Table of Contents

Cover Page

Praise

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About The Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Copyright

Praise for Carolyn Davidson’s previous titles

The Forever Man

“This is a lucid and graceful romance, new pleasure for readers who loved ‘Sarah, Plain and Tall.’”

—Romantic Times

“The dream of happiness centers lovingly around The Forever Man, which becomes the forever family.”

—Rendezvous

Loving Katherine

“Readers will enjoy this tender tale.”

—Romantic Times

“4¹/₂…wonderful characters…Newcomer

Carolyn Davidson appears to have a bright future…”

—Affaire de Coeur

Gerrity’s Bride

“…fun, excitement and suspense. Most enjoyable.”

—Rendezvous

“Carolyn Davidson creates such vivid images, you’d think she was using paints instead of words.”

—bestselling author Pamela Morsi

“It’s not proper for us to be in a
bedroom together, Will,”

Cassie said in a harsh whisper.

He grinned. “We’ve been sleepin’ together for better than two weeks already. Unless you want to go down there and tell my ma that we’re not the married couple she thinks we are, we’re stuck with this until I can figure something out.”

“Once we sleep in this room together, we’re stuck with the story, no matter how you slice it,” she hissed at him.

“Well, I can’t come up with any better idea,” Will said softly. “I’m afraid your reputation is about shot, Cass. And it’s my fault. Do you want me to go downstairs and tell my mother we’ve traipsed clear from Texas without being married?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what I want. I just know I don’t want to sleep in that bed with you tonight!”

Dear Reader,

It’s June, so start thinking about your summer reading! Whether you’re going to the beach or simply going to relax on the porch, don’t forget to bring along a Harlequin Historical® novel. This month we are delighted with the return of the immensely popular Carolyn Davidson. Carolyn is a self-described writer of “farm love” whose stories feature hardworking, masculine heroes and strong family ties. Never is this more obvious than in Runaway, the story of a young woman who, hours after her mother’s death, fatally wounds her stepfather in self-defense and is rescued by a kind cowboy, who takes her back to his parents’ Missouri home as his “wife.”

Widow Woman, by long-time Silhouette author Patricia McLinn, is a compelling Western about a beautiful rancher who must win back the heart of her ex-foreman—the man she once refused to marry and the unknowing father of her child. Laurel Ames returns with Infamous, in which a dashing nobleman and spy, having put up with a very silly and snobbish mother and sister all his life, finally meets a woman he feels is worth pursuing—much to his family’s chagrin!

Rounding out the month is Midsummer’s Knight by award-winning author Tori Phillips. Here, a confirmed bachelor and a reluctant widow betrothed against their will switch identities with their friends to spy on the other, and fall in love in the process!

Whatever your tastes in reading, you’ll be sure to find a romantic journey back to the past between the covers of a Harlequin Historical® novel.

Sincerely,

Tracy Farrell

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont L2A 5X3

Runaway
Carolyn Davidson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAROLYN DAVIDSON

Writing about small towns, ranches and farms comes naturally to Carolyn Davidson, who hails from a long line of farmers on her mother’s side. From her father’s side of the family, a strain of Gypsy blood lent flights of fancy to the mix, creating a child with a wild imagination. In her early years she made up stories to tell her nieces and nephews; as a teenager she wrote them in notebooks.

Then came marriage to her high school sweetheart, a union that thrives today and has produced six children. Only when the nest was empty did she try her hand at serious writing. Serious, as in love and marriage. Romance, in a word. After selling seven novels during the past few years, she has decided that writing is far and away the most exciting venture she has embarked upon.

Be sure to look for Carolyn’s next book, The Wedding Promise, available in October 1998. Readers’ comments are more than welcome in her mailbox, P.O. Box 60626, North Charleston, S.C. 29419-0626.

To old friends, who only improve with age.

To childhood memories and growing-up years. To those

who have shared my life and enriched it—but especially

to cousins Shirley and Kate, my first friends, who have

wonderful staying power. And, as always—to Mr. Ed,

who loves me.

Prologue

North Texas, 1894

His hands curved, fingers spread, as if ripe peaches waited to be grasped and held against his palms. But the avid, greedy heat of his gaze focused not on a tempting display of fruit, but on the gently rounded breasts of the young woman across the room from where he stood.

“Your mama would have wanted me to look after you, Cassie.” Thin and rasping, his voice grated on her ears, and the girl backed another step closer to the doorway.

“I’ll take good care of you, girl.” He’d begun to wheedle now, and she recognized the direction of his thoughts. She’d seen him, heard him distract her mother with his coaxing, whining small tributes to her fading beauty, until he could reach out and grab the woman he’d sorely misused for three years.

One more step and she would be within sight of freedom. One small glide to the right, the careful easing of her foot past his rumpled pile of clothing, and she would flee. She could outrun him, once she made the doorway. He’d had enough to drink, waiting for Cleta’s last breath to sigh past her ashen lips, to make him clumsy, to make his voice slur as he spoke.

“Your mama’s barely cold. We need to see to her bury-in’, you and me.” He lifted his grimy hand to swipe beneath his nose, and Cassie’s flesh crawled, as if hundreds of small worms moved beneath her skin.

She slid her foot a few inches, brought the other to meet it and caught sight of filtered sunlight, patterned across the floor of the next room. Her hands flattening on the wall behind her, she groped for the curved molding marking the doorway.

“Don’t be thinkin’ you’ll run off, girl. We got things to settle here. Your mama told me you’d need lookin’ after, and who better than your pa to tend to you.” The same hand he’d smeared beneath his nose extended toward her, the ragged fingernails rough against her arm, and she bolted.

Shuddering at his touch, she rounded the doorway, blinking at the sunlight, her eyes accustomed to the dark bedroom. She’d huddled next to the lumpy mattress for hours, tending the woman who’d lost almost all resemblance to the mother she remembered.

“Come back here, young’un!” Remus Chandler plunged after her, his lips drawn back, his tobacco-stained teeth bared in a grim travesty of a smile. His curved fingers snagged the fringe of her shawl and he tugged sharply.

It was a simple choice, and Cassie made it without a second thought. Releasing the hold she’d maintained during the night hours, when the shawl had been a matter of warmth, she relinquished it into his keeping. She scampered across the outer room, past the rough table that held the remnants of Remus Chandler’s breakfast, along with the dirty plate from his meal last night.

Was it only yesterday when she’d found her mother curled on the bed, breath rasping as if she must conserve each small measure of air? Cleta had mumbled words of instruction against Cassie’s cheek. Words that warned of the evil inherent in the man she had married, both mother and daughter long since ruing the day.

“Run, child. Get away…Remus…hide, Cassie.” Cleta’s frail voice had moaned the broken phrases and Cassie had brushed countless kisses against her mother’s brow, whispering words of assurance in reply.

“I’ll be fine, Mama. Rest easy now.” She’d cried her tears in the months gone by, and now her eyes were dry, burning from the sleepless night. Hours without rest had left her body weary, but her mind and senses were sharpened, honed by the fear instilled in her by her mother. Remus Chandler was cruel, rotten to the core, and her legal stepfather. Only the needs of the frail woman who’d borne her had served to keep Cassie within the man’s clutches.

Now his groping hand tugged at her dress, sharp fingernails digging at the flesh beneath, and Cassie cried out at the indignity of it. She reached back to snatch the cloth from his grasp and met the bony grip, his fingers wrapping around her wrist.

“Let go of me, you filthy bastard!” As if it were familiar to her lips, the curse was spit in his direction, and he met it with a snarl.

“I’ll teach you to talk to your pa thataway, girl!” His other hand reached for her and he shoved her to the wall, slamming her head against the logs.

Pitching her slight weight against him, she retaliated, and caught him off balance. Together, looking like a tipsy pair of dancers in a barroom, they slid across the floor, Remus tottering, Cassie shoving him in a desperate attempt to free herself from his grasping hands.

The table was against his back and his whiskey-laden breath was foul in her nostrils when he pulled her flush against his scrawny body. She reached to balance herself on the table, and her fingers met the sharp side of the knife he’d used to saw at his stringy beef last night.

She grasped at it, unaware of the slice she inflicted across her palm. Allowing the knife to slide within her clasp, she gripped the bone handle with a fierceness that radiated to her very soul.

Lifting the weapon, she plunged it to the hilt. It entered his back just next to his shoulder blade, the tip exploring the very center of his heart.

Chapter One

It looked like a bundle of clothing, tossed by the side of the stream, until he caught sight of a bare foot emerging from the froth of undergarments.

If Will had had his druthers, he’d have finished watering his horse and gone on his way without a second glance. But the upbringing he’d received at his mother’s knee, way back when, would not allow such a thing to happen.

Looking into the face of death would be disruptive to his morning, but over the years he’d managed to inure himself to the sight So it was with a sigh of resignation that he nudged the toe of his boot beneath the middle of the shabby bundle of clothing and lifted the slight form buried within.

The body rolled, the foot being joined by a second as it slid even farther from the protective folds of fabric surrounding it. Two rounded calves, pale against the grassy slope, caught his eye. Then a slender arm that had covered her face fell beneath her, exposing a length of dark hair, a bare shoulder and the profile of a young girl.

“I’ll be damned!” Whether he was relieved by the flutter of eyelashes that bespoke life or aggravated by the responsibility he’d taken upon himself with his investigation was a moot question. Will was on his way to parts north, and being attached in any way to a female—and especially one as young as this—was not a part of his plan.

He squatted, reaching with one finger to nudge at the bare shoulder. “Hey there, missy! Let’s take a look at you.”

The eyelids ceased fluttering, the nostrils flared and the mouth opened.

The finger he’d poked her with joined the other three just in time to curve across her mouth, stifling the scream he’d figured would be greeting him. What he hadn’t figured on was the set of even white teeth that nipped sharply at him, just as the creature within the bundle of female clothing rolled from his touch.

Already too close to the bank of the stream for any degree of safety, she plunged with amazing speed into the gently rippling water. Within seconds, the flurry of movement spurred Will into action. Kneeling in the spot the girl had occupied, he reached one hand to grasp at an arm that was groping from the surface of the water.

She was small, slim and supple, but weighed down by the dress and petticoats she wore, and his muscles bunched and flexed as he hauled her from the water. Hoisting himself to his feet, he dragged her up the creek bank, both hands full of wet clothing, then held her before him.

Her dark hair hung in wet strings across her face, and her eyes squinted shut against the water. Coughing and gagging, she clung to his arms, sagging as if her legs would not hold her erect. The blue dress was torn, exposing her right arm and shoulder and the very top of a lush, curving breast.

Hell’s bells! This was no kid, no youngster in need of rescue. He’d just managed to get himself tangled up with a woman, full grown from the looks of it. And of all the things in this world Will Tolliver didn’t need, a stray female topped the list.

She’d coughed her way out of choking to death at least, and her legs seemed better able to hold her upright. He eased his grip on her shoulders, noting idly the texture of her skin as his fingers slid over the wet surface.

And then she looked at him. Opening her eyes, blinking several times at the sunlight, she gaped at him.

Eyes like the forget-me-nots his mother had growing by the outhouse took his measure. Blue as the summer sky, edged with a darker rim and surrounded by a fringe of black lashes that clumped together with a residue of water from the stream, those eyes made a journey from the top of his head to the middle of his chest and then back.

“Who are you?”

It was a woman’s voice, sure enough, he decided. Low pitched, holding only the faintest tremor, it issued from a soft mouth that trembled and then stilled its giveaway movement as she clamped her lips together.

The shivers racking her body were another matter altogether. Only a warm fire and dry clothing would solve that particular problem, and with a sigh of aggravation, Will set about bringing it to pass.

