Despair was written in
every feature, despair and utter hopelessness. Her mouth, that
beautiful mouth so rich and delicate, was now tight shut as of one in
great suffering, and deep, hard lines had suddenly gathered about the
corners of it. The change smote him to the heart, but left him utterly
helpless.

Realization had come. Joan had suddenly remembered all that lay behind
her--all that had driven her to seek the remoteness of the wild
Western world. She had sought to flee from the fate which her Aunt
Mercy had told her was hers, and now she knew that she might as well
try to flee from her own shadow.

Oh, the horror of it all! These people believed that she had brought
them their luck. _She knew that she had._ What was the disaster that
must follow? What lives must go down before the sword a terrible Fate
had placed in her hand? For the moment panic held her in its grip. For
a moment it seemed that death alone could save her from the dread
consequences of the curse that was upon her. It was cruel, cruel--the
desolation, the hopelessness of it all. And in her sudden anguish she
prayed that death might be visited upon her.

But even amidst the horror of her realization the influence of the
man's presence was at work. She knew he was there a witness to the
terror she could not hide, and so she strove for recovery.

Then she heard him speak, and at the sound of his quiet tone her
nerves eased and she grew calmer.

"I don't guess you recovered from the storm. I'd sure say you need
rest," Buck said in his gentle, solicitous fashion. And in her heart
Joan thanked him for the encouragement his words gave her. He had
asked no questions. He had expressed no astonishment, and yet she knew
he must have realized that her trouble was no physical ailment.

"Yes," she said, jumping at the opening he had given her, "I'm tired.
I'll--I'll go back to the house."

Buck nodded, disguising his anxiety beneath a calm that seemed so
natural to him.

"Jest get back an' rest. You needn't worry any 'bout the hosses, an'
cows, an' things. I'm fixin' them for the night, an' I'll be right
along in the morning to do the chores. Y' see I know this farm, an'
all that needs doin'. Guess I was raised on it," he added, with a
smile, "so the work's sort o' second nature to me."

Joan's chance had come, but she passed it by. She knew she ought to
have refused his help. She ought to have, as Mrs. Ransford had said,
sent him about his business