making her twist and turn restlessly. In her dreams she had been trying to get closer to the handsome stranger by dealing perfect hands to him, but each time he had seen the heart flush, he had thrown in his cards and walked away from the poker table, leaving her alone.
Now that Eve was awake, getting closer to the dangerous man who was going through her saddlebags was the last thing on her mind. Beneath the blankets, her hand began easing very slowly toward the shotgun that had been Donna Lyon’s preferred weapon. Following Donna’s example, Eve had slept with the shotgun alongside her bed since Donna’s hands had become too crippled to hold the weapon.
Through barely opened eyes, Eve assessed the intruder. Her breathing didn’t change. Nor did she shift her position in any noticeable way. She didn’t want the gunfighter who was so coolly rummaging through her possessions to know she was awake. She remembered all too well how fast he could draw and shoot.
There was a faint whisper of sound as the man pulled his hand out of the saddlebag. Pearls gleamed like moon-drops in the pale early morning light.
The sight of the jewelry draped across his lean, long-fingered hand intrigued Eve. The contrast between smooth and pale, tanned and powerful, sent an odd cascade of sensation from her breastbone to her belly. When he let the sleek, cool strands slide between his fingers as though savoring the pearls’ curves and texture, another sensation rippled through her.
Gusts of wind sighed through the hidden camp, setting the pines to swaying and murmuring among themselves. Beneath the moving boughs, sunlight retreated and returned, concealing and revealing the stranger’s features.
Eve tried not to stare, but found it impossible. She reminded herself that she had seen more attractive men, men with more perfect features, men with gentle eyes and mouths eager to smile. There was no reason for this hard stranger to appeal so deeply to her senses. There certainly was no reason for him to have haunted her dreams.
Yet he had. Without the dangerous card game to distract Eve, she was even more curious about him than she had been when he first sat down and took cards in the poker game.
Reno ran the pearls through his fingers one more time before he slipped them into a fawnskin bag and put them in his jacket pocket.
The next thing his fingers encountered in the saddlebag was a length of soft leather wrapped around something and tied with a worn leather thong. Curious, Reno pulled out the bundle and unwrapped it. Two long, slender metal rods with a notch in the blunt tips fell into his palm with a faintly musical sound.
Be damned, Reno thought. Spanish dowsing needles. Wonder if she’s skilled enough to use them.
Thoughtfully Reno wrapped up the large, blunt «needles» and put them back in the saddlebag.
The next thing his fingers encountered was the worn, dry leather of the Spanish journal. He opened it, flipped through it quickly to make certain it was the right one, and transferred it to his own saddlebags.
The rest of the contents of the girl’s saddlebag made Reno feel frankly uneasy about reclaiming his winnings from the pretty little cheat. All she had in her kit was a boy’s jacket, the scarlet dress, another dress made of flour sacks, and a boy’s ruffled white shirt and black pants. The gold ring was nowhere in sight. Nor was the handful of coins she had scooped up with the ring.
It was obvious she was way down on her luck. On the other hand…
«You keep moving your fingers toward that shotgun,» Reno said without looking up, «and I’m going to drag you out of that bedroll and teach you some manners.»
Eve froze, stunned. Until that instant she would have sworn the man hadn’t even known she was awake.
«Who are you?» she asked.
«Matt Moran.» As he spoke, he stuffed clothes back into the saddlebag. «But most folks call me Reno.»
Eve’s eyes widened to startled pools of gold. She had heard about the man called Reno. He was a gunfighter, but he never looked for battles. Nor did he hire out his lethal skills. He simply went his own way through the wild country, looking for placer gold during the high-mountain summers and for Spanish gold in the red hush of desert winter.
For a few crazy moments, Eve thought of bolting into the underbrush and hiding until Reno gave up and rode away. Almost as soon as the idea came, she abandoned it.
Reno’s aura of lazy grace no longer fooled her. She had seen him move in the saloon, his hands so fast they blurred. The Lyons had often praised Eve’s quick fingers, but she had no doubt that the man called Reno was faster than she was. She wouldn’t get three steps from her bedroll before he caught her.
«Don’t suppose you’d want to tell me where my ring is?» Reno asked after a moment.
«Yourring?» Eve asked indignantly. «It belonged to Don and Donna Lyon!»
«Until you stole it and lost it to Raleigh King, and I won it from him,» Reno said, shooting her a glance out of eyes like green ice. «Then it became my ring.»
«I didn’t steal it!»
Reno laughed.
It wasn’t a warm sound.
«Sure, gata,» he said sardonically, «you didn’t steal the ring. You just won it in a card game, right? Was it your deal by any chance?»
Anger rippled through Eve, driving out the odd sensations that had bothered her since she had seen the delicate pearls held so gently in Reno’s hand. With the surge of anger came a diminishing of her caution. Once more her hand eased toward the shotgun that lay just beyond her blankets.
«Actually,» Eve said in a clipped voice, «the ring was taken at gunpoint from a dying man.»
Reno gave her a disgusted look and went back to rummaging in the saddlebag.
«If you don’t believe me —» she began.
«Oh, I believe you, all right,» he interrupted. «I just didn’t think you’d be so proud of outright robbery.»
«I wasn’t the one holding the gun!»
«Had a partner, did you?»
«Damn you, why won’t you listen to me?» Eve demanded, furious that Reno thought her a thief.
«I’m listening. I’m just not hearing anything worth believing.»
«Try shutting up. You might be amazed at the things you learn with your mouth closed.»
The corner of Reno’s mouth lifted slightly, but it was the only sign he gave that he had heard Eve. Almost absently he groped in the saddlebag, searching for the ring. The cool, unmistakable feel of a gold coin brought his full attention back to his search.
«Didn’t think you had time to spend anything,» Reno said with satisfaction. «Old Jericho didn’t let any grass grow under his feet before he —»
The words ended abruptly as Reno tossed aside the saddlebag and uncoiled in a swift lunge that ended with the shotgun being yanked from Eve’s fingers.
The next thing Eve knew, she had been jerked from beneath the covers and was dangling from Reno’s powerful hands like a sack of flour. Fear shot through her. Without thinking, she brought her knee up fast and hard between Reno’s legs as Donna had taught her to do.
Reno blocked the blow before it could do any damage. When Eve went for his eyes, he buried his face against her throat and took her down to the ground.
Before Eve knew what had happened, she was stretched out flat on her back, unable to fight, unable to defend herself, unable to move at all except to take tiny, shallow breaths. Reno’s big body covered every bit of hers, driving the air from her lungs and the fight from her body. The bedroll’s thickness did little to cushion her from the hard ground beneath her.
«Let me go,» she gasped.
«Do I look like a fool?» he asked dryly. «God only knows what other nasty little tricks your mama taught you.»
«My mama died before I ever knew her face.»
«Uh-huh,» Reno said, obviously unmoved. «I suppose you’re a poor little orphan child with no one to look after you.»
Eve gritted her teeth and tried to get a grip on her temper. «As a matter of fact, I am.»
«Poor littlegata,» Reno said coolly. «Stop telling me sad stories or I’ll cloud up and cry all over you.»
