That night at dusk as sat in the open door with Sonny drowsing in her lap, Dirk shot out across the yard like a and headed away toward the river.  
He made no outcry, but went straight as a , and presently there came the little crack of shod on the stones of Nameless’ lip, and a rider came up out of the farther shadows with the Collie leaping in against his stirrup.
 
Something in Nance’s throat, a thrill shot through her from head to foot. That strange surge of warmth and light seemed to flood her whole being again.
 
“Mammy—Bud—” she said softly, “I think Brand Fair is coming.”
 
Bud stirred in the darkened room, but Mrs. Allison was silent.
 
“Always, soon or late,” she thought to herself, “a man comes ridin’ out th’ night—an’ a woman is waitin’. It’s comin’ late to her—she’ll be twenty-two come June—but it’s comin’. An’ she don’t know it yet.”
 
“Good evening,” said a deep voice pleasantly as the dark horse stopped in the dooryard, “is a stranger welcome?”
 
“We’ve been listening for you every night,” said the girl simply, “it’s been a long time.”
 
“Brand!” cried the child sharply, struggling to find his feet, “Oh! Oh!—Brand!”
 
The man dismounted and came forward.
 
He lifted the boy and kissed him, holding him on his breast, while he held out a hand to Nance.
 
At its warm clasp the surging glory inside her deepened strangely.
 
Mrs. Allison rose and lighted the lamp on the table.
 
“Come in, stranger,” she said, “an’ set.”
 
Fair came in and Nance presented him to her two relatives.
 
Mrs. Allison looked deep in his face with her discerning eyes as she gave him her toil-hard hand and nodded unconsciously.
 
With Bud it was a different matter.
 
There was a faint coldness in his young face, a . But Nance saw none of these things. Here eyes were dark with the sudden of the pupils which this man’s presence always caused. There was a soft excitement in her.
 
For a little while they sat in the well-worn, well-scrubbed and polished room which was , dining-room and kitchen, and talked of the warmth of the season, the many deer that were in the hills, and such matters, while Sonny clung to the man and his face with adoring eyes.
 
Then the mother, harking back to the customs of another time, another environment, rose, bade good-night, signaled her son and to the inner regions.
 
Bud with studied coldness and shambled after her.
 
Nance regarded this unusual with some . She did not realize that this was the peak of proper politeness in the backwoods of her Mammy’s day—that a girl must have her chance and a clear field when a man came “settin’ up” to her.
 
And so it was that presently she found herself sitting beside Brand Fair in the , for the man preferred the inconspicuous spot, while Sonny sighed with happiness in his arms and Dirk sat gravely on his plumy tail at his master’s knee.
 
Diamond stood like a statue in the farther shadows.
 
A little soft wind was drawing up the river, the stars were thick in the night sky, and something as sweet as fairy music seemed to pulse in the lonely silence.
 
“Has old-timer been good?” Fair wanted to know , rubbing the curly head which was no longer tousled.
 
“Sure I have, Brand,” the little fellow ventured eagerly, “awful good—haven’t I, Nance?”
 
“Miss Allison, Sonny,” said Brand .
 
“No—Nance. She told me so herself.”
 
“That settles it. No one could go against such authority. But has he been good?”
 
“Good?” said Nance. “He’s brought all the happiness into this house it’s seen for many a long day—or is likely to see.”
 
“That’s good hearing,” returned the man, “and I have done a lot of riding this past week. Tell me, Miss Allison—what sort of a chap is this sheriff of yours?”
 
“He’s the best man on Nameless River!” cried the girl swiftly, “the kindest, the steadiest. I’d trust him with anything.”
 
“Does he talk?”
 
“Talk?”
 
“Can he keep a still tongue in his head?”
 
“I don’t know as to that—but I do know he’s been a friend to me in my . He probably saved my life today—and he saved me a lot of trouble.”
 
“Saved your life?” Fair sharply, “How’s that?”
 
“I swung Cattle Kate Cathrew out of McKane’s store and she was going to shoot me but the sheriff faced her. I told her some things she didn’t like.”
 
Fair drew a long breath.
 
“What was the occasion?” he asked.
 
“My field of corn,” said Nance , her trouble flooding back upon her, “last night it was rich with promise—what I was building on for my debt and my winter’s furnishing. This morning it was nothing but a dirty mass of pulp—trampled out by cattle—and we know that a Sky Line rider was behind those cattle. It’s some more of the same work that’s been going on with us since before our Pappy died. It’s old stuff—what the cattle kings have done to the homesteaders for many years in this country.
 
“If we weren’t our Pappy’s own—Bud and I—we’d have been run out long ago. I would, I think, when Bud got hurt, if it hadn’t been for him. He’s a fighter and won’t let go. The land is ours, right and fair, and he says no bunch of cut-throats is going to take it from us. I say so, too,” she finished .
 
Fair reached out a hand and for a moment laid it over hers, clasped on her folded arm.
 
“Miss Allison,” he said admiringly, “you’re a wonderful woman! Not many men would stick in the face of such misfortunes. You must love your land.”
 
“I do,” she said, “but it’s something more than that. It’s a proving, sort of—a battle line, you know, and Bud and I, we’re soldiers. We hope we can not run.”
 
“By George!” said the man, “you can’t—you won’t. Your kind don’t. But it’s a grim battle, I can see that.”
 
“It’s so grim,” said Nance quietly, “that we couldn’t survive this winter if it wasn’t for the that will be ready to market this fall. McKane wouldn’t give me time on my debt—Cattle Kate won’t let him. So the sheriff paid it—he says he can wait till next year for his money—he’s not so hard pushed as the trader—and he’s rich, they say.”
 
For a little while they sat in silence while Sonny, blissfully happy, fell fast asleep in Fair’s arms.
 
Then the man stirred and spoke.
 
“Miss Allison,” he said, “the time has come when I am going to tell you something—just a little bit that may give you comfort in this hard going of yours. I want you to know that more than one force is at work against this woman at Sky Line Ranch—against her and all those with her. Sheriff Selwood is not the only one who suspects her of dark doings—and the other—knows. I am that other.”
 
Nance in the shadows. The lamp, blowing in the wind, had gone low.
 
“You?”
 
“Yes. That’s why I have been so much a mystery in this country—why I have kept Sonny hidden in the cañon—why I have spent two years of my life riding the back places of th............