He understood what she meant. In the ranch country no man could with impunity insult a woman. 138
Standing defiantly before him, her pliant form very straight, the underlying blood beating softly under the golden brown of her cheeks, one of the thick braids of her heavy, blue-black hair falling across the breast that rose and fell a little fast, she was no less than a challenge of Nature to him. He looked into a mobile face as daring and as passionate as his own, warm with the life of innocent youth, and the dark blood mantled his face.
“Saddle the horses,” she commanded.
“When I get good and ready.”
“Now.”
“No, ma’am. We’re going to have a talk first.”
She walked across to the place where her pony grazed, slipped on the bridle, and brought the animal back to the saddle. Norris watched her fitting the blankets and tightening the cinch without a word, his face growing blacker every moment. Before she could start he strode forward and caught the rein.
“I’ve got something to say to you,” he told her rudely. “You’re not going now. So that’s all about it.”
Her lips tightened. “Let go of my horse.”
“We’ll talk first.”