Silver and Steel
by
Susan Amarillas

Susan Amarillas was born and raised in Maryland moved to California
when she married.  She quickly discovered her love of the high desert
country-she says it was as if she were 'coming home'.

When she's not writing, she and her husband love to travel the back
road& of the West, visiting ghost towns and little museums and always
coming home with an armload of books.

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bearing the same name or names.

They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown
to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surey 7W9 ]SR 0 Karen L.

Amarillas 1994

ISBN 0 263 79530 6

Set in Times Roman 10 on 11 pt.

04-9604-89851 C Printed in Great Britain by BPC Paperbacks Ltd

Chapter One

Montana Territory, 1879

Exactly four buildings lined each side of Main Street like a mirror
image right down to the peeling paint.

That was the welcome sight that greeted Mary Elizabeth Clang as she
rode into Rainbow Gulch on this sunny Tuesday in May.

She had news-good news.

News that was going to change everything, and she couldn't wait to
share it with the people who meant the world to her.

Where the blazes was everyone?

There was only a dust devil to greet her and even that whirled past,
leaving the street silent and empty, with only the steady clip-clop of
Buck's hooves and the creak of saddle leather to keep her company.

Glancing up over the rooftops, she noted the billowing thunderheads
building over the Bear Tooth Mountains.

There'd be rain tonight, a real hide-under-the-covers storm by the look
of things.

About that time, she saw Tim Johnson stroll out of the Number Three
saloon and lean casually against the gnarled upright supporting one
corner of the porch.

Hard to believe a town of less than two hundred people would need three
saloons.

Three or a hundred and three, she couldn't have cared.

This was home, and every dirt-covered log shack scattered over the
hillsides looked like a palace to her.

With a nudge of her heel against her horses's side, she headed in
Tixn's direction.

Poor Tim was as nearsighted as an old woman, and she could see him
squinting, trying to make her out.

The instant he did, he straightened abruptly and called over his
shoulder toward the saloon's open doorway, Mary's back!

Mary gave him a wave and was rewarded with a hopeful grin slashed
across his freckled face from ear to ear.

"Hey, everybody come on, Mary Clang's back!"

Leaping off the wood porch, he started in her direction, the afternoon
breeze puffing out the sleeves of his too-big green plaid shirt.

Reining to a stop in the middle of the sunny dirt street, Mary
dismounted.

Just as she figured, the horse wandered to the nearby water trough
while all around her men thundered out of the saloons as if someone had
shouted, "Avalanche!

Merle Asher took to banging away on a piece of iron pipe that dangled
on a length of rawhide like a hanged man in front of the Number One.

The alarm was used for emergencies, fire mostly, or when somebody was
hurt.

Today it called the rest of the town's population to a meetin .

In no 9 .

time, a hundred and fifty or so people had gathered around Mary.

"Well?"  seemed to be the question on everyone's lips.

There was a little jostling, a little pushing.

Everyone crowded closer, straining for the words that would make or
break their future.

@'Did we get it?

"The train.  Did we get the train?"

"C'mon, Mary, spit it out."

"Where's Papa?"  she countered, wanting the most important person in
her life to be there when she told them.

"Here I am, Mary girl," Brian Clang called over the heads of the
crowd.

"Hey, let a man through, will ya?"

A smile lighted up her face as she watched him shoulder his way through
the group.

Dirt stained his denim pants and faded blue shirt.

At nearly fifty, he stood ramrod straight, hair graying at the
temples.

"Good to have ya back, girl."

He gathered her in a fatherly hug then put her slightly away from
him.

"Ya okay?

I don't like you making that trip to Bozeman alone.

Mary smiled.

Some things never changed - "I'm fine and I missed you, too, Papa,
and-" "You two can get reacquainted later," Sam Rafferty cut in.

He ran a hand through his thinning brown hair.

"Now what's the verdict?  Good or bad?"

Mary straightened, swiped at a stray lock of curly black hair the
breeze kept pushing in her face and said, "It's good.

The House of - " " Did you hear that?

" Tim Johnson asked, scanning the crowd of startled faces."  We done
it.

The Congress said yes.

We're gonna get that railroad spur!

"Tim, I didn't mean-" Too late.

Her plea was lost in the excitement.

For a moment all she could do was watch in horror as the bystanders
went wild, shouting, laughing, slapping one another on the back.

The wives, the dozen there were, hugged their husbands and cried .

And the handful of children played a game of ring-around-a-rosy.

"No.  Wait!"

Mary pleaded, but no one paid attention.

Brian Clang beamed.

"Mary girl, I wish yer ma was here to see this day.  She'd be proud."

Mary's pulse pounded in her ears.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

She had to explain.

"No, Papa, I-" His laughter drowned out her plea.

Sam Rafferty's chubby cheeks pouched up in an eyesquinting smile.

"That danged letter writin' stuff Mary thought of worked."

"No!"

Mary shouted.

"You don't understand."

Panic filled her.

Desperately she tried to get everyone's attention.

" Please!  " She pushed into the crowd, grabbing first one, then
another.

"Listen!  It's not over!"

"What?"

Eddie Edwards stiffed.

He let his daughter slide through his arms to stand on the ground.

"What do ya mean it ain't over?  You just said-" Briaif s smile
faded.

Slowly, the crowd seemed to pick up on the conversation.

People quieted and once again all faces turned toward her.

Her panic turned into a knot that started in her stomach and threatened
to choke off any speech.

"I was trying to tell you," she began swallowing hard, "Mr. Macklin
wired that the House of Representatives passed legislation to
renegotiate the treaty with the Crow and allow a railroad spur to be
built across Indian land to Rainbow Gulch."

She rushed all she had to say in one long breath.

"So?  Ain't that enough?"

Tim Johnson asked, obviously confused.

Others nodded.

Mary gazed around at the faces of the people she loved as if they were
her blood kin.

"The House of Representatives is only the first step-and we passed,"
she added quickly, wanting them to feel encouraged, not disappointed.

"Now it has to pass the Senate."

"So ... we didn't get it."

Sam's voice was barely a whisper.

No one in the crowd moved.

Even the afternoon breeze stilled, leaving the air as lifeless as the
people gathered around.

Mary saw the look of disbelief on their faces.

How could her good news have turned out so badly?

"We gotta have that railroad."

Eddie voiced what everyone was obviously thinking.

"Hauling gold outta here on pack animals was tough enough, but now the
gold's gone.

It's silver or nothing and it's too danged heavy to haul outta here on
mules.

Mary shared their frustration.

"I knoiw."

She thought of the rich vein of silver her father had claimed.

This was it for them like everyone else here.

Their one chance at a future, a decent life.

Lord, she hated this.

Why couldn't the Senate have voted, too?

Of course, that wasn't the way of politics.

Sam Rafferty shifted from one booted foot to the other.

"If we don't get that train, this'll be a ghost town come first snow.

This silver won't be worth diggin' if we can't get it to a smelter.

With the main railroad track only fifty miles away, seems like it
oughta be a cinch ... except for them danged Indians."

"What are we gonna do?"

Eddie asked solemnly.

"The letter writin' stuff was your idea, Mary.  Hell, you wrote most of
'em yerself and it worked, as far as it went, but now...

Mary took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Behind her, the chestnut gelding, suddenly restless, pawed the
ground.

The late afternoon shadows of the buildings edged across the street
like the feeling of dread that was edging through the gathered
people.

Somehow she felt as though she'd failed.

The feeling didn't sit well with her.

"Mr.  Macklin will wire as soon as he knows anything."

It wasn't much to offer, but it was the best she had.

"Don't you go to worryiif, Mary," her father assured her.

"Macklin is okay," Sam Rafferty mused, "for a territorial
representative and all, but he ain't got a stake in this like we do."

Mary stared at the group of miners.

"Look at you.  Are you giving up before it's even over?  Are you going
to start packing?  I'm not ready to walk away and neither should you
be."

They had the good grace to look a little sheepish, she noticed.

"Mary, you done everythin' you could."

Eddie's lips turned up in a less than enthusiastic smile.

"You're the one with book leamin'.  If it weren't for you, we wouldn't
have had no chance at all."

He looked around.

"Tell her, folks.

Ain't no one blaming you for nothin'.

"That's right, Mary."

"You done it all."

Mary shook her head, and another lock of hair pulled free of her
topknot and fell down across her face.

Annoyed, she blew it back.

"I sent a wire to Mr. Macklin thanking him for all his help.  He knows
how important this is and-" "Like I said, Mary," Sam spoke up again.

"Macklin is okay, but it ain't like..."

His pale blue eyes widened with a sudden recognition.

"J-ike one of us was there."

Sam looked around at the others.

"What we need is one of us in Washington."

Eddie shook his head adamantly.

"Are you plumb crazy, Sam?  Who?  Who we gonna send?"

He made a sweeping gesture toward the crowd.

"Who's gonna give up weeks of mining to go running off across the
country?"

"Besides," Brian broke in, "where's the money comin' from?"

"We'll pass the hat," Sam fired back, obviously convinced his idea was
the right one.

"Everyone puts in something, cash, gold, whatever they can spare."

"The folks in this town are near to broke, and even if we come up with
the fare, there stillain't no One to go,@' Eddie reminded Sam.

"I could go."

All eyes turned to Mary and for a full ten seconds no one spoke.

What else was there to say?

Then, abruptly, the men turned to discuss their options.

There were none and Mary knew it.

Besides, the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go.

There seemed to be a sudden electricity in the air.

Maybe from that approaching storm.

Maybe not.

She waited while they kept going over their choices as if she weren't
standing two feet away and couldn't hear every word.

Not that they were saying anything bad, but for a group of tough miners
to send a woman to speak for them, well, it was something that didn't
come naturally and she knew it.

The group quieted.

Sam glanced around at the crowd again as if searching for unspoken
objections.

"I say Mary goes for us."

Others in the group gave the barest of nods.

Mary knew it was a real blow to their pride to have to ask a woman to
go in their stead.

It doubled her determination to succeed.

"Thank you.  I won't let you down.  Tomorrow-" "No."

It was Brian Clang who spoke up.

"I'm not sending Mary off alone on a train to Washington.  It ain't
right.  It ain't safe."

Her father's objection didn't come as a complete surprise and she
turned to him with her most confident smile.

The one that had been letting her get her own way since she was eight
years old.

"Now, Papa, I've grown up in mining camps from California to Montana.

If I've managed to take care of myself around a bunch of..  ."

She thought better of her statement and, clearing her throat, started
again.

"Traveling on a train will be easy."

She'd been fighting all her life to hold her own in a camp of rough
miners, to help her mother keep food on the table and a roof over their
heads while her father searched for that elusive strike, the mother
lode, that would give them a real home and respectability and
permanence.

Now they had it, or a chance at it anyway, if they could only get the
train.

"Say yes, Papa."

Brian stared long and hard at his only daughter and for an instant she
thought all her efforts had failed and he wouldn't relent.

Fortunately, the men came to her aid.

"Girl's right, Brian.  She can take care of herself.  She goes to
Bozeman and back without no trouble.  What's gonna happen on a train?

They got them conductor fellas to make sure about such things."

Brian's gaze narrowed and he rubbed his clean-shaven chin
thoughtfully.

Mary's heart sank.

"Papa," she began, stepping in front of him, turning her back on the
crowd.

She kept her voice low.

"I'll be careful."

She put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"This is for us, Papa.  It was tough enough leaving Utah after Willie
died."

Her voice cracked as she remembered how her mother had stoically sat on
the back of the wagon and watched as the camp and the grave of Mary's
ten-year-old brother disappeared from view.

Her mother had hardly spoken for days after that.

Now her mother was gone, too-died last fall of the fever.

Mary's gaze was instinctively drawn to the simple white cross on the
distant hillside.

Her father turned his head to follow her line of vision.

When he looked back, tears glistened in his blue eyes.

"We're not leaving, Papa."

Her fingers tightened on his arm and tears welled in her own eyes.

"I'll be careful.  I'll wire Mr. Macklin to meet me when I arrive and
I'll find a nice couple on the train and stay close to them."

Softly she added, "I can do this', Papa... for.  us ... for Mama."

In a voice that was more than a little shaky, Brian Clang said, "All
right."

"I love you, Papa.  I won't let you down."

Alexandre Moreau paused in the doorway of the luxurious Georgetown
parlor.

A quiet murmur moved through the room.

Heads turned in his direction.

Some smiled, the ladies mostly, and a few of the men he called
friend.

Damned few of those, he thought, scanning the crowd of thirty or so
dressed in elegant evening attire.

With a small nod to the foursome standing closest, Alex walked into the
room.

Skirting around the ivory brocade settee and matching wing chair, he
went straight to his host for the evening.

"Senator," Alex said, extending his hand, "thank you for your
invitation.  I apologize for being late."

As if on cue, the gold-and-black French table clock on the mantel
chimed eleven precisely.

"I was unavoidably detained on business."

Senator Jack Carlin, a portly man with snow-white hair, turned with a
gracious smile to greet his guest.

"I hope the...ah ... business," he emphasized with a knowing tone, .

,was rewarding.

" He chuckled, his brown eyes sparking with mischief.

"You're getting randy in your old age, Jack.

Unfortunately, this time it was business.

I was trying to find Macklin.

I wanted to talk to him about that little piece of legislation he mana
ed to slip through the House.

Somebody's behind this and I want-" " Alex, darling, I missed you at
dinner," Saundra Brinker broke in.  Her hand, which rested lightly on
his sleeve, was obvious.  So was her perfect little pout.  Alex knew
both the gestures and the lady... intimately.

"I missed you, too."

He bid his annoyance at her rudeness while slipping his arm from her
hold.

"You look lovely this evening," he added with well-practiced charm.

Of course, in this case it was true.

Saundra was quite beautiful.

Some said one of the most beautiful women in Washington.

Trouble was, the lady knew it.

Just as she knew the apricot color of her designer silk gown
complemented her auburn hair perfectly.

"How was the theater?"

"Oh, the play was quite tedious."

She gave a dismissing wave of her slender hand.

"Not at all funny.  You didn't miss a thing."

"Well, actually," the senator contradicted while brushing at a
nonexistent speck of lint on his sleeve, "I found it to be quite
good."

"These things are a matter of taste, I suppose," Saundra allowed with a
shrug of her bare porcelain shoulders.

"Yes, I suppose you're right, though everyone I've talked to enjoyed it
greatly," Alex rebutted, annoyed at her snobbish attitude even if she
was the pampered granddaughter of a Supreme Court justice.

"Saundra, sweet, would you excuse Jack and me for a while.  We have
some business to discuss and I'm sure you'd be quite bored with this,
too."

Alex couldn't help the tint of sarcasm in his voice.

Her brown eyes flashed as if she were about to argue.

She evidently thought better of it.

"Will I be seeing you soon ... Alex ... darling?"

Her tone was husky and her intention clear to anyone who could hear,
which fortunately did not include her grandfather, who was standing
fifteen feet away near the Italian marble mantel.

491,11 try.

) @ The senator fell in step as Alex strode across the Aubusson carpet
toward the open French doors and the oleander-lined terrace beyond.

Voices, a woman's laughter, carried up from the towpath along the
canal.

Couples, perhaps lovers, strolling in the moonlight, he thought.

The slow-moving water glinted silver and white as it flowed silently
toward the Potomac.

"I don't understand you, Alex."

The senator's baritone voice interrupted his thoughts.

'What?

"You mind telling me why you're wasting your time with
ahaughtybitchlikeSauTidraBrinker?"  leave it to Jack to cut to the
chase, Alex thought with an inward sigh.

"Saundra has her... talents."

Though her possessiveness was starting to overshadow her eagerness for
things .

provocative.

III just don't get it.

"My personal life is not open for discussion-not even to you, old
friend."

"Old friend, hell.  I've known you since you were in short pants, so
you'll understand if I feel that gives me certain rights."

He sat down on the white wicker love seat.

The wicker creaked and snapped under his weight.

"I'm not trying to pry, I only want to see you happy."

