She felt, at that minute,
as though she could shoot Bud Moore with no more compunction that
she would feel in swatting a fly.
That the cabin was empty and unlocked only made her blood boil
the hotter. She went in and looked around at the crude
furnishings and the small personal belongings of those who lived
there. She saw the table all set ready for the next meal, with
the extremely rustic high-chair that had DYNAMITE painted boldly
on the side of the box seat. Fastened to a nail at one side of
the box was a belt, evidently kept there for the purpose of
strapping a particularly wriggly young person into the chair.
That smacked strongly of Lovin Child, sure enough. Marie
remembered the various devices by which she had kept him in his
go cart.
She went closer and inspected the belt indignantly. Just as she
expected--it was Bud's belt; his old belt that she bought for
him just after they were married. She supposed that box beside
the queer high chair was where he would sit at table and stuff
her baby with all kinds of things he shouldn't eat. Where was her
baby? A fresh spasm of longing for Lovin Child drove her from the
cabin. Find him she would, and that no matter how cunningly Bud
had hidden him away.
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