Caleb made a sound of disgust. «Your older brother may be a real curly wolf, but you’re pure coyote. Apologize to the lady, Kid Coyote.»
«I’m damned if I’m going to apologize to a —»
Caleb slapped Johnny before he could finish the sentence. The open-handed blow was so quick it was almost invisible. It rocked Johnny’s head on his shoulders, sending his fine hat flying. Before Johnny realized what had happened, it was too late. Caleb was slapping him with slow, measured motions, blows that humiliated as much as they hurt; but it was the contemptuous words that hurt most of all.
«Kid Coyote, sneaking around,» Caleb said. «This is for every man you ever shot in theback.»Slap. «For every woman you everinsulted.»Slap. «For every baby you ever stole candyfrom.»Slap. «Now take off your guns, Kid Coyote.»
«What?» Johnny asked, shaking his head, unable to believe what was happening to him.
«Take off yourgunbelts and drop them on the floor.»
Johnny reached for his firstgunbelt with hands made clumsy by a combination of rage and fear. «You’re a dead man, whoever you are! My brother will kill you for this!»
The firstgunbelt hit the floor.
«Any time Slater feels lucky,» Caleb said calmly, «you tell him to ask for Caleb Black.»
The secondgunbelt hit the floor.
«If people don’t know that name,» Caleb continued «tell your brother to ask for the Man from Yuma. As for you, Kid Coyote, you’d be smart never to wear a gun again. Those who live by the sword die by the sword. And you’ll die, kid. If I see you wearing iron anywhere, anytime, I’ll draw down on you and kill you where you stand. Hear me?»
Sullenly, Johnny nodded.
«It’s the only warning you’ll get and one more than you deserve.» Caleb turned away and faced Johnny’s friends. He looked at each one for a long moment, memorizing the faces of his new enemies. Caleb recognized one of them, a bounty hunter and claim jumper from the San Juan mountains. «Shuck those irons, boys.»
Moregunbelts thudded to the floor.
«You’re running in bad company, but it’s a free country. Don’t know how you stand the smell, though.» Caleb tilted his head toward the street. «Get out.»
Radiating frustrated anger, Johnny and his friends left. Not until the door closed behind the last gunman did a ripple of excited talk run through the crowd, speculations and surmises spoken back and forth, another incident added to the growing legend of the Man from Yuma.
Willow made no sound at all. She simply let out her breath and withdrew her hand from the leather-lined pocket of her silk dress where the derringer had lain cold against her palm.
After a few moments people went back to doing whatever they had been doing before Caleb had called Johnny Slater’s bluff. Everyone except Willow walked in a wide circle around the discardedgunbelts and the big man whose eyes were the clear, burning gold of amountion lion’s eyes — or an avenging angel’s.
Caleb turned to Rose. «I’m sorry you had to hear that filth,» he said simply.
Rose tried to speak, smiled tremulously, and managed to whisper, «You’re a good man, Caleb Black. There will always be a place set for you at my table.»
Caleb smiled and touched the widow’s pale cheek with a gentle affection that astonished Willow.
«Thanks,» Eddy said simply to Caleb. «I owe you.»
Caleb shook his head. «You’re the best thing that ever happened to Rose. That’s all the payment I need.»
«Johnny willbackshoot you some day,» Eddy said matter-of-factly. «You should have killed him when you had the chance.»
«There were too many women in the room to start shooting. A wild shot…»
«You’re not a wild shooter.»
With a shrug, Caleb began picking upgunbelts. «Johnny is a foul-mouthed polecat, but he hasn’t killed any of my kin. He insulted Rose and I insulted him. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the end of it.»
«An eye for an eye,» Willow murmured, watching Caleb. «Is that your Western code?»
He straightened and turned toward her with swift, predatory grace. «Not my code, southern lady. God’s. ‘And if any mischief follow, thoushalt give life for life, /Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, /Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe. ’»
The intensity in Caleb’s voice made Willow shiver. «What about forgiveness?» she asked. «What about turning the other cheek?»
«That’s a luxury for city folks who have enough policemen to take care of scum like Kid Coyote. Denver doesn’t have that much law yet. Where I’m taking you there’s no law at all. If a man turns his other cheek, he gets slapped again, harder, until he either fights or stops calling himself a man. Out in those mountains a man takes care of himself because no one else will do it for him.»
«And a woman?» Willow asked unwillingly. «What does she do?»
«She stays in town,» Caleb said bluntly. «If she can’t do that, she finds a man tough enough to protect her and the kids she’ll bear him. That’s the way it is out here, southern lady. Nothing fancy. You kill your own meat, you dress it, you cook it, you eat it, and then you go out and hunt again.» Caleb looked at Willow through narrowed eyes, stepped closer, and said too softly for anyone to overhear, «Still want to search for your… husband?»
Willow looked at the big man looming over her, his eyes like hammered metal and his hands full of weapons. Her first impression of Caleb Black had been correct.
He was dangerous.
Then Willow remembered the brush of his fingertips against Rose’s cheek. Caleb was as hard as a whetstone, yet he was also a decent man. She would be safe with him. She knew it with an inner certainty she didn’t question.
«Yes,» Willow said.
Caleb looked surprised for a moment, but all he said was, «Get ready to ride. We leave in an hour.»
«What? But it’s dark and —»
«One hour, southern lady. Be at the livery stable down the street or I’ll come and drag you out of your room.»
ONE hour and three minutes later, an impatient knock sounded on Willow’s hotel room door. She froze in the act of fastening one of the many stubborn buttons on the bodice of her riding habit.
«Who is it?» she asked, pausing as she pushed a button through a small buttonhole in the heavy wool.
«Caleb Black. You’re late.»
The voice was as low, compelling, and darkly masculine as Willow had remembered. A tiny shivering feeling uncurled in the pit of her stomach. The sensation surprised her, for she had never been afraid of men.
Then Willow realized she wasn’t really afraid of Caleb. He simply was unlike any man she had ever known, which made it impossible for her to predict what he would do next. Or how she would react. His ability to make butterflies flutter in her stomach simply by talking to her through a closed door was disconcerting.
«I’ll be out in a few minutes,» Willow said, her voice unusually husky.
«You’ll be out in thirty seconds or I’ll come in after you.»
«Mr. Black —»
Whatever Willow had been going to say ended in a husky sound of shock when she heard a key scraping in the lock.
«I’m not dressed!»
«Twenty seconds.»
Willow didn’t waste time arguing. Her fingers flew over the buttons. Even so, she barely had managed to close the bodice halfway over her breasts by the time the door opened. When she saw Caleb’s wide shoulders fill the doorway, for an instant she was too shocked to move. The fine lawn of her camisole and its delicate embroidery of flowers were revealed, as was the velvet shadow lying between the full curves of her breasts.
Flushing to the roots of her golden hair, Willow grabbed the edges of her bodice and held them together. Beneath the tide of embarrassment, a flash of fury burned along her high, slanting cheekbones.
«Get out of my room!»