"I'm happy.  And why are we having this discussion tonight of all
nights?"

"Because it's high time someone took you to task, and with your parents
gone, I seem to be the closest thing to family you've got."

"Goddamnit, Jack, I don't need your parenting."

"The hell you don't," Jack fired back.

"Your father left you well provided for when he died.  Hell, he owned
an enviable portion of Butte real estate, not to mention a couple of
hotels and a bank, if I remember right.  Why, half the women in this
town would come running if you so much as snapped your fingers."

He shifted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"You should have been married and settled long ago and we both know
it.

If it's because the Sims girl walked out-" Alex turned sharply.

Old pain, old anger welled up in him.

"This is the last time I'm telling you, Jack.  Stay out of my personal
life.  All of it.  That's final.  What's past is past.  I like my life
just fine the way it is."

"Yes.  Yes.  So you say."

Jack shook his head.

"You're twenty-eight-"

I

'Twenty-nine.

"All the more reason.  You deserve" I deserve exactly what I've got,
which is a helluva lot more than most men, white or otherwise.

And that was the heart of the matter, because Alex Moreau was, and
always would be, a half-breed.

A man who walked in two worlds and belonged in neither.

When your father was white and your mother Indian, you learned early
how to conceal your pain, how to fight and, most important, how to
win.

Alex had learned his lessons well - He had the scars to prove it.

Jack seemed to be blind to the prejudices of the world and Alex loved
him for it, but.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Jack.  I'm changing the
subject.  Period."

"I know that tone."

Jack made a show of sighing.

"All right.  I give up... for now."

Alex relaxed.

He even chuckled.

"Thanks" was all he said as he sat down next to his friend.

From the grassy slope behind the oleander hedge, a chorus of crickets
serenaded them, giving the night a peaceful feeling, a feeling that
Alex didn't share.

Ixaning back, he draped one arm along the back of the settee.

"Now, about this move to nullify the treaty.  What have you heard?"

"Not much.  It came out of the House last week headed for the Senate
Committee on Indian Affairs.  I can get you the names of the members.

Most of them you already know, Crocker, Blandings, Andrews..."

"Yes.  I've given a dollar or two to most of their campaigns."

Alex glanced over with a rueful smile.

"Figured sooner or later the family would need someone to do a little
favor.  It's a white man's world and a white man's government.  You
just have to know how the game is played."

"Well, you're a lawyer.  Glad to see all those years at school weren't
wasted."

"Time to take a few of the esteemed gentlemen to luncheon, express a
certain interest in the outcome -of such a move."

That was the easy part.

He was a man who knew how to get things done-his way.

"It would help a little if I knew who the competition was."

"I haven't heard.  Theries money to be made, though, you can bank on
that."

A feeling of apprehension inched up Alex's spine.

"Money and power go hand in hand.  And if there's money to be made at
the expense of the Indians, some people would say so much the better.

It's only been three years since the Custer fiasco."

Absently, Alex rubbed his hands along the tops of his wool-clad
thighs.

"Whatever it takes," he said, as much to himself as to Jack, "I'm going
to stop this.  As far as I'm concerned, the Treaty of '68 was written
in stone, and anyone who wants to change it is going to have to go
through me."

Chapter Two

The steady clacking of the iron wheels changed, slowed.

The harsh scream of the steam whistle cut off all conversation on the
train and Mary waited as they chugged to a stop in the Baltimore and
Ohio Station.

The coach door behind her banged open.

"Washington!  " the uniformed conductor called, making his way down the
narrow aisle.

"Washington!"

People stood, stretched and tried to flex the knots out of stiff
muscles.

Mary had an overwhelming urge to massage her bottom, which had gone to
sleep somewhere around Philadelphia.

Gathering up her reticule, she pushed at the wrinkles that five days on
a train had left in her dark green muslin dress.

She adjusted her hat and straightened her jacket.

She edged out into the aisle and inched her way along with the rest of
the crowd, wondering if Mr. Macklin would be able to meet the train as
she would have requested in her wire.

If he wasn't there, she'd have to find a place to stay, then go to his
office.

Voices, footsteps-every sound-seemed to echo in the cavernous
building.

It was like being in a box canyon, only this one had a roof over it.

Standing on the platform, she spotted a man who seemed to be looking
for someone.

He was tall and well dressed, his brown hair graying at the sides.

Their gazes met in uncertain recognition and he started in her
direction.

"Good day," he said, removing his beaver hat.

"Are you Miss Mary Clang?"

He smiled behind his brown mustache, which disappeared into muttonchop
whiskers.

"I am.  You must be Mr.  Macklin."

"John Macklin, at your service."

Mary shook hands, then Mr. Macklin got a porter to retrieve her
luggage and carry it to the curb.

A light rain greeted them, but the paved street was only damp, not yet
puddled.

It had rained the last couple of days and those clouds behind the
Capitol dome showed no break.

Capitol.

My Lord, it was the Capitol.

The Capitol of the United States was only a few hundred yards away, its
white luster dulled by the gray black sky.

What have you gotten yourself into?

I can do this, she told herself for about the thousandth time in the
week since she'd left Butte.

"Cab," Mr.  Macklin called, and waved.

A hired carriage pulled to the curb.

A distant rumble of thunder sounded overhead.

: "Well, Mr. Macklin, it was nice of you to meet me and-" "Let's get
out of this rain."

He signaled'for a waiting cab, pulled open the door and helped her
inside while the driver secured her meager luggage.

"Seventh and South Carolina," Mr.  Macklin told the man.

"I took the liberty of arranging a room for you nearby."

He settled back against the burgundy leather.

His well-tailored gray suit pulled snugly over his potbelly.

"I thought you'd be more comfortable in a boardinghouse than at a
hotel."

That's for certain, Mary thought gratefully.

Rainbow Gulch had raised the phenomenal sum of two hundred dollars.

What was left after purchasing the train ticket was tucked securely in
her reticule.

III appreciate your thoughtfulness.

" She made a show of arranging the folds in her skirt."  Well, Mr.
Macklin, should we discuss business?

He stared at her through narrowed brown eyes.

"Miss Clang, would you mind clarifying just why it is you are here?

Your wire didn't say much."

She liked a person who got right to the point.

"Well, the people of Rainbow Gulch were very pleased with the way you
handled the first phase of the legislation."

Always start with a compliment, she thought.

His smile, though small, told her she was on the right track.

"They felt that there was no sense taking any chances.  With two of us
working, we are assured of success."

His wrinkled brow creased in a small frown.

"And just what do you know about Washington politics, my dear?"

She ruffled at the condescension in his voice.

"What I know about, Mr. Macklin, is silver mining.  I know how much
Rainbow Gulch is depending on getting a railroad.  I also know that the
Bland-Allison Act of '78 means the government is buying silver,
twenty-four million dollars a year, to be precise, and with the Utah
Northern only fifty miles from Rainbow Gulch, the only thing stopping
us is the treaty with the Crow."

"A train will have to cross their land."

"We don't want their land ... well, not all of it, and the Indians
don't want the silver," Mary countered.

"We're not saying.  We found something no one else wanted.  All we're
asking is to be able to live and provide for ourselves just like
everyone else including the Indians.  We deserve a chance, and getting
that railroad will do just that."

"I see you've done some book work, Miss Clang."

This time there was a trace of respect in his voice.

"I'm surprised to find a woman interested in business or politics.

So, Miss Clang, just what are you planning to do while you're here in
Washington?"

"I'm planning to lobby, " she began, emphasizing the key word for
effect, "as many senators as possible and convince them of the?ightness
in helping us."

"It'll take more than saying please."

Mary's chin came up a fraction of an inch and she sat a little
straighter against the carriage seat.

"I'll say please if it'll work.  If not I'll say that mining is king in
Montana and that translates into money, and money, as we all know,
means power."

"So they say."

He watched her intently.

"What many people know is that Rainbow Gulch has the richest deposit of
silver in the area but it is isolated.  Getting a train to Rainbow
Gulch means profits-for the railroad to haul the ore, for the smelter
owners who process the ore, and for investors who would like to see the
mines enlarged.

I suspect it's the opportunity for profits that will make Rainbow Gulch
important to politicians .

and others.

She thought she saw him smile at that little bit of intuitive
reasoning.

She didn't for a moment think the territorial representative was
helping them out of the goodness of his heart.

But that didn't matter, as long as she got what she wanted.

"I'm impressed, Miss Clang.  You know your subject."

"I've learned what I could, Mr. Macklin.  I know some of the Western
and Southetn senators will support u@for obvious reasons."

Prejudice and, in some cases, outrigfit hatred of the Indians, she
thought.

It had been only three years since the Little Big horn massacre.

Mary wasn't comfortable with the motivation, but she couldn't change
it.

"It seems to me," she continued, "that of the seventyeight senators,
about twenty-five will vote with us."

"Closer to thirty, assuming-" "We can get it out of committee."

"You have done your research.  You mind telling me where you learned so
much?"

He chuckled and smiled at the same time.

"We get the newspapers, even in a town as remote as Rainbow Gulch."

She relaxed against the soft leather, suddenly aware of the sway of the
carriage and the jingle of the harness.

"Mr. Macklin, I'm not trying to detract from you or your position here
in any way.  I'm fighting to save my home and my family's future.

If you'll help me, then perhaps I can be of some help to you.  We've
got a lot of people to see and the Senate is due to adjourn in about
two weeks.

He laughed then, a nice easy sound, and she smiled in return.

"NESS Clang, I like you."

He offered his hand, which she happily shook to bind their new
liaison.

"I like you, too, Mr.  Macklin.  I'm glad we had this little talk."

The light mist of rain had turned to a steady downpour by the time the
carriage pulled up in front of a three-story redbrick home with a bay
window on one side.

From the outside, it looked clean and neatly manicured.

Mr. Macklin escorted Mary inside while the driver carried in her three
battered carpetbags and dropped them with a thump on the well-polished
hardwood floor.

Mr.  Macklin paid the requested two bits.

Mrs. Dice, a tall, dour-faced woman dressed entirely in black, greeted
them.

"Well, Mr.  Macklin, this must be Miss Clang."

"That's right," Mary said.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"Your room is at the top of the stairs, third door on the left," the
woman said.

"It faces south, so it's bright but the sun won't wake you in the
mornings.  Breakfast and supper are included with your rent.  Go on up
and take a look at the room.  If you like it, the rent's seven dollars
a week and I change the bed linens every Saturday."

For the price, Mary wasn't about to quibble.

A quick glance told her the parlor and dining room were neat, clean and
tastefully furnished.

She didn't hesitate.

"I'm sure the room is fine."

She fished in her purse and handed over a five-dollar bill and two
silver dollars.

She couldn't help thinking it was the government's pledge to make
silver dollars that was going to make Rainbow Gulch a success.

"I' II take your bags up and supper's in an hour."

"Thank you."

Mary turned back to Mr.  Macklin.

"We still haven't talked about our next step."

"It's late.  You must be tired from your trip and I. . ."

He pulled his gold watch from his vest pocket and clicked open the
cover.

"I have a dinner meeting scheduled - - .  on another matter," he added
quickly.

"Why don't I send a carriage for you in the morning and you could meet
me at, say, eleven?"

He arched one brow in question.

"Eleven," Mary repeated.

She hated to wait, yet he was right, she was tired.

If she'd waited this long, a few more hours wouldn't matter.

Alex looped his gelding's reins around the iron post then walked into
the gray-stone building at the corner of E Street and Virginia
Avenue.

His well-polished black boots beat a military cadence on the gray
marble floor as he approached the last office on the right.

Two men came out of a nearbly office.

"Gentlemen."

Alex nodded but kept walking.

,He wasn't in the mood for small talk.

It had been a tedious morning.

Playing the diplomats' game usually excited him.

This week, for some reason, it was simply tiresome.

In the five days since Jack's party, Alex had managed to dine with
three senators and talk with several more.

An offer of a contribution to a campaign, an offer of a favor, and the
undecided quickly decided, in Alex's favor, of course.

Was it enough?

He still hadn't found out who was behind the move to break the
treaty.

Whoever it was, he was playing it close to the vest.

If Alex could find that person, he'd stop this move dead in its tracks
one way or another.

A talk with Macklin seemed the next step.

The reception office was cramped but neat.

The oversize desk took up most of the room.

It was also decidedly empty.

The secretary must have gone to lunch early, he thought as he glanced
at his gold pocket watch.

Damn, had he missed Macklin, too?

Only one way to find out.

He knocked once on the closed walnut door.

Without waiting for an answer, he walked in.

A man could learn a lot by surprising people.

This time, however, it was Alex who was surprised.

Two steps into the walnut-paneled office he stopped, the half-open door
still held in his hand.

A dark-haired vision of a woman was seated near the window.

At his abrupt entrance, she pivoted on the slatbacked wooden chair and
faced him.

"Good morning," he said quietly, as if the apparition would vanish if
he spoke too loudly.

"Or is it afternoon?  " The lady was willow thin and the high-necked
brown dress she wore made her look more so.

Her incredible mane of raven black curls cascaded down her back like a
waterfall at midnight and her eyes were as blue as a Montana sky in
summer.

Her skin was a delicate shade of apricot, as if she'd been out in the
sun, and it complemented her high cheekbones and oval face.

Slowly, the vision's lips curved up in an uncertain smile.

"If you're looking for Mr. Macklin," shesaid in avoice that was
throaty and more than a little enticing, "his secretary said he was
detained in a meeting."

She glanced toward the Seth Thomas clock tick-tocking on the wall
behind the paper-strewn desk.

"Actually, that was about thirty minutes ago.  We were supposed toShe
shook her head, evidently deciding against finishing her thought.

Instead, she stood and faced him, her reticule swaying on her left
arm.

He realized two things instantly.

One, the lady was tall.

He had an appreciation Of tall women-with long legs.

And two, the lady meant to leave, to walk right past him and be gone.

For some unexplainable reason, it was very important that didn't
happen.

So he casually closed the door with the barest click and leaned back
against it, his hands curled around the smooth brass knob.

"I'll keep you company while you wait."

It was an order, gentle but sure.

Mary faltered in midstep.

She turned a narrow-eyed stare on the dark stranger blocking her
path.

He was tall, his broad shoulders clearly defined beneath his
well-tailored black wool jacket.

His straight black hair was shoulder length.

Bronze skin covered his handsome face, all flat planes and carefully
chiseled angles.

His was an arresting face, no doubt about that.

And if this was Montana instead of Washington, she'd suspect some sort
of Indian ancestry.

With all that, it was his gaze that held her-jet black eyes that were
at once soft and soothing, yet with a restlessness that was
compelling.

Her pulse raced and she resisted the urge to step back.

"If you'll allow me to pass."

Her voice cracked a bit.

He didn't seem to hear her.

Silence stretched, tense and awkward, the only sound her rapid, shallow
breathing.

He didn't move.

Muscles tensed and her handhidden in the folds of her skirt, curled
into a fist.

"Sir, you are blocking my path."

It was not a request but a demand and she faced him straight on.

That's when he surprised her for the second time.

He smiled.

Not the menacing smile of a predator.

No, this smile started in his fathomless black eyes and moved to his
lips.

The transformation was slow, like the melting of snow.

One side of his mouth curved up and then the other, until the smile
turned into a roguish grin full of charm and arrogance that made goose
bumps prickle up the backs of her legs.

And with the smile, her fear eased, replaced with a new feeling,
something stronger, almost tangible yet undefinable.

For reasons she didn't understand, she was assailed with images of
warrior chieftains riding the high Montana plains.

Warriors who came unexpectedly, took possession of anything or anyone,
then vanished into the darkness.

Lord, what was the matter with her?

She was in the middle of a city, not alone on the open plains.

She shook off the images and ignored the chill that traveled along
nerve endings and turned her fingers to ice.

"You said you were waiting for Macklin," the stranger said.

"I'll see him later.  Right now, I'd like to leave."

Escape was more like it, she thought.

