attempt to hide his expression of wonderment until, unexpectedly,
she spoke.

"What will you do with me when your Mexican comes?" she said.

"Well, ma'am, I reckon I'll hide you out in the brush till I tame
him. I hope you sleep well."

"Thank you. I'm used to the open."

He nodded as if he well knew that she was; then, shaking out his
slicker, turned away.

As he lay staring up through the thorny mesquite branches that
roofed him inadequately from the dew he marveled mightily. A
bright, steady-burning star peeped through the leaves at him, and
as he watched it he remembered that this red-haired woman with the
still, white face was known far and wide through the lower valley
as "The Lone Star." Well, he mused, the name fitted her; she was,
if reports were true, quite as mysterious, quite as cold and fixed
and unapproachable, as the title implied. Knowledge of her
identity had come as a shock, for Law knew something of her
history, and to find her suing for his protection was quite
thrilling. Tales of her pale beauty were common and not tame, but
she was all and more than she had been described. And yet why had
no one told him she was so young? This woman's youth and
attractiveness amazed him; he felt that he had made a startling
discovery. Was she so cold, after all, or was she merely reserved?
Red hair above a pure white face; a woman's form wrapped in his
blanket; ripe red lips caressing the rim of his mean drinking-cup!