"You're a--a squawman. You belong to
this woman."
"Nothing of the kind," he cried roughly. "That's been ended for years."
"Ended?" Sheba drew Colmac forward by the wrist. "Do you deny that this
is your boy?"
The big Alaskan brushed this aside as of no moment. "I dare say he is.
Anyhow I'm paying for his keep. What of it? That's all finished and done
with."
"How can it be done with when--when she's the mother of your child, your
wife before God?" The live eyes attacked him from the dusk that framed
the oval of her pale face. Standing there straight as an aspen, the
beautiful bosom rising and falling quickly while the storm waves beat
through her blood, Sheba O'Neill had never made more appeal to the
strong, lawless man who desired her for his wife.
"You don't understand." Macdonald's big fists were clenched so savagely
that the knuckles stood out white from the brown tan of the flesh.
"This is a man's country. It's new--close to nature. What he wants he
takes--if he's strong enough. I'm elemental. I--"
"You wanted her--and you took her. Now you want me--and I suppose you'll
take me too." Her scornful words had the sting of a whiplash.
"I've lived as all men live who have red blood in them.
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