Sunlight poured in through the large window and she stepped into the
center of the square of light, feeling its.

warmth heat the cotton of her dress and her skin beneath.

"I can't believe Macklin would choose work over spending time with a
beautiful woman.  I'd be glad to keep you company."

His gaze locked with hers.

"You never know when trouble will appear."

She thought trouble had appeared, six feet two inches of it, to be
precise.

Unfortunately, her experience dealing with this kind of trouble was
limited, very, very limited.

"Thank you, but it isn't necessary.  Mr. Macklin's business was
unexpected.  He had offered to take me to.  .

"Luncheon."

'Well, yes.

When she glanced at him there was that smile again, and right on cue
those same darned goose bumps prickled her legs again.

This was totally out of character.

The sooner she left the better.

"It must have been life-or-death business to keep Macklin away."

His tone was husky, and far too intimate.

Although he still hadn't moved, she took another half step in his
direction.

"Please."

She nodded toward the door he blocked so effectively.

"Perhaps you'd allow me to escort you to luncheon," he countered,
ignoring her demand yet again.

"I'm not in the habit of having dinner... luncheon," she corrected,
"with a gentleman I don't know."

"I'm Alexandre Moreau."

"Mr.  Moreau."

"You could get to know me over lunch."

Alex watched her eye him carefully.

Well, at least she hadn't said no.

Still, he wasn't used to working this hard at getting a lady to dine
with him.

Hell, he'd used his best smile and his most charming tone and still the
lady remained aloof She didn't offer her hand and she didn't offer her
name.

Several possibilities ran through his mind.

She was married-no, she would have said so when he invited her.

She was engaged-maybe.

Lord knew, some man should have snatched her up by now, but his
instincts were telling him no.

An ugly possibility flittered through his mind that she and Macklin
were.

That damned "she and Macklin" tumbled around in his gut and before he
knew it he said, "Have you and Macklin been friends long?"

Mary wasn't so naive that she didn't understand the implication.

"Mr. Macklin and I are not 'friends'-not the way you mean.  If we
were, it's none of your business.  Now will you allow me to pass, or
should I call for help?"

She' straightened her jacket with a tug of righteous indignation.

Something akin to relief washed bver Alex and he took one careful step
to the right, allowing access to the dbo'r yet remaining close.

"My sincerest apologies.  I can assure you that my mother raised me to
have better manners, it's just that I've had a helluva- I beg your
pardon.  I've had a bad day.  Several bad days actually," he added
softly, "but no one's counting."

There was something in his tone, a change, a sincerity and a definite
weariness she was sure wasn't there before.

She understood about bad days and bad weeks and bad years, for that
matter.

She knew full well how the strain could make a person say and do things
they normally wouldn't.

Being Irish gave her special insight into matters of temper.

"We all make mistakes."

Politely, softly, his expression serious, he asked, "Would you
reconsider my invitation to luncheon?"

She was busy adjusting her gloves, which he realized didn't need
adjusting at all.

"I accepted your apology.  It isn't-" "Miss..."

Alex straightened away from the wall.

They stood only two feet apart.

"Mary Elizabeth Clang."

"Miss Clang," he repeated.

That answered all the questions about husbands and fiances and
Macklin.

"Mere words don't seem enough in the face of my earlier rudeness.  It
would ease my conscience greatly if you'd accept my invitation."

Logic told her to leave.

A stronger feeling, too new to name, told her to stay.

"Well..."

Why on earth was she hesitating?

Because he looked so sincere?

Because his smile was so charming?

Before she thought more on it, she said, "I've heard a lot about
Chesapeake Bay fish."

"Oysters, shrimp, soft-shell crabs.  I'll get you anything you want."

And for just a second, Alex had the feeling he meant more than just
food.

"Can you recommend a place?"

"Blackbeard's," he returned without a moment's hesitation.

"Blackbeard's?  Sounds like a pirate den.  Are you a pirate, Mr.
Moreau.

"Unfortunately no, but if you have an appreciation of buccaneers, I'll
buy a frigate and we'll sail the high seas together."

"That won't be necessary.  Just a seafood dinner will be sufficient."

"Blackbeard's it is, then."

His mouth curved up in a roguish grin that made her fingers tremble.

As they stepped out of the building onto the sidewalk, Alex said, "It's
about five or six blocks.  It shouldn't take a minute to get a cab."

"I'd prefer to walk, if it's all the same to you."

The day was bright and clear with a slight breeze off the Potomac.

'They strolled in amiable silence until they reached the river.

A half-dozen or so men stood fishing off the far end of the pier.

Nearby a couple of gulls screeched and flapped, fighting over entrails
from someone's fish cleaning.

The restaurant was on the end of the pier nearest the street.

All weathered wood and run-down, it didn't look like much from the
outside, Alex realized.

He didn't think the place had ever been painted.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he said as much to himself as to
her.

4 c Why?

) ) "Well, this is... rustic.  More than I ever noticed."

Probably because he'd never brought a woman here before.

It was sort of his private place where he went to relax, have good food
in comfortable surroundings and not have to worry about who was
around.

This was a mistake.

"There's a place on L Street, Frangoise', French, more to a lady's
taste.  We can be there in ten minutes by cab."

She cocked her head to one side, her hair spilliiig,temptingly over her
shoulder.

"Isn't the food good here?"

"I think it's the best, but-" "Well, then?  You promised me'good
seafood and that's what I want."

With that, she turned on her heel and started for the screened door
which hung precariously from its leather hinges.

Alex was right behind her.

The lady was beautiful and not pretentious.

Lord, that was a refreshing change.

Yes, he thought, following her inside the restaurant, this was a lady
he wanted to get to know.

Stepping over the threshold, Mary blinked a couple of times, trying to
adjust her vision to the dark interior.

The place smelled like salt water and fresh fish.

"How about over there?"

Alex gestured to a table in the far corner.

"Okay."

She made her way between half a dozen tables.

Sawdust coated the hem of her brown skirt and made her footing
slippery.

She wasn't so much worried about that as the fact that there wasn't
another woman in the place.

Maybe she'd been a bit too rash.

Maybe she should have taken advantage of his offer to go to .

Frangoise'?

She'd come in here because it looked like a working-class place and she
was nothing if not a working-class woman.

She didn't know the first thing about being elegant.

Not that she ate with her hands, but what did you do with more than one
fork?

Well, she was here now and Mr.  Moreau said the food was good, so.

He helped her into a chair that wobbled.

The table had more scars and gouges than a Montana Mountainside after a
pack of gold-hungry miners finished with it.

But the restaurant was orderly and the customers, a mix of fishermen
and businessmen, were relaxed, talking and laughing, certainly not
rowdy.

The place was unusual, she had to admit that.

There were fishnets as thick as ropes hanging from pegs driven into the
unpainted wood slat walls.

Pickling barrels stained with brine were stacked two and three deep in
the corners.

Ropes were coiled in the partial loft at the other end of the
structure.

One of a kind, like the man she was with.

"I like it."

And the man, too, she thought.

C'Sure?

"Sure."  2

"Okay.  I-et's eat.  I'm starving."

Mr. Moreau ordered cold crab and spiced shrimp and deep-fried
oysters.

Each dish was a new adventure in appearance and taste.

Mary didn't mind shelling the steamed crabs but she hated pulling the
legs off the shrimp so he did that for her.

The fried oysters she wasn't so sure of, but after a couple she decided
she liked them and reached for more.

He ordered a second round of everything.

"You're not eating," she scolded, then broke off a crab claw with a
juicy snap.

"Sure I am," he replied, and popped an oyster in his mouth.

It was an oyster, wasn't it?

Could have been seaweed, he wouldn't have known the difference.

He was busy watching the lady with the summer-sky eyes who was
devouring the seafood with pure, sensual delight.

"So, tell me," Alex said, lounging back in his chair, "do you live in
Washington?"

"No."

Just no.

He chuckled.

"Are you visiting family?"

Mary stopped in midmotion.

"I'm here to take care of some family business for my father."

"I see.  What kind of business?"

She popped the oyster into her mouth and did not begin speaking until
she swallowed.

"Mr. Moreau, I don't mean to be rude, since you've been kind enough to
take me to luncheon, but my business is personal and since I don't know
you..."

Alex nodded.

"Enough said.  I shouldn't have pried."

"Thank you."

She blotted her mouth with the napkin.

"Maybe you'd allow me to ask some questions ... about the area?  I've
heard it's quite-unique."

"You're right there."

Between bites, they talked about food and spices and the uniqueness of
the Chesapeake Bay.

He told her about the wild horses of Assateague Island, about traps for
catching crabs and about dredging for oysters.

She hung on every word, but not like some simpering twit who smiled and
nodded at all the appropriate places.

No, she asked questions, wanted to know, to understand.

What were the traps made of?

How deep was the water?

Did the bay freeze in the winter?

When he answered he was rewarded with a smile.

A man could stay warm all winter in the warmth of that smile.

She was something to watch, to be with, this lady with the bright blue
eyes and the throaty laugh.

He couldn't remember when he'd had a more enjoyable time or felt more
relaxed.

Ail he could think of was that he wanted this moment to last.

He would talk forever, if that's what it took to keep the light shining
in her eyes.

Lord, she was beautiful.

Lord, how he wanted her.

Just like that.

Two hours slipped by faster than a heartbeat.

Mary pushed back from the table.

"If I eat another bite I'm sure I'll die."

Wiping her fingers on the coarse muslin napkin, she asked, "By the way,
what time is it?"

"I don't know."

And I don't really care, Alex thought to add.

"Why?"

"I've got an appointment."

Alex slipped his watch from his vest pocket.

"One forty-five."

"Oh, goodness."

She shot to her feet.

"I've got to go.

Thank you very much for the .

luncheon," she said with a teasing smile."  It was wonderful.

She started for the door.

Alex tossed two silver dollars on the table and followed.

When he caught up, she was pacing in front of the restaurant and
scanning the street for a cab.

"What's the rush?  let's walk back toward the Capitol and-" "No.  You
don't understand.  I've got an important meeting at two and I can't be
late."

Craning her neck, she spotted a carriage for hire.

"Here!"

The driver pulled to the curb, and without waiting for assistance, Mary
yanked open the door and climbed inside.

Perched on the edge of the seat, she peered at him through the
window.

"Thank you again, Mr.  Moreau."

Her voice took on a sudden softness.

"The place was perfect.  The food was perfect and the company was..."

Pink heightened her cheeks.

"'nank you."

She glanced up at the driver.

@ i "Let's go.

Before Alex could say a word, the driver snapped the reins and the
carriage took off.

It was then he realized he didn't know where to find her.

He knew her name and that she was visiting, but that was all.

He scanned the street.

Where the hell was a cab when you needed one?

A breeze ruffled his hair and he combed it back with both hands while
he watched her cab disappear in traffic.

"Now what?"  he muttered.

Now nothing.

She's just another beautiful woman, one of many.

But she wasn't, he realized.

She was different.

He felt different with her, though he couldn't say why, or how.

No problem.

Washington wasn't that big of a town.

How difficult could it be to find someone?

Alex paced the length of Jack Carlin's library.

Three long strides to the open window and three back to the mahogany
desk.

If he kept this up, he'd wear a rut in the royal blue carpet deeper
than a buffalo path.

Jack should like that just fine.

Ah, what the hell was he doing here, anyway?

He,was in no mood for a party tonight.

He had something else on his mind-someone else.

He'd looked for her all afternoon.

He'd gone to Macklin's office first but the man was in meetings and
unavailable.

Next, Alex sent messages to all the hotels.

Oh sure, there were several Clangs, one Mary Clang, but she turned out
to be eighty years old.

She was not his Clang.

Odd, sometime this afternoon he'd started thinking of her as his Clang,
which was wrong, of course.

Alex Moreau had a rule about possessiveness.

He never became involved.

So what was this?

This was a challenge.

The male in him responding to the hunt.

Any man would do the same.

Wouldn't he?

He walked to the liquor decanters neatly displayed on the bottom shelf
of the carved mahogany bookcase and poured a generous amount of
Kentucky bourbon, which he tossed back in two gulps.

The stem on the fine Austrian crystal glass snapped when he slammed it
down harder than he meant.

Damn.

He'd have to send around a set to replace the broken snifter
tomorrow.

In the next room he could hear the other guests talking and laughing.

It was Jack's usual crowd, a careful mix of politicians and
businessmen, all with their wives or latest lady of interest.

Tonight, though, was Jack's birthday, and invitations had been sent
weeks ago.

That was the reason-the only reason he was here, and as soon as it was
decently polite he was leaving.

Realizing that he could pace here as well as in his suite at Willard's,
he consoled himself and reached for another double bourbon.

Where are you, Mary Clang?

Maybe she really was an apparition.

Not bloody likely.

She was heart-pounding beautiful and intelligent.

A rare combination anywhere and not one to be taken lightly.

"Alex, what's the matter with you?"

Jack's voice interrupted his musings.

"You've been edgy ever since you arrived."

Jack walked across the room and dropped down on the settee, his legs
extended and crossed at the ankle.

"I've got a lot on my mind."

Alex glanced over at his friend, grinning like a Cheshire cat in
evening clothes.

"What's got you so happy?  The Senate vote itself a pay raise?"

"Never mind the sarcasm.  I've got a surprise for you."

"Oh Lord, Jack, please tell me you aren't planning to fix me up with
some constituent's daughter.  I'm telling you right now-" "I've met the
person behind the move to renegotiate the treaty."

Alex's head came up with a snap.

"Where?"

"At a meeting in my office this afternoon."

"Who the hell is it?  Come on, Jack, don't just sit there, speak up."

The hollow thud of the ornate brass knocker drew the senator's focus to
the front door.

"That may be our guest 'now."

Jack started for the entryway as the maid opened the door.

Alex was hot on his heels.

This was perfect, Alex thought.

He was suddenly in the mood for a little .

discussing.

He would have a talk with this guy, and before things went too far,
they'd reach an understanding.

"Good evening, Senator," a throaty female voice said.

Alex stood stock-still.

"Clang?"  he muttered.

She was here.

He'd spent all day looking for her and she just walked in as pretty as
you please.

And she was pretty and it pleased him a great deal-more than it
should.

Jack's gaze flicked from Alex to Mary and back again.

"Alex, do you know Miss Clang?"

"I do.  Is she the someone special you said you were inviting?"

"Then it's not a surprise."

Jack's smile faded.

"You already know."

"What?"

A cold feeling of dread gnawed at his gut.

"Why, that Miss Clang is visiting from Montana.  She's hoping to get a
train for Rainbow Gulch."

A muscle flexed in his jaw.

Damn.

Chapter Three

Alex didn't miss the momentary surprise in the lady's luminous blue
eyes.

"Moreau?"  a decidedly male voice said.

"What?"

Tearing his gaze from Mary, he glanced at John Macklin, who offered his
hand.

"Nice to see you again.  I didn't even realize you were in town until
Miss Clang said you were looking for me today."

"I dropped in for a little information, but I got the answers I
needed."

Macklin gave a half nod of understanding.

"Sorry I missed you.  Always happy to help out whenever I can.  Stop by
again."

Ever the politiciaii, Alex thought, but in truth he was only half
listening.

Mostly he was watching Miss Mary Clang.

She handed her cloak to the maid then turned back to him.

She was wearing a watermarked satin dress with a high neck and long
sleeves-at least five years out of fashion and funeral black.

Why?

A woman this beautiful ought to be in silk, fine Chinese silk.

Gray or blue, he added, to match her eyes and complement that
incredible mane of black curls cascading down her back like fine
Russian sable.

Mary offered her hand.

"Mr.  Moreau, I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

Or ever, Mary added to herself, pleased that her voice sounded calm-a
whole lot calmer than she felt.

She was nervous enough, this being her first Washington party.

When he wrapped her hand in his large, warm one, those thousand monarch
butterflies that had made a home in her stomach took off as if someone
had just fired a warning shot.

Instinctively she swallowed hard, resisted the impulse to groan and
slipped her hand free of his grasp.

Of all the people, all the places in Washington, he had to be here,
tonight.

