nervously. The huge Cheyenne with the bones in his ears stood and paced, rifle ready.
Minutes passed without any unusual sounds. The moon rose, a pale crescent of ivory. Single stars winked on, one by one, and talk began to flow around the fire.
Tamsin shivered. Her face and front were warm, but fear of what might happen made her start at every stamp of a horse's hoof or snap of a twig.
Then the owl hooted again.
The giant with the shaved head shouted angrily and leaped to his feet. Buffalo Horn put a restraining hand on the dissenter's arm, attempting to argue, but the huge warrior jerked away and stalked into the woods followed by a second malcontent.
Minutes or an hour later-Tamsin couldn't be certain- the bald man returned alone. Buffalo Horn questioned him. He shrugged and looked worried.
Buffalo Horn glared malevolently at Tamsin. 'You are a witch.' He rose to his feet and came toward her.
Shuddering, she leaped up and backed away.
'Did you bring Demon Claw?' he demanded, snaking his knife from the sheath at his side.
'No,' she protested. 'I-'
Something huge, dark, and braying broke from the trees. Men and horses scattered as a mule burst into the center of the clearing, trailing a ball of fire. Shots exploded wildly. Coals and sparks sprayed in all directions.
Buffalo Horn whirled and dived for his rifle. Tamsin didn't wait to see what he would do. She ran for cover amid a volley of frenzied shots, shouting men, and stampeding horses.
An Indian mustang galloped toward Tamsin, trailing a rope. She seized a handful of mane and tried to pull herself up, but the animal shied sideways and lashed out at her with his teeth.
She caught a glimpse of Buffalo Horn taking aim at her with his rifle, and she dived for the earth. A squealing bay horse leapt over her and careened into the darkness.
Tamsin tasted dirt and rolled, shielding her face with her arms. A rifle cracked, and a limb shattered over her head. She started to crawl away, then heard another horse bearing down on her.
'Tamsin!'
Ash's voice cut through her terror. She looked up to see him pounding across the clearing on Shiloh. Behind Ash, Buffalo Horn whooped a war cry and threw himself onto the nearest Indian pony.
One chance, she thought. I've got only one chance. She waited, frozen, as Ash galloped closer and closer.
Then he leaned from the saddle and snatched her up. His arm clamped around her as she shut her eyes and scrambled to find something solid to grab on to as they plunged into the trees.
Before she could get a grip on Ash or the saddle, Shiloh reared and skidded on the loose stones. Ash dropped her on her feet.
'Take cover!' he yelled.
'Don't leave me!'
He reined the gelding around and spurred back the way they came. Tamsin heard the crash of underbrush and saw Buffalo Horn galloping toward him.
Two rifles barked as one.
Ash stiffened and wheeled his horse in a tight circle. An Indian pony trotted past. Buffalo Horn clung to the animal's mane for a few yards, then fell forward to sprawl on the ground.
Tamsin started toward the riderless horse.
'No,' Ash said. 'Get up behind me.' He offered her his hand again and kicked loose his stirrup. She thrust a foot into it and accepted his help to mount behind him.
Ash urged Shiloh on, pausing only to slap the barrel of his rifle against the Indian horse's rump. The animal squealed and charged off in another direction.
'What about the cougar?' Tamsin whispered as Ash slowed his gelding to traverse a steep stretch of gravel.
'Me,' he replied. 'I wanted to make them nervous.'
'It worked.'
A branch tangled in her hair and scraped her back. 'What about my horses?'
'I cut them loose,' he grated. 'Right now, I'd like to worry about my scalp.'
She could hear the Indians behind them, and the cry of anger when they discovered Buffalo Horn. She buried her face in the back of Ash's shirt and held on with all of her strength as they reached a break in the undergrowth and galloped pell-mell down the wooded incline.
All night they played cat and mouse, following rocky streambeds and rugged coulees. Often they heard shots, and once they dismounted so Ash could hold Shiloh's nose to keep him from whinnying as two Cheyenne rode by.
At dawn they discovered a small clearing with a mule and three horses grazing there. 'Dancer! Fancy!' Tamsin cried hoarsely.
'Shhh, keep your voice down. Wait to-'
The stallion raised his head and nickered. Shiloh returned the greeting. Tamsin dismounted and found she was almost too stiff to walk.
'Fancy! Here, girl,' she called softly.
The chestnut snorted and trotted over, followed by an Appaloosa mare. Murmuring endearments, Tamsin stroked Fancy's soft nose and neck.
'She's safe,' she said to Ash. The Cheyenne hadn't even bothered to unsaddle her. Her bridle was missing one rein, but Ash used several pigging strings from his saddlebag to make up for it.
'Mount up,' he said tersely when Tamsin had tied the rawhide together to make another rein. 'We need to put distance between us and them.'
Too weary to question his orders, she pulled herself up onto Fancy's back and fell in behind Shiloh. Dancer, the Appaloosa mare, and the mule followed. The mule had scratches along his sides and singed spots on his rump.
'Poor thing,' Tamsin murmured. 'What did you do to him?'
'Tied a Texas tornado to his tail. Lit brush and a few cartridge shells.'
'That's cruel,' she replied.
'I figured the rope would burn through before the fire got to the mule. It must have, because he looks a hell of a sight better than you do.'
She nodded. She wanted to thank him for saving her life, but she knew if she said one word, she'd choke up and lose her nerve. She'd given Ash every reason to abandon her, but he hadn't. He'd risked his life for hers. He was still risking it.
'How long will they follow us?'
He shrugged. 'I wounded one at the campfire and killed that brave that came after us. That's bound to make them mad.'
'One Cheyenne went off into the woods, after the owl hooted, but before-'
'Where do you think I got the rifle?'
'You killed him?'
Ash didn't answer, and she felt foolish. Of course he'd killed him. Tears welled up in her eyes and wet her cheeks. She wiped them away, but more trickled down.
He glanced back at her. 'Why are you crying now?'
'I don't want to die.'
'Reckon them Cheyenne didn't either. It was just a game to them, until things went the wrong way.'
'You shouldn't have come for me,' she said, urging her mare up beside Ash's weary horse. 'After what I did to you… Why did you-'
'Don't ask. You might not like the answer.'
She bit her lower Up and tried to control her emotions. 'Thank you,' she whispered.
He didn't say anything for a long time, not until the sun was high overhead. Then he looked back at her, and she noticed how gray and gaunt his features looked.
'You know I can't let them capture you,' Ash said.
She roused herself out of a stupor. 'What?'
'I can't let the Cheyenne take you prisoner.'
