She even regretted not having a gun; rather, she wished that she was not more afraid of a gun than of any possible need of one.

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.