Chapter Eight
It was amazing what a good cry could do to help you put things in perspective. Indy had cried her eyes out last night in the big old wash tub. Then, she had pulled herself back together.
She had gotten ready for bed, washed her dirty clothes and hung them in front of the wood stove to dry, poured the water out the back door and gone to bed to sleep like the dead. Unfortunately, that also meant she was running late this morning. She had been startled when Jonathan had banged on the door to the cabin at first light. Mumbling expletives under her breath about people who got up too damn early in the morning, Indy had opened the door to see a very rumpled and cold looking Jonathan standing on her doorstep.
“What the hell do you want?” Indy muttered darkly, pushing her long hair
