THE FORK OF THE ROAD
was what she was there for—to protect them. She did not expect any quarter because she was a woman—or intend to give any. She meant to shoot to kill, if she had the opportunity.
It was in this survey that Kate saw Disston and recognized him instantly. She had a notion that even if her eyesight had failed her, her heart would have told her, for it jumped as if she had been badly frightened. She felt dizzy for a moment after she verified her first look—the world swam, as though she had been blinded. If she had followed her impulse, she would have held out her arms and ran to meet him crying, "Hughie! Hughie!" But her impulses, she remembered in time, always came back like boomerangs to hurt her, if she followed them, so, instead, she endeavored to pull herself together by recalling that he had been six weeks at Teeters' without coming to see her but the one time when he had brought that girl to laugh at her. Why had he come now, she wondered.
Kate's pride had come to be her strongest ally and she summoned it all in this emergency, so when Disston climbed to her, finally, leading his limping horse, she was awaiting him calmly, her enigmatic smile upon her face, which was but a shade paler than usual. Her composure chilled and disappointed him; he could not know that she had clasped her hands tightly about her knee to hide their trembling.
"I wanted to surprise you," he said regretfully.
"You have."
"You don't show it."
"Then I'm improving."
"I liked you as you were, Kate—warm-hearted, impulsive." He dropped the bridle reins and sat down beside her.
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