"But--I can't stay here. I'll ride to Balli's and have your horse
back by afternoon."

"My man might come earlier than I expect," Mr. Law persisted.

"Really, I can't see what difference it would make. It wouldn't
interfere with your appointment to let me--"

Law smiled slowly, and, setting his plate aside, selected a fresh
cigarette; then as he reached for a coal he explained:

"I haven't got what you'd exactly call an appointment. This feller
I'm expectin' is a Mexican, and day before yesterday he killed a
man over in Jim Wells County. They got me by 'phone at
Hebbronville and told me he'd left. He's headin' for the border,
and he's due here about sundown, now that Arroyo Grande's dry. I
was aimin' to let you ride his horse."

"Then--you're an officer?"

"Yes'm. Ranger. So you see I can't help you to get home till my
man comes. Do you live around here?" The speaker looked up
inquiringly, and after an instant's hesitation the woman said,
quietly:

"I am Mrs. Austin." She was grateful for the gloom that hid her
face. "I rode out this way to examine a tract of grazing-land."

It seemed fully a minute before the Ranger answered; then he said,
in a casual tone, "I reckon Las Palmas is quite a ranch, ma'am."