She stirred not a muscle. She
was powerless to do so. What, what had the coming of the man for her?
It was the one absorbing question which occupied her whole brain and
soul.
The dust flurry grew to a long trail in the wake of a horseman. In
five minutes he stood out ahead of it, clear to the eye. In ten his
identity was distinguishable. And, presently he rode swiftly at a
gallop past the ranch buildings and drew up before the house.
The rack of that moment was superlative. The woman's hands clenched
and her finger nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms. There was
no greeting upon her lips. She only had power to stare; her wide
beautiful eyes were searching the face of the man she loved, searching
it as the criminal in the dock might search the face of the judge about
to pass sentence.
Her tongue was ready for its release. Pent words lay deep in her soul
for an outpouring at the lightest sign. But these things were
dependent, dependent upon the reading she found in the man's eyes.
The horse stood drooping at the termination of its effort.
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