riding herd for him when they feel like it, and Reno helps out when he’s not haring after gold, but Cal is always short-handed. Come spring calving, you’ll look as golden as your hair.»
«Reno?» Rafe looked up from the whip he had been absently wiping clean and coiling. «Isn’t that the third man who knows the SanJuans like the back of his hand? You and Caleb being the other two, so I’m told.»
«Reno knows the country better than I do. He’s uncanny about land. But I suspect you know Reno better by another name,» Wolfe said, amusement clear in his voice.
«Do I?» drawledRafe.
«Matthew Moran,» Wolfe said succinctly.
Relief went visibly throughRafe. «Matt? He’s all right then? The last letter I got from him, he sounded like he had his tail in a real tight crack.»
«Reno’s doing fine now, except he’s a damn fool for gold.»
«Just like I’m a damn fool for distant horizons.»Rafe grinned. «The Moran men don’t housebreak worth a bucket of —» He stopped abruptly, remembering Jessica’s presence. «Er, spit.»
Wolfe smiled slightly. «No man does, until he finds a woman like Willow.»
The buggy whip hissed and snapped well above the wagon horse’s brown flank.Rafe’s gray glance touched Jessica appreciatively.
«Or like your wife,» Rafe said. «You handle those reins very well, ma’am.»
Wolfe’s eyes narrowed and all softness vanished from his expression.Rafe felt the tension snaking through the man who sat beside him on the narrow wagon seat.
«The thing about a wanderer like me,» Rafe continued matter-of-factly, giving Wolfe a level look, «is that I can appreciate beautiful things without wanting to possess them. Possessions tie a man down. And nothing, no matter how rare or beautiful, will ever be as grand to me as the sunrise I haven’t seen.»
With a visible effort, Wolfe brought his anger under control. He knew it was unreasonable to respond so fiercely toRafe’s simple appreciation of Jessica. Yet there it was, reasonable or not, and there it would remain until Jessica came to her senses and sought an annulment, freeing both of them from an impossible situation.
But until that moment, Wolfe fought to maintain a self-control that became more difficult every night, every day, every hour spent in the company of a girl he couldn’t have, would never take, and wanted until he lived on the breaking edge of rage at having to be so close to what must be forever beyond his reach.
«You’re very kind,» Jessica said quickly toRafe, for she, too, had sensed Wolfe’s anger. «But no one can equal thepara — er, Willow. I have a great deal of work ahead of me just to be an adequate Western wife.»
Rafefrowned. «You’re rather delicately made for that kind of hardship.»
«You and my husband have something in common. You both equate strength with muscles.»
«For good reason,» Wolfe muttered.
«For bad reason,» Jessica retorted. «Flowers are soft, frail, and, therefore, weak in your masculine estimation. Yet I will tell both of you fine, strong men something — the same storm that brings down a mighty oak does little more than wash the delicate faces of the violets living at the oak’s foot.»
Rafelooked away quickly, trying to conceal his amusement at Jessica’s quickness. It was impossible. He gave Wolfe a rueful look and shook his head, laughing softly.
«She’s got us, Wolfe.»
Wolfe grunted and looked around the muddy street one last time. No one was in sight. Wolfe hoped it would stay that way.
«I take it you’re going to see Willow?» Wolfe asked, turning his attention back to the big blond man who was watching him with a masculine sympathy that was laced with equally masculine amusement.
«I’m really looking for Matt, but I kept hearing about a Virginia lady who came out here last year with five fine Arabian horses. She was searching for her ‘husband, ’ Matthew Moran.»Rafe shrugged. «I figured it had to be Willy. She’s the only girl I know with gumption enough to set out across wild country alone, just to find a brother she hadn’t seen in years.»
Wolfe’s face softened into a half-smile. «That’s Willow. They broke the mold when they made her.»
Rafenoticed both the affection in Wolfe’s voice and the shadow that drew Jessica’s face into unhappy lines. He lifted his hat, smoothed his bright hair with his hand, settled his hat once more with a jerk, and wondered if Caleb Black was a jealous sort of man.
«Sounds like you know Willow real well,» Rafe said to Wolfe after a moment.
«Well enough.»
«And Cal?»
Belatedly, Wolfe caught the drift ofRafe’s thoughts. He smiled thinly.
«Cal is the best friend I have. He’s as big as you are, he has as much give in him as a granite cliff, he’s greased lightning with his belt gun, and he loves Willow the way I never expected to see a man love anything, especially a man as hard as Caleb Black.»
Rafe’seyebrow climbed. «How does Willow feel about it?»
«The same way Cal does, a love you can touch. Seeing them together makes you believe that God did indeed know what He was doing when He created man and woman and gave them the earth for their children.»
Jessica heard both the certainty and the subtle yearning in Wolfe’s voice. She didn’t know whether to weep or scream at the fresh evidence of Wolfe’s deep admiration for his best friend’s wife.
Wolfe didn’t notice Jessica’s taut, unsmiling mouth. His full attention was onRafe, who was thinking over all that Wolfe had said, and what he had not said, as well. Finally, Rafe sighed and shifted his weight, making the seat spring complain.
«Glad to hear that,» Rafe said. «Willy was such a soft little thing. I was always afraid life was going to chew her up and spit her out in little pieces.»
«Chew up a paragon?» Jessica said tightly as she pulled the horse to a halt in front of the livery stable. «I doubt that, Rafael. Life would choke to death on Willow’s perfection. Dead life is a paradox to make the head ache. Not to mention the stomach.»
At the last word, Jessica jammed the wagon whip back into its holder. When she looked up, Wolfe was watching her with veiled interest, measuring her anger. Abruptly, she knew she was simply sharpening a weapon he would turn on her at every opportunity. Yet even knowing that, she could neither stop the words nor diminish the deadly sweetness of her voice when she spoke.
«Would it be possible to stop singing the paragon’s praises long enough to get on the trail?» Jessica asked. «We’re making the townspeople nervous.»
«THAT’S the damnedest rig I ever saw,» Rafe said, reining his horse alongside Jessica’s, «and I’ve seen a few odd things in my wandering life.»
Despite the bone-deep tiredness that gnawed at Jessica, she straightened in the sidesaddle and focused onRafe, grateful to have something to take her mind off the wind.
Huge mountains rose all around the riders, their peaks invisible beneath a seething lid ofslatecolored clouds. Climbing up in elevation was like riding back into winter. Wind took snow from the clouds and churned it into billowing veils of white. Wind pried at the snow on the ground, lifting particles of ice and turning them into a stinging, invisible rasp that scoured unprotected skin.
But most of all, the wind keened and moaned, prying at Jessica’s self-control to get to the nightmares beneath.
«Don’t they have sidesaddles in Australia?» she asked quickly, unable to bear either the wind or her own thoughts.
«I didn’t see any, but I didn’t see more than a handful of white women, either.»Rafe glanced sideways at her. «Is it as uncomfortable as it looks?»
With gritted teeth and a stifled moan, Jessica shifted her weight, trying to settle the voluminous skirts of her riding habit more comfortably around the sidesaddle’s off-center horn.
«On a gaited horse, over level country, for a few hours at a time, it’s quite comfortable.»
«But old Two-Spot’s only ‘gait’ is a trot that would shake the change out of a man’s pocket,» Rafe finished for Jessica, «we’ve been riding sixteen hours a day for three days, and you look so worn I’d swear the sun would shine right through you.»
The wind flexed, twisted, and howled down from the pass ahead, carrying the icy promise of more