It was bad enough she'd gone to lunch with him-a stranger-socializing
when she should have had her mind on work, but worse that she had
enjoyed every minute and had thought about him all afternoon like some
adolescent with a school-yard crush.

There he stood, the object of her fantasy, dressed in evening
clothes-as if he needed help to look even more handsome.

Now she understood why Eve had succumbed to the devil.

Only this devil had spent his time feeding her spiced shrimp instead of
apples.

Discreetly she took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly.

Much better.

She forced her smile to be a touch brighter as she looked from the
senator to Alex-Mr.  Moreau, she corrected firmly.

"The senator mentioned that I'm from Rainbow Gulch.  Do you know it?"

"I've heard of it.  On the eastern side of the -Bear Tooth ... near the
Absa... the Crow reservation."

She looked at him hard.

"I'm surprised.  Most people only know the Crow reservation is
somewhere out west and hardly anyone has heard of Rainbow Gulch."

"Silver mining, isn't it?"

Something was going on here, something that made Mary's instincts
prickle warily.

"Just how is it that you're familiar with the area?  You aren't by any
chance from Montana, are you?"

"As a matter of fact I am.  I have businesses in Butte and a home, of
course."

"Really?"

Alex heard a definite suspicious edge to her voice.

"Really," he confirmed.

"I'll make a point of calling when I get home," he added, a smile
spreading across his face.

"Butte's a long way from Rainbow Gulch-a hard trip-, " But obviously
worth the effort," he replied in an intimate tone with a slight incline
of his head.  Gazes locked, the silence stretched taut between them.

"Well," the senator spoke up, blessedly breaking the spell.

Mortified, Mary tore her gaze away and stepped closer to the senator as
if looking for protection, which of course was nonsense.

Making a show of clearing his throat, the senator continued.

"I'm very pleased you could join me tonight."

"Thank you for inviting me."

Mary took his offered arm like a drowning woman clutching a life
raft.

"Macklin," the senator added politely, "since you already know everyone
here, why don't you make yourself at home while I introduce Miss Clang
around."

"Sounds fine," Macklin agreed, taking the lead through the wide
doorway.

Alex didn't miss the mind-your-manners glance that Jack tossed over his
shoulder as he walked Mary toward the parlor.

He chuckled and answered with an innocent shrug, then, leaning one
shoulder against the door frame, watched the lady make her entrance.

Mary forced herself to concentrate on the business at hand and not on
the roguish gentleman whom she knew was watching her every move.

She held the senator's arm, perhaps a little too tightly, as she walked
into the elegant parlor.

Now this was really something.

The room was a blend of ivory brocade and polished mahogany that would
make royalty feel right at home.

A quick scan and she guessed there were about twenty or so guests
gathered in small groups around the edge of the room.

Never let them see you're afraid, her dear mother used to say.

Of course, Mama was talking about the packs of wild coyotes that used
to circle the edge of camp.

With a soft chuckle, she thought that this wasn't so different.

Well, she had never run from the four-legged kind and the two-legged
kind couldn't be much worse.

Besides, these were high stakes.

Everything dear to her was riding on the next few days.

Nothing and-she glanced over her shoulder discreetly-no one was going
to distract her from getting what she came for.

Senator Carlin offered a reassuring smile and led her to a couple
seated on the ivory settee in front of the hearth.

"Senator Likens.  Mrs. Likens.  May I introduce Miss Mary Clang, a
visitor to Washington from Montana."

Likens.

Likens.

Mary quickly ran through the mental catalog of senators and any
legislation she could remember.

"Senator."

She extended her hand to the slender man of about sixty, then to his
blond wife, who was still seated.

"@.  Likens, what a lovely dress.  Not many people could wear that
shade of lavender so well."

She covertly rolled her eyes upward, hoping lightning wouldn't strike
hen for lying.

Then she remembered that in Washington they called it diplomacy.

"Why, thank you."

The petite lady beamed andfilssed with the tiny flowers that trimmed
the elbow-length sleeves.

Mary turned back to the senator.

"I applaud your stand on the recent tariff legislation."

The congressman's brown eyes widened in surprise.

Why, thank you, Miss.

.

.

"Clang," she supplied, hiding her annoyance that he had not paid
attention when she was introduced.

"Miss Clang."

He cleared his throat.

"I felt quite strongly that.  . ."

Mary was only half listening as the gentleman from New Jersey began a
discourse on the pros and cons of tariffs.

She nodded, smiled occasionally and felt that when she called on the
senator next week, he would remember her favorably enough to listen to
her.

And so it went.

Mary spent the next hour making the rounds.

She made small talk, put a face with a name, used all her charm and
then some and drank at least six cups of fruit punch, which desperately
needed a drop of good Irish whiskey.

A glance over her left shoulder and she spotted Senator Carlin deep in
conversation with Alex Moreau.

As she watched, a couple of thoughts niggled in the back of her mind.

From the time she'd left the senator's office this afternoon, she had
wondered why he had invited her and Mr. Macklin tonight, especially
when he'd made it clear he was opposed to their goal.

Mr. Macklin had said he was grateful and wasn't concerned with the
reason as long as the socializing helped their cause.

Well, she was grateful, too.

But not naive enough to believe there wasn't some motive.

After all, politicians never did anything for free.

Over the edge of her punch cup, she watched the two men continue their
discussion.

Was it just coincidence finding Alexandre Moreau here?

It seemed odd to have come all this way and to have met someone from
Montana.

Although not impossible.

She sipped her punch again.

There was something going on here.

But what?

Maybe she was just getting too damed suspicious.

Maybe she ought to ask a few more questions.

She was about to stroll in Alex's direction when she saw a beautiful
woman motion to him.

She watched Alex hesitate then walk over to join the lady-his wife
perhaps.

Now that gave her a start.

No one had said he was married.

Then again, no one had said he wasn't, and there were men who didn't
seem to think it made a difference.

Mary turned away and put her crystal cup on the lacecovered table.

Alex Moreau was a mystery.

There were just too many unanswered questions and she didn't have the
time, or the interest, she added confidently, to bother learning
more.

Alex saw Saundra signal to him.

He hadn't escorted her tonight.

She'd made other arrangements, saying that her father was becoming
suspicious of all their long lunches.

They dined together frequently, but it wasn't food that satisfied their
hunger.

So now she was being more careful.

It didn't surprise him.

Nothing seemed to surprise him these days.

He understood quite well that the ladies found him.

.

.

"provocatively savage," as one Philadelphia socialite had so quaintly
phrased it.

Their fathers found his half-breed status an unacceptable addition to
their pure family trees.

Not that he wanted to marry Saundra, or any woman for that matter.

He didn't need the headache or the heartache.

He made his way around the potted fern, paused to say good-evening to
Michael Strictland and Ed Talbert, both of whom he'd played cards with
last week and won nicely, then continued on to where Saundra was
standing near the upright grand.

She was chatting with Sam Holland, the junior congressman from Maine,
and his wife, Annabelle.

"Who's that?"  both women asked the instant.

Alex was within earshot.

Alex didn't have to look to know -exactly who they were talking
about.

"Her name's Mary Elizabeth Clang.@' " Will you look at that dress,
Alex?

It's black.

" Saundra crinkled her nose as if she'd stepped in horse dung."  I
thought this was a birthday party, not a funeral.

Annabelle giggled, pink coloring her pudgy cheeks.

"Annabelle," Sam scolded quietly, "remember where you are, for heaven's
sake."

He shook his head in resignation.

"I think we'll get some punch."

Without further discussion, he nudged his chubby wife toward the
lace-covered punch table.

Alex watched them go, but his gaze was drawn to the lady in black
satin.

Standing near the hearth, she was bathed in candlelight, a vision, a
Monet come to life.

As if she sensed him looking at her, she turned her head slightly and
favored him with a half smile.

His body quickened.

His heart rate increased.

What's the matter, Moreau?

You're nearly thirty years old.

You've known beautiful women before.

This one is no different.

Mary Clang was no different, he confirmed, blithely disregarding his
frantic search of this afternoon and his heart-stopping relief when she
walked in here an hour ago.

That was inconsequential.

It was lust.

Besides, that was before he knew who she was-really was.

She was the one he had to stop.

He'd be crazy not to keep a close eye on the competition.

And judging by the skilled way she was working the room, he'd better
keep a very close watch.

If he enjoyed himself in the watching, so much the better.

He felt Saundra's shoulder brush against his and realized she was
speaking.

"'Ibe Hollands were kind enough to bring me this evening."

Alex glanced at Saundra, beautiful in yards of lime silk, her hair
swept up, revealing her slender neck.

"Holland's new this term."

Alex made it his business to know these things.

Saundra stepped in front of him, as if to assure herself that she had
his complete focus.

He looked past her, watching Mary chat with Senator Dobbs.

She was nodding and smiling.

Dobbs was probably telling her his latest fishing story.

The man did like to fish-anything from trout to rockfish.

Fortunately for Alex, Montana had some of the best fishing in the
country, as he had proven to the senator on several expeditions.

There's no help for you there, Mary Clang.

A maid passed with a tray of champagne and Alex took two of the fine
crystal goblets, handing one to Saundra.

Where's your father this evening?

Accepting the glass, Saundra moved closer, her lilac scent filled his
nostrils.

"Daddy's out of town until next week."

Her voice took on an intimate tone while her fingers glided up and down
the length of the fluted glass in a provocative gesture.

She looked at him through dark, lowered lashes "Oh, Alex, I've missed
you terribly.  I thought we could... rendezvous.  Perhaps your hotel?

Tomorrow afternoon?"

Hidden in the folds of her skirt, her hand sought his.

Smooth and cool, he felt her long slender fingers slip between his.

The tip of her thumb traced lightly across his palm in an enticing
invitation to carnal delights, a reminder of afternoons spent indulging
in sensual pleasure.

"Saundra, sweet, your... offer is most tempting."

Her eyes sparked with sudden awareness.

The thought of indulging his desires sent his gaze back to the lady
from Montana standing on the far side of the room.

He watched as she moved her head, sending that lush mane of hair
swaying provocatively.

He knew, just by looking, her hair was soft black silk that would glide
across his palm then slip through his fingers.

"Alex."

Saundra tugged on his sleeve.

"are you listening to me?  I can sneak away and we can-" "I'll be busy
with ... business all week and I'll be so damned tired at night I
simply wouldn't be ... any good.  You understand."

Courtesy demanded some explanation.

This was transparent but the best he could do on short notice.

With that, he walked away.

Three dozen candles glittered and flickered in the barest of breezes
that drifted through the open window behind Senator Carlin's yellow
velveteen upholstered chair.

The dark walnut dining table sat twenty-five people easily, and the
brocade wall covering was the palest shade of blue, like a clear
mountain lake.

Brightly polished silver framed the winter white china, which was so
thin Mary was afraid to tap it with her fork for fear it would
shatter.

Two uniformed maids served and cleared the table with the precision of
a military operation.

She was in awe.

In all her life shed never seen anything like this-this house, this
room, and now this meal.

Why, by the time they'd gotten through something called appetizers,
then mushroom broth-she'd always thought mushrooms were poisonous-then
something called pfit6, she was ready to call it quits.

There was enough food here to feed the entire town of Rainbow Gulch for
a week.

Though the thought of Tim Johnson chowing down on squashed goose liver
.

well, that made her smile.

The kitchen door swung open and the maid appeared with a serving
platter of roast beef ringed with oven-browned potatoes and bright
orange carrots.

Mary took the meat and declined everything else.

Across the table the Likens were discussing the unseasonably warm
weather while around her people chatted in twos and threes.

The gentleman on her right bumped her with his arm.

"Please excuse me, again," Michael Strictland said.

"I'm left-handed and we're destined to rub elbows."

"Think nothing of it," Mary assured him for the third time.

"Maybe we ought to coordinate our eating."

He arched one blond brow in question.

"You know," she continued, "first me, then you, then me."

A smile slashed across his handsome face and amusement lighted up his
bright blue eyes.

"Being left-handed has been a curse all my life-until now."

Mary's smile broadened and heat warmed her cheeks.

She went back to eating and tried to pretend she was immune to the
obvious flirting, which she wasn't.

She was chewing when Senator Trundell turned toward her and said, "Now,
Miss Clang, earlier you were saying about the treaty?"

Mary swallowed and put her fork down next to her plate.

"I was saying that if we could get enough senators to vote to discard
the existing treaty with the Crow, then it would be a simple matter to
rewrite it allowing a railroad spur to be built to Rainbow Gulch."

He seemed to consider this.

"That treaty has been in effect for quite a while.  I'm not sure how
folks would react to breaking yet another agreement with the
Indians."

She hadn't thought to press her plan here, but she was into it now, "I
understand, Senator.  But times do change and we all have to be willing
to change with them.  I think that includes the Indians.  All the
people in Rainbow Gulch are asking for is equal consideration from the
government.) @ " I'll tell you, I'm not inclined to agree with you.

"I appreciate your honesty, Senator.  I think I can persuade you that
renegotiating the treaty doesn't mean the Indians lose, only that the
miners win.  Would you give me the opportunity to talk to you further
about this, perhaps at your office?"

Senator Trundell chuckled.

"I think you'll be wasting your time, but suit yourself.  Monday at one
o'clock."

Mary smiled.

"I'll be there."

Alex didn't miss the little exchange that was going on a few chairs
down and opposite him.

She'd managed to get ari appointment with Trundell.

He was as tough as last year's Christmas fruitcake.

The lady was good, damned good, he'd give her that.

Things were getting more interesting by the minute, he thought with a
smile.

As gingerbread dessert was served, Macklin leaned toward Mary from his
place opposite.

"Sorry I haven't been able to keep you company."

"Don't worry.  I'm fine."

She kept her voice low.

"I've made a couple of appointments for us.  I'll tell you about them
later."

"Ma'am?"  the maid said softly, interrupting their conversation.

"Coffee?"

"No, thank you."

Macklin sat back and that's when Mary made the mistake of glancing
around.

It was a mistake because her gaze instinctively sought out Alex
Moreau-something she had diligently avoided all evening.

If she'd been lucky, he would have been involved in conversation or
sipping his coffee or counting the floral patterns in the wall
covering.

But no.

He was staring straight at her, and when he caught her eye, his smile
was immediate and devastating to her already frayed nerves.

"The gentlemen, " Senator Carlin said as he pushed back from the table,
"may join me in the library for cigars and brandy.  There's tea and
glazed fruit in the parlor for the ladies.  If you'll excuse us?"

It was a rhetorical question that was answered with smiles and nods and
a few warnings to errant husbands not to have more than one brandy.

Mary wouldn't bet money on that one, she thought with a chuckle as she
stood.

It was obvious a couple of the gentlemen had already had considerably
more than one.

She lagged behind the ladies, who seemed to know one another quite
well,.

judging by their amiable conversation.

Mary would rather have stayed behind and talked with the men; it was
them she was here to see.

But the ways of society were not going to be overthrown tonight.

With resignation she glanced at the grandfather clock near the bottom
of the staircase.

Right on cue, it bonged once and played its mellow quarter tune.

Eleven-fifteen.

She hid a yawn behind her hand.

Goodness, she wasn't used to these long days.

Well, it wouldn't do for her to fall asleep in the middle of a
conversation.

A little of that cool night air would get her blood moving again.

Discreetly, she slipped out the open French doors.

Silver moonlight illuminated the dark redbrick terrace.

No one was about.

The white wicker settee and matching chairs looked lonely, or maybe she
was projecting her own feelings at being far from home.

A dark gravel path led away from the terrace.

The darkness invited her and, feeling safe in the senator's backyard,
she decided to explore the lush garden of roses ringed with hedges of
oleander and boxwood.

Pebbles, round and smooth, pushed at the worn soles of her shoes and
crunched beneath each step.

Overhead, budding oaks formed a canopy that filtered the moonlight,
casting moving shadows on the path and the surrounding lawn.

The scent of freshly cut grass hung in the humid air.

