The girl who had held the curtain back for him to enter let it drop and turned to face him. Hilton drew his breath sharply. Blue-black hair, in a heavy, orderly mass atop a shapely, high-held head and falling down her straight trim back in one thick plait; brown eyes, ripe red lips, a delicate chin and a throat of exquisite proportions. His gaze traveled down her figure, the natural grace of which could not be concealed by the shirt and riding skirt she wore. She was wholly beautiful. "Oh, I've seen you before," he said slowly. "You're the girl that demanded respect and got it in the Crossing the other day!" She eyed him in silence a moment, evidently unaware of the admiration in his tone. "I never saw you. I ain't been here long," she said, her expression still defiant, as though he had challenged her. She searched his face, his clothing, and back at his face again. "Where was you travelin' tonight?" "I was going to the Crossing," he said with a short laugh. "My horse brought me here." Without comment she walked to the fire and threw on another knot. He watched her movements, the free rhythmic swing of her walk, the easy grace with which her hands and arms moved, the perfect assurance in even her smallest gesture. His eyes kindled. "Set," she said, indicating a box by the hearth. "You're soaked. Lucky you struck here or you'd made a night of it." Hilton seated himself, holding his hands toward the fire. He looked about the one room of the cabin. In two corners were beds on the earthen floor, a table made from a packing box contained dishes, Dutch ovens and a frying pan were on the hearth. The roof leaked. The girl sat eyeing the fire, rather sullenly. He held his gaze on her, watching the play of light over her throat as it threw a velvety sheen on the wind kissed skin. Her shirt was open at the neck and he could see the easy rise and fall of her breast as she breathed. He noticed that her fingers were slender and that her wrists, bronzed by exposure, indicated with all their delicacy, wiry strength. Another thing: She was clean. Suddenly the girl looked up. "Think you'd know me again?" she said bruskly, and rather swaggered as she moved. "I don't think I shall ever forget you," he replied. "I knew I should not the first time I saw you. I shall never forget the way you gave that fellow what he deserved. It was great!" His manner was kindly, showing no resentment at her belligerence and though her only reply was a sniff he knew that what he had said pleased her. "I wouldn't want you to think I'm staring at you," he went on. "A man shouldn't be blamed for looking at you closely." "How's that?" "You are very beautiful." She poked at the fire with a stick. "I reckon that'll be enough of that," she said as she walked back toward the door. The man smiled and followed her with his eyes, which squinted speculatively. "You'd better unsaddle that horse," she said. "He'll roll with your kak if you don't."