Whatever it was, Lovin Child caught cold and coughed croupy all one night, and fretted and would not sleep.

Bud anointed him as he had anointed Cash, and rocked him in front of the fire, and met the morning hollow-eyed and haggard.

A great fear tore at his heart.
Cash read it in his eyes, in the tones of his voice when he crooned soothing fragments of old range songs to the baby, and at daylight Cash managed to dress himself and help; though what assistance he could possibly give was not all clear to him, until he saw Bud's glance rove anxiously toward the cook-stove.
"Hand the kid over here," Cash said huskily.

"I can hold him while you get yourself some breakfast." Bud looked at him stupidly, hesitated, looked down at the flushed little face, and carefully laid him in Cash's outstretched arms.

He got up stiffly--he had been sitting there a long time, while the baby slept uneasily--and went on his tiptoes to make a fire in the stove.
He did not wonder at Cash's sudden interest, his abrupt change from moody aloofness to his old partnership in trouble as well as in good fortune.