slept for three days straight. When I woke up, Uncle Matt was sitting there beside me with tears rollin' down his cheeks.'
Ash's voice grew husky with emotion. 'I needed somebody, and I guess they did, too. They never had any kids of their own that lived. I stayed with them until I was seventeen. Then they died of spotted fever, and I quit school and hired on to drive a herd of cattle out here to Colorado.'
'It must have been very difficult, losing your father and then your… your aunt and uncle.'
'Aunt Jane didn't have more than eight years of schooling, but she was the finest lady I've ever known. As for Uncle Matt, just ask any decent folks in Texas about Matt Bell. They'll tell you that they don't make men like him anymore.'
'I never knew my own mother,' Tamsin began. 'She-'
Suddenly Dancer threw up his head and whinnied. Fancy sidled close to him and stared down the valley, the way that they had come the day before.
Tamsin tensed and her heartbeat quickened. 'The cougar?' she whispered urgently. 'Do you think-'
'Quiet!' Ash went to the campfire and retrieved his rifle. His pistol hung around his waist. He'd recovered the handgun earlier. 'Bring the horses into camp,' he said.
'All right.' She tried to whistle, but her mouth was so dry that it came out a squeak. But Fancy's keen ears caught the sound. Instantly, the mare turned to look at her. Tamsin whistled again, and Fancy trotted toward her with the nervous stallion close behind.
Ash scanned the woods line as she put a rope on Fancy and tied her to a tree. A jay screamed a warning overhead. On the ground, a few yards away, a squirrel raced by, then scampered up a trunk and vanished in the green leaves.
'Shall I fetch Shiloh as well?' Tamsin asked. She pressed her hands against her sides so that Ash wouldn't see her trembling. She could imagine the mountain lion leaping on her as it had before. Her legs felt as though they were made of wood.
'Might as well.' Ash's dark gaze continued to rake the surrounding forest. 'Something spooked the horses. It may be nothing, but you don't make many errors in judgment in these mountains and survive.'
Then, as Tamsin forced herself to step out of the shade and into the sunlight of the clearing, she caught a flicker of movement on the far side of the creek. 'There!' She pointed. Something black appeared, then vanished again in the thick foliage.
Ash took careful aim at the bushes with his rifle. Dancer snorted and muscles rippled beneath his glossy hide. Tamsin didn't move.
She waited, expecting to hear a bear growl or the cougar snarl. But to her surprise, the sound that rose from the brush was a whine.
'It's all right,' Ash called.
'I don't-' Tamsin broke off as the Utes' black dog emerged from hiding. The wretched animal's tail curled between his legs and his belly hung close to the ground.
Ash crouched and slapped his knee. 'Come here, War-et.'
Instantly the little dog plunged into the stream and paddled across. Wet and shivering, still whining pitifully, the dog slunk to Ash's side.
'Where's your master?' Ash murmured. 'Where's Mountain Calf?'
Tamsin grabbed the strawberry roan's bridle and hurried back to the fire. 'Why did the dog come back here?' she asked.
'That's what I'd like to know.' He patted the animal's head. 'Poor pup. He looks as though he's had a rough time.'
Tamsin saw that one of War-et's ears was bloody and that he was covered with scratches.
'Nothing deep enough to be a puma attack,' Ash said, answering her unspoken question. 'But it's odd he'd leave on his own.'
'He looks hungry. Do you want something to eat?' she asked the animal. Sad eyes stared back at her. She glanced at Ash. 'Can I-'
'Yes, cut him off some of that venison. We've more than we can eat before it starts to turn anyway.'
Tamsin sliced off bits of raw meat and fed them slowly to the dog. When she decided he'd had enough, she shook her head. 'That's it. You'll be sick if I give you more.'
War-et's tail flicked hopefully.
'No more,' she said.
With a final whine, he curled at her feet.
'Maybe it chased the mountain lion and got separated from the Utes,' Tamsin suggested.
Ash remained alert, rifle cradled in the corner of his arm. 'Maybe,' he replied. He didn't think so. And suddenly, this hollow didn't seem like a perfect campsite anymore. An uneasy feeling gnawed at his innards. 'Saddle the horses,' he said to Tamsin.
'What?' She rested one hand on her hip and stared at him in puzzlement. 'But you said-'
'Forget what I said. We're backtracking. Now!' He began to kick dirt over the fire.
'You said that Shiloh's leg should rest today. You-'
'Damn it, woman. Can you never accept a simple order?' He didn't owe her any explanations. He had none to offer. And he'd already said too much to Tamsin. He'd told her about Glorieta Pass and Aunt Jane and Uncle Matt, private things he hadn't spoken of to another living soul in years.
Something about Tamsin made him want to trust her with his innermost secrets, but common sense told him that was foolhardy. If he wasn't careful, he'd let his personal life interfere with his job, and that was one rule he never broke.
He had an itch for Tamsin. Hell, it was more than that. He wanted her. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. She made his hands sweat, and his blood race, and his imagination run wild. The way she moved, the tilt of her head when she laughed, the sparkle in her green eyes, all drew him like a thirsty mustang to water.
He'd been too long without a woman when he'd let his ballocks rule his head. It would have been far better for him if he'd accepted Shelly's offer. He could have pulled her into Maudine's tub and scrubbed her from head to toe first. Shelly was none too bright, but she gave a man honest reward for his money.
And he didn't have to worry about Shelly shooting him in the back.
He tried to think of Shelly. She barely came up to his shoulder, and her hands and face were lily-white and soft. Her cupid mouth was painted scarlet, her eyes outlined in kohl as black as her hair. What clothes Shelly wore were feminine, tight-fitting, lacy, intended to entice a man.
How was it that he'd rejected a willing little baggage like Shelly to be tempted by a tall, freckle-faced outlaw's woman with callused hands and a will of iron?
Hellfire and damnation. Another night rolled in a blanket with Tamsin and that southern-sweet whiskey voice of hers would convince him that Henry Steele had murdered his own brother, and she was the next thing to a cross- wearing nun.
He stirred himself from thoughts of Tamsin and glanced around. Birds and squirrels still rustled in the trees; the horses seemed to have lost their fear once they saw the dog. Yet, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Maybe Jack Cannon and his boys were near, or maybe it was just his nerves stretched too tight.
Tamsin tightened the cinch on Shiloh's saddle. 'Which way are we going?'
'You have to ask?' He motioned to the narrow passageway that led east.
'This canyon ends here?' Tamsin eased a snaffle bit into the mare's mouth and slipped the headstall behind the animal's ears. Fancy stood unmoving, ignoring the stallion who pranced behind her, showing his teeth, and laying back his ears.
'It narrows again, then opens into a valley. But it runs west. We're going back toward Sweetwater.'
'Oh, I just wondered.' She pursed her lips thoughtfully. 'Then I was going in the right direction. West, through the mountains.'
'I just said so, didn't I?'
She nodded and turned away from him, toward the big bay.
'Will you tell me one thing?' Ash asked as Tamsin swung the plain Texas stock saddle over the mare's back. 'Why is it you put a western saddle on that sweet-tempered chestnut, and an English rig on that devil stud? Why
