For an instant, Caleb remembered Willow’swords: Aneye for an eye. Is that your Western code?
«I’ll settle for old-fashioned blankets.» Silently, Caleb fished a gold piece from his pocket. «If this doesn’t cover it, just —» he began.
«Put it away before you make me mad, you stiff-necked son of a bitch,» Wolfe interrupted.
Caleb gave the other man a slicing, sideways look, but put the coin back in his pocket.
They walked in silence to the door of the cabin. The interior was dark, cool, furnished with a western flavor. The instant the door closed behind them, Wolfe turned toward Caleb and started talking about the one thing he and Caleb had never discussed after the first time the issue came up — a man called Reno.
«I’m glad you’ll be too busy to hunt Reno for a time,» Wolfe said quietly. «You never said what you wanted with him and I’m not asking. None of my business. But I’m telling you something, Cal. If you ever find Reno, be damned sure you’ve got a good reason to draw on him, because a second after you do, both of you are likely to be dead.»
Caleb said nothing. Beneath the dark brim of his hat, his eyes were expressionless.
Wolfe looked at Caleb’s hard face. «You hearme, amigo? You and Reno are too well matched.»
«I hear you.»
«And?»
«So be it.»
ISHMAEL’S ringing whinny brought Willow awake with a pounding heart. Slanting sunlight streamed into the ravine, but she took little notice of its beauty. Grabbing the shotgun in one hand and the blanket in the other, she raced for cover, making as little noise as possible. When she could go no deeper in the dense thicket she turned around and crouched, motionless, straining to see what had disturbed her stallion.
A ghostly sound slid through the silence, echo of a wolf’s wild cry.
After a minute Caleb rode into sight, leading Trey. It took a moment for Willow to realize what was different about the pack horse — Trey was wearing a riding saddle rather than the familiar pack saddle. Two bags of corn were roped over the saddle and a thick bedroll was tied on behind. A sheepskin jacket was lashed on top.
«Anything bother you?» Caleb asked when Willow emerged from the thicket.
«Not until a minute ago, when Ishmael scented you.»
«That’s why I came in upwind, to give you warning.» Caleb dismounted, stretched, and began stripping gear off Deuce with quick, almost angry motions of his hands. «No one is around. While I rub down Deuce, make coffee over the smallest fire you know how to build.»
Willow started toward Trey, wanting to help Caleb, who looked tired. At a curt gesture from him, she retreated.
«Work on the fire, fancy lady. Flames don’t care about flapping skirts or blankets. My horses do.»
When Caleb was finished with Deuce, he went to work on Trey. The scent of grain carried downwind to the four mares when he took the bags off the saddle. The Arabians nickered eagerly. He untied one of the fifty-pound bags of grain, lifted it easily, and went from horse to horse, pouring a small mound of grain for each one. The mares’ dainty muzzles and delicate greed reminded Caleb of their mistress stealing every last taste of bacon from her fingertips with tiny, secret licks of her tongue.
The thought sent a surge of desire through Caleb. Ruthlessly, he shunted it aside and concentrated on what lay ahead — trails and passes, storms and sunlight, endurance and exhaustion, Slater’s bunch and Willow’s fancy man.
With a grimace, Caleb rubbed the back of his neck and headed for the campfire. It burned hotly, making coffee bubble and seethe. Willow knelt nearby, wearing his shirt rolled up to her elbows and the blanket wrapped around her hips. She had braided her hair and tied it with narrow strips of lace ripped from her petticoats. Dressed as she was, there should have been nothing appealing about her.
But when Willow came to Caleb and knelt beside him, her hands full of fragrant food, it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms. He should have been too tired to feel desire, but the proof of his ability was stretched hard against his pants.
With a savage word, Caleb reached for his coffee cup.
«Caleb?» Willow asked uncertainly, not understanding the bleak intensity of his eyes.
«The passes are open, so long as you don’t get caught in a storm. Slater’s gang divided up. They’re waiting for us somewhere along the Rio Grande and the Arkansas both,» he said flatly.
What he didn’t say was that Slater had also put a bounty on Caleb’s head, enough hard cash to make every outlaw between Wyoming and Mexico sit up and rub his hands with greed.
«What are we going to do?»
Caleb’s bleak, golden glance fell on the sidesaddle. With an angry motion he grabbed it and chucked it into the small stream that ran alongside camp. Her torn riding habit followed.
«Caleb! What in heaven’s name are —»
«They’re looking for a girl fool enough to ride sidesaddle into the Rockies,» Caleb interrupted in a cold voice, looking into Willow’s started hazel eyes. «I don’t know any girl that foolish. Do you?»
Willow’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
«Good,» Caleb said, nodding curtly. «They’re looking for a girl stupid enough to wear fancy, flapping clothes that never dry out from rainstorm to rainstorm. I don’t know any girl that stupid. Do you?»
Lacing her fingers together, Willow said nothing.
Caleb grunted and continued. «They’re looking for a girl stubborn enough to try and sneak five fancy horses past every damned outlaw between her and hell. I don’t know any girl that stubborn. Do you?»
«My horses go with me,» Willow saidinstantly. «That was part of our bargain, Caleb Black. Are you going back on your word?»
The instant the words were out of her mouth, Willow wished she could call them back. But it was too late. She had said them and now she must face Caleb’s wrath.
«I’ve never gone back on my word to anyone, not even to a spoiled southern lady who is no better than she has to be,» Caleb said icily.
Without looking away from Willow, he yanked the ties of the thick bedroll and unrolled it with a snap of his wrist, revealing the clothes that had been packed inside. He grabbed a fistful of buckskin, denim, and cotton flannel.
«Start with the flannellongjohns,» Caleb said in a cold voice. «Then put on the buckskin pants. Then the Levis. On top, wear —»
«I’ve been dressing myself for years,» Willow interrupted. «I can tell top from bottom.»
Caleb stuffed the clothes into her outstretched hands. «There’s a hat and jacket for you inside Wolfe’s sheepskin jacket. He didn’t have a slicker forJessi. Sorry.»
«What about you?»
«Wolfe and I both hate slickers. They only work if you’re sitting inside a tent.»
Curiosity finally overcame Willow’s caution. «Who is Wolfe? IsJessi his wife?»
«His name is WolfeLonetree. Jessi is his stepmother’s cousin or some such.»
«Where does he live? I’d like to thank him personally.»
«I doubt that you’d have much to do with him.»
«Why not?»
«His daddy was a British blueblood, but his mother was the daughter of a Cheyenne shaman.»
«A medicine woman?» Willow asked eagerly.
Caleb looked down at her throughslitted eyes. He saw only curiosity rather than the contempt many people had toward a man of mixed blood.
«I never asked him,» Caleb said finally. «Why?»
«She would know the healing plants of the West,» Willow explained. «I’ve recognized some that are the same as back home, but not many.»
«You’re the damnedest southern lady I’ve ever met.»
«Probably because I’m not a southern lady,» she retorted.
Caleb smiled slightly. «Couldn’t tell it by the drawl. Listening to you is like licking honey off a spoon.»
«Just because I don’t have a voice like agravelbottom river —»
«You can insult me some other time,» he said, cutting across her words. «We’ve got better things to do
