The deputy passed to the fishing in his conversation, hoped she would have luck, stroked his white goatee, and presently departed.
The man had scarcely disappeared around a bend in the gulch before a sound startled her. Moya turned quickly, to see a man drop down the face of a large rock to the ground. Even before he turned she recognized that pantherine grace and her heart lost a beat.
He came straight toward her, with the smile in his blue eyes that claimed comradeship as a matter of course.
"You—here," she gasped.
"I'm here, neighbor. Where ought I to be—in Routt County losing myself?"
Her little hand was lost in his big brown fist, her gaze locked in his.
"You heard him?"
"Couldn't help it. I was working down through that grove of pines to the river when I saw him."
"He may come back." Her quick glance went up the gulch into which the deputy had disappeared.
"I reckon not. Let's sit down and talk."