«Not damned likely. Indians have better sense than to be abroad on a night like this.» As he spoke, Wolfe walked out from the cover of a tall cottonwood. He moved with the lithe, silent stride of a man accustomed to surviving in wild country. «Get down and stay for a fewdays, amigo. Deuce could use the rest, from the look of him. So could Trey.»
«So could I. Can’t do it, though.»
Silently, Wolfe watched Caleb with eyes as dark as obsidian. In full sunlight Wolfe’s eyes were indigo, betraying the British heritage of his father. At night, however, he looked every bit his Cheyenne mother’s son. At all times he was a man other men walked carefully around.
«Getting close to Reno?» Wolfe asked finally, his voice neutral. He had met both Caleb and Reno separately, and liked both men. He didn’t know why Caleb was hunting Reno. Caleb had never said and Wolfe had never asked.
«Right now I’ve got other cattle to brand. I left a woman in a ravine a few miles north of here. She needs dry clothes.»
«Might her name be Willow Moran?» Wolfe asked mildly.
Caleb hissed a curse. «Word travels too damned fast.»
«A lot of folks were glad to see Johnny Slater get his comeuppance.» Wolfe’s smile was like an unsheathed knife. «Kid Coyote. Hell of a moniker. He’ll never live it down. He’s gunning for you.»
«If he’s lucky, he won’t find me.»
«He’ll find you if you go up through Canyon City,» Wolfe said flatly. «He’s lying in wait at the trailhead with half of Slater’s bunch. The other half is raising dust for the Rio Grande.»
«You certain?»
«They left a man at the crossroads. Ask him. Then ask him about the bounty Jed Slater put on your head. Four hundred Yankee dollars for the man who brings in your scalp. One thousand dollars for the man who brings you to Jed Slater alive.»
«Son of a bitch.»
«Need another gun?» Wolfe asked. «I’ve got nothing better to do sinceJessi’s guardian wrote and told me no one would be coming this summer.»
For a moment Caleb was tempted. Wolfe was good with any weapon, including his fists, and had the ferocity of the Scots andCheyennes combined. But as nice as it would be to have Wolfe guarding his back, Caleb couldn’t risk it. If anyone beside himself knew that Reno and Matthew Moran were the same man, it would be WolfeLonetree. If Willow found out that Caleb was after her fancy man, she wouldn’t lead Caleb anywhere close to Matthew Moran.
«I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary,» Caleb said. «There’s more than one way to skin a cat.»
«A mountain pass isn’t a cat. You might sneak by Slater’s gang on the Rio Grande del Norte, but you won’t have a chance in hell going through Canyon City.»
«There are other passes.»
Wolfe’s black eyebrows rose. «Not many white men know about them.»
«My daddy was with an Army survey party in the fifties. There are other passes.»
With a shrug, Wolfe changed the subject. «Is that stud of hers half what rumor says?»
«Prettiest piece of horseflesh I’ve ever seen,» Caleb said simply.
«Pretty isn’t much of a recommendation for a horse or a woman,» Wolfe said dryly.
«That stud is a lot tougher than he looks. Gentle and quick, too. Make a hell of a trail horse.»
«How’s his stamina?»
«He’s keeping up. So are the mares.»
«Leave the Arabians with me. They’ll only slow you down, especially in the high country.»
«Willow wouldn’t leave them in Denver. Doubt that she’ll leave them here, but I’ll offer. You better pray she doesn’t take me up on it. Having those horses would bring Slater’s outfit down on you like a rash.»
Wolfe smiled. «I’d take it as a personal favor.»
Shaking his head, Caleb chuckled. That was one of the things he liked best about Wolfe — the man was a fighter to the marrow of his bones.
«What about the girl?» Wolfe asked. «Is she holding up all right?»
«She’s like her horses,» Caleb admitted. «Game little thing. Once I get her some dry clothes and a decent saddle, she’ll make it through the passes.»
«Then it’s true? She’s actually riding a sidesaddle?»
Caleb grunted. «It’s true.»
«Be damned. I haven’t seen one of those since I was in England,» Wolfe said.
«If I never see another one again, it will be too soon. Pure foolishness.»
Wolfe smiled gently. «Maybe, but those English ladies looked like beautiful butterflies perched on the backs of their big Irish horses.»
«Hell, if I’d known you felt like that, I’d have brought the damned thing to you. Your shirttail cousin could have used it the next time she visits you.»
«Lady JessicaCharteris prefers to ride bareback at a dead run.» The amusement faded from Wolfe’s voice as he continued, «In any case, the last letter mentioned a marriage. I don’t thinkJessi will be coming to America to plague me again.»
Wolfe looked away, measuring the increasing light rather than confronting the surprising sense of loss he had felt when the letter had arrived telling of Jessica’s pending marriage.
«Better leave your horses under cover here,» Wolfe said. «Slater’s man might have heard that you visit me from time to time. He’ll be looking for tracks from seven horses, not two, but…» Wolfe shrugged and said no more.
Caleb dismounted, tied his horses back in the thick brush that surrounded the runoff from Cottonwood Springs, and walked alongside Wolfe toward the cabin.
«WhenJessi rode with you, did she have anything better to wear than an outfit with flapping skirts and more petticoats than a tree has leaves?»
Wolfe’s smile flashed. «How about buckskin pants and a buckskin shirt made for her by my aunt? Last timeJessi was here she also sweet-talked me into buying her some of those Levis that all the Forty-Ninersand Fifty-Ninerswore. Had a hell of a time finding a pair small enough. Same for the saddle.»
«Sweet-talked you, huh? I’d like to meet that girl. Is she the kind that would get on her high horse if I borrowed her clothes and saddle and let another girl use them for a few weeks?»
«Doubt it. Besides, even if she brought her damned blue-blooded husband here, she wouldn’t shock a bloody peer of the realm by appearing in public wearing pants and riding astride.»
The contempt in Wolfe’s voice when he spoke ofJessi’s future husband didn’t surprise Caleb. Other than the headstrong young Jessica, Wolfe had little use for the British aristocracy that was one-half of his heritage.
«In that case,» Caleb said, «I’d appreciate the loan of her clothes.»
«Take them. She’ll never use them again. Anything else? Don’t be shy. Hell of a lot better to get it from me than to go into Canyon City for supplies and have the Slater bunch down on you like a hard rain.»
«I’d been counting on picking up supplies in Canyon City,» Caleb admitted.
«Name it and you’ve got it.»
«Food for us and grain for the horses, if you can spare it,» Caleb said. «Grass is fine for a time, but where we’re going, the horses will need the kind of stamina that only grain gives.»
«Food is no problem. Will a hundred pounds of grain be enough?»
Caleb let out a relieved breath. «Thanks, compadre. Can you spare a blanket or two? Unless this storm breaks, it will be damned cold in the first pass.»
«I’ve got something better than blankets. Sleeping bags.»
A half-disgusted, half-amused sound was Caleb’s only answer.
«Jessiinsisted,» Wolfe continued, ignoring his friend. «After the first night on the trail, I stopped complaining. No matter how much you thrash around, no cold air gets in.»
Caleb cut a sideways glance at Wolfe. «Getting newfangled in your old age, aren’t you?»
Wolfe smiled, for there wasn’t a day’s difference in their ages. Both men had turned thirty in late April. «I like my comforts. I’m not an Old Testament sort like you.»