A movement from the shadows startled her.

She stopped dead.

"Good evening.  Did I scare you?"

Alex said, stepping into the light.

"Forgive me."

His voice was soft as the night that surrounded them.

Mary shook her head.

"I'm all right, or will be as soon as my heart starts beating again."

She covered her chest with the palm of her hand.

"I thought you were with the other men."l " Does this mean you aren't
happy to see me?

" He shook his head in mock despair."  I'm desolate.

Mary eyed him carefully, his well-cut evening clothes outlining his
broad shoulders.

It should be a federal crime for a man to be this handsome and
channing.

-all in one package.

"Mr. Moreau, I don't believe you've ever been desolate in your
life."

His expression sobered.

"Then you'd be wrong, Miss Clang."

For the second time today, she was startled by the sudden change in
him.

"Forgive me, Mr. Moreau, if I've done you a disservice.  I don't know
you well enough to pass any sort of judgment."

She didn't know him at all, she realized with a start, except for the
obvious.

He was wealthy and well educated and traveled in what were referred to
as the best circles.

They were as opposite as two could be.

Yet there was something-an attraction that was strong.

When she started to stroll, he fell in alongside.

With each step the tiny gray gravel crunched under his polished
boots.

After a few steps, his lighter mood returned.

"It's funny we never got around to the usual things, you know, name,
rank and post, as they say in the cavalry."

Mary chuckled and nodded.

The steady rise and fall of the cicadas' hum kept them company.

"It's even stranger that we're both from Montana."

She paused and glanced up at him.

"Did you say you are a businessman?"

"That's right."

Bright girl, he thought.

She was testing.

"I have contracts with the army for horses so I come to Washington to
do a little negotiating and see a few friends," he said glancing toward
the back of the brightly lighted row house, "like Jack Carlin."

"I see.  Since you're a friend of the senator's, I would imagine you're
also interested in politics."

"Only on a personal level."

She shot him a questioning glance.

"You know, when it directly affects me- or my family."

"So you have family, Mr. Moreau.  A wife and children, perhaps?"  she
inquired, chiding herself for not asking him earlier.

"No, Miss Clang, I'm ... unencumbered," he said carefully, then
punctuated his sentence with a grin so full of mischief that it made
her pulse edge up a peg or two.

Of course, she couldn't let him know that, especially when she didn't
understand why.

"How nice for the ladies of Washington ... and Butte."

"I do my best."

That crooked grin of his got a touch more roguish.

"I'll just bet you do."

Alex wasn't listening.

He was watching the moonlight sparkle in her hair.

"You are the most beautiful woman here tonight, Miss Mary Clang."

"What?"

His deep voice had a hypnotic effect on Mary's senses.

He moved closer to her-whisper close.

There in the secluded garden the gentle night enveloped her, cutting
off the rest of t world Anticipation skittered up her spine.

"I've... I've got to get back-" His devil black eyes held her as surely
as if he'd touched her.

"I'm not letting you escape again.  Tell me where to find you."$ " Mrs.
Dice's boardinghouse on South Carolina," she answered softly, thinking
perhaps she'd tell him anything at that moment.

"The redbrick one?"

His hungry gaze searched her face.

She nodded, certain her voice wouldn't work.

This was crazy.

What was the matter with her?

Why couldn't she move?

mil

Her breathing came in shallow gasps as his face filled her vision; a
fraction of an inch closer and his lips could cover hers.

He could pull her into his arms, press her against the length of him
and .

She'd never felt more frightened or more excited in her LIFE.

Nerves hummed with awareness while a trembling need started inside her
and spiraled outward, filling every fiber of her with an unfamiliar
ache.

His hand came up and captured a wisp of hair.

that had come loose to brush against her face-.

"Beautiful," he murmured as he let the tendril glide through his
fingers before, he traced her j aw with the lips of two fingers.

He stood so close the black of his trousers blended with the black of
her skirt.

"I thought about you this afternoon," he told her.

Stop this, her conscience screamed.

It was a distant whisper barely heard, so caught up in the moment was
she.

Never breaking eye contact, he lowered his head to hers.

Mary felt the gentle brush of his lips on hers, once, twice.

A tasting that left her wanting more.

She lifted her head toward his and his mouth took hers again in a
searing kiss.

Her body responded in ways her mind didn't understand.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she hung on, certain her knees
would give out.

ME

The world dropped away, the night surrounded them like a cloak, and the
sudden longing that heated her blood blocked out everything but the man
holding her in his arms.

His tongue teased her lips and she opened to him.

The instant his tongue touched hers the wildness that was driving her
took on a name.

It was desire, pure and carnal.

She purred, a small sound that came from somewhere deep inside.

Alex heard the little cat sound, felt her arch into him.

He tightened his possessive grip around her waist while he lavec at the
delicate inside of her mouth.

She tasted so damned good, all warm and sweet.

With one hand he cradled the back of her head, letting his fingers
thread through her hair, softer than any silk.

Every muscle, every nerve tensed with awareness as his mind flashed
erotic fantasies, all with her naked, her wild hair spilling over him,
her long legs slipping between his.

Suddenly, he wanted her.

Here.

Now.

His hands drifted lower, to the base of her spine, while he nipped and
kissed the tender flesh behind her ear.

"You excite me, Irish."

With the absence of his mouth on hers and the bluntness of his words,
reality overcame desire.

The world filled in around her, the house, the lights, the garden, the
man holding her so intimately.

What the hell are you doing, Mary Clang?

She pushed at him.

"Stop it."

Her voice was small and shaky.

She pushed at him again.

"How dare you!  " This was insane.

Never in her life had she behaved like this.

Never!

She stepped out of his embrace.

"How dare you?"  she repeated.

"Is this the way gentlemen behave in Washington?"

She was still trying to catch her breath.

"Well, I've been accused of a lot of things, but being a gentleman
wasn't one of them."

His mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.

"I'll call for you at ten tomorrow."

"Don't."

Her tone was sharp.

"I'm taking you on a picnic."

"No," she said flatly, rankled as much by his arrogance as by her
inexplicable attraction to him.

"Irish-" "Don't call me that!

He looked surprised, then smiled.

"Miss Clang, then.

Has anyone ever told you that you're a most beautiful and tempting
liar?

You're as attracted to me as I am to you.

She pulled in an indignant breath.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are an arrogant son of a-" "Don't
finish that."

His warm eyes were suddenly cold as winter.

Mary hesitated.

With a flounce of black satin, she turned on her heel and started for
the house.

"Goodbye, Mr.  Moreau.

" The man was rude.  The man was overbearing.

The man was presumptuous beyond words.

Alex watched her go.

A smile curved up the corners of his mouth.

He closed his eyes and could still feel her in his arms, smell the rose
scent of her hair, taste her mouth.

He took a deep breath, then another.

His eyes opened.

The woman set him on fire like no one he'd ever known.

And, he thought with a touch of arrogance, the lady.

felt the same thing.

Women always played indignant, but the way she responded was seductive
as hell.

Yes, he thought, strolling back to the house.

The lady liked being kissed, and he was happy to satisfy her need.

His smile got a touch bigger.

ChapterFour

AJex was at her boardinghouse at ten the next morning.

Seated at the polished mahogany table, he nodded his dark head
gracefully as Mrs.  Dice filled his coffee cup.

"Now, you have a piece of my fresh baked pie, Mr.  Moreau.

" Mrs. Dice cut a slab big enough to feed four people."  I called Miss
Clang and I'm sure she'll be right along.

" Cherries, still warm from the oven, oozed out from under the golden
brown piecrust to color the pale blue china.

Mary stood unnoticed at the bottom of the stairs.

Good Lord, the man had been here less than ten minutes and already he'd
charmed the dour Mrs.  Dice.

"Thank you, m@am," he said with a smile that, even at this distance,
threatened the even rhythm of her heart.

She would not succumb to his charm.

Oh sure, yesterday she'd surrendered to his masculine wiles, but she
had not been herself yesterday.

She'd behaved like a ninny instead of a woman with a job to do.

She was tired.

Yes, that was it.

And the man was chan-rung and handsome and made her go all soft and
warm whenever he looked at her and- Stop it!

You're here to work, Mary Clang.

People are depending on you, for heaven's sake.

She took a deep breath and let it out.

She was in control today.

Never mind that she'd lain awake half the night thinking about him and
the sizzling sensations his kiss had provoked; there'd be no repeat of
yesterday.

Pausing in the double doorway, she said, "Good morning."

Her tone was decidedly stiff.

Alex turned his head, then stood.

He was the picture of casual elegance, black jacket, white shirt open
at the collar, buckskin riding pants and knee-high black boots that
were reflection bright.

His smile was immediate and sent tiny sparks of electricity skittering
along her shaky nerve endings.

So much for being in control, "Good morning."

Alex put down his white linen napkin on the table and took a step in
her direction.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Go?"

She feigned ignorance.

"I don't know what you mean, Mr.  Moreau."

She breezed past him to the mahogany sideboard, where she made a show
of helping herself to a cup of coffee.

She hated coffee but it was safer than staring into those sable-soft
eyes of his.

Her resolve was melting faster than ice in sunshine.

With her back safely to him, she said, "I told you last night I was
engaged today."

Darn her shaking hands.

Discreetly, she put the cup and.

saucer down before she dropped them.

What was it about the man?

All he had to do was look at her and her knees turned to the
consistency of warm ohtmeal.

"Mrs. Dice," she heard him say, her back still to him, "I wonder if
you'd excuse us a moment?  I'd like to speak to Miss Clang privately.

You understand."

"What?  Oh, of course."

In a swirl of navy cotton, the landlady disappeared into the kitchen.

Mary didn't move.

She fussed with the sugar, losing count after six spoonfuls.

Why wouldn't he take no for an answer?

She poured the cream.

The cup overflowed into the saucer.

Damn.

She dabbed the spilled coffee with a napkin.

Stirring was impossible but she tried anyway, the spoon beating an
uneven rhythm on the white porcelain.

"Have I done something to offend you, Irish?"

His voice was close.

"I told you not to-" She spun around and slammed right into him, her
hand coming to rest intimately on the fine wool of his jacket, feeling
the hard plane of his chest beneath.

His hands curved around her shoulders.

Air rushed from her lungs.

For a full ten seconds, all she could do was stand there.

Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and back again as memories
of last night's kiss assaulted her senses.

This was wrong.

She tore herself away and went back to sopping up the spilled coffee.

"I told you not to call me that."

Alex hesitated.

He'd known enough women to know he was in trouble.

If her funeral black skirt and stiff, highcollared white blouse were
any indication of her mood, then he was in big trouble.

"You're angry about something."

A check of his gold engraved pocket watch confirmed he was on time.

"Not at all.  I've told you I'm busy today."

With a couple of steps she positioned herself, or perhaps barricaded
would be a better word, behind a chair.

Her fingers wrapped white-knuckle tight around the wood.

The thought that she really was busy crossed Alex's mind, but he
discarded that.

Women always played hard to get.

Besides, it was Sunday and no business was conducted today, and she
hadn't been in town long enough to meet anyone-except for Michael
Strictland.

Oh, he'd seen them smiling together after he'd returned from the
garden.

In fact, he'd almost thought she wanted him to notice her and
Strictland.

It was an intrinsic ability.

One that bolstered his male pride.

guing pos"You'll excuse me, Mr.  Moreau."

It wasn't a question, and she was halfway to the doorway when her words
registered.

"That's it?"  he demanded, startled by the realization she meant what
she'd said.

She turned and looked at him.

"I believe there's nothing else to say.  I'm busy."

"Tomorrow?"

4 4Busy.

p I His expression turned serious.

"And the rest of the week?"

"Busy."

He took a menacing step in her direction.

Mary watched his approach with wide-eyed intensity.

"We seem to have gotten off on the wrong path here, Miss Clang.

Don't tell me you're upset about that kiss, because-" "It most
certainly is not about the kiss," she flung back.

She wasn't about to admit that it was the only time she'd been kissed
like that.

In fact, it was the only time she'd been kissed.

The bright pink that colored her cheeks denied her words.

So the lady was thinking about that kiss.

Hell, Alex had sat until it was almost dawn thinking about it
himself.

Her lips had been warm and yielding against his, and the way she'd
leaned into him was seductive enough that he'd nearly lost all
control.

Desire stirred and he shifted uncomfortably.

This is crazy.

You never get involved with white women.

Sex, yes.

Involved, no.

It was the primary rule of his life.

So what are you doing here?

The lady said no.

Come on, Moreau, if you need a woman so damned bad there are three or
four who would be eager to surcumb.

But they weren't Mary Elizabeth Clang.

She intrigued him, fascinated him beyond all reason.

A slip of a woman, barely more than a girl, traveling alone, halfway
across the country, to take on Congress to save her town.

It was a helluva notion.

And she was a helluva woman he thought, remembering the way she made
that little puff when he'd kissed her.

She was-like no one he'd ever known, but he wanted to know her.

Yes, he wanted to more than he should.

He wanted her more than he should.

He perched on the corner of the table, mostly to keep from crossing the
room, lifting her into his arms and continuing where they left off last
night.

A lightness fluttered in his chest at the thought .

"Miss Clang, if I've offended you," he began with a practiced charm
that didn't betray the desire pounding in his brain and heating his
blood, "and it appears I have, please know it was not my intention."

"If that's an apology-" she lifted one finely arched brow in question
"-it's not necessary."

She turned to leave.

"Miss Clang."

She stopped but didn't turn back.

"I would really like to escort you today.  I've hired a buggy and had
the chef at the Willard make a basket lunch."

She didn't miss the formal address, and there was a sudden sincerity in
his tone that hadn't been there before.

It intrigued her enough to hesitate.

"It's a very good lunch," he added, still talking to her back, "and a
very nice day for a buggy ride."

Good judgment warned against it and she was about to say so when he
said, "Please."

Without turning, she looked back over her shoulder.

There he stood, no smiles, no charm-just "please."

If he'd said anything else or taken a different tone, maybe her resolve
wouldn't have crumbled like sandstone in a rainstorm.

She faced him.

Logic battled with longing.

' twhy?

$ ' Her voice was soft.

He arched one black brow.

"Why what?"

"Why should I change my mind?"

He did move then, closing the distance between them, standing so close
she could almost feel the warmth of his body.

When she looked up, his dark, dark eyes held her gaze and he said
simply, "Come with me, Irish, and it will be a day to remember."

His tone was seductive, tantalizing, like fire on a cold day.

Her body recognized what her mind didn't understand.

She was drowning in the depths of his devil black eyes.

Reason was lost.

"You have to promise there'll be no repeat of last night."

Her voice was a trembly whisper.

He smiled then, a lazy smile full of mischief.

"You said the Idss didn't bother you."

The words were barely out of his mouth when she turned on her heel and
headed toward the stairs.

Dammit.

He caught up in three long strides and took hold of her slender
shoulder.

"No repeat of last night.  I promise.") She studied him, and for a
moment he thought she meant to refuse.  Instead she said, " One hour.

"Four."

"Two," she countered with a take-it-or-leave-it tone.

"Two," he agreed, the urgency less now that she'd said yes.

"I'll get my purse."

"I'll wait."

As long as it takes, he thought, but wisely didn't say.

Inside her room, Mary leaned back against the closed door, her hands
trapped between the warmth of her body and the cool oak of the door.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she dragged in several lungfuls of air.

This was just asking for trouble.

Every time the man got within ten feet of her, mil her hands shook and
her heart started beating harder than a blacksmith's hammer.

"So why are you doing iMs?  " she said to the empty room as she
snatched up her purse and paused to check her up swept hair in the
mirror above the bureau.

"Why?"  she repeated to her reflection.

For a full fifteen seconds she stood like that, staring at her flushed
image in the mirror.

And the question rumbled in her brain like thunder before a storm.

Words like longing and desire and need flitted around the edges of her
mind but she refused to examine them closely.

"It's business," she said, ignoring the heart-pounding attraction she
felt every time she looked at him.

