After a minute Willow said, «All I can see is a cascade jumping down the mountain.»
«That’s it. Hanging valleys are hidden, but the creeks that drain them aren’t.»
«I don’t understand.»
Caleb frowned. «It’s like someone broke a valley in half or quarters, set each piece like astairstep up the mountainside, and then strung them together with a creek. Since there’s no exit or entrance to the valleys but a waterfall or a steep cascade, and they overhang the park below, they’re called hanging valleys. Good places to graze cattle in the summer, if you can find a way to get cows into them. Hell in the winter, though. Snow comes early, piles deep, and stays late.»
Willow thought about it, then shook her head. «That doesn’t sound like Matt. He hated cold weather.»
«Is he a farmer?»
«If he were, he would have stayed in West Virginia,» Willow said dryly. «We — that is, the Moran family — owned several big farms before the war.»
«Is he a cattleman?»
She shook her head.
«Trapper?»
She shook her head again.
Caleb grunted. «I hear there’s gold in some of those high creeks.»
Willow flinched.
«God above,» Caleb said in disgust. «I should have known. Your fancy man is whoring after gold.»
She said nothing.
«Well, that explains it,» he muttered.
«What?»
«Why he left you,» Caleb said succinctly. «A man obsessed by yellow metal doesn’t give a damn for anything else — not wife, not child, nothing but the golden bitch.»
And least of all would he care for an innocent girl who gave her love and her body with never a thought for the future, Caleb thoughtgrimly. Poorlittle Rebecca. She never had a chance.
«Matt isn’t like that,» Willow said.
«Then why did he leave you alone so long that you forgot how to kiss a man? He should have come and gotten you when the war started,» Caleb said flatly, «and you know it as well as I do.»
There were other thoughts as well, ones he didn’t dare speakaloud. IfReno had been with Willow during the war, he wouldn’t have been in New Mexico, seducing my sister. He would have had his own fancy lady to take care of his lusts.
The condemnation in Caleb’s face was clear to Willow. She flushed, but said nothing. If she had been Matt’s wife, what Caleb said would have been true. But she was only Matt’s sister. Like his brothers, Matt had been gone more than ten years with just a few brief visits in between travels. He had no ties to North or South. He was owned by his love of the uninhabited West and the gold that winked like captured sunlight in wild mountain streams.
Silence returned until Caleb reined in abruptly, brought the spyglass to his eye, and swore viciously under his breath. He scanned the countryside all around but saw no other men. The two he had spotted cantered toward him openly, making no attempt to conceal their presence.
«What is it?» Willow asked after a moment.
«Comancheros. Two of them. Get out the shotgun. Don’t make a fuss about it, but keep it pointed between the two men. If they split up, you keep track of the one on the left. If he goes for a gun, give him both barrels and be quick about it. Hear me?»
«Yes,» Willow said tightly. «But I–I’ve never shot a man.»
Caleb’s smile was like a knife sliding from its sheath. «Don’t worry, southern lady. These aren’t men. They’re coyotes jumping around on their crooked hind legs.»
He pulled the rifle from its saddle scabbard, slipped the thong from his six-shooter, and waited. Nothing else was said while they watched the riders grow from pea-sized dots to life size. Willow thought theComancheros were going to gallop right over them, but at the last minute they reined in so sharply that their ponies sat hard on their hocks.
The ponies were small, unshod, and thin as slats. Despite that, they weren’t sweating or breathing hard from their long gallop through the meadow. Like the horses, the men were small, wiry, tough, and of mixed blood. The men were also dirty, edgy, and heavily armed. The man on the right was blond and blue-eyed beneath months of grime. The man on the leftwasmestizo.
From twenty feet away, the blue-eyed man called out, «Ola, Manfrom Yuma.»
«I see you, Nine Fingers,» Caleb said. «You’re a long way from where we last met.»
TheComanchero smiled, revealing one tooth of gold above and one black gap below. He looked at Willow. The blunt lust in his eyes made her skin cold.
«How much for her?» Nine Fingers asked.
«She’s not for sale.»
«I’ll give you a fat poke of gold.»
«No.»
Nine Fingers gave Willow another long appraisal. «Then how about I just rent her for a time?»
Caleb shifted slightly in the saddle. When Nine Fingers looked away from Willow, there was a six-shooter in Caleb’s right hand and a rifle in his left. At this range, the pistol was the more deadly of the two weapons.
«You’re a mite jumpy,» Nine Fingers said.
«Yes.»
Caleb’s voice was mild despite the rage tightening his gut. No woman, even one who was no better than she had to be, deserved what was in Nine Fingers’ pale blue eyes. The thought of theComanchero even looking at Willow, much less touching her with his filthy hands, made Caleb’s finger tighten on the six-gun’s trigger.
«Well, I guess I would be edgy, too, was I riding shotgun on a prime piece of woman-flesh and seven prime pieces of horseflesh.»
The otherComanchero spoke abruptly to Caleb. «You want Reno? I see him. I take you.»
«No thanks. I’m on another job right now.»
Nine Fingers laughed gutturally and said something to his friend about the Man from Yuma riding a yellow- haired pony harder and longer than a white-eyes fleeingComancheros.
Caleb looked quickly at Willow, wondering if she understood the mixture of coarse Spanish and Indian words. Her expression hadn’t changed.
«Seeing as howwe’reamigos, how about we ride that yellow pony for you,» offered Nine Fingers in English, spurring his horse closer as he spoke. «Then you’ll have time to chase Reno.»
The sound of the revolver being cocked was startlingly clear. Nine Fingers yanked back on the reins. The otherComanchero spoke quickly.
«You no want shoot, Yuma man. Bad men near. Ver ’ bad. Hear gun and come hell-running you bet.»
«That won’t be your problem,» Caleb said, looking at the twoComancheros. «You’ll be dead before the first echo comes back from the mountain.»
Nine Fingers smiled. «Short Dog is telling you the truth. Jed Slater is looking for you. He is purely pissed about the moniker you hung on his little brother. Kid Coyote.» Nine Fingers laughed with real amusement. «Old Jed promised to send you to Hell.»
Caleb shrugged. «He isn’t the first.»
«He’s talking about a big bounty on your scalp.»
«Coyotes talk a lot, too.»
Nine Fingers kept talking. «Not like this. Every bounty hunter between here and the Sangre deCristos will come ahelling, hoping to lift your scalp. Four hundred Yankee dollars for the man that kills you. A thousand Yankee dollars for the man who brings you to Jed alive.»
«You’re welcome to try,» Caleb said.
«Much money,» Short Dog said.
«Much trouble,» Caleb retorted. «Dead men spend no dollars.»
Nine Fingers laughed deeply and looked at his companion. «Esmuy hombre, no?»
