And then, far down, she caught the sound of hoofs and rose straight up from her chair, one hand on her thundering heart. The action was her only concession to the fierce emotion which was eating her. When Sud Provine came out of the pines below with Bluefire and his rider in convoy she was seated again in the broad-armed rocker, to all intents as calm as moonlight on snow.
Lawrence Arnold dismounted stiffly and handed the rein to Provine, then raised his eyes and looked at her.
Over his white-skinned, aquiline features there passed a smile of the closest understanding.
He knew the volcano covered in and shut from sight under this woman’s cool exterior—this woman who was his woman.
Cattle Kate rose languidly and came to meet him and her brilliant eyes returned the understanding to the nth degree—they were full of passion, of promise.
“Man,” she said under her breath, as their hands met, “Oh, man! It’s been so long!”
That was all for the prying eyes that compassed them.
They entered the house and Minnie Pine served the meal which had been waiting and which was the best Sky Line could produce, and afterward Lawrence Arnold reclined on a blanket-covered couch in the living-room and smoked in smiling peace.
Kate Cathrew sat near, her eyes devouring his slim form, and talked swiftly of many vital matters.
“Do you need any new men?” he asked her, “I have two who would be good. One is out on bail—mine—the other was acquitted, as usual. Both will crawl.”