"He's a friend of Senator Carhn's-perhaps others.  If so, then maybe
he'll be willing to help me persuade the senator to vote with us.

Business, she confirmed.

Just business.

Confidence restored, she smiled and pushed at an errant curl that
seemed to push back.

Annoyed, she gave up and hurried out.

Ten minutes later they were pulling away from the curb in the buggy
Alex had rented.

Another turn and they were on Pennsylvania Avenue.

The buggy seat was small, too small, she decided as Alex's body rubbed
against hers at shoulder, hip and thigh.

As if on cue, that restless feeling fluttered through her, making her
all trembly inside.

"What do you think?"

Alex said as the street took a jog around the nation's Capitol.

Mary jumped at the sound of his voice.

"About what?"

Alex shot her a quick look, one black brow arched in question.

She managed a trace of a smile and forced herself to focus on the
Capitol looming ahead, the dome gleaming gray white in the morning
sun.

A little breeze tugged at her hair and she fidgeted with the combs
again.

Clearing her throat, she said, "It's incredible to think that a few men
decided the future of a nation there."

The future of Rainbow Gulch would also be decided there within two
weeks.

Rainbow Gulch.

At the thought, she felt suddenly there counting on her, as were so
many others.

lonely and a bit sad, too.

She missed her father.

He was back She wouldn't let them down.

Two weeks and Rainbow Gulch would have a train.

They wheeled past the horse-drawn streetcar, only halffull of people.

Traffic was light, this being Sunday morning and all.

"Just where are we going, Mr.  Moreau?"

"It's a surprise.  Trust me."

Famous last words, she thought suspiciously.

She was here now and she was going to proceed carefully and stay out of
secluded gardens.

She was curious about his relationship with Senator Carlin.

Was it really a coincidence that Alex Moreau was from Montana?

The horses' hooves made a steady clip-clop on the asphalt paving,
streetlamps stood sentinel on the wide street, waiting for the night,
when the gas flames would make them shine.

Young oak trees, planted during the city's refurbishment in the early
seventies, provided shade for the cement sidewalks and part of the
street.

They passed central market, where the farmers brought their fruits and
vegetables for sale.

Craning her neck, she snatched a peek down 10th Street and caught a
glimpse of the redbrick Smithsonian on the far side of the Mail.

When he turned into a residential neighborhood, she asked, "Now
where?"

She shaded her eyes against the bright sun that warmed her face.

"Shortcut."

She nodded.

In truth she was enjoying the ride and the scenery and the unplanned
tour of Washington.

The more she saw, the more she liked.

Crows in the street squawked in protest as they took flight.

Everywhere trees lined streets and dotted yards.

"Everything is so green and lush and beautiful."

.

: Relaxing, she let her gaze focus on the row houses flanking the
streets.

Bright green lawns.

sloped down to street level.

Pots of geraniums decorated the white rails of several of the
porches.

Mary relaxed back against the seat, her feet crossed demurely at the
ankle, not that anyone could see, of course.

Two little girls in pink lacy dresses sat on one of the porches,
obviously waiting for company or to go somewhere.

Mary smiled and waved.

They waved back.

Alex watched the exchange.

"You like children?"

"Sure.  Everyone likes children."

"Not everyone," he muttered, thinking of Saundra and several others
he'd known over the years.

They wouldn't have their figures ruined having babies, unless, of
course, it was to their financial advantage.

Which was fine with him.

He had enough trouble without some shotgun-happy father looking for
him.

"So, Miss Clang, tell me about yourself.  Where did you grow up?"

Alex slapped the reins lightly on the gelding's rump.

"Mining camps mostly."

"In Montana?"

"California, Nevada-wherever there was a strike."

"Must have been lonely."

"I had Mama and Papa.  I didn't need anyone else.  What about you?

Where did you grow up?"

"In Montana."

"It's a big place."

He chuckled.

"Around Butte when I wasn't away at school."

"Away at school?"

"Boarding school in Pennsylvania, then college and law school in New
York."

"Are you a lawyer?"

She looked surprised.

"Guilty as charged," he returned with a smile.

"I don't have a practice, though.  I need it for business,
contractsthat sort of thing."

"Most people would hire someone."

"A man has to take care of himself-and his family."

"We agree on that," she murmured, thinking there was a fierceness about
him, a power that would make him a formidable opponent.

Absently, she let her gaze return to the row houses.

"Such a nice neighborhood," she offered into the silence.

"Looks friendly.  If you could buy any house, which one would you
choose?"

Alex was caught off guard.

"One of these?"

He hated cities, and if he was going to live in a house, the one in
Butte was as big as four of these with a staff to keep things going.

Still, it was an interesting game, mostly because she was
interesting.

"You choose."

"That one," she said after a few seconds.

She pointed.

"The one with the gray siding and the white shutters."

"Why that one?"

"Because it has roses in the front yard."

He nodded.

"So you like flowers?"

"Oh, yes.  Mama always wanted a rose garden.  We were in San Francisco
once, years ago, and there was a house with roses in the front yard.

Every day, Mama and I would go for a walk just to pass that house.  One
day the lady came out and cut some roses for us."

She swallowed down the lump that formed in her throat every time she
thought about how hard her mother had worked and yet she never got her
rose garden.

Glancing back and forth, she said, "Someday we'll have houses like this
in Rainbow Gulch and there'll be schools and more families and-never
mind."

It bothered him to think she'd never even had something as simple as a
rosebush.

What else had she done without?

Parties.

Courting.

All the things beautiful young women her age took for granted.

But most young women didn't live in a mining camp.

A few more turns and they were back on a main street again, but before
Mary could ask where, they turned again, this time between two large
stone.

gates.

The sign said Zoological Park.

"A zoo!"

She grabbed his arm then, embarrassed, quickly released it.

She practically came out of her seat, she was so excited.

She stretched up to see the cages, barely visible over the small
rise.

"I've heard about zoos but I've never seen one."

"Then I've made a good choice," Alex returned, pleased by her
excitement.

"I promised you a day to remember."

"Oh, it is."

She stretched up again.

"It will be!  " The wide dirt lane led to an area where other carriages
were parked.

"Well, this is it."

Alex tethered the horse then came around to her side.

Taking her around the waist, he lifted her down.

Her hands naturally went to his broad shoulders, their gazes locked,
and for the span of two heartbeats they stood like that, as close as
lovers, the world forgotten.

Alex was lost in her sapphire gaze and the feel of her narrow waist in
his hands.

Her lips parted in a seductive invitation that was damned hard to
resist.

Breathing got a touch difficult and his heart took on a slow, steady
rhythm.

His fingers tightened perceptibly on her corseted waist.

Every cell in Mary's body was suddenly inflamed by the sheer closeness
of him.

Her muscles tightened in expectation.

"You are quite enticing, Miss Clang."

He traced her jaw with the pad of one finger.

Mary took a deep breath and ignored the delicious warmth that was
building low in her abdomen.

"You promised there'd be no repeat of last night."

The man had a way of getting past all her defenses.

He was hard to resist but she was determined.

Abruptly, she stepped back.

"If you aren't going to honor you word, then you'll have to take me
home."

"Oh, my dear Miss Clang, I always keep a promise-especially to a
beautiful woman."

His tone was teasing.

"And you must stop being so..."

"So what?"

His grin was all roguish charm and innocence.

"So ... so..."

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth drew up in frustration.

He laughed, a rich deep sound that soothed and excited her all at
once.

"I'll try, darling' Clang, I'll try."

With a small bow and a sweeping gesture, he motioned for her to proceed
him.

Dam the man, she thought as she hurried past, mostly to keep him from
seeing the smile that threatened her lips.

Sharp cries, angry roars, sounds for which she had no words, all
carried on the humid June air.

Mary's frustration was forgotten and she increased her pace.

At the top of the rise she paused to take in the winding paths lined
with cages.

"I can't believe it.  A zoo.  A real zoo.  Are there animals from all
over the world?"

"Polar bears from the Arctic and kangaroos from Australia and-" "And
can we see it all?"

"Your wish is my command," he returned with a wink.

This time she showed him her smile.

Alex had been to the zoo many times but never enjoyed it quite so
much.

Maybe that was because he'd never seen it with Mary Elizabeth Clang.

Her eyes were bright with laughter at the monkeys' antics.

She was frightened by the crocodiles and fascinated by the dexterity of
the elephant's trunk when she fed the animal pieces of apple that Alex
had brought along.

When the rhinoceros began to charge at the cage, she threw herself into
his arms.

Holding her, looking down into her luminous blue eyes, desire, hot and
clear, pounded in his blood like tribal drums.

God, what she did to him.

How he wanted her.

It was so simple, yet so damned complicated.

What would she do when she found out that he was the one who had
defeated her plan, the one who was working -against her?

His hands curled into aching tight fists and that startled him.

Why was it so important what she thoughtof him?

A child ran past, squealing in delight.

"Mama.  Mama.

Can I have some?

Alex quickly focused on the source of the child's excitement-a vendor
selling paper cones heaped with cotton candy.

With a glance at Mary, he asked, "Would you like some?  " Her delicate
brows pulled down in a frown.

"What is it?"

"Wait."

Alex trotted off and returned with a cone of the frothy white
confection, which he presented to Mary.

"It looks like silk all spun together."

She eyed the treat carefully, not sure where or how to begin.

Like this.

" Alex pulled a pinch free and held it near her lips."  Come on.

It's good," he encouraged.

Smiling, Mary opened her mouth.

But innocent turned to provocative when his fingers lightly grazed her
lips before he pulled away and licked the remaining candy from his own
fingers.

Her eyes followed the movement and sparks shot along nerve endings in
places she didn't know she had nerve endings.

It wasn't fair he could do that with only a look.

The sugar candy melted on her tongue.

But it was the lingering feel of Alex's fingers on her lips that was
making her melt inside.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a second.

"What do you think?"  he murmured.

Her eyes flew open.

"I think," she said, swallowing hard, "we'd better move on."

She stepped around him and started walking, discreetly dropping the
candy in a wooden trash barrel.

Alex fell in step, and if he noticed the candy was missing, he didn't
say anything.

They walked along in awkward silence, and when Mary couldn't stand it
any longer, she said, "There's an animal I heard about once, but I
don't know if it really exists."

"What's it called?"

The breeze fluttered the front of his white cotton shirt.

Alex brushed the hair back from his face and Mary was caught by the
sheer male beauty of him, his chiseled face bathed in sunlight.

Stop it.

She cleared her throat.

"Uh... I can't remember.  Long necks.  That's it.  They have long necks
and equally long legs.

Did you ever hear of such a thing?

All he was doing was standing there.

All she was doing was drowning in the depths of his black satin eyes.

She couldret look away and she couldn't stop talking.

"It sounds impossible to me, but someone told Mama and she-" His mouth
turned up in a lazy smile that made her all goose-bumpy.

"Nothing's impossible, darling' Clang."

She ignored the "darling'."

"You mean there is such a thing?"

Looping her arm through his in an all-too-familiar way, he started
off.

She lengthened her stride to keep up, the hem of her black skirt
catching the dust from the path.

They turned left at the fork by the lions' cage.

Across the way, the grizzly bears snarled over a piece of meat and she
was so busy looking at them she didn't see Alex stop.

She slammed into him and was about to apologize when he said, "Lookup,
Irish."  She looked up, her eyes widening until her neck was craned way
back."  Why, it's true.

They must be twenty-five feet tall.

"They're called giraffes."

"Giraffes," she repeated, smiling at the creatures so unEke anything
she'd ever seen.

Her gaze fixed on the little one hiding behind its mother.

"Oh, look, Alex, isn't it beautiful?"

"Beautiful," Alex agreed, pleased that she'd called him Alex and that
she'd smiled when she did.

"Look how they move.  So graceful."

She spared him a glance.

"They're from India or Africa-I don't remember."

"From the grasslands in Africa," he supplied.

'Tbey say it looks a lot like eastern Montana and Wyoming.

She chuckled, her gaze still fixed on the giraffes.

"Well, we don't have anything like this in.  Montana, that's for
sure.

We do have antelope and -deer and buffalo.

"Damned few buffalo."

It had broken his heart when he'd seen the mountains of buffalo skulls
stacked near a railroad station in Wyoming.

"But we have cattle and sheep," Mary countered.

"It doesn't matter.  We don't need buffalo."

"The Indians do.  Only the whites have cattle."

Looking at the lady, he consoled himself with the thought that she
didn't really understand.

Most whites didn't.

How could they know the beauty of the Indian ways?

Maybe if she did she wouldn't be doing this.

Maybe she wouldn't care.

It was a possibility he was trying hard to ignore.

What difference did it make if she understood or not?

He oing to win this.

The treaty wouldn't be broken.

His was g loyalty to the tribe was unbending.

God knew, he'd seen enough of miners and ranchers who lied and cheated
to get the land, always the land.

They called it progress.

Alex called it greed.

He thought about the solemn promise he'd made to his mother and his
people that he would defend them in the white man's world since they
were unprepared to.

defend themselves.

Bitterly, he thought of how conveniently the government had set aside
the Treaty of '51 because the Crow didn't sign it, they'd said.

So in '68, when gold and cattle and mining were growing, the damned
government had taken threefourths of the Crow land, more than thirty
million acres.

Yes, Alex knew all too well the ways of the white man, and that was why
his parents had sent him to school in the East.

That was why Alex had learned to work and socialize in the white man's
world.

He was driven by respect and love for the only people who had ever
accepted him as their own, despite his mixed blood.

He meant to live up to his commitment to his family and yet he hadn't
counted on this complication.

He hadn't counted on Mary Elizabeth Clang.

Alex checked his anger and frustration and realized Mary was talking.

He returned his attention to the beautiful lady who was his
companion.

He took her hand in his simply because he needed to touch her.

"How about that picnic?

Are you hungry?

"Yes, actually, I am.p' Mary felt his thumb brush back and forth across
her hand, heating the sensitive flesh.  Demurely, she slipped her hand
free.  If he noticed he didn't say so.  They walked back to the
carriage in companionable silence.

Alex didn't say much as they drove out of the zoo.

Mary was grateful.

She was lost in her own thoughts.

Being with Alex Moreau was like being swept up in a flash flood.

Every look, every smile, every touch held new promises of danger.

Judging by the way her heart was racing, the danger was very real.

The humid air seemed close and she pulled at the starched cotton of her
blouse, wishing she hadn't worn something so constricting.

Not a breeze stirred as they turned on Constitution Avenue.

She watched as Alex adjusted the reins more securely through his long
fingers.

She remembered how her skin tingled when those same fingers stroked her
cheek.

Darn the man!

She sighed.

"Something wrong?"  he asked at the sound.

"No, nothing," she lied smoothly.

"Where would you like to have our picnic?  I know a nice secluded spot
near Rock Creek."

"I'd like someplace a little more public."

"Are you sure?  I mean, this spot I'm thinking of is " Someplace
public.

" Her tone was firm and there was a tilt to her chin that he was coming
to recognize as stubbornness "As you wish."

He couldn't help being a bit pleased.

, He'd known enough women to recognize that it Wasn't just propriety
that prompted her demand.

There was a breathlessness about her voice that said she wasn't as
immune to him as she would like him to believe.

The fact that they were well over her two-hour limit merely confirmed
his observation.

He parked the buggy on North B Street by the Mall.

A

thirty-foot maple tree made it the perfect spot to spread a blanket and
serve lunch.

Alex kept the conversation light while they feasted on fried chicken
and lemonade and oat meal cookies.

"How long will you be in Washington?"  he asked casually, already
suspecting the answer.

"Until Congress adjourns.  What about you?"

"Oh, about the same."

"You said you're here on business-horses, wasn't it?"

"That's right.  Senator Carlin tells me you're here to get a train for
Rainbow Gulch."

She paused.

"I am."

Her tone was firm.

"He tells me you're hoping to have the treaty with the Crow set
aside."

"It's more than hope and-" she faced him directly "-it seems Senator
Carlin tells you a great deal.  I thought you weren't interested in
politics, Mr.  Moreau."