“My name’s Tolliver,” he grunted. “And takin’ care of a half-drowned female is a far sight from what I had planned for today.”

Her eyes widened at his words, and she planted her feet more firmly against the creek bank. “Then take your hands off me, mister, and make tracks. Nobody asked you to wake me up and shove me into the stream.”

Will plopped her down where she stood, only too aware of the clinging fabric of her dress and undergarments, resisting the urge to tug the wet material into place over the rise of her bosom.

Bad enough to be needing a woman’s touch for longer than he could remember. Even worse was standing here eyeing this female’s form, bosom half exposed to view, and him randy as a barnyard rooster.

His sigh of resignation was deep and heartfelt. “Sit right there and don’t move. I’m gonna build a fire and find you something to put on.” He turned from the sodden lump she’d become with his urging, her arms winding around her knees, bent almost double to better warm herself.

“Yes, all right,” she said grudgingly, her eyes wary as she watched him head for his horse and pack mule. Within moments he’d stripped the mule of a bulky, canvaswrapped bundle and begun rooting around in its depths. With a grunt that appeared to signify success, he pulled out a nondescript shirt, slinging it over his shoulder. It was wrinkled, but looked to be fairly clean. A pair of heavy stockings came next, joining the shirt, and then a pair of trousers.

“Tolliver?” Her voice had lost its tremor, but not the low, sultry sound he’d noted right off.

“Yeah?” He looked back at her over his shoulder. She was too young to sound so damn womanly, he decided. Her face was sunburned across her nose and forehead, freckles dotting her cheeks and joining across the bridge of her narrow nose. The dark hair was long, hanging almost to the ground as she crouched before him.

“Thank you for pulling me out of the water. I can’t swim.” The words were grudging, but issued in a polite form that suggested she had just remembered her manners. Blowing ineffectively at a lock of hair that hung just in front of her right eye, she looked up at him.

“You wouldn’t have been in the water if I hadn’t scared you into jerking away from me,” he told her after a moment. Fair was fair, and the girl was trying to be decent. She was probably scared to death of him, too much so to get up and run, lest he be after her.

“Were you serious about building a fire?” Shivering as she spoke, she hugged herself even tighter as she rocked in place.

“Soon’s I find you enough warm clothes to put on.” He searched another moment, then cast her a glance. “You’ll have to do without underwear. I seem to be scrapin’ the bottom here.”

A faint flush crept up her cheeks, joining the sunburn. “I’m sure anything will do, as long as it’s dry and big enough.”

His laughter was short and harsh. “This shirt will wrap around you a couple of times, if my eyes serve me right Don’t know about the pants. You’ll have to find that out the hard way, I suspect.”

Stuffing the clothing into a compact bundle, he headed back to where she sat “I’ll gather up some firewood and get it going while you get those wet things off.” He waved his hand at a nearby thicket, where bushes and undergrowth vied for space near the stream.

The girl rose quickly, with a sinuous grace, her arms wrapped around herself, as if she would hold against her skin whatever small amount of warmth she had garnered. One hand reached for the proffered bundle, snatching it from him quickly, her eyes barely meeting his before she headed for the shelter he’d suggested.

Her clothing clung, draping her in a wet, dingy array, another tear exposing one shoulder blade, the hem of her dress trailing a torn portion in the dirt as she walked. And walk she did…her hips moving, that wet dress emphasizing the curve of her bottom.

A bruise caught his eye, the discoloration dark against her skin, showing through the torn part of her dress on her back. Either she’d been in one dickens of a fuss with someone, or she’d fallen and gotten herself scraped up somehow. Whichever, she was shivering and about at the end of her tether, so far as he could tell.

If he had his directions right, he was about ten miles or so from either the small settlement of Loco Junction or the town of St. Catherines. And which one this woman had come from was a moot question. Certainly, she’d not walked more than ten miles, unless she had shoes hidden on her person or tossed aside beneath the trees before she’d made her bed by the water.

His gaze traveled again to encompass the form that was even now disappearing behind the bushes, and he grunted, a low, negative sound that echoed his mood. Nowhere beneath that clinging mass of clothing was there hiding anything so cumbersome as a pair of shoes. Indeed, the arrangement of the girl’s body was a pure line from head to toe, unblemished by any bulge or lump other than those she’d come by through the process of just being a woman. And every one of those were in fine shape, her bottom being a prime piece of work if he’d ever seen one.

His fire was ablaze, the dry leaves and kindling he’d set to burning well covered by larger pieces of dead wood, by the time she reappeared. She’d buttoned the shirt partway and was clutching the waistline of his spare pants just beneath the fourth shirt button. His stockings were barely in sight beneath the multiple folds of pant legs, and she took mincing steps as if she feared dislodging the clothing before she reached him.

“Need some help there?” Will offered, crouched next to the fire, his eyes peering from beneath the brim of his hat

“Do you have a piece of rope or a belt, maybe?” Her hair hung down her back, making wet stains on the gray shirt he’d loaned her, and the sleeves were folded several times.

He’d solved one problem. She was more than covered from his view.

“I should have a spare belt.” The bundle of clothing was at hand and he dipped into it once more, coming up with a braided leather length from its depths. “This oughta work. Come here.”

She halted, her eyes wary as she considered his words. “Toss it to me. I’ll figure it out myself.” One hand reached toward him and he shrugged, rolling the leather before he cast it in her direction, across the fire.

She caught it deftly and fed it through the belt loops, tying it in an awkward knot at her middle. One final tug at her handiwork seemed to satisfy her, and she lifted her head to look at him again.

“Do you have any extra food? I’m afraid I can’t pay you any money, but I’ll write you a due note. As soon as I’m able, I’ll make it right with you.” Her tongue touched her top lip and she tilted her head, fussing with the remaining buttons on her shirt. “I’d rather not go back toward Loco Junction, if you don’t mind. Any place north of here will do nicely.”

His eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting briefly. “A man never turns down a stranger’s need for food out here, honey. Hard to say when I might be in the same boat. I’ll share what I have.”

She nodded, accepting his offer, then hunkered down by the fire. As if the beckoning heat gathered all of her energy, she slumped where she sat, her head drooping, her arms wrapped about her knees, her eyes closing.

Setting to work with a measure of reluctance, Will put together a meal of sorts, unwrapping biscuits he’d made early in the day by another campfire. He settled a frying pan over the glowing coals, filling it with thick slices of bacon from his pack. As the bacon fried he added chunks of cooked potatoes, left from last night’s supper. He’d baked several in the coals, saving two for today. From the looks of the girl, she’d be more than able to eat her share.

The scent of bacon and the coffee he’d put to boil roused her after a few minutes and she raised her head, sniffing and blinking, her mouth rosy as she warmed finally from her chill. Her hair had begun to dry, curling around her face, and she gathered it together, her slender fingers twisting in its length to braid it quickly.

“Do you have a piece of string I could use?”

“You can leave it hang, honey. I don’t mind seein’ the curls.” His gaze moved from stilled fingers, still holding the end of her hastily fashioned braid, to meet her own, wary and dark with apprehension.

With a short oath, born of aggravation but heartfelt nonetheless, he reached into the depths of his pack once more. His fingers snatched at a short length of twine, filched from the seemingly bottomless bundle of supplies he was raiding for her benefit, and handed it to her.

She wrapped it in a familiar gesture around the end of her braid and tossed the braid over her shoulder, letting it hang down her back.

“When was the last time you ate?” He glanced at her as he spoke, making a quick survey, taking in the weariness she took pains to conceal. The sleep she’d snatched beside the stream had done little to freshen her, if the circles beneath her eyes were anything to go by.

“Yesterday.” She eyed him defensively as he pursed his lips. “Maybe the day before,” she added grudgingly, leaning once more toward the warmth of the fire.

He dished up a plateful from his skillet and held it out in her direction. Her eagerness stifled by good manners, she took it from him and snatched up a piece of bacon dangling from the edge of the metal dish. Delicately she bit off a mouthful, her eyes closing as she chewed.

“I reckon you were hungry, all right,” he said, scraping the rest of the food onto another plate. Handing her a fork, he watched as she set to with a will, almost neglecting his own meal as he watched her. And then he ate slowly, lest she’d make her way through the food he’d allotted her and still be looking for more. It went against his grain to see a woman go hungry.

The last bite disappeared past her lips and she sighed, savoring the flavor. “Thanks, Tolliver. That was good.” She straightened, her blue eyes focusing on him. “Do you have an extra cup? That coffee smells wonderful.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Dig one outta that bundle.” Motioning with his thumb, he sent her in the direction of his mule, where another pack lay open on the ground, having yielded cooking utensils and matches for the fire.

She rose gingerly, as if various aches and pains had made themselves known, and stepped to where his supplies were stashed. Squatting, she sorted carefully through his belongings, as if she would touch only what he had given permission for. A metal cup filled her hand and she turned back to where he sat. He’d filled his own cup to the brim and waited, coffeepot in hand, for her return.

“Thanks.” She lowered herself to the ground, watching carefully lest she spill the steaming brew, as if unwilling to waste a drop of it. Her hands curled around the cup, shifting from the heat as she sipped, then she placed it on the ground beside her.

“Where’d you come from?” He’d leaned back, tilting his hat forward a bit, his eyes in shadow.

“Does it matter?” she asked, her lashes fluttering as she lowered her gaze to the fire.

“Nope, I reckon not” Sipping once more at his coffee, he narrowed his eyes, silently assessing her appearance. She was young, probably not yet twenty.

Her clothing had been well made, but the dress had undergone a heap of wear and tear. And then there was the matter of a lack of shoes. Her feet were dirty and bruised up a bit, now that he took a good look at them. Maybe she had walked barefoot after all. At least ten miles, if he had it figured right.

“Loco Junction.” She cast him a sidelong glance as she offered the information. “But I’m not going back there.”

“Your choice.” His shrug signified his uninterest. And then his next words belied the gesture. “Looks to me like you’re on the run, honey.”

“Maybe.” She glanced up at him, catching his sardonic grin, and she flushed, her chin tilting defensively. “I’m on the run.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m not going back.”

“Somebody after you?”

She looked up quickly, peering to see his eyes beneath the wide brim of his hat. “I hope not. But I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”

“You steal anything?” Withdrawing a narrow-bladed knife from its sheath inside his boot, he inspected his fingernails, then cleaned them as she watched.

“I’ve never stolen anything in my life.” She lifted her cup and drank the dregs of coffee, savoring the last drops.

“You in bad trouble?” Glancing up, he caught the quickly indrawn breath, the telltale flaring of her nostrils as she searched for an answer to his query.

“You can just go on and leave me here if you want to. I’ll be fine.” Her mouth was set in a thin line, her jaw firm, her eyes trained on his left shoulder.

His laugh was rasping as he considered her chances, adrift in this country. Northern Texas was raw, rough territory, not fit for a woman alone.

“You got any idea how long you’d last out here by yourself?” he asked, his long, elegant fingers precise as he slid the knife back inside his boot. He looked up quickly, hoping to catch a stray emotion, perhaps a sign of indecision on that sunburned face. She’d tightened her lips, hiding behind a sullen countenance.

“What are my choices?”

“How old are you, girl?” She made him feel a hundred and one, this child masquerading in a woman’s body. She’d offered no payment for his protection, asked no favors but for the food she’d eaten, leaving herself wide open to the perils inherent to the situation she was in. That he could have had any answers he wanted with a few probing questions, or a threatening movement in her direction, was a fact, he figured.

