Even her school life in Denver had left her still a child as regarded the serious problems of women.
"If I'm his wife," she went on, "I'll have to be with him--I'll have to give up this little room--I'll never be free--alone--happy, any more." That was the first detail she enumerated.

It was also the last.
Realization came with a sickening little shudder.

And that moment gave birth to the nucleus of an unconscious revolt.
The coyotes were howling.

Wild, sharp, sweet notes! They soothed her troubled, aching head, lulled her toward sleep, reminded her of the gold-and-purple sunset, and the slopes of sage, the lonely heights, and the beauty that would never change.

On the morrow, she drowsily thought, she would persuade Wilson not to kill all the coyotes; to leave a few, because she loved them.
* * * * * Bill Belllounds had settled in Middle Park in 1860.