There was an edge to her voice, a wariness.

Alex ignored the gibe and began packing up their belongings.

So much for light conversation, he thought.

"Jack and I are old friends and, besides, you can't live in Washington
and not be at least a little interested in politics."

They strolled back toward the buggy.

The afternoon sun disappeared behind a stray cloud.

He continued, "Don't you think you're taking on a lot?  Trying to break
a treaty, I mean.  It's a tough job manipulating those old-timers in
the senate chamber."

Reaching the buggy, he helped her in.

"Mr. Moreau-" She talked as hewalked around tojoin her on the narrow
seat.

With a slap of the reins they started off.

"It was Alex a while ago."

"Mr.  Moreau," she replied flatly, "there's no manipulation involved.

Why wouldn't they go along?  After an, they see as I do that it's not
only the future of Rainbow Gulch but all of Montana that's at stake
here."

Now there was an angle he hadn't thought of-the expansion of Montana.

The Indians became small in comparison.

They turned on Pennsylvania Avenue, taking the more direct route back
to her boardinghouse.

"The future of Montana depends on railroads connecting the country,
allowing people to settle, to do business easily," she continued.

"If the expansion of Montana means breaking a treaty, then that's what
will have to happen."

Anger flashed in his eyes and it took him a minute to steady himself.

She said it so matter-of-factly.

She looked so composed and detached.

"And the Absarokee?"

'Who?

"Me Crow."  He pulled up in front of her boardinghouse.

"The Indians will survive just fine.  For heaven's sake, they've got a
place to live, and food and clothes are supplied to them.  They don't
even have to work.  It's better than a lot of people."

He climbed out one side of the buggy, and without waiting for his help
she climbed out the other.

They stared at each other along the length of the leather seat.

"Have you ever been confined on a reservation, Miss Clang?"

With a flounce she turned and started for the front door.

"No, Mr.  Moreau.  Have you?"

He almost told her he had but instead said, "Have you ever been forced
to take charity?"

"Forced?"

Her mouth turned down in a frown.

"Forced.  You know, when you'd prefer to take care of yourself but
someone or something makes that impossible."

"What's impossible about it?  Everyone knows the majority of Indians
are lazy do-nothings.  They produce nothing, contribute nothing to
society.  If they want to take.care of themselves, why don't they?"

She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Alex was right behind her.

"Maybe because the white man has taken most of their land, killed
nearly all the buffalo, told them to farm instead of hunt, told them
their beliefs are immoral.

It's the white man who has made them lazy by taking their pride.

"You seem to take a great interest in the Indians."

"I think it's time someone did."

His black eyes glittered with controlled anger.

"It was only two generations ago that Jackson moved the Choctaw out of
Mississippi, promising them land and freedom beyond the limits of the
state 'as long as the grass grows or water runs.

' And every single time the government has lied.

Oh, elected officials don't call it lying of course.

No, they find some neat little trick like saying it's the law of the
land and they are sympathetic but powerless to help the Indians.

Mary's frown deepened and there was a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

"Let me see if I have this correctly.  We give the Indians land and
food and clothes.  We offer to teach them to farm, we send their
children to school at no expense, we provide Indian agents and
detachments of cavalry to guard them and we send them missionaries to
show them the ways of the Lord- and it's not enough?  While two hundred
miners are living dirt-poor on the side of a mountain in Montana,
barely scratching out a living, asking for nothing except a train so
they can provide themselves and their families with land and food and
clothes-and that's too much?"

"You don't understand, do you, Miss Clang?  What you want is exactly
what the Indians want-to be left alone to take care of themselves.

They survived for hundreds of years without the white man's charity.

They were the ones on the shore when the Mayflower landed.  So if we
follow your line of reasoning, then it's the white man who should
conform to the Indian way of life, not the other way around."

"The Indians cannot survive if they are not willing to bend," she fired
back at him.

"You can only bend a branch so far before it snaps back in your
face."

"There is no point in us discussing this further, Mr.  Moreau.

And.

" She paused."  I think there's no point in us seeing each other
again.

With that she turned and marched up the stairs.

Alex watched her go.

Damn the woman, he thought.

And damn himself for getting into this with her.

He should have known he couldn't convince her.

He must have been crazy to think he could make this work out-the woman
and the treaty.

He slammed out of the front door.

She was infuriating.

Too damned hardheaded for her own good.

Well, he was through with this, through with her.

He didn't care if she was beautiful with eyes the color of summer sky
and hair .

like black silk.

He didn't care if she kissed him as though she were welcoming home a
lover, all soft and eager and.

His chin dropped to his chest and he took a deep breath.

"Clang, what the hell are you doing to me?"  he asked out loud to the
night sky.

He understood now why this was so important to her.

He didn't explain why it was more important to him.

He was going to win this and lose the lady in the process.

ChapterFive

The visitor crossed the cluttered office in four long strides.

He dropped down into the brown leather-covered chair opposite John
Macklin's carved mahogany desk.

Morning sunlight poured through the open window, giving the office a
warmth that the visitor's disposition didn't match.

Too bad, John thought.

"I wasn't expecting you."

John had known the man for the past five years and still couldn't warm
up to him.

Never mind, this was business not pleasure.

Definitely not pleasure.

"I want a status report The words were simple enough the tone was
not.

The man absently toyed with the lapel of his finely tailored blue
suit.

John forced himself to lounge back in his chair.

The wood creaked in protest as he leaned to the side, resting his
weight on one armrest.

"Things are coming along nicely.  Miss Clang has been a real asset."

The visitor paused and seemed to consider this.

"I'm surprised.  I was afraid she'd get in the way."

He glanced over at the map of Montana hanging on the wall above the row
of wooden filing cabinets.

"I don't like it when things interfere with my plans."

"No one does," John agreed, though he realized most people would have
meant something mundane like dinner plans, not the organized
acquisition of silver mines, land, timber and anything else that had
been up for grabs in Montana over the last several years.

Of course, it was all very legal, very aboveboard.

The man had money and that gave him the power.

It was that simple.

The silence stretched between them.

John pulled his favorite pipe from the rack on his desk and filled the
bowl with an aromatic cherry blend.

"When will you know for sure?"  the visitor asked calmly.

John struck a match and lifted it to the bowl and took several quick
puffs before answering.

"I'll take a little informal survey over the next couple of days.

But as it stands right now, I'd say we're in."

"I don't deal in generalities, John."

Macklin exhaled a puff of gray-white smoke, enjoying the rich flavor
and aroma.

"This is politics.  Generalities are the best we can do.  We already
had a sizable number of senators in favor of breaking the treaty.  With
the girl running point-" "I must admit, she does make a believable
decoy, doesn't she?"

John sat forward in his chair.

"I don't like using her like this.  Why don't we tell her that you're-"
"No.  If people find out I'm interested, it'll drive up the prices."

He stood.

"And don't get so self-righteous, John.

Some men are swayed by money.

" He gave a knowing shru 9 of his slender shoulders.

"Others, well, if they like helping a damsel in distress, so much the
better."

:'And the Indians?

'The hell with the Indians.

They're sitting on eight million acres of the best timber and mineral
land around.

All because some fool soldier didn't know what the hell he was doing.

" He strolled over to look at the Montana map.

"They should let businessmen negotiate treaties instead of government
bureaucrats."

John couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

If the visitor noticed he didn't say so.

"Look at this."

His tone was soft.

"What do a few thousand Indians need with all this land?

They don't understand it like I do.

They don't see the potential, the possibilities.

Cattle was only the start.

Now there's mining and soon there will be railroads.

" He glanced over his shoulder at John."  Do you know what that
means?

Money," he supplied without waiting for an answer."  A lot of money,
and I intend for a sizable portion of that to be mine.

He turned to face John.

"All that's standing in the way is that treaty.  But not for long."

He took a step in John's direction.

"That is, if you do your job."

Macklin straightened.

"I know my job."

Like I know I need you and men like you if I want to be reelected.

"See that you do it then, and I'll see that I remember who my friends
are."

John studied the pipe he held in his right hand.

"If the treaty is broken, then what?"

"It's all up for grabs, railroad or no railroad."

The visitor smiled.

"Logging, railroad easements, mineral leases..."

His voice trailed off.

"Of course a railroad will make it all so much easier."

"And that's why you're so interested in this little deal."

Macklin shook his -head.

"Those damned- Indians will be lucky to come out of this with the
shirts on their backs."

The visitor laughed.

",Now, John, you know Indians don't wear shirtsso there's no
problerii."

He chuckled at his little joke.

"Besides, we all know that -the Indians' days are over.  This business
of giving them huge tracts of land so they can run around half-naked
and hunt and fish like their ancestors did..."

He shook his head in disgust.

"They haven't got the vaguest notion of what that land is worth.

I-et's face it.

The issue, simply put, is how we can dispose of the Indians as quickly
and inexpensively as possible.

"I still don't see why we don't tell the girl you're interested?"

"Because that changes the tone, makes it look like a money grab."

He looked at John through cold blue eyes.

"We certainly don't want that now.  It's important how things look.

PoHticians are very concerned with appearances.  Besides, when we win,
the girl wins.  Everybody gets what they want."

Except the Indians, John thought, but wisely didn't say.

Michael Strictland was thirty years old.

Tall and lean, good-looking, with sandy blond hair and steel blue
eyes.

He'd known early that a man had to look after himself if he wanted to
get ahead, and Michael had been determined not to spend his life behind
a mercantile counter like his father and mother.

So, Michael had set about to change that.

He had read every book he could find and, more important, he remembered
what he learned.

He could speak with knowledge on any subject from the decline of the
Roman empire to the varietal differences of red wines-French, of
course.

The Italians were not to be considered seriously.

He was wealthy, people said, though how wealthy no one knew
exactly-Michael saw to that.

He was charming and always well dressed in the latest of
fashions-European, of course.

He was the sort of man mothers sought for their too-longsingle
daughters and it was no wonder he was welcomed in the best homes from
New York to Savannah and points west.

When he had seen Mary Clang at Senator Carlin's, he'd made a point of
sitting next to her at dinner.

He'd heard she was representing silver mining interests.

Michael was very interested in silver or anything else that would turn
a tidy profit, and these days that was most definitely silver.

Ambition was Michael's watchword.

That is what it had taken to quadruple a small inheritance into a tidy
sum and he saw no reason to stop now.

So it was only natural that he'd be interested in this lovely young
woman who was alone and so very far from home-a lovely young woman who
had the inside track on silver mines.

It was necessary, therefore, to meet the lady, to befriend the lady, to
wine and dine the lady and show her that they saw eye to eye.

He'd been waiting nearly twenty minutes in the boardinghouse parlor on
this Monday evening.

The mantel clock chimed softly.

Four.

Five.

Six.

He shifted his position on the faded maroon settee and crossed his
legs, one ankle resting on the opposite knee.

Through the bay window, he could see that dusk was already settling
in.

The sky was streaked with shades of pink and white.

Once more, he glanced toward the double glass doors that opened into
the parlor like two hands parting the way.

What the devil was taking so long?

Just then he heard footsteps on the bare oak planks of the staircase
that led to the entryway.

He stood just as Mary walked into the room, her peach-colored blouse
tucked into the trim waist of a dark green skirt.

She was lovely.

"Mr. Strictland, " Mary said quietly, the edges of his card wedged
between thumb and forefinger of her left hand.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting but I ... was delayed," she
stammered.

In truth she'd forgotten their- dinner engagement.

She had the beginnings of a headache, and after yesterday with
Alexandre Moreau, well, she -was in no mood to be polite company.

Yet he looked so eager, his smile so gently polite- Oh, she was so bad
at these things.

What to do?

She fussed with her cuff.

Michael smiled and walked toward her, his hand extended.

"You look quite fetching if I may say so."

His flattery brought a smile to her face and she took his offered
hand.

"You may," she confirmed with equal politeness.

Tell him.

She slipped her hand free.

"Mr. Strictland, about tonight-" "I promise-" he cut across her words
"-this time to sit opposite so we won't be rubbing elbows all
evening.

I'll take you anywhere you'd like, but I thought the dining room at The
Willard might be appropriate-" "No, not there," she interjected,
knowing it was where Alex was staying.

She wasn't ready to see him again, not so soon, not after yesterday.

"All right."

Mchael's eyes narrowed a bit but blessedly he didn't question her
response.

"Is there someplace you'd prefer?"

"Hmm ... on L Street there's a French restaurant called-"
"Frangoise'.

Yes, I know it.  Very nice."

He took a step in her direction.

"Shall we go?  I have a carriage waiting."

Just yesterday, it had been Alex Moreau standing here saying almost the
exact same thing.

Alex Moreau.

Why did everything and everyone evoke thoughts of Alex?

From the moment she'd seen him, he had invaded her senses with his mere
presence and her good sense had scattered faster than a herd of deer at
the first shot.

It was embarrassing.

Upsetting.

Totally out of character for her.

She wasn't going to put up with it a moment longer.

She snatched back her thoughts, turned toward her escort and said,
"I'll get my things and be right down."

Two minutes later, they were seated in his buggy, headed down
Pennsylvania Avenue toward the Capitol.

The evening was clear and warm and the humidity actually felt good
against her skin.

There was the scent of honeysuckle in the air.

Being out felt good, also.

She'd spent most of the day in one office or another, talking,
cajoling, convincing.

It was exhausting and so damned uncertain-not like signing a contract
where people couldn't renege without a penalty.

She was tired and -she was only getting started.

She had two meetings tomorrow and then a strategy session with Macklin
in the late afternoon.

But it would all be worth it when they got that train.

They crossed Louisiana at the triangle.

"Frangoise' in a few minutes," Michael said in passing.

"Nice night, don't you think?"

"Very nice."

She watched the houses and office buildings slip past, bathed in
shadows.

Boxwood hedges and intricate black iron fences added to the shadows.

Metal against asphalt, the horse's hooves cracked loudly, while
pedestrians darted between the nearly constant stream of buggies and
carriages carrying people home to their families.

Sadly, she wished she could go home as easily.

Soon.

"Are you enjoying Washington?"

Michael's voice interrupted her musings.

With a sigh, she glanced at her companion as she settled back more
comfortably against the black leather seat.

She tucked her skirt around her legs to keep it away from the spinning
spokes of the wheel.

"I'm not really here to enjoy myself.  I'm working."

"Working?"

Michael repeated, one blond brow arched in question.

"Oh, yes.  That's right.  You're here trying to convince the Senate
to..."

"To renegotiate the Treaty with the Crow so Rainbow Gulch can get a
train."

She sighed.

How many times had she had this conversation?

How many more would be required?

She steeled herself for the.

questions to come.

Why?

How?

What does a woman know about such things?

She felt the frustration Nyell up in her.

But she got a pleasant surprise when her escort merely shook his head
in wonder.

"That's a big job.  I admire your resolve."

Mary was pleasantly stunned.

"Thank you, Mr.  Strictland.

"You must be tired.  I'm so pleased to be able to take you out.  I
promise you a lovely dinner and-" he glanced over again "-a night to
remember."

Mary groaned inwardly.

What was it about the men in this town?

They all promised memorable days and nights.

"I'll settle for a pleasant evening."

"Never settle, Miss Clang.  Not when something really matters-whether
it's dinner or plans for the future."

"Thank you, Mr.  Strictland, for the encouragement.

Some men find women in business aggressive, even masculine.

Amusement danced in his blue eyes and he chuckled.

"Believe me, Miss Clang, no one is ever going to think of you as
masculine."

Mary felt the heat rise in her cheeks at his flattery.

The man was quite charming.

Michael chuckled.

"Don't take those crusty old politicians too seriously.  They live up
on the hill in a totally male world.  It's good to shake them up a bit
from time to time."

"Mr. Strictland, you're too good to be true.  Now, if you tell me
you're a supporter of women's suffrage, I may have to nominate you for
sainthood."

He laughed, a small sound, like an exaggerated chuckle, his shoulders
moving up and down beneath his brown suit as he did so.