“What’s your name?” He threw the question in, then felt a twinge of compassion as she frowned at him. The arrogance had not suited her, the indecision did. She’d not lived long enough to build a protective shield, not played poker with men like Will Tolliver.

“Cassie. My name’s Cassie Phillips.” She’d decided to trust him with that much, the indecision fading from her eyes. Her mouth pouted for just a few seconds, and then she told him what he wanted to know. “I’m eighteen…almost.”

“Damn! You’re just a kid. Who turned you loose out here? He needs to be hung by his—” He tugged his hat from his head, his strong fingers plowing through his hair, furrowing the dark, straight length of it.

“I’m not a child. I don’t need anyone.” She delivered the ultimatum in a terse undertone, her teeth gritting on the final words, and he was unwillingly touched by the stalwart strength of her.

“Well, I’m headin’ north.” He’d made her an offer. If she took it, so be it If she wanted to dillydally around in this godforsaken spot between two hellholes, he’d—

“Are you saying you’ll take me along?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. I’ll take you along till we can find a place for you to stay. Maybe some preacher and his wife somewhere along the way will give you a home, let you work for your keep.” He latched on to the thought. It sounded respectable, plausible even.

She considered it, her eyes calculating, and once more he was amused by the transparency of her features. “I’m not overly fond of preachers.”

“One of ‘em chase you out of town?”

Her flush was indignant. “Hardly. Loco Junction didn’t welcome decent ministers. The only one I’ve seen lately was the one who came knocking on our door late one night, hoping to find my mother home alone.” Her mouth tightened and she closed her eyes, as if that particular memory still rankled.

He nodded. “All right. We’ll figure something else out. Maybe a farmer. Maybe you could work in a store.” Cassie looked doubtful, and Will shook his head. He’d about run out of ideas, and the ones he’d proposed hadn’t been much to speak of. But he added, “Since we’ll be traveling together, you’d better call me Will.”

She sure was a piece of work, with that long hair and curvy backside. His mouth drew down as he forced that thought from his head. Clearly the girl was an innocent, yet he was hard put to rid his mind of the memory of a softly rounded breast and long slender legs, wrapped in a sopping wet dress.

She was a temptation, all right. But one he had no business dwelling on, if he planned to carry her with him. And it looked as if he was about to do that very thing.

Chapter Two

She’d awakened twice during the night from the same nightmare, her heart pounding, her eyes searching the darkness. He’d been there both times, his hands firm as they pressed against her shoulders, his voice ragged but soothing as he murmured phrases of comfort.

Cassie’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked them from existence. Crying was a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time. She wasn’t about to allow the hands and voice of a stranger to reduce her to childish behavior.

For just a moment she remembered the warmth of those long fingers as they’d clasped her, their gentle strength penetrating the worn cotton of the shirt she wore. He’d shaken her, just enough to get her attention, to pull her mind from the enveloping horror of the dream. And she’d reached for him.

Her face hot with shame, she remembered groping in the dark, grasping the front of his shirt, burying her face against his masculine form. He’d held her there, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other across her shoulders. Just for a moment, until she’d realized where she was, that the bosom she rested against bore no resemblance to that of her mother.

She’d pulled away then, and he’d let her go. He’d delivered one final grunt of instruction as he rose to his feet, a growling admonition to go back to sleep, and then he’d stretched out on his blanket and turned his back.

Men were cunning creatures, she’d decided just months after her mother had married Remus Chandler. He’d been all sweetness and light until the first time her mother had not done his bidding to his exact standards. His hands had been weapons, used often, and Cassie had been safe from him only because of her mother.

Will seemed to be a different sort, gruff and not given to gentle behavior, though she couldn’t fault his actions in the middle of the night. That she’d been held in his arms was a wonder. That she’d tolerated his touch was almost a miracle, given her dread of most men.

They’d traveled for several hours yesterday, she perched on the broad back of his stallion, clinging to the leather of his saddle. He’d lifted her in place and hoisted himself into the saddle with care, with only a cursory glance at her stocking feet and a muttered curse as his horse danced in place, protesting the double load.

She’d been almost asleep, her head nodding against his broad back, when he’d stopped for the night. Grateful for the blanket he’d handed her, she’d slumped to the ground without a murmur.

She blinked, the call of a bird shrill in her ears. It was the piercing, territorial warning of a blue jay, and she scrunched her eyes against the brilliant hues of sunrise. Her gaze flew to the blanket on the other side of the clearing, the empty space where Will Tolliver had spent the night.

And then she heard him, heard the same gruff tones he’d used against her ear, speaking morning greetings to his animals. She sat up, the better to locate his direction, and found that he was behind her, not more than twenty feet distant. Twisting around, she met his gaze.

“Morning.” His nod accompanied the brief greeting, and she responded in kind.

Her body rebelled as she arose, her legs and feet aching a protest. The walking she’d done had been off the beaten path—her instincts had told her to stay clear of the trail—and her feet had borne the brunt of it. Unable to stand with any degree of comfort, she lowered herself to the ground once more, gingerly rolling her borrowed stockings down to uncover her toes, bending to inspect them. She frowned as her fingers traced the bruising from multiple scrapes she’d managed to inflict.

“Think if you washed them they’d look a little better?”

Her eyes narrowed as she heard the dry humor behind his suggestion. “Not a whole lot,” she allowed, rising with a muffled groan, stepping gingerly as she passed him by.

“There’s a pond just beyond those trees,” he told her, pointing the way. “It won’t hurt to dangle your feet in the water a bit. Might make them feel better.”

“Thanks.” She limped past, following his direction. Leaving her shoes behind had been a mistake of major proportions, one she’d regretted more than once during the hike she’d undertaken. And then there was another regret. Her conscience had been sorely pierced by the memory of her mother’s body, and her not seeing to a decent burial. Although the best she could have done was barely fit to mention.

Besides, Mama’s soul was surely in heaven, far removed from the man who’d made her life a torment.

Lastly, there was the small matter of Remus Chandler. Her landing in jail if she’d hung around was almost a certainty. Whether or not she was being pursued by the law was the thing she needed to consider.

Cassie sat on the bank of the shallow pond, gingerly breaking the surface of the water with her toes. Chilly, but not icy, she decided, scooting forward until her feet were covered by the water.

“Want some soap?”

He’d come up behind her, and she jerked in response to his query. “You could let a body know you’re prowling around,” she said sharply. His boots moved beside her and he squatted inches away, his hand holding the narrow piece of hard soap.

She took it, glancing up into dark eyes that pierced her with silent reproach. Their hands brushed, her fingers curling around his offering, and then she relented.

“Thanks for waking me up during the night. I don’t usually have bad dreams.” It was a gruff acknowledgment of his kindness, about the best she could come up with.

He rocked on the balls of his feet, balancing beside her. “We all take a turn with nightmares sometime in our lives, Cassie. I’ve had my share.” He dropped a dingy towel into her lap, rising to his feet. “I’ll take a look at your feet after you clean ‘em up a little. Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

“Thank you.” She’d dreaded seeing him in the daylight, but he’d made it easy on her. Of course, she still hadn’t actually faced him, other than that one glance. She bent over, lifted one foot and set to work. Maybe the soap would help. Maybe there was more dirt than bruises.

“Damn, you sure beat up these poor feet of yours. You’re not used to goin’ barefoot, are you?” Will lifted her foot for his appraisal and shook his head at the sight She’d suffered numerous small cuts from stones, and what skin wasn’t scratched up by the rough ground was nicked by bushes she’d tramped through. Already healing, her feet had responded well to the soap and water.

Now he added the benefit of alcohol to the treatment he’d prescribed. His bottle of whiskey, wrapped in another shirt, had been at the bottom of his saddlebag and he’d poured out a small measure into his cup.

“That burns!” she cried, curling her fingers into fists, drawing her shoulders high, watching as he scrubbed at each scratch with a whiskey-soaked cloth.

“It’ll burn worse if these start to fester up.” He held one foot high, her heel resting in his palm. “I’m usin’ my good whiskey on you, girl. Don’t give me any grief.”

She bit her lip, holding back the remark she’d been about to make. As far as she was concerned, whiskey wasn’t good for much, other than washing out wounds and making hot toddies. It certainly hadn’t improved Remus Chandler’s disposition any. Rotgut was what her mother had called it, that vile stuff Remus had swigged down with great regularity. Cassie shuddered at the memory.

“Cold?” Will Tolliver asked. “You’d better toughen up. It’s still pretty chilly up north.”

Cassie lifted her foot from his grasp, placing it cautiously on the blanket where she sat. She eyed it carefully. Another day of healing and it would be fit to walk on, she figured. “I’m not cold, just took a chill.” She met his gaze. “Are you going home? That where you’re from?”

“Not lately. Not since I was just a kid, settin’ out to see the country.”

“Did you? See the country, I mean?” She leaned forward and took the stockings from him, then carefully covered her feet with them. One more thing she’d be owing him for.

“Saw Texas and parts west,” he told her, shifting to one knee. “‘Course, I don’t think anybody’s ever seen all of Texas. It just goes on beyond what most folks consider civilization, right down to the border.”

“Now you’re going home?” She tugged the stockings up, then covered them with the rolled-up cuffs of his trousers. His eyes had been on her movements, and she flushed as she recognized his interest in the pale flesh of her calves and ankles. His fingers had been gentle on her feet, their touch sending slivers of fire on a race through her that had little to do with the whiskey’s potency. It seemed she was not immune to his style of doctoring, nor the gruff tenderness he dispensed.

“Yeah, I’m headed home.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it,” she said quietly, squinting against the sun’s rays as she looked up at him.

His smile was a grimace. “I’ve been happier, like when I faced a whippin’ from my pa, or had to split a cord of firewood before breakfast” He rose quickly, offering her his hand. “Come on, we’re wastin’ time talkin’ and the day’s half-gone.”

“Half-gone?” She eyed the sun, barely visible through the trees. “It can’t be more than eight o’clock or so.”

“I’m saddlin’ up, Cassie. If you’re ridin’ along, you’d best be ready to go.”

She looked around the clearing, trees on three sides, beyond them the trail leading back to Loco Junction, now at least thirty miles away.

Crouched beside his belongings, Will delved deeply into the pack holding his personal things, muttering beneath his breath as he sorted through the miscellany of his scant supplies. A grunt signified success and he hoisted himself to his feet, a brown-paper-wrapped package in one hand.

“Here.” He tossed it in her direction as he glared at her, his lowered eyebrows adding a menace to his look. “Bought those for my sister, back down the trail. They oughta fit you. She won’t mind if you borrow them till we can find somethin’ better for you to wear.”

Cassie’s fingers trembled as she unwrapped the soft bundle. A gift was to be enjoyed, even if it was just on loan. A pair of moccasins tumbled into her lap and she touched the supple leather with one finger, then lifted them to her nose to inhale the distinctive scent. He’d picked out pretty ones, beaded and sewn with careful stitches, and for a moment she envied the sister who merited such tender regard.

“Well, go ahead. Try ‘em on.” His tone was impatient and she cast him a glance of apology as she slid her stockinged feet within the soft leather protection of the shoes,

“They fit just fine.” It was all she could manage, her throat filling with a strange tightness she could suppress only with a rapid blinking of her eyes. “Thank you.” Her teeth pressed against her bottom lip as she stuck one foot out before her, displaying the beauty of his purchase to his view.

“They’ll do.”

Gruff and abrupt, his approval pleased her nonetheless, and she tucked away her pleasure at his thoughtfulness.

She watched him as he packed his gear, loading the mule in a systematic fashion, balancing his packs, one on either side, tugging and testing the ropes.

“Fold up that blanket and bring it here,” Will called impatiently from the other side of his horse.

