek" by Ridgwell Cullum on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was late in the evening. Jim Pryse and his sister were alone in the apartment where Blanche loved to sit in company with her men-folk. The stove was radiating a pleasant warmth, for the summer evenings, so high up in the mountains, were chill with the breezes that came down off the fields of snow. Blanche was still enveloped in the overall of her domestic labours, and Jim was lounging in his favourite rocker, clad in utility garments of his day's work on the ranch.
A shaded lamp cast its mellow light over the room, and found reflection in the polished walls of red pine. But its light was mainly focused upon those sitting about the stove. Blanche's busy hands were at work upon her sewing. The door of the room stood ajar, and while she talked, and listened to the deep voice of her brother, there was never a moment when her attention could have missed any sound that came from beyond it. She had left the sick girl asleep. She had left her in the full conviction that her reassurance that noon to Lightning was more than being fulfilled. Now her anxiety was allayed, and she was enjoying the rest she was more than entitled to.