“There!” he said, finishing with the improvised bandage. “That will keep the dust out. Do you live near here?”
She nodded. “Over at the Elkhorn Ranch.”
“I should advise you to get back as quickly as you can,” he told her. “Have the wound washed and dressed. I don’t think there’s a drop of water this side of the camp.”
“Oh,” she said, turning quickly to face him, “you’re from the construction camp, then?”
“Yes, from Forty-seven, about two miles down the trail. I was just going back when your horse dashed past me.”
Her eyes were shining now, and a quick color had rushed to her cheeks. Nash told himself that it had been a long time since he had seen a prettier girl. He reasoned quickly, by the hue of her skin, that she was a stranger to this part of southern California.
“You haven’t been here long, have you?” he said.
She shook her head. “No. This is my first day at the ranch. I’m visiting friends there.” She hesitated a moment, and looked frankly into his bronzed face. “How did you guess?”
He laughed. “Why, this sun will leave its mark on you. It’s the champion long-distance artist. You’ll soon change that New York white for California copper.”
She stared at him bewilderedly. “How did you know I was from New York?” she asked.