Cassie folded the rough fabric quickly and limped to where he worked at the cinch, watching as he pulled the stirrup into place. His hands reached for the blanket, and he arranged it behind his saddle, then lifted her with an ease that left her breathless, settling her as he had yesterday, astride the horse’s back.

The animal shifted beneath her and she held the back of his saddle, balancing herself as the blanket slid in place.

“Whoa, there,” he ordered sternly, approaching with the mule’s lead line in hand. He wrapped it around the saddle horn twice, then eased his way up, his foot and leg coming perilously close as he seated himself in front of Cassie. Looking back at her over his shoulder, he scowled. “Hangin’ on all right?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.” Fine or not, it beat walking, and she’d be a fool to complain.

The noon meal was a godsend, as far as Cassie was concerned. Will had caught sight of a fat rabbit just ahead, and his gun had brought down the small game with one shot.

“My pa said you should never turn down a meal when it’s offered,” he said, lifting Cassie from behind his saddle. He pressed the blanket into her hands and led the animals to be tied to a nearby tree.

She spread the blanket and watched as he prepared the rabbit for their meal, his movements quick and knowledgeable. “Looks like you’re an old hand at that,” she said as he readied a fire, lighting the small pieces of kindling with a match from his pack.

His shoulders rose in a shrug. “Yeah, I guess. I was in charge of hunting game back home. If I didn’t bring home a rabbit or squirrel—or better yet, a deer—once in a while, we didn’t eat much meat those first couple of years on the farm. Ma said she wasn’t wastin’ her chickens on the dinner table. The eggs were worth more in town than the hens were, cookin’ in a stew pot We ate up the roosters, soon as they were big enough to fry, then it was back to the wild game.”

“How many of you were there?” Cassie asked, cross-legged on the blanket, feeling useless in the face of his dinner preparations.

“Ma and Pa had four of us. My sister, Josie, and two other boys.” Spitting the rabbit, he settled it over the fire, then mixed cornmeal with water from his metal flask. A small pan from his pack held the mixture, and he placed it on a rock at the edge of the coals.

“Will it cook like that?” She’d baked corn pone in an oven, but trail cooking was beyond her.

“The rock’s pickin’ up heat from the fire.” He tossed a thick flannel pad her way. “Turn the pan once in a while. It oughta be done about the time the rabbit is.”

She nodded agreeably. Will Tolliver was turning out to be the best thing that had happened to her in a long while. Whether he tired of her company in day or so, or if he took her as far north as he was heading, anything was better than her stepfather’s shack in Loco Junction.

It had been a long slide downhill the past three years. Her flesh crawled as she thought again of the man her mother had married. She shivered, remembering the feel of the knife in her hand, shuddered as she recalled the flow of blood that had stained her fingers, pooling beneath Remus as he slumped to the floor.

I killed him. Cassie’s eyes closed, then flew open as she beheld the vision of death she’d left behind. Lips pressed together tightly, she breathed the fresh air, the scent of meat roasting over the fire, the clean smell of freedom.

“We’ve got company.” Will stood, a casual gesture, stepping a few feet from where she sat to stand next to his rifle, which was snugged against his pack.

Cassie felt the hair rise on the back of her neck, and turned her head to view the approaching horseman. Tall, rugged and riding as if he were a part of the animal he straddled, the man neared. His hat shielding his face, both hands visible on the reins, he rode in from the south, as if he had followed their trail.

“Howdy there, folks.” He was within hailing distance and he slowed his horse to a walk. The animal nickered, and Will’s big stallion responded, a shrill challenge, jerking on the reins that held him fast to a tree.

“Behave yourself, horse,” Will growled, impatience tingeing his words, then he thumbed his hat back, calling out to the approaching horseman, “Hello yourself, stranger. You lost your way?”

The horse halted several yards away and the visitor lifted a hand to push aside his coat, revealing a silver star pinned to his shirt. “Nope, just takin’ a look around.” His gaze swept the area, a wide open space, only a few trees for shade and a sparsely grassed field. “You folks from here-abouts?”

“No, sir,” Will answered, casting a quick glance at Cassie— a warning glance, if she was any judge.

“This your missus?” The lawman nodded at her, and Cassie dredged up a smile as his deep-set eyes scanned her from top to bottom.

“Yeah, this is Sarah Jane. I’m Will Tolliver, Sheriff.”

Cassie caught her breath. In one short sentence she’d had her name changed and been tagged a married woman. Her smile trembled as she brought up one hand to shade her eyes.

“Haven’t seen a young woman hereabouts, have you?” the lawman asked, his gaze still fixed on Cassie’s borrowed clothing.

“A young woman?” Will looked perplexed, then glanced at his female companion. “We haven’t noticed anyone around about, have we, honey?” His grin appeared then, his demeanor transformed as he kicked at a small stone with the toe of his boot. “Of course, we’ve been kinda…”

His pause was lengthy and he cleared his throat. “Well, we haven’t been married too long, Sheriff, and we don’t pay a whole lot of attention to anybody but ourselves, to tell the truth.”

“Is that so?” The horse sidestepped and the lawman tightened up on his reins. “Well, if you should come across a young gal, you might want to keep an eye out She’s wanted back in Loco Junction. The sheriff wants to talk to her.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Will said, frowning and shaking his head. “She considered dangerous?”

The sheriff nodded. “Maybe so, under the right circumstances. She’s pretty young. I’d hate to think of her bein’ alone, out on her own.”

Cassie inhaled sharply and closed her eyes.

“I believe you’ve upset my wife, Sheriff. She’s a quiet sort, my Sarah Jane.”

Cassie opened her eyes, forcing her mouth to curve in what she hoped looked like a shy smile, befitting Sarah Jane Tolliver. Her heart was thumping with an irregular beat, and she felt stifled by the weight of guilt pressing on her chest. Will Tolliver had lied for her. He’d put himself on the line.

“We’ll sure keep our eyes open, Sheriff,” Will said, easing back to the fire, turning the spit, even as he cast a look of warning at Cassie.

She returned it with a bland smile, wary of matching wits with the lawman, her eyes trained on the man who’d just claimed to be her husband. She watched as Will’s fist uncurled, focused on the lean, strong fingers, the muscled forearm where his shirtsleeve was rolled almost to his elbow.

Her gaze swept higher and found his eyes intent upon her. From the brown depths he watched her, and she quailed beneath that look. As if he saw within her very soul, as if he could pierce her thoughts, discern the knowledge she held, his watchful eye penetrated her guise of calm control.

She’d managed to arrange her features in such a way that the sheriff had gone on his way, apparently not associating the shy young bride, Sarah Jane, with the woman who had wielded a knife in the town of Loco Junction. She’d managed to smile, hiding the thundering heartbeat, the clammy palms and the mouth that twitched alarmingly unless she held it firmly in place with the force of her will.

And the man before her had seen beyond all that. The unblinking look was less than an accusation; it held a question whose content she could only surmise.

“You never answered me, did you?” His tone was harsh. “I asked if you were in bad trouble, yesterday. And you offered me an easy out. You told me to go ahead and leave you there.” He cast one last glance at the figure of the lawman, heading south on his horse at an easy canter, then bent to turn the spit once more.

Cassie cleared her throat. It was time to face the truth, as much as she was able. She’d accepted his help, allowed him to put his honor on the line for her. She’d trespassed on that honor in an unforgivable manner, and now she struggled, wishing she could make it right. Wondering if there was any way to apologize to a man for forcing him to lie outright to the law, placing him in a hazardous position.

“I didn’t lie to you yesterday,” she said, rising to stand before him. Somehow she felt more secure on her feet, as if she were better able to run, should it become necessary. Though thinking she could escape Will Tolliver was a foolish thought indeed.

“You didn’t lie?” He repeated her words, his tone mocking, prompting her reply.

She shook her head. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the truth.” Her mouth twisted and her hands fisted at her sides. “I ran off from my stepfather. He’s a cruel man and I was afraid of him. That sheriff was probably looking for me. At least, the description fit.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “You think so? He said he was looking for a young gal. Could be any one of a hundred women hereabouts.” As if he reconsidered, he looked around him at the vast horizon, unmarred by human habitation. “Well, maybe twenty or so, anyway.” His eyes softened, the darkness fading from his somber gaze.

“Sit back down, Cassie. I think it’s time you told me what happened.”

She obeyed, more because her legs were trembling beneath her than for any urge to oblige him. “Remus Chandler was…is my stepfather. I think maybe for a long time he wanted to…” She looked up, knowing her eyes were filling with tears, and choking back the need to cry.

Stripping the bandanna from his throat, Will handed it to her.

“Thank you.” Cassie blew once and wiped her nose. “He’d been married to my mother for three years or so, and all that time he was mean to her, hateful sometimes, with his name-calling and pushing her around.”

His eyes measured her, a bleak emotion darkening their depths. “Did he hurt you, Cassie?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. It was like he knew my mother would do what he wanted, to keep his hands from me. Anyway, she was sickly, really bad off for the past few weeks, like she was too tired to live anymore. She had a pain in her stomach, and she couldn’t eat much. Not at all, there at the end. Remus wouldn’t go for the doctor, and she told me not to cross him. He just kept watching me.” Her voice trailed off and she gulped, swallowing the grief that had been postponed for too long.

“What happened then, Cassie?”

She drew in a deep breath, following his urging. “Mama was bad all night long, hardly breathing. She told me to run, to leave, get away from Remus. And I promised her I would. I think she was afraid for me to be there with him, once she was gone.”

“How did your dress get torn?” Will asked quietly.

Cassie’s fingers ached from the squeezing, her fists clenching so tightly, she could barely release them. And then Will squatted before her.

“After she died, what did you do then?” He clasped her cold fingers within his own, sharing the heat of his palms, giving warmth to the chilled flesh he cradled within his long, strong fingers.

“I was going to leave, but Remus wouldn’t let me. He said I had to stay, that we had to tend to Mama’s burying. When I tried to get away, he grabbed my shawl, then my dress. And he pushed me against the wall, cracked my head on the logs. I pushed him back but he kept grabbing at me, pulling me across the room, till he was smack up against the table. The knife he’d used for supper the night before was there and I grabbed it. See?”

She moved her fingers within his and spread her hand wide. The slash was shallow but swooped across her palm, scabbed over now. “I heal fast,” she said, her head down, her gaze on the wound.

“Maybe he would have left me alone if I’d gone to the sheriff in town…or someone.” She shook her head. “But I don’t think so. He’d been after me for too long already. He couldn’t even wait till Mama was in the ground. And I couldn’t just stay there and let him hurt me…that way. I threatened him with the knife and he let go of me.”

A shudder racked her body, as if the telling of such a great lie had released the quaking within. Most of it was the truth, all but the last part. And that she could not bring herself to confide.

“He didn’t chase you?” The thought of her peril sharpened his voice and she flinched from him, shaking her head.

“I don’t know…maybe. I just ran.” The lie came hard, and she lowered her head.

“And you just walked out of town? Why didn’t you wear your shoes?”

“I couldn’t go back once I’d left that place. My shoes were in the bedroom with Mama, and I’d have had to get past Remus to get them. I was afraid to try.”

“Did you recognize that lawman, Cassie? Was he the sheriff from Loco Junction?”

She looked up, her eyes welling, and shook her head. “I don’t know, Will. I’ve never seen the sheriff. It could be, I suppose.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” he told her firmly. “If we meet anyone else, you’re Sarah Jane Tolliver. You’re my wife, Cassie. Can you do that? Until we get north into Missouri, anyway?”

“You’re going to take me with you?” She’d thought he would find a place to leave her, somewhere safe that would salve his conscience. Most any man would have either taken advantage of her or dumped her at the first chance.

