Anne received a deep scowl from Racetrack as she reentered the bunkroom. "Race, I'm sorry for hurtin' ya so. Still pals?" she asked softly, giving him a good old pouty face.
Race's tone quickly lessened, "None a us could eva' hate ya Anne. Youse like a sista' ta us, but man! Youse sure do got a Hell of a kick!" he laughed as he rubbed his decreasingly pained foot.
"Well, I get a lotta practice from ole' Conlon," she replied, walking over to a bunk where Pieboy lay sleeping soundly. She watched silently as his chest would rise and fall, rise and fall, as gentle as the clouds that billowed in the sky on that unusual warm winter's day.
"Heavy sleeper, dat boy is," Mush whispered, putting an arm around Anne's shoulders. Anne quickly turned to face him, "I was wonderin'; who made you me mudda?"
"I guess you could say dat Conlon did. He wants me to protect you. Anyway, we need one when Kloppman's not handy. Now go get in bed. We's gunna need ya ta fight tanight." he replied.