'You're in no shape-'
'Wing says that crease on my back has just about healed up,' Longarm broke in, forestalling Molly's protest. 'The bone and the muscles aren't near as sore as they were. No reason I can't get back to what brought me here in the first place.'
'Only that you're liable to tear that wound open and bleed to death,' said Molly bitterly.
Longarm grinned. 'It ain't like I'm about to go out and wrassle a grizzley or anything. I'll be careful, Molly. No reason for you to worry about me.'
She stepped closer to him, so close that he could almost feel the warmth coming from her, and said, 'I haven't even talked you into making love to me yet, Custis. I don't want you going and dying.'
Longarm cupped her chin and lifted her face so that he could look down into her eyes. 'I don't intend dying any time soon,' he said quietly. He moved his head closer, intending to brush his lips lightly across hers.
Instead, she grabbed him, her arms going around his neck and holding him tightly as she mashed her lips against his. She opened her mouth and her tongue slid boldly against his, exploring, probing, tantalizing. Longarm put his arms around her and felt the softness of her belly prodding urgently against his groin. Despite everything he had been through in the past week, enough of his strength had returned to him for his manhood to begin stiffening. Molly dropped one hand to it and began caressing and kneading the heavy length of him.
Longarm took his lips away from hers and said, 'This ain't the time nor the place, Molly, but sometime...'
'You promise? Swear you'll do it.' At that moment, she sounded more like a pleading little girl than the full- grown woman she really was.
Longarm nodded. 'I swear.'
She took a deep breath and disengaged herself from him. 'All right. But I'll hold you to it, Custis. It was hard enough knowing that Mcentire woman had bedded you when I thought I might never get the chance.'
'Wait just a minute,' Longarm said with a frown. 'I don't know what you're-'
'Don't bother trying to deny it,' she said blithely. 'A woman can always tell. The way she was panting over you and wanting to take you back to her place, it was obvious.'
Once again, Longarm was a little sorry he hadn't been awake to see the confrontation between Molly and Aurora. On the other hand, maybe it was a good thing he hadn't. Billy Vail already accused him of having a swelled head; seeing two beautiful women squabbling over him would've likely just made it worse.
As he reached for his gunbelt, he said to Molly, 'Your pa tells me there hasn't been any trouble since the other day.'
'That's right,' said Molly. 'But it's been like waiting for a storm to break. You can tell something's going to happen. You just don't know when or how bad it's going to be.'
Longarm knew what she meant. That was one reason he wanted to resume his investigation. He had to find out what was really going on around here before that storm broke.
Molly insisted on saddling the roan for him herself. Longarm halfway expected her to suggest that she go along with him, but she didn't, and he was thankful for that. Arguing with Molly could be downright tiring, and he needed all his strength right now.
Like Longarm, the roan was well rested and anxious to be doing something again. He had to hold the horse back a little as it pranced along the trail leading away from the Diamond K. Longarm knew what the situation was on the ranch; now he wanted to pay a visit to the logging camp and find out how things were going there.
He reached the main trail and swung south. The day was overcast but mild, with gray clouds that promised rain later on scudding through the sky. As Longarm neared the cutoff to the Mcentire camp, he paused and listened for the sound of axes coming from higher on the mountain. The ringing of metal against wood came faintly to his ear, telling him that Aurora's men were hard at work.
He heard something else too--the squeaking of wagon wheels. A team of horses appeared at a bend in the trail ahead of him, and behind them came the wagon they were pulling. A lone man was seated on the wagon, handling the reins of the team. Longarm recognized him as the cook from Aurora's camp. That bald head was unmistakable.
Some instinct made Longarm rein his horse off the trail and into the trees. He didn't know if the cook had seen him or not, but if not, Longarm wanted to keep it that way. The wheels of his brain were clicking over a lot more quickly than those of the slow-moving camp wagon.
If the cook had been to town for supplies, which was the logical explanation for him being out in the wagon, where was he going now? He had already passed the turnoff that led to the logging camp.
Longarm swung down from the saddle and led the roan even deeper into the trees and brush. Suddenly it seemed very important that the cook not spot him when the wagon passed by on the trail.
Standing very still, Longarm watched through the screening brush as the wagon rolled past. He could keep track of its progress by the sound of its wheels and the clopping of its mule team's hooves. Once it had gone by him, Longarm turned and started making his way through the thick woods, still leading the roan. He was moving almost as fast on foot as the wagon.
Several minutes later, Longarm heard a different sound. Hoofbeats, but moving at a lighter, faster gait than the plodding of the mules. Someone else was riding along the trail. The squeaking of the wagon wheels stopped, and Longarm knew the cook must have halted the vehicle to let the rider come to him. Longarm angled toward the trail again, anxious to see just who Aurora's cook was rendezvousing with.
He didn't want the roan letting out a whinny at the wrong time, so he tied the horse's reins to a young pine and left it there, slipping closer to the trail on foot. He heard the hoofbeats of the rider's mount come to a halt. In a careful crouch, Longarm moved closer. He lifted a hand to ease aside some brush that blocked his view of the trail.
What he saw didn't really surprise him.
Ben Callahan, astride a big black horse, sat there talking to the cook from the Mcentire logging camp.
Longarm felt his muscles tense. He had suspected almost from the first that whoever was behind Aurora's