Obviously, Will Tolliver wasn’t cut from the same cloth as most other men. He was taking her home with him, if she’d read him right. With his horse and pack mule, his hands that knew how to heal and comfort, and his conscience that had to be churning away at the lie he’d told for her benefit, he was heading north, and taking her along.

He’d placed his honor on the line for her and told a whopper that could land him in a peck of trouble.

If ever there was a man in the world Cassie Phillips could respect, Will Tolliver was his name. And that fact alone was enough to keep her riding along in his wake, for now at least.

Chapter Three

“I think we’ve found a place to buy you a horse,” Will announced, drawing his stallion to a halt. Cassie peered over his shoulder to where a ranch nestled in the shallow valley just ahead. In pole corrals, horses milled about, men in wide-brimmed hats and dust-laden clothing apparently directing the general flow.

“What are they doing?” Her chin brushing his shirt, Cassie watched the activity ahead.

“Looks like they’re sortin’ them out, branding, maybe.” Will’s hands were firm on the reins as his horse shifted beneath them, snorting as the scents from the corral reached the stallion’s nose.

“I didn’t know you were planning on buying another horse. Won’t that be pretty expensive?”

“Beats ridin’ double for the next week.” As if he’d made up his mind, Will loosened the reins and nudged his mount into movement. “Stay still, Cassie. I’d as soon they didn’t pay you too much attention.”

Their arrival had little noticeable effect on the men at work, their ropes circling and snagging one or another of the herd of horses they worked with. The chosen animals were taken to a gate and led outside the enclosure, then inspected by a tall man who watched the proceedings, clearly in charge.

Circling the side of the corral, Will rode slowly up to the man, then slid from his saddle, his grip shortening the reins until his mount was left with no leeway to move.

“Those horses for sale, mister? I need a mare or a gelding.” Halting several feet away, Will met the gaze of the older man as an Indian led another horse past him.

“There’s some of each here, son.” Lifting his hand, the man tilted his hat back, angling his head to enclose Cassie in his line of vision. “Don’t know if the lady could handle one or not They’re green broke. Goin’ to the army.”

“Got any tack to sell? I’d need an extra saddle and bridle.” Will waited while the man looked over another specimen, the horse jerking impatiently at the rope holding him. Then he nodded, waving the horse and the man leading it on their way.

“Probably some spare stuff in the barn,” he told Will, his attention on another cowboy, approaching with a dusty brown mare from the pen. “Bring her closer,” he told the rider. Then, reaching out a hand, he grasped the rope, drawing the horse before him. The animal’s eyes rolled, the whites showing as she whinnied her distress.

“Kinda shy, are you?” It was a different voice he used now. Cassie listened as he murmured softly in rusty tones to the horse, his other hand untangling her mane, then patting with rough affection against her jaw. “Was she easy to lead?” he asked the cowboy, squinting up at him.

“Yeah, she followed along like a tame puppy.”

As if to deny the claim, the mare snorted, tossing her head. Cassie laughed, the pure rebellion of the gesture pleasing her.

“Can I saddle her up, see how she rides?” Will asked.

The big man shrugged. “She’s gonna be sold today, either to you or the army. Makes me no never mind who gets her. She may dump you, now,” he warned with a grin. “She looks kinda feisty to me.”

“I reckon I can handle her.”

It was no idle claim. During the next half hour Cassie watched from beneath the overhanging eaves of the barn as Will saddled the horse, catching her breath as he fought the animal for several seconds before the mare accepted the bit he offered.

And then she watched as he gained the saddle with a fluid movement that made her blink in surprise. The horse moved uneasily beneath the man on her back, snorting and laying her ears back, then sidestepping a bit. Will’s hands were firm on the reins, his words gentle as he coaxed the horse to his bidding. Releasing the tight grip he held, he set her into motion, and she circled the area before the barn doors, her neck bowed, head tossing against the stricture of the bit. Her tail swished, waving high, her feet stepping in double time as she kept to the pace Will dictated.

“She’s beautiful,” Cassie breathed, her eyes wide as she watched the mare perform to Will’s command. “But I don’t think I can make her behave the way you do.”

Turning the mare with the pressure of reins across her neck, Will drew closer. “You ride much, Cassie?”

She nodded. “A little. But not a horse this wild.”

Will’s mouth twitched. “You call this wild, honey? She’s downright tame. ‘Specially for a green-broke animal.”

“Maybe I could ride your stallion?” Her words sounded doubtful, and Will’s frown was a silent deterrent to that idea.

“The mare will follow along, I think, once you get your seat,” he told her. “I’ll lead her from here, till we’re away from the rest of the horses, then you can try her on your own.”

“You’re going to buy her for me?” That Will would fork over his own money for the benefit of a virtual stranger was beyond Cassie’s comprehension.

“No, I’m gonna buy her for me. I’ll just let you ride her,” he corrected her. “You stay right here while I talk to the man.”

Cassie nodded, willing to be removed from the flurry of activity at the corral. She stepped to a bale of hay and sat, conscious of the pants she wore and the occasional looks of speculation drifting her way from one or another of the cowhands. There was an air about some of them, a hint of furtive searching of her person that reminded her of Remus Chandler, and she shivered at the memory.

From within the barn she heard the shuffling of feet, a murmur of voices, and then in the doorway beside her a man appeared, the strong odor of perspiration announcing his presence. Cassie glanced over her shoulder, her gaze colliding with narrowed eyes that slid over her slender form.

“Hey, there, missy. Want to step in here a minute?” His voice was low, almost guttural, and Cassie’s eyes widened as another man appeared just behind the first.

She shook her head. “No, I sure don’t, mister.” A quick look toward Will, who stood near the corral, prompted her to speech and she opened her mouth to call his name. A grimy hand whipped through the air to cover her mouth, and she was hauled with harsh hands into the yawning mouth of the barn.

“No need to be shy, honey,” her captor whined, releasing her mouth, turning her to face him. “I’ll warrant I can cut you a better deal than the one you got from that fella you rode in with.”

“Let go of me!” Cassie struggled against the grimy hands holding her.

“I’m not hurtin’ you, honey. Just want to give you the taste of a real man.”

The second assailant chuckled behind her and Cassie turned her head to shoot a vengeful glare in his direction. “I’m not interested,” she said, her stomach rolling as she turned her head aside, avoiding his seeking mouth.

“The lady already has a man.” From the shadows a third figure stepped into view and Cassie’s eyes pinned him with the terror she made no attempt to hide.

“Outta here, half-breed.” Snarled from the mouth she’d been trying so desperately to avoid, the words carried the stench of cigarettes. She gagged, turning from the fetid breath of the man holding her.

The Indian stepped closer, his lithe body tense as he surveyed the two cowhands. “Let her go.” It was the bravest display Cassie had seen in a month of Sundays, this dark-skinned horseman confronting two white cowhands.

Gasping for breath, wiggling against the grimy hands that held her, Cassie flung herself in desperation toward the ground. Her legs collapsed beneath her and the man holding her lost his grip for a moment.

She inhaled and shrieked for Will, attempting to crawl toward the open barn door. The second man lurched toward her, grasping her ankle. She kicked out at him. His yelp of surprise spurred Will into a loping run, catching the attention of several other cowhands.

“Damn stinkin’ Indian! Get movin’.”

The two men had their hands full tussling with the Indian, who had blocked their exit, and Cassie scrambled to sit against the barn wall as Will burst through the doorway.

Cassie’s bronze-skinned defender staggered into the shadow of a stall, reeling from a blow. Will ignored him, his hands fisting as he considered the two cowhands facing him. Barely pausing, he drew back to deliver a telling blow to the nearest of the pair.

The cowhand’s head lolled to one side as he slumped to the floor. Without pause, Will swung to size up the second man. Cassie’s eyes widened in dismay as her assailant’s hand reached for his holster, drawing a gun even as he backed from the brief battle before him.

Dropping to the floor and rolling in automatic reflex, Will ducked as the bullet hit the wall behind him. He came to his feet smoothly, his hand flashing with the knife he had drawn from his boot. In one shimmering, underhand movement, the blade flew to lodge in the cowhand’s shoulder. With a clatter, his gun fell to the barn floor.

“What the hell’s goin’ on in here?” The man from the corral stood in the doorway, his keen gaze focused on Will, then sweeping over the two cowhands and finally coming to rest on Cassie.

“You hurt, girl?” he asked bluntly.

“No, sir.” She shook her head, pressing back against the wall, brushing distractedly at her clothing.

“You particularly attached to these men?” Will asked harshly.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’m bleedin’ bad,” the wounded man whined, and then, at Will’s vengeful glance, subsided.

“I’ll pull out my knife, but that’s all the help you’ll get from me,” Will told him, fury alive in each word. “If I had my way, you’d be on your way to a hangin’ tree.”

“She was askin’ for it.” He twisted his head to inspect his injury, then yelped as Will’s hand grasped the handle of the knife and pulled it from the wound in a swift movement.

With contempt, Will wiped the blood from the blade against the victim’s pant leg, then slid it into the sheath inside his own boot. “You’d do well to shut up while you’re still able to talk, mister, or the next thing she’ll be askin’ for is your head on a platter,” Will said with deceptive mildness.

The cowhand stifled his muttering and appealed with an uplifted hand to his employer.

“I’ll give you a rag to wrap your shoulder with, Hopkins, and then you’ll be out of here. You’d be advised to make tracks before this gentleman changes his mind. From the way that knife stopped you dead, I’d say he’s quite a hand in a fight.”

Will turned to where Cassie sat against the wall, and dropped to one knee beside her. “Sure you’re all right?” he asked. At her quick nod, he lifted her to her feet, steering her outside to sit atop a bale of hay.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Cassie said softly. “I truly didn’t say or do anything to give them leave to act that way.”

“Just bein’ here was enough of a nudge where men like those two are concerned.” He tilted his hat back and surveyed her, his eyes still dark with the residue of anger. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Cass. Just remember that.”

With long strides he walked to where the older man stood. Gesturing toward the barn, he was sending several men on a mission, guaranteed to rid his operation of the pair of troublemakers. His look toward Will was apologetic, and his hand swept out in a gesture of respect.

Will grasped it firmly and shook it, then dipped his hand into his side pocket. Quickly he counted out cash, paying for the horse he’d chosen, and turned to where the mare was tied to the top pole of the corral.

Motioning Cassie to join him, he handed her the reins. “The fella’s gonna write me up a bill of sale. We’ll get some food from the house. Just have to tell the cook he sent us.” Gathering up the reins of his stallion, Will started toward the house.

Breakfast had been scant—flat biscuits and some stringy, dried meat that required an enormous amount of chewing. Food freshly cooked would taste like manna from heaven, Cassie thought, trailing behind Will.

Tying the reins to a hitching rail near the back door of the big farmhouse, Will shot her a glance. “Wait here. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Cassie nodded, then turned to the brown mare. She lifted one hand to touch the side of the animal’s jaw, felt the flinch of alarm as the horse responded to the unaccustomed handling. “It’s all right, girl. It’s all right,” she murmured beneath her breath, feeling a measure of bravery as she increased the pressure of her stroking.

“You ride much, ma’am?” From behind, the raspy voice startled her and Cassie jerked. The mare whinnied, tossing her head, and Cassie turned quickly.

The tall man from the corral had followed them, and now he eyed the young woman before him, her face flushed from the sun and no small amount of anger. “She’ll settle down,” he said quietly. “You married to that cowboy?”

Cassie swallowed, wary of the lie she must tell. Her chin tilted as she considered the man who watched her. “Will Tolliver’s my husband, yes,” she said finally. “I’m Sarah Jane Tolliver.”

“You’re not in trouble, are you, Sarah Jane Tolliver?” The eyes watching her narrowed a bit, taking on a speculative gleam as he awaited her reply.

Cassie stiffened, her gaze meeting his. “No sir, mister. I’m not.”

“I’ve got a daughter about your age, girl. I’m not sure I’d want her ridin’ around the country dressed in a man’s duds, drawin’ the eye of every cowhand and stray Indian.”

Cassie’s mouth firmed, her jaw tightening at his words. “That Indian in the barn didn’t hurt me.”

“You didn’t answer me, girl. I asked if you do much ridin’.”

“Not much, lately. But Will says I can handle her all right.” Cassie drew in a deep breath. “Mister, that Indian in the barn was trying to help me.”

“He was part of the problem, miss. He’s already on his way.”

She flinched at his words, but subsided, aware that nothing she said would make a difference.

His dark eyes gave her one more measuring look before he turned to the house. “Here comes your husband now, ma’am. I told him to get some grub from the cook.” His long fingers reached up to sweep the hat from his head and he nodded once in her direction. “A pleasure to do business with you folks. I’m only sorry I had those roughnecks on my crew.”

“What did he say to you, Cassie?” Will had helped her astride the saddle, adjusted the stirrups and snugged her moccasin-clad toes into them. Now he mounted his stallion, leading her horse behind him until the ranch was almost out of sight.

Cassie held fast to the saddle horn, riding the easy gait of the mare, aware of her swishing tail and the tossing of her head. “I don’t think he believed you, Will. He wanted to know if I was really your wife.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I lied, sort of.”

“I’ll bet you blushed. Did he believe you?”

Cassie’s mouth tightened and she unfastened the reins he’d looped over the saddle horn, holding them firmly in her right hand. “I don’t lie well,” she admitted.

He turned to flash her a look of sober admiration. “I’m glad to hear that. My mama always said a man’s word is his honor. If I have to start pickin’ apart everything you tell me, we’ll be in for a hard time together.”

“My mama always said that lies multiply like flies. You have to tell another to hide the first, then another…” She caught her breath with a sob. “Let’s not talk about mothers, all right?”

Will urged his stallion into a faster pace and cast a quick glance to check on Cassie. “You’d better leave those reins alone and let me lead your horse for now. We don’t have time to talk about much of anything. We need to put some miles between us and Texas.”

The darkness surrounding them drove Cassie close to the small campfire. She’d unrolled the blanket Will had assigned her and snuggled it around herself, her head resting on one corner of it. He’d chosen to sleep behind her instead of across the clearing, and her awareness of his presence was more than enough to keep her eyelids from closing. As were the mental images that insisted on floating through her mind. Memories of her mother, dying yet determined to keep her daughter free of the man who watched like a vulture from the corner of the room. Memories of blood, crimson against the pale flesh of her hands. The loneliness of her flight beneath the shadows of midnight, amid the night sounds. And now the image of the two men who had put their hands on her today.

“Cassie?” Raspy, his voice invaded her thoughts, a welcome invasion, she decided, given the turn they had taken.

She rolled to face him, finding herself tucked up neatly against his chest. Drawing in a breath of surprise, she scooted back a bit, only to be captured by a long arm that snagged her waist, holding her firmly in place.

“Don’t move, Cassie. Just hold your little butt still.” His voice was raw, as if he held some dark emotion under fragile control. His arm squeezed her gently, as though to soften the words.

“I didn’t realize you were so close!” She blinked, fearful of the long length of him, his broad chest appearing to have expanded in size with its proximity. Her knees drew up in an instinctive gesture and she found herself nudging the V of his crotch.

Catching another breath of surprise, she attempted to straighten her legs, but he halted the movement, his hand sliding down from her waist to settle with a promise of hard strength against the backs of her thighs. She gasped at the intimacy of his touch and pushed at his chest.

“Hold still, girl,” he said roughly, breathing harshly.

“I didn’t mean…I just…I didn’t know you were so tight behind me,” she told him, her whisper turning to a wail of protest as she felt embarrassment and panic nudging her, warming her cheeks.

“Hush, Cassie. You’re all right” His fingers eased their grip, his hand moving to rest against her back.

She stilled in her efforts to move away and relaxed the hold she’d managed to maintain on the blanket. Peering up at him, she found him unsmiling, his eyes shadowed, the dark outline of his whiskers hardening his visage. His gaze was intent as his arms enclosed her, one beneath her head, his hand buried in the length of her hair.

She watched in silence as his head tipped, lowering toward her, then held her breath. His mouth opened just a bit, and suddenly it seemed safer to shut her eyes. The touch of his lips against hers came as no surprise, yet at the same time filled her with amazement No one but her mother had ever kissed her, and those sweet, loving caresses had in no way prepared her for the sensations that gripped her now.

His scent was masculine, a combination of leather and sweat, but his breath was clean, like a fresh breeze. Against her lips, his were warm, moist and moving. With a barely discernible rhythm they touched hers, soothing the tender flesh of her mouth, as if he were coaxing her to join him in this venture.

He nudged at her, his teeth touching her firmly closed lips, and she heard another muted groan as she backed from the contact.

“Did I frighten you, Cassie?” he whispered against her lips, a sardonic tinge accompanying the query.

She stiffened, indignant at the humor inherent in his tone. “I’m not afraid,” she quavered, clearing her throat quickly. “I just think you’re taking privileges I haven’t offered.”

“Ever been kissed, Cassie?”

He moved his lips against her once more, nibbling, like a rabbit in a patch of lettuce, and, stifling a giggle, she relaxed a bit.

“By my mother.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he told her, glowering in the faint light shed by the campfire, his arms tightening around her.

Her giggle bubbled forth again and she bit at her lips, her breath catching in a half sob. “You laughin’ at me?” He leaned back, the better to see her face.

“No, of course not,” she denied, fearful of the tears that seemed to be hovering just behind her lids. Her words were shaky as she spoke on an indrawn breath. “I just…you just…you made my lips tickle when you bunny-kissed them.”

“Bunny-kissed! What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled from her. Damn, he’d do well to keep his hands to himself and away from the bundle of innocence he’d managed to get himself tied up with. Horny as a bull in a pasture full of heifers, he fought the need that surged in his groin.

She was watching him, drawn up into a defensive ball, her lips tightly pressed together. He tucked his hands beneath his head, visibly relaxing, purposefully willing her to do the same, praying for the ache in his male parts to subside.

“Bunnies?” The single word of inquiry was a rasping whisper.

Her words were halting as she struggled to explain the game she’d played in years gone by with her mother, peering at him as if she would read his expression in the flickering firelight. “I’ve only ever been kissed by her,” she confessed softly.

Will drew in a breath. Then, shifting, he rolled to his side and reached for her hand, clasping her fingers. “Don’t let me set you to running, Cassie. I’ll leave you alone.” Much as the promise cost him, he vowed silently to bear it in mind. “You’re probably one of the better things that’s come my way since I left home,” he told her quietly.

“Have a lot of good things happened to you?” she asked, wary of his nearness, given her own urge to nestle closer to his side.

“Yeah, I’ve had my share of good and bad, I guess. I took up with a sheriff down in San Antone and spent some time learnin’ law and order. Then I worked on a couple of ranches, and got a real education. Found out more about horses than I’d ever expected to. And a few other things that opened my eyes, made me grow up in a hurry.”

“Like what?” she asked, enamored of his remembrances, almost envious of the years he’d spent on his own, her apprehensions put to rest for a moment as he spoke.

Will’s eyes darkened as if the memories were better left alone. “Most of it’s the sort of stuff a young girl like you doesn’t need to hear, Cassie.” He rose to one elbow, leaning quickly to drop a quick kiss against the tip of her nose, unable to resist her nearness.

“Don’t do that, Will,” she said sharply, her heartbeat increasing as she shifted away.

It was quiet for a few minutes, Cassie pondering his words, considering the traveling he had done. “Men are lucky,” she said finally, shifting to face him. “They can travel and meet folks and work where they want to, and a woman has to stay with her family till she’s married. Or else be bait for gossip if she doesn’t do what people expect of her.”

“That’s the way of the world, Cass.” Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around one knee, shifting for comfort, and finding little to be had on the hard ground. He grimaced, wishing he’d kept his hands to himself.

“Are you going to find a place to leave me, Will?” She watched him, sensing his withdrawal. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to get rid of her presence yet, if what he’d said was gospel truth. If he really thought she was good for him.

“I can’t just dump you off somewhere, Cass. My ma would have my hide if she thought I’d rescued you just to leave you with strangers.”

“Your ma? She doesn’t even know about me,” she said, frowning at his words.

“She will, once I get home. She’ll get every livin’ detail out of me, with her pickin’ and yatterin’ at me.”

Cassie peered up at him. “And will you tell her everything?”

“Most everything, probably.” Within reason, anyway. Some things a mother was better off not knowing.

“How come you’re going home?” she asked, after a long moment.

“It sure as hell isn’t my first choice,” he said harshly. “But Pa’s pretty bad off. Ma wrote me a letter, sent it to the last place I worked. I tried to keep Ma up on where I was, a couple of times a year, anyway. She said in the letter that Pa had taken a bad spell out in the field and just didn’t get over it. His heart acts funny, fluttering and making him lose his breath sometimes.”

“Did she ask you to come home?”

He nodded. “My brothers are both married now and have their own fields to work. Farmers can’t be runnin’ back and forth all the time to somebody else’s place to lend a hand. And my sister ran off and married a scallywag a few years ago. My mother was pretty cut up about that.”

“It sounds like you’ll be a homebody for sure, once you get there.” Her eyelids were getting heavy and the words she spoke were slurred. She yawned widely, covering her mouth with one hand, shifting to lie on her side.

Will looked down at her. “Homebody?” His laugh was harsh. “I’m not cut out to be a farmer.”

Cassie’s eyes flew open at his rasping tone. “Then why go? Why take me there?”

His hand silenced her anxious query. “I guess I owe it to my mother to lend a hand. She was always there for me when things got tough, with Pa on my tail all the time. You’ll be all right. My mother’ll take to you. There’s always room for another hand, helpin’ around the house and doin’ chores.” Cassie would probably be more welcome than he would, at that. There’d be hell to pay, with him and Pa in the same house.

Cassie looked up with sleepy eyes. “I doubt your mother will be pleased to see me coming. Not after we’ve been traveling together.”

“I don’t see that I have much choice right now,” he muttered. “You sure aren’t capable of headin’ out on your own.”

What he’d do with her once he got her home was another question, one he wasn’t ready to examine too closely tonight For one thing, he never should have kissed her. For all the good it had done him. She was about as innocent as they came, with her talk about rabbits. And then there was Pa. Ornery and miserable as the day was long. He’d give them both a hard time. The old resentment welled up within him, lending harshness to his voice. “Go to sleep, Cassie. Between you and that damn mare and those two bas—” He took a deep breath. “Just go to sleep, hear?”

He turned from her, hauling the edge of the blanket over his shoulder.

Wide-eyed, Cassie repeated his words within her mind. I don’t see that I have much choice right now…you aren’t capable…between you and that damn mare… She bit at her lip, fearful of whimpering aloud as the words he’d spoken clamored in her head. Turning away, she stifled any sound she might make, burying her face in the blanket.

With a final look around the edges of the clearing he’d chosen for the night, Will settled down, his gun next to his head, his hat half covering it. Just as well she’d turned away. He shouldn’t have been so short with her, he thought ruefully. His fingers itched to lose themselves in her tangled curls, and he shifted on the hard ground, his discomfort growing. As long as he could keep his randy hands to himself, they ought to get along for the next six days. Long enough to get them through Oklahoma and well into Missouri. Maybe he could hurry her along a little and make it in five.