"Well, let's not go that far.  I haven't made up my mind on women's
suffrage."

He looked at her fully this time.

The breeze ruffled his blond hair and he combed it back with one
hand.

"Not all women are as intelligent or as lovely as you, Miss Clang."

Good Lord, she was blushing again.

Well, Michael Strictland was a pleasant change from .

someone she could name but wouldn't, of course.

She was enjoying the company and being out, and her headache wasn't
quite so threatening anymore.

They reined up in front of Frangoise', a one-story stone building in
the middle of the block.

Michael stopped and climbed down.

A uniformed boy ran forward to hold the horse's harness and Michael
tossed him two bits as he walked around and helped Mary down.

It seemed intimate, somehow, the way his hand rested lightly at the
small of her back as he escorted her inside.

Why she felt uncomfortable about that was beyond her.

The man had been as polite and gentlemanly as any woman could want.

So what was missing?

Nothing, she told herself firmly.

She was going to enjoy this evening immensely.

"Two for dinner," Michael told the captain at the dining room
doorway.

"Right this way, sir."

Mary's shoes sank into the plush maroon-and-gray carpet as she followed
the captain to a table set for two next to the window.

"This is lovely."

Michael helped her with her chair.

In one sweeping glance, she estimated there were about three dozen
square tables, each covered with a pristine white linen cloth.

Matching white napkins were displayed in the water goblets like
bouquets of white carnations.

Fewer than half the tables were occupied, couples mostly, though there
was a group of men in the corner involved in intense conversation.

She recognized Senator Robbins and Senator Likens, the others she
didn't know.

Were they talking about the treaty?

She'd seen Senator Robbins a few hours ago and he'd promised to vote
with them.

Was he changing his mind or the minds of others?

"Miss Clang."

She realized Michael was talking to her.

"Sorry."

She forced herself to concentrate on the gentleman across from her.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No," she assured him, looking a little embarrassed.

"I was noticing that I know a couple of the gentlemen over there."

She motioned with her head.

"Well, this is a favorite with the Capitol Hill crowd," he confirmed.

A uniformed waiter appeared and took their order.

Mary ordered crab cakes; she was developing a fondness for seafood.

Michael ordered the veal and a whiskey and soda.

"Tell me, how are your efforts coming along?  Will you get your
train?"

"Absolutely."

That brought an agreeing nod and a trace of a smile to his lips.

"You say it like it's sure."

"I won't think otherwise."

Her fingers traced back and forth on the smooth surface of the white
linen cloth.

"Mr' Macklin has been talking to the senators and he told me this
afternoon he's feeling confident I " Mss Clang, if determination and
energy count for anything, then I do believe you will succeed.

I know I couldn't resist you.

"I-et's hope you're not the only one."

The waiter served the whiskey and soda and handed Mary her napkin so he
could fill the water glass.

"A toast," Michael said, holding his glass up and out slightly.

"To trains and the future."

"To trains," Mary returned, and touched her glass to his with a
delicate clink.

Michael sipped his drink and looked at her over the run of his glass.

"What railroad are you trying to interest?"

:'The Utah Northern.

'Ah.

" Michael gave a knowing nod."  Have you talked to Schuyler?

"Schuyler?"

"Schuyler Crosby.  Seems like the governor would be a good person to
have on your side.  I understand he's inclined to be receptive toward
territorial expansion."

"Is he?"

She considered this.

"You know, I must admit I hadn't written to him, only to Mr.
Macklin."

Michael leaned back in his chair.

He nodded again and took another swallow of whiskey and soda, the ice
clinking in the glass.

"I know Schuyler.  Would it be helpful if I sent him a letter on your
behalf?"

"You'd do that?"

A word in the governor'sear, so to speak, from a personal friend might
mean a great deal.

"I'd be grateful for any help."

"Glad to do it.  America's greatness is built on expansion," he told
her with a dismissive wave of his slender hand.

"I'm sure you've considered that it's a long way from getting the
treaty broken to building a spur to getting the mines expanded to their
full potential.

Uncertainty flashed in her eyes but she quickly recovered.

"We'll get it.  Once the treaty is broken, the railroad is the next
step.  Mr. Macklin said he would help us.  The railroad will be
looking for numbers-dollars and cents, you know, anticipated costs and
anticipated revenues.  I've got that all worked out.  Then all we'll
need are investors."

The smile was forced and she wasn't feeling nearly as confident as she
sounded.

She toyed with her water glass, letting her fingers trace the pattern
etched there.

"This is a major undertaking you've accepted.  What makes Rainbow Gulch
so special?"

Her head came up with a snap and her tone was fiercely possessive.

"Rainbow Gulch is the richest silver deposit in the territory and it is
my home, Mr.  Strictland."

Wistfully, she repeated, "It's my home."

"I understand, Miss Clang.  Home is important no matter how remote it
is."

There was something in his tone that gave her pause, made her
uncomfortable, as if she ought to apologize but she didn't know why.

She glanced out the window and watched the carriages go down the
boulevard in the flickering gaslight.

Rainbow Gulch flashed in her mind, so different from this sophisticated
city.

Yet'it was home.

All that she wanted in a home anyway.

When-they got the train it would be a good place to live, to raise
children, to grow old.

"Miss Clang?"

She turned back to her dinner companion with a questioning stare.

"You were saying... about the assay report?"

"It assays out at ninety-nine and five-eighths cents per ounce."

He lowered his glass carefully to the table.

His expression turned more serious.

"Are you certain?"

"Of course I'm certain," she told him smartly.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

He chuckled.

"Well, Miss Clang-" He broke off as their dinner was served and waited
until the waiter was out of earshot.

"How much money will it take to develop the mines or perhaps build a
smelter on-site?"

She studied him.

"A great deal of money.  More than we have," she added cautiously,
wondering if his interest was more than idle curiosity.

"Do you have investors lined up?"

She toyed with her dinner.

"Not yet."

It was impossible to interest someone in silver mines without that
damned train.

She knew.

She'd tried.

Michael sipped his drink.

"Don't lose hope.  Investors can be difficult to find.  Some feel
metals are too risky.  They prefer to put their money in something more
substantial, like shipping or stagecoaches or utilities."

He gestured toward the street and the gaslights flickering there.

"Haven't you ever heard that the reward is only as great as the
risk?"

"Now there you are very correct, and that's why some men will never
succeed.  They're afraid.  I always feel, when in doubt, say yes."

"And would saying yes apply to investing in silver mines, Mr.
Strictland?  Tbere's another old adage that says put your money where
your mouth is."

At her bluntness, Michael laughed.

He put his drink down and pushed his dinner plate aside.

Forearms on the edge of the table, he leaned closer.

"Quite right, Miss Clang.  Quite right.  And it so happens that I have
been known to invest a little money in an intriguing venture from time
to time."

Mary stilled, her dinner forgotten.

"How little money, Mr.  Strictland?"

She needed thousands, not hundreds of dollars.

"Oh, I'd be willing to put up, say... twenty-five thousand to expand
the mines, and with my contacts I could raise about twice that much
toward building a smelter.  Of course, I'd want shares in the mine to
cover my investment, and then there's the issue of the train-" "I'll
write home at once."

Mary's heart was beating faster than a runaway locomotive, she was so
excited.

It was a sign, she told herself.

Meeting Mr. Strictland and having him offer to invest was a sign that
they were going to get that train.

"I'll wire tomorrow for the assay report, then I'll write to them with
all the details.  We'll name the smelter after you, Mr.  Strictland."

She grinned.

If you want, we'll name the whole town after you!  " Michael returned
her grin.

He held out his glass again.

"To partners and trains and futures."

Mary returned the toast.

"To partners and trains and futures.2) What could possibly stop them
now?

Chapter Six

If the family hadn't needed the sale, Alex would' have walked away from
the negotiating table an hour ago.

Colonel Halfin was tough.

He was also an Indian hater from his days at Fort Kearney.

The room was warm and stuffy, the row of windows closed and shuttered
against the warm June weather.

What was it about whites that they had this abhorrence of fresh air and
sunshine?

God, how he longed to be home where the grassland stretched as far as a
man could see.

He longed to ride across the prairie, feeling the sun on his face, the
wind cooling the sweat on his body.

He flinched inside his coat and vest.

His perfectly knotted tie seemed tight and uncomfortable.

He paced the length of the table, which took up most of the room, then
turned and retraced his steps, his boots cushioned by the light gray
carpet.

He glanced over at Hallin.

Wasn't the man ever going to stop talking?

He'd been droning on for ten minutes about the most trivial
imperfections of the lot of horses Alex had delivered shortly before
he'd come to Washington.

Damn, he didn't want to be here.

He had his pride, which he never surrendered, and his patience, which
was dangerously short.

What the hell did the bastard want, for him to plead or grovel?

Not in this lifetime or any other.

Family first.

His mother's voice spoke quietly in his head.

The Absarokee were his family, all his family.

This contract, like all the others, was for them.

They raised the horses, not that anyone knew that.

Alex was only the middleman.

After all, the army wouldn't do business with Indians, now, would
they?

Hell no.

So Alex did the negotiating and the delivering, and with the money, he
bought supplies and clothes and anything else the tribe needed to
survive.

Lately, he'd begun to buy land.

All in his name, of course.

Indians couldn't own land, couldjyt vote, couldn't come to Washington
and negotiate contracts.

Alex's mood was foul and his temper was rising at a dangerous rate when
he realized he had to end this now or risk saying the wrong thing and
losing it all.

He turned and leaned forward, hands splayed on the cold hard surface of
the mahogany table.

"Let's stop playing games, shall we?"

Hallin glared at him, his lips thinned to a narrow white line, his
square jaw clenched.

" lzt's hear it."

"Final offer," Alex returned through barely controlled anger.

"I will supply the army with five hundred head of horses, all to meet
army specifications as to size, color and age.  All horses will be
broken in.  And I'll do it for..."

He snatched up a piece-of paper and a pencil and scrawled an amount
across the information written there.

Abruptly, he shoved the paper across the desk, sending other papers
flying in its wake.

"This amount."

Hallin glared at Alex but he picked up the paper anyway.

Quickly he glanced at Alex as if to be sure the amount was correct.

Alex gave a nod to his unspoken question.

The price was low, Alex knew it.

So did HalUn.

"The first one hundred to be delivered within ninety days to Fort
Custer."

"Fort Ellis," Alex countered, knowing it was considerably closer.

"Done."

Hallin came to his feet.

He pointedly didn't ofer is hand and Alex didn't, either.

"Send the contracts to my suite at The Willard."

With that, Alex turned and strode from the room.

Outside, the North Star was already visible in the sky and the moon was
a silver crescent.

He paused and stretched his arms, flexing his shoulders.

He glanoed back at the light still burning in the third-floor
conference room.

Hallin was probably basking in what he considered a great victory.

What he didn't know was that Alex would have gone lower and still made
a profit.

Smiling, humming a little tune, he started down the steps.

He was suddenly in the mood to celebrate.

They stood on the porch of the boardinghouse.

Light filtered through the lace-curtained double front window onto the
barren planks painted white like the four posts that held the porch
roof.

Michael took a half step in Mary's direction.

He was close, so close she had to tilt her head slightly to look up
into his face, and she wondered if he meant to kiss her.

Propriety demanded she not allow such a thing.

Another feeling caused her to step back.

One hand wrapped around the cool brass doorknob, she partially opened
the door in a subtle signal.

"Thank you for a very nice dinner, Mr.  Strictland."

"Michael, please."

"And for your generous offers of help, Mr.  Strictland."

He smiled.

Even so, Mary was feeling suddenly uncomfortable and anxious to be
inside.

She pushed the door open a little farther, the knob still clutched in
her hand.

"I should be going in now.  I have an early day tomorrow."

"I understand.  May I see you again?  Perhaps tomorrow evening?"

"No, I'm busy tomorrow," she lied.

He was everything a man should be, polite, charming, generous.

He even supported her plans, for heaven's sake.

She should be attracted.

She should be thrilled.

She wasn't.

"Friday, then.  Perhaps dinner."

'All right.

"The same time?  There's a play at the National Theatre.

It's just opened.

I'll check the reviews, and if it's good, perhaps you would like to
attend?

II "I'd love to go to the theater.  I've never been."

He smiled and gave her the barest kiss on the cheek.

"The theater it is, then.  See you on Friday."

"I'll look forward to it."

She pushed the door open fully and backed across the threshold.

It was obvious that the man was attracted to her.

Why couldn't she feel the same?

All she knew was that there was no heart-pounding excitement, no
nerve-singeing electricity as there'd been the first time she'd seen
Alex Moreau.

Voices carried in from the dining room.

Some of the boarders with company enjoying a cup of coffee and a piece
of Mrs.  Dice's apple cake, no doubt.

The unique scent of cinnamon confirmed her guess.

"Oh-and, Mr. Strictland, I'll wire tomorrow for those assay reports
and send word as soon as they arrive."

He took her hand.

"Since we both have a similar interest, I hope this means we'll be
seeing a great deal of each other in the months ahead."

His ione was hushed and he squeezed her hand before releasing fit.

,@ "I'll call on Friday at six.") " Six," she confirmed, slipping her
hand from his.

With a nod, he walked away.

She watched him climb into his buggy, gave a small wave as he drove
off, then released the breath she realized she'd been holding.

Slowly, she closed the door and stood for a moment with her hand on the
knob, her forehead pressed against the cool wood of the frame.

A deep male chuckle sounded behind her and Mary turned sharply.

It was him.

Alex Moreau stood at the base of the stairs.

Dark and powerful, he was dressed in black, from the tip of his finely
made boots to the cut of his three-piece suit.

His straight black hair was disheveled, as if he'd run his hands
through it.

Speak of the devil, she thought.

He was handsome as Satan, she'd give him that.

"I've been waiting for you, Irish."

At the sight of him and the implication of his words, her heart started
racing faster than a rabbit caught in a snare.

"Don't call me Irish."

"Okay."

His midnight eyes fixed firmly on her.

"Where have you been?"

"Out to dinner," she returned smugly, still smarting over their
argument yesterday.

Alex arched one black brow in question.

"So I gathered.

With whom?

Anger overcame surprise.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Mr.  Moreau."

She tossed her reticule and gloves on the shelf of the hat tree.

"What are you doing here anyway?"

"Like I said, I'm waiting for you."

His tone was husky.

She shot him an exasperated look.

"Well, I'm here.  What do you want?"

His smile was instant and lavish and dam near turned her knees to
water.

Damn the man, anyway.

"I was in the mood to celebrate and I came by to take you to a concert
at Ford's Opera House, then maybe a late-night supper after."

The man was nothing if not arrogant.

Not twenty-four hours ago she'd told him in this very spot that she
didn't want to see him again.

Was he deaf?

It was then that she realized he was advancing on her.

She steeled herself against the impulse to step back.

She wouldn't retreat.

"Who's the man, Irish?"

He repeated his earlier question and ignored her earlier rebuke.

Chest heaving with indignation, she faced him squarely across the small
oval rug that graced the entry floor.

"The man is Michael Strictland, if you must know."

She gave an exaggerated sigh.

"I know Strictland.  He's not your type."

F" 89

"My type.  Just what is that supposed to mean?"  a lady like you.

" " It means he doesn't know the first thing about pleasing "And I
suppose you do?"

The instant the words were out, she realized her mistake and was
furious with herself.

With a flounce, she started past him.

His next words stopped her.

"Oh yes, darling' Clang, I do know what you like.  Shall I show you?"

His soft velvet eyes held her as surely as if he'd touched her and she
stood mesmerized as he stopped a scant two feet away.

She could see the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the fine
wool of his jacket.

"You are no authority."

She was treading on dangerous ground but she was in it now and
determined to see it through.

That lazy grin of his was back, full of confidence.

"A man can learn a lot from a kiss."

"You don't know me at all."

"I know you're a lady who's fearless enough to travel alone halfway
across _the country, who's determined enough to take on the Washington
establishment, who's passionate enough to let herself be kissed in the
garden