He worked hard for half an hour, and carried in all the wood that had been cut.

He even piled Cash's end of the hearth high with the surplus, after his own side was heaped full.
A storm like that meant that plenty of fuel would be needed to keep the cabin snug and warm, and he was thinking of the baby's comfort now, and would not be hampered by any grudge.
When he had done everything he could do that would add to the baby's comfort, he folded the little garments and laid them on a box ready for morning.

Then, moving carefully, he crawled into the bed made warm by the little body.

Lovin Child, half wakened by the movement, gave a little throaty chuckle, murmured "M'ee," and threw one fat arm over Bud's neck and left it there.
"Gawd," Bud whispered in a swift passion of longing, "I wish you was my own kid!" He snuggled Lovin Child close in his arms and held him there, and stared dim-eyed at the flickering shadows on the wall.

What he thought, what visions filled his vigil, who can say?
.