* * *

The new mare dumped her twice on the second day. From her prone position, Cassie muttered words she’d only heard before, aware of a stone beneath her bottom, another lodged against her rib. Other than that, the ground was just rock hard all over, and her groan was heartfelt.

“Damn, girl!” Will was off the stallion and at her side, reins clutched in his hand. “At least she didn’t run off like last time,” he said, eyeing the mare. The brown creature stood just a few feet away, placid in her grazing. “You all right, Cassie?”

She sat up, rubbing at the bruised spot on her rib, her arm bending at an awkward angle to accomplish the task. “I don’t think I broke any bones.”

Will’s hand brushed her fingers aside and he felt the spot carefully, a distracted look on his face as he traced the rib. “I don’t feel a break, Cass.” He squatted next to her, his fingers itching to brush the disheveled hair from her face, his mouth fighting a smile as he listened to her grumbling.

“Dratted horse just wanted to taste the grass,” she mumbled. “Couldn’t wait till we stopped for the night, could she?”

“Yeah, well, I think we’re gonna ride on, Cass. I’d just as soon put some miles behind us tonight.” His gaze traveled over Cassie’s head, measuring the trail ahead to where it eased atop a shallow rise, disappearing over the crest of the hill. He’d come across the scant trail early this morning, passing through a small town at noontime, well into Oklahoma Territory.

They’d halted there just long enough to buy Cassie a pair of boots, more fit for a young boy than a woman, but suited to the trail.

Now she eyed the sturdy leather footwear as she sat on the ground, hoping the raw spot on her heel wasn’t a blister, wishing for a moment for the soft comfort of the moccasins she’d given up for the protection of boot leather. “I can go farther,” she told Will, lifting herself to her feet, limping a little as she took a few steps.

The mare lifted her head, her ears retreating to plaster themselves against her head, her eyes daring Cassie to disrupt her meal.

“Talk to her, Cass,” Will said beneath his breath, rising and walking at an angle from the mare.

“What a pretty baby!” Crooned in a singsong voice, the words eased the mare’s disquiet, her ears twitching a bit. “Why don’t you just stand there and be a good girl?” Cassie smiled determinedly at the animal, aware of Will’s stealthy, circuitous route as he led his stallion beyond the mare.

And then he had her. Catching the reins in one hand, the bridle in the other, he quieted the brown animal’s snort, holding her firmly lest she bolt again.

“Think you can manage a few more hours, Cass?”

She nodded, wincing as she stepped up to the mare. “I’ll be fine.” Lifting her left foot to the stirrup, she hoisted herself atop the saddle, gritting her teeth as she settled within the leather cradle.

Chapter Four

The small cabin was a welcome sight. A ramshackle building, it was nestled beneath a willow tree next to a small stream. In Cassie’s present state, it might well have been a palatial mansion.

The sky above promised nasty weather, and the smattering of cold raindrops she’d ridden through in the past few minutes had already managed to thoroughly wet Cassie’s shirt. It was enough to dampen her spirits. More than enough.

She shivered, staggering toward the small log shack, just a few steps ahead of Will. One foot snagged on a root, half overgrown with grass and hidden from view, and she stumbled, falling to her knees.

Her head bent, she breathed deeply, then shoved herself to her feet, only to find Will’s big hand clutching her elbow, propelling her forward. Her feet dragged, scuffing across the small porch, Will slowing his steps a bit to accommodate her slower pace. He followed her through the doorway, steering her with a decided lack of gallantry. One arm filled with saddlebags, the bundles from the mule across his shoulder, he edged past her into the dim interior, dropping his burdens just inside.

Cassie met his gaze, attempting a smile of reassurance, her lips trembling as a chill swept over her. “I’ll be fine once I warm up a little,” she said stoutly, rubbing her hands together, all too aware of cold skin and stiff fingers that resisted her attempts.

Will nodded, a flicker of doubt tracing his features as he brushed past her toward the doorway. “I’ll take care of the animals. See if there’s any wood for a fire, will you?” Ducking his head in an automatic motion, he headed back outside, his stride more energetic than Cassie could fathom. The man never seemed to run out of strength.

Riding throughout the night, she’d dozed off more than once, allowing her horse to slow to a walk, falling behind Will as he set a steady pace. His patience had been commendable, Cassie decided. He’d waited for her, neither hustling her along nor fussing at her when she slumped over the saddle horn, half-asleep.

Now she watched as he led the animals to where a pump promised water. A few vigorous movements of the long handle made that idea a vain hope, and Will reached for his water pouch, tilting it to drain the contents into the top of the pump. His mouth curved in a smile of satisfaction as the priming gained results. With a few swift up-and-down movements of the narrow handle, he had a steady stream pouring in abundance from the spout, into the wooden trough beneath.

Their noses bobbing in the water, the three animals drank deeply, then, blowing noisily, they sprayed, tossing their heads. Will stepped back to escape their antics, grinning at their good spirits.

“Are we going to spend the night here?” Cassie asked from the doorway.

“We don’t have a lot of choice right now,” Will answered. His hand lifted to gesture at the leaden sky. “Looks like we’re in for it. The wind’s comin’ up pretty steady.”

Cassie nodded. Getting caught in the rain would be miserably uncomfortable as far as she was concerned. Even this crude shelter was better than being out in the open at the mercy of a spring storm. Wrapping her arms around herself for warmth, she turned to where a fireplace yawned against the far wall of the small cabin. A scattering of wood promised the beginnings of a fire, but not much more. She dropped to her knees on the hearth, gathering the kindling and piling it loosely.

Will’s bundle must surely hold more matches. Quickly she loosened the folds and searched for the small container she’d seen in his hands that first night. It held sulphurtipped matches, safe from the damp, and she lit one carefully, holding it to the brittle kindling. It sparked, then caught, and a small flame sprang into being. Carefully she placed another fragile stick over the glowing wood, smiling as it caught fire. One piece at a time, she fed the flames until every scrap of wood from the floor surrounding her was piled inside the wide mouth of the fireplace.

Her fingers were finally warmed, and she rubbed them together, glorying in the heat. One hand lifted languidly to brush at her cheek, where wayward tendrils fell forward, her untended hair loosening from its braid. Then she sat back on her heels, gathering the warmth to herself, reluctant to leave the small haven of comfort.

It was there he found her, kneeling before the small blaze she tended, her unruly hair and smudged cheeks those of an urchin. And yet there was about her an allure he could not fathom. The soft line of her cheek, lashes shadowing the pale flesh, the profile of feminine curves as she lifted her hand to brush at a wisp of dark hair. Her arm lifting high pulled at the fabric of her shirt, its soft weave revealing the swell of her breast.

He inhaled sharply, pierced by his awareness of the woman kneeling before him. His eyes narrowed as his gaze slid up over the generous curve of her bottom to where her waist was cinched with the length of belt he’d given her.

Desire, hot and consuming, drenched him in its depths. The heat of his arousal was immediate, from the flaming ridge across his cheekbones to the throbbing warmth in his groin. His breath caught again, a rasping sound that drew her attention, and she turned, her eyes wide and startled, as if he’d drawn her from a dream.

As women went, she was far from the most seductive he’d ever seen. Hell, she wasn’t much more than a child, all innocent and unknowing, her face smudged, her eyes anxious, her mouth soft and inviting as she opened it to speak.

“Will?” Hastily she rose, brushing her hands together, then wiping them against the sides of her denim pants. “I was about to go out and gather more firewood.” She hesitated, uneasy as she searched his face, her fingers clenching into fists. Poised as if for flight, she looked away from him, to the doorway, then beyond, where the long branches of the willow beside the house swept the ground.

“The wind’s coming up,” she said in a wispy, small voice, sidling toward the open doorway. “I’d better look for wood before we get a downpour.”

“Cassie.” He spoke her name in a gruff exhalation of breath, his eyes closing for just a moment.

Her gaze skittered from the bleak vista beyond the doorway to clash with his as his lashes lifted. Allowing his mind to fill with her image—slender, bedraggled and all too tempting—he cast aside the caution he’d managed to gather.

“Come here.” He spoke the words—softly uttered, but more than a request nonetheless—that would bring her to him. That she would not heed the implicit order never entered his head. Cassie had put herself under his care.

He watched as she turned reluctantly in his direction, his whole frame taut with the desire he fought to contain. Perhaps just holding her would suffice. He could gather that small body against himself, soothe his passion with the warmth of her soft, resilient flesh, surround himself for just a moment with the female scent that rose from her as an elusive, faint enticement.

“Will?” She stood before him, her eyes wide, her mouth soft, her bottom lip trembling. “What is it? Is something wrong?” Apprehension brought a frown to mar the smooth line of her forehead, and he lifted his hand, fingers smoothing at the lines.

“No.” Abrupt, at odds with the gentle caress he bestowed upon her skin, his voice growled the single syllable.

She flinched beneath his touch and tilted her head to one side. “Will?” Her whisper was wavering, her nostrils flaring as if she scented a danger she could not comprehend.

She was more than he could resist, more than his self-control could deny. His hands met behind her waist in a smooth movement that caught her unaware. He tugged at her, catching her off balance, and she tumbled against him, lifting her hands in an automatic gesture to grip his shoulders. His head dipped, his jaw against her temple, his eyes closing as he deliberately blotted from his mind the gray skies outside the cabin, the dingy interior of the small room.

For this moment, for just these few seconds, he basked in the softness of the woman he held. His palms flat against her back, he urged her closer, forming her to his needy flesh. His heart pounded with a steady, harsh beat, radiating within his body like the sounding of a drum in his ears.

She stiffened for a moment, her breathing uneven, and he felt her tremble against him. Her face turned in the direction of his, tilting back until her mouth brushed against the line of his chin, opening so that he felt the moisture of her inner lips upon his skin. She kissed him there, rising on her tiptoes to whisper a string of soft words against his whiskered jaw.

“What is it, Will? Can I help? Is something wrong?” Her hands released their hold on his shoulders and slid to his nape, gripping tightly against his spine. She curled against him, forming her curves to the firm muscles of his chest, as if she would offer comfort, her fingers rubbing in a soothing rhythm.

A groan he could not stifle rose to his lips. Could she help? The one thing that would be guaranteed to solve his immediate problem was not an option, he admitted to himself ruefully. That this young woman would so innocently offer compassion, unknowing of his instinctive desire for her, was the crowning touch.

“Just let me hang on to you for a minute, Cassie.” The words were muffled as he turned his mouth against her forehead.

She nodded, and his lips brushed her skin in an automatic caress. Probably the only clean spot on her face, he thought, his mouth twisting in an unwilling grin. And even that fact did not deter him. Beneath the smudges, the evidence of her hours on the trail, was the face of a girl…no, the face of a woman who had survived a hard night of riding without complaint. Whose small, compact body was pressed against his, whose lips were temptingly close.

He brushed his lips against her mouth and felt an eager trembling there as she responded, bringing to life a renewed surge of desire rising within him. Casting aside the good intentions he’d vowed to observe, he slid one hand up her back to hold her head in place for his kiss. She murmured beneath her breath, a soft, acquiescent whimper, and his jaw tightened, a sense of male triumph invading his very being.

Against her lower back his hand spread, fingers splayed widely, his palm pressing her firmly against his belly. His arousal met her there and he held her tightly in place, easing the tension of his needy flesh against her groin.

His mouth opening over hers, he delved deep, past the soft lips that parted for his entry, teasing the length of her tongue as it evaded his pursuit. She whimpered, almost a protest Then, inhaling sharply through her nostrils, she joined the game he had begun. Their mouths met with seamless measure, hers opening to match the outline of his lips. Their tongues stroked, languidly touching, lavishly tasting.

Her flavor was like the fine wine he’d tasted once in a fancy place in San Antone, like bubbles and sweetness with a tartness overlaying the whole. He relished the flavor of her, inhaling the scent of her skin, his fingers twisting in her hair, his other hand almost brutal in his strength as he pressed her close. His body surged against her in a primitive motion, muscles taut, his need a barely controlled entity.

And then, with a shudder, he lifted his head, his eyelids heavy as he forced them open, anxious lest he find Cassie’s face a frightened mask. That she had kissed him with fervor was a fact. That she would be fearful of her own actions was a possibility.

Her blue eyes were unfocused, as if she saw him with blurred vision, her cheeks flushed, her mouth open, lips shiny with the residue of their passion. She blinked, peering at him like a newborn baby he’d seen once in a hovel outside Amarillo. Such innocence was not to be believed. Not from the woman who had just met his kiss with impassioned fervor.

“Will? Is kissing supposed to be like that?” Her voice filled with wonder, she blinked again, as if awakening from a particularly delightful dream.

And this was no dream, he decided. More like a nightmare, what with him coaxing her into a seduction he had no intention of pursuing. “It is if the right two people are doin’ the kissin’,” he said, inhaling deeply, tamping down the desire he had allowed full sway for these few moments.

“I feel…” She hesitated, her tongue touching her lips with a tentative gesture. “I’m sort of woozy,” she said finally. “Maybe I’m just hungry.”

“Yeah.” Hungry was the word, all right. He grinned at that thought, easing his body from the contact it craved. He stretched his neck and stiffened his spine, his hands once more at her waist, lifting her to one side.

If the rising wind and the rain that was beginning to fall in earnest would tamp down his urges, he’d edge her from the doorway and do his own wood gathering. The only issue was getting past her without his randy hands taking hold of the temptation she offered.

“I’ll be back directly. You stay inside,” he said gruffly, bending to pick up his hat from the wooden floor. He who was so careful of the wide-brimmed hat that had perched atop his head for the past two years could not even remember it falling from its place.

Her face lit with a relief she made no attempt to hide. “I’ll sort out something for supper,” she offered.

He nodded, hunching his shoulders as he bent into the slanting raindrops. His steps were quick, his hands reaching for dead wood beneath the trees. It was barely dampened by the rain, protected by the trees towering overhead, and he found a double armful within minutes. Probably enough to last the night, if they were careful.

Beneath the small porch he caught a glimpse of more firewood, apparently gathered by an earlier occupant, and he welcomed the discovery with a satisfied grin. Dumping his heavy load just inside the door, he stepped back out to gather up the heavier chunks from under the porch. His shirt clung to his back, thoroughly soaked, and he thought longingly of the warm fire inside.

The small blaze welcomed him as he staggered through the doorway with his burden. Cassie knelt as closely as she dared to the fire, tending the small pot she’d placed in the coals.

“I opened a can of beans from your pack,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, her hair gleaming in the firelight.

This was not going to be an easy night, Will decided, carrying the heavy pieces of firewood closer. He bent, stacking them quickly next to the hearth, then squatted beside Cassie, his fingers working at the buttons of his shirt.

“Can you find me something dry to put on?” His hands were stiff, his movements slow, and he closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in the welcome warmth of the fire.

He heard her murmur of assent as she crossed the room to close the door against the rain. His every nerve attuned to her presence, he flinched at the click of her boot heels as they touched the wooden floor. The swollen wood of the door protested loudly as she dragged it across the uneven floorboards, and then she knelt by his saddlebag. The rustle of her movements had him gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, the better to visualize her as she handled his clothing, sorted through his belongings.

His hands tightened into fists, and he bent his head, aware only of her presence. Her clothing brushed the floor as she rose to her feet, and then he sensed her approach. His heartbeat slowed, his breathing deepened and once more he lifted his hands to undo his shirt buttons.

He stripped the shirt from his body, and unseen hands took it from him. Never had a fire felt so welcome. Grunting his thanks, he stretched out his hands to the crackling flames.

“Your undershirt is pretty well soaked, too,” Cassie said from behind him.

He nodded agreement, his fingers once more working at buttons and buttonholes. He made quicker work of it this time and eased his way from the wet fabric. From behind him, Cassie enclosed his shoulders in the blanket from his pack and he basked in the warmth it captured from the flames as she draped it around his body.

She knelt next to him and reached to stir the beans. “They’re almost hot,” she offered. “We can put them on the biscuits left from breakfast if you want to.”

“That’s fine.” He’d be willing to eat most anything she put in front of him right now, he decided. Between the sound of rain on the roof and the fire crackling in front of him, he was pretty near ready to doze off. If it weren’t for the empty spot in his middle, he’d be content to drop his chin on his chest and spend the night where he sat.

“Here.” Cassie’s hand touched his and his fingers curled around the biscuit she held. Warm beans oozed from its depths and he licked one from his finger, then took a mouthful of the simple meal. He blinked, his eyes gritty with the need for sleep, and chewed slowly, savoring the flavor.

“I never knew beans could taste so good,” Cassie said.

“Hmm.” It was about as much conversation as he could manage. The night without sleep had caught up with him. It was hard telling what time it was, what with the early dark coming on, with the storm overhead. He suspected Cassie was about wiped out, too, even though she’d managed to doze in the saddle a few times throughout the night.

Will swallowed the last of the biscuit. “How many more of those you got?”

“Enough,” she answered, her fingers deft as she split another, scooping on a generous helping of beans from the pot. She handed it to him and he muttered his thanks before he took a bite. Grasping the pot handle gingerly, she turned it toward him, handing him the spoon.

“Here, eat the rest. I’ve had enough.” Settling her bottom on the floor, she folded her legs as she leaned toward the heat.

“You sure?” Will cast her a doubtful glance. She nodded, her gaze captured by the flames. “Here, have a bite,” he offered, holding the spoon in front of her lips.

Her mouth opened obediently and he watched as her lips closed on the spoon. He eased it from her mouth and filled it again, feeding himself the next bite. There was about the small ritual a strange bonding, and he filled the spoon again, lifting it, watching as she ate from his hand. Scraping the last bite atop his final bit of biscuit, he popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly, savoring the flavor.

“Can we sleep now?” Cassie asked, not bothering to cover the yawn that accompanied her question.

Will cast a look around the small cabin. Against the far wall a rudely constructed bunk offered dubious comfort. “Seems to me we’d be just as well off right here by the fire,” he said. “That bed doesn’t look like much, and we’ll be warmer here.”

“I’ll put some more wood on,” Cassie said, rising. “Here’s your shirt, Will.” She dropped it into his lap, then found several chunks of wood to stack over the coals.

He watched as she worked, then, shedding the blanket, he hastily pulled his shirt in place. The fire would dry his trousers, he figured. Taking them off would likely scare the bejabbers out of Cassie.

“Are you pretty well dried out?” he asked, pulling his pack closer, shoving the contents about as he sought a soft spot for his head.

She watched him, her eyes wary. “I’m all right. I’m warm, anyway.” She tugged at her boots, placing them to one side of the wide fireplace. “These should dry out pretty well by tomorrow.” As if she had done all she could to put off the inevitable, she turned to him.

“I’ll roll up in the other blanket. You can sleep closer to the fire.”

He shook his head. “No, we’ll sleep together, right here.” His hand motioned to the space they occupied and he stretched out, the blanket over his shoulders once more. “Bring the other blanket here,” he told her, patting the floor in front of him.

She obeyed, moving silently on stocking feet as she gathered up the dark woolen square from his pack. Lowering herself to the floor, she spread the covering over them both, then settled down in the space he had indicated, just next to the hearth.

He moved to curl his body around her back, arranging the blankets to form a double layer over them as he slid his arm under her head, easing it from the floor. His other hand scooped her closely to his chest and she stiffened for a moment.

“Ease up, Cassie,” he ordered in a rusty growl. “I need to get warm.”

Getting warm wasn’t the issue, Will thought, even as he muttered the words against the crown of her head. He was managing to generate enough inner heat to keep them both going all evening and half the night. He’d be better off if he kept his hands to himself and stayed six feet away from the bundle of temptation he held tucked so neatly against his needy body.

His sigh was deep. He was a glutton for punishment, sure enough. Here he was with a softly curving female in his grasp, his arm fitted around her waist and his thighs cradling her tight little rump. It was a damn good thing he was as tired as he was, or this would be a miserable night.

His arm tightened, eliciting a grumble of protest from the woman he held. “Don’t wiggle, Cassie,” he said, his voice muffled in her hair.

And then his eyes closed, the flames before him rising anew, bathing him with the comfort of their warmth.

Chapter Five

“What’s wrong, Will?” Not for the first time, she asked the question, and once more he shrugged it off.

“Nothin’ much, Cass. Just makin’ sure we’re on the right track. I’ve come through Oklahoma Territory before, but it’s been a while.” His grin was sudden and all the more welcome for its recent absence. “I wouldn’t want to get us lost before we get to Missouri.”

Cassie felt a great relief at his attempt to soothe her worries. That such a small thing as a smile from Will Tolliver would absorb her unease so readily was a wonder. That his touch, one finger against her cheek, would send a shiver of anticipation down her back was another marvel to behold.

His nearness at night was a comfort, and his tender regard for her well-being was a panacea for all the wounds of her soul. And yet, there was within her an aching, a dreadful need for more than Will had given thus far. And that makes me foolish and greedy, she thought with a twinge of conscience.

Will had already done so much in her behalf. The guilt that hung over her head like a lowering thundercloud plagued her as she considered his kindness. And how had she repaid him? Her deceit, the blatant lie she had told him, the blood she had shed…she bowed her head. And now she wanted what he had not offered, whatever that might be. How could she yearn for more, especially when she herself was not even sure what that more consisted of?

Now, on the third day out since they had stopped at that cabin, since Will had kissed her and held her with such a needy embrace, she found herself watching him closely. He’d been quiet, almost angry, as he’d ridden out last evening after setting up their camp.

He’d been narrow eyed and somber when he returned, evading her questions and soothing her concerns as they bedded down for the night. His hand had held his gun throughout the night. She’d peeked more than once, restlessly turning over on the hard ground, aware of his quiet watchfulness as she sought sleep.

Now she watched as he approached, her awareness of him heightened as he shot her a measuring look. His hand pulled at the brim of his hat, tugging it over his forehead as if he would anchor it there.

“Keep ridin’, Cassie.” He circled her, his stallion taking mincing steps as Will reined him tightly. “See that smoke on the horizon?” Will’s hand swept up, his index finger pointing to the north and east. “I want you to head in that direction, hear me?”

Cassie nodded, perplexed once more by his somber look. He’d been quiet again this morning, and then, with no warning, issued his orders. “What’s wrong, Will?” she asked, only to find herself talking to his back as his horse pivoted in place.

He handed her the lead rope for the mule and watched as she wound it around the saddle horn, nodding his approval. “Just do as I say, Cassie.” His words gave her no choice, drifting back over his shoulder as he left her. Doubling back on their trail, he headed off to the south, even as she watched.

“Behave yourself, girl,” she muttered beneath her breath, eyeing the twitching ears of the mount she rode. The mare was about as reluctant to keep moving as she was, Cassie decided. “He’ll be back,” she murmured. “Before you know it,” she assured the animal, reaching one hand to pat at the horse’s dark mane.

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