the cold air, his bare fingers were swift and sure as he worked over the rifle. When he looked up, there was no more comfort in his eyes than there was in the chill gleam of the rifle barrel.
«How do your horses feel about gunfire?» he asked.
«They got used to it during the war. Are we finally stopping?»
«We don’t have any choice. It took us half an hour to go three miles and gain five hundred feet of altitude. We’ve got a thousand feet higher to go. Without rest, your mares won’t make it at all.»
Willow didn’t disagree.
«I’m going to watch ourbacktrail,» Caleb continued. «Get some rest yourself. You look like a gust of wind would blow you away.»
He walked off, moving over the loose rock without hesitation or noise, for the soft soles of his moccasins allowed him to feel if the footing was secure before he committed his weight to it. He walked until he reached a low pile of boulders that would both conceal him and give him a clear field of fire over the open parts of the trail below. He settled in behind the rocks, rested the rifle barrel in a notch between two boulders, and began scanning the landscape, sighting over the rifle barrel.
Fifteen minutes passed before he heard Willow’s soft voice.
«Caleb? Where are you?»
«Over here,» he replied.
Willow scrambled down into the boulders, only to find there was very little room in the stony nest. Caleb’s wide shoulders all but filled the space.
«Why aren’t you resting?» he asked.
«I thought you might be thirsty.» Breathing quickly from the short walk, she squeezed in next to him and held out the canteen. «You didn’t take time to drink.»
He uncapped the canteen, lifted it, and tasted a tantalizing hint of peppermint. «You did.»
«What?» Willow asked as she settled gingerly onto the rocky ground.
«You drank. I can taste it.»
She gave him a startled look.
«Mint,» he said simply.
Pink climbed up her cheeks when she realized what he meant. «I’m sorry. I didn’t —»
He put the pad of his thumb against her lips, stopping her embarrassed apology. «I like the taste of you, Willow.»
For a moment the silence was so intense she was certain Caleb could hear the wild beating of her heart. The corner of his mouth lifted in what could have been a smile. His touch became heavier, pressing against the inside of her lower lip in a caress that was as unexpected as it was sensual. Then his hand lifted, leaving her feeling disoriented. He brought his thumb to his lips, tasted it, and smiled.
«Mint.»
Willow took a shaky breath and wondered at the feelings coursing through her. The white curve of Caleb’s teeth against his black beard was unreasonably handsome. The gold in his eyes was a fire burning, watching her.
Caleb turned away and pulled the spyglass from his coat pocket, changing the direction of his thoughts in the most efficient way he could. Methodically, he began quartering thebacktrail. After a few moments, his breath came out in a hissing curse.
Far below, a horseman was coming at rapid clip, taking the same way over the land that Caleb and Willow had. Even using the spyglass, the distance was so great that Caleb couldn’t identify the man. Caleb waited. A second man came out of the forest. He, too, was riding a dark, rangy horse.
Caleb kept watching, but no other figures showed up in the magnified circle of the spyglass. Two men, two dark horses that showed signs of being ridden hard over a long distance. They were the same men he had seen last night. Caleb was as certain of it as he was of the smooth brass tube in his hand.
«The altitude has slowed them a little, but not enough,» Caleb said.
«Altitude?»
«We’re more than eight thousand feet high. That’s why you’re out of breath after a few steps. It gets to the horses the same way until they’re used to it. Mine are mountain horses. So are theirs. Yours aren’t.»
«What are we going to do?»
Caleb lifted his rifle and sighted down its barrel. The men were still out of range. Even so, he didn’t lower the rifle. He simply waited.
Willow saw a stillness come over Caleb, the ingathering of muscle and concentration of a cat about to spring. Far below and off to the left, two riders were crossing the distant park at a hard canter. He levered a shell into the rifle’s firing chamber and began tracking the second of the two riders.
«Are you going to shoot them without even finding out who they are?» Willow asked, her voice strained.
«I know who they are.»
«But —»
«Look up that mountain,» Caleb interrupted savagely. «Do you see any cover, any place to hide a person, much less seven horses, if someone starts shooting from below?»
«No,» Willow said unhappily.
«Think about it, southern lady. Once we leave that grove, we’re sitting ducks.»
Willow laced her fingers together and held on hard, trying not to tremble while Caleb shifted position very slightly, never taking his eyes from the men below.
«How about it?» he asked without looking away from the men. «You want to take a chance on those two being God-fearing, church-going boys who just happened to be taking a long ride over a hard, little-known pass that leads to nothing but another long ride and another little-known pass?»
«No,» she whispered.
Caleb smiled grimly. «Don’t sound so unhappy, honey. At this range I’ll be lucky to get close enough to scare them.» He sighted on the second man but made no effort to take slack off the trigger. «Wish to hell Wolfe was here. That man is pure hell with a rifle.»
A misty rain began to fall as the two riders vanished into the forest that ringed the park. If they followed the tracks, they would emerge again at the bottom of the slope in twenty minutes. Caleb lowered the rifle and turned to Willow.
«You better go back to the grove,» he said. «If one of those men has a big-bore Sharps rifle, things could get real lively in these rocks.»
«At this range?»
«I’ve seen men killed at six hundred yards with a big Sharps. I’ve heard of men killed at eight hundred yards.»
«How far down is it to the park?» Willow asked.
«Less than a thousand feet straight down. Where they’ll come out of the trees, they’re maybe six hundred yards away. That wouldn’t be a problem for Wolfe, but I’m only middling good with a long gun. Get moving, honey.»
Willow started to come to her feet, only to be yanked down by Caleb.
«Those damn fools are coming straight up! They must be afraid they’ll lose us in the rain!»
The men burst out of the trees about nine hundred yards away, spurring their horses in great lunges, climbing diagonally across the mouth of an avalanche chute. Caleb tracked the second man with the rifle but did not shoot. They would have tocriss — cross that chute, and others, several times before they gained the cover of the grove where seven horses were concealed. At a normal pace it would take the men half an hour to climb to where Caleb and Willow were concealed, yet the men were less than three thousand feet away as a rifle bullet flew, and they were closing fast.
«Keep your head down,» Caleb ordered.
Crouched among the cold rocks, Willow watched the only thing she could see — Caleb Black. He was both motionless and relaxed, holding the rifle easily, waiting for the men to come closer. His eyes were those of a bird of prey, intent and clear. No tension showed in his hands or in his face. Willow wondered how many times he had waited like this during the war, utterly still, watching prey that were also men come closer with each instant.
