blow with a muscular arm. “Try anything again, and … and …”
“Maybe I should let Wrestler have you,” he grumbled. “Those are some nice-looking ponies he’s got.”
“You can’t frighten me,” she lied. “You’re a bounty hunter. Your duty is to arrest me. You said that yourself. You won’t let him have me, not even at the cost of your own life.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I’m a good judge of horses and men,” she said. “I know you wouldn’t turn me over to the Indians. You couldn’t sleep nights if you did.”
“Damn if I’m getting much sleep tonight.”
“Or anything else.”
He grunted and settled down alongside of her, molding his body to hers.
“Please,” she murmured. “Sleep somewhere else. I won’t go anywhere. I promise.”
“The trouble with you, MacGreggor, is that you don’t have sense enough to know when you’re ahead. Now, shut up and go to sleep, before I forget I’m not a snake like Cannon.”
She bit back an oath.
“That’s better,” he said sleepily. “You’re softer than the rock under my spine.” He dropped his arm around her waist. “But I warn you, trying to get away could get you killed. I come up out of a sound sleep shootin’.”
* * *
Sometime before dawn, the dog began to bark frantically. Ash leaped up and reached for his rifle. The horses, banded together in a small roped-in pen, snorted and whinnied, stamping restlessly.
Tamsin stirred.
“Stay where you are until I find out what’s wrong,” he ordered. See if Jack Cannon and his boys are payin’ us a visit, he thought.
Damn if his head didn’t feel like he’d been caught in a prairie twister. His mouth was as dry as gunpowder, and his gut was none too steady as he yanked on his clothes and boots.
He wondered if he was coming down with fever until he remembered the firewater Wrestler and Mountain Calf had shared with him around the campfire. “Nothing like bad whiskey to make a man a fool,” he muttered under his breath.
The Utes were all on their feet. Shadow was throwing more wood on the fire. Wrestler held the yapping dog by the scruff of his neck. War-et’s hair was roached up and his teeth were bared.
“What is it?” Ash called to the Indians.
Mountain Calf gestured toward the far side of the stream.
“Gato!”
It was the cougar out there, not Cannon. Ash glanced back at Tamsin, wondering if she’d be disappointed. She’d denied a relationship with the outlaw, but that was to be expected. If the liquor hadn’t been talking, he’d never have mentioned Jack to her.
As he watched, Tamsin snatched up the blankets and her boots and hurried over to join Shadow.
Wrestler’s inscrutable bronze face glowed in the firelight. The Ute was on his knees, holding the struggling dog with both arms. “War-et is brave, is he not?” Wrestlerasked. “Alone, this dog would throw himself into the teeth of the puma.”
“I saw the cat,” Shadow said in her own language. “He came out of the night without fear of the fire.” She handed her sleeping baby to Tamsin and continued adding fuel to the flames.
Her husband nodded. “This man, too, saw the mountain lion. When War-et began to bark, I thought it might be a raiding party.”
“There are hostiles in the area?” Ash asked. “What tribe?”
Wrestler shrugged. “Arapaho and Cheyenne. Together. Angry young men, a few women, mostly warriors. Dog soldiers among them. Those fierce ones who hate the white men for the killings at the place you call Sand Creek. They will not lay down their arms and go to Indian Territory as the white president says.”
Ash frowned. He knew there were scattered bands hiding in the mountains, but he’d not heard of any fighting men in numbers. “How many?”
“Thirty, maybe more. Some men could have been hunting when we saw them pass.”
“We hid,” Shadow said. “The Arapaho and the Cheyenne are not always friends of the Ute.”
“These are not friends to any
“Maybe I should let Wrestler have you,” he grumbled. “Those are some nice-looking ponies he’s got.”
“You can’t frighten me,” she lied. “You’re a bounty hunter. Your duty is to arrest me. You said that yourself. You won’t let him have me, not even at the cost of your own life.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I’m a good judge of horses and men,” she said. “I know you wouldn’t turn me over to the Indians. You couldn’t sleep nights if you did.”
“Damn if I’m getting much sleep tonight.”
“Or anything else.”
He grunted and settled down alongside of her, molding his body to hers.
“Please,” she murmured. “Sleep somewhere else. I won’t go anywhere. I promise.”
“The trouble with you, MacGreggor, is that you don’t have sense enough to know when you’re ahead. Now, shut up and go to sleep, before I forget I’m not a snake like Cannon.”
She bit back an oath.
“That’s better,” he said sleepily. “You’re softer than the rock under my spine.” He dropped his arm around her waist. “But I warn you, trying to get away could get you killed. I come up out of a sound sleep shootin’.”
* * *
Sometime before dawn, the dog began to bark frantically. Ash leaped up and reached for his rifle. The horses, banded together in a small roped-in pen, snorted and whinnied, stamping restlessly.
Tamsin stirred.
“Stay where you are until I find out what’s wrong,” he ordered. See if Jack Cannon and his boys are payin’ us a visit, he thought.
Damn if his head didn’t feel like he’d been caught in a prairie twister. His mouth was as dry as gunpowder, and his gut was none too steady as he yanked on his clothes and boots.
He wondered if he was coming down with fever until he remembered the firewater Wrestler and Mountain Calf had shared with him around the campfire. “Nothing like bad whiskey to make a man a fool,” he muttered under his breath.
The Utes were all on their feet. Shadow was throwing more wood on the fire. Wrestler held the yapping dog by the scruff of his neck. War-et’s hair was roached up and his teeth were bared.
“What is it?” Ash called to the Indians.
Mountain Calf gestured toward the far side of the stream.
“Gato!”
It was the cougar out there, not Cannon. Ash glanced back at Tamsin, wondering if she’d be disappointed. She’d denied a relationship with the outlaw, but that was to be expected. If the liquor hadn’t been talking, he’d never have mentioned Jack to her.
As he watched, Tamsin snatched up the blankets and her boots and hurried over to join Shadow.
Wrestler’s inscrutable bronze face glowed in the firelight. The Ute was on his knees, holding the struggling dog with both arms. “War-et is brave, is he not?” Wrestlerasked. “Alone, this dog would throw himself into the teeth of the puma.”
“I saw the cat,” Shadow said in her own language. “He came out of the night without fear of the fire.” She handed her sleeping baby to Tamsin and continued adding fuel to the flames.
Her husband nodded. “This man, too, saw the mountain lion. When War-et began to bark, I thought it might be a raiding party.”
“There are hostiles in the area?” Ash asked. “What tribe?”
Wrestler shrugged. “Arapaho and Cheyenne. Together. Angry young men, a few women, mostly warriors. Dog soldiers among them. Those fierce ones who hate the white men for the killings at the place you call Sand Creek. They will not lay down their arms and go to Indian Territory as the white president says.”
Ash frowned. He knew there were scattered bands hiding in the mountains, but he’d not heard of any fighting men in numbers. “How many?”
“Thirty, maybe more. Some men could have been hunting when we saw them pass.”
“We hid,” Shadow said. “The Arapaho and the Cheyenne are not always friends of the Ute.”
“These are not friends to any
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