"Lemme go with you.

Lemme go and try to help." The brisk wind up the gulch set her clothes fluttering, stirred the hair about the rim of her hat, and she seemed to Buck more gracefully, more beautifully young than he had ever seen her; but her face was like stone.
"You'd be no help," she answered.

"When I get to the place I may have to meet him! Would you face him, Buck ?" His hand fell away from the bridle.

It was not so much what she said as the cold, steady voice with which she spoke that unnerved him.

Then, without a farewell, she turned the brown horse around and struck across the meadow at a swift gallop.