When Mother spoke them, those words always had an ominous sound. On this occasion, she virtually dragged me to her private chamber and sat me down with a hard thump on the footstool while she lowered herself onto the chair.
"Now listen to me, Jeannie. I had hoped you would be over this silly notion you have for Robert Ferguson."
Here we go again, I thought. "It is no silly notion, Mother," I said while wishing he had made a better show of himself. On our Border, a man who cannot fight is of as much use as a man who cannot ride. "We are for each other."
"He is not a man." Mother was surprisingly patient. "Look, Jeannie. We have been through all this before, time and time again. I am a bit sick of it now."
"So am I!" I fought to control my temper as my voice rose. "So am I, Mother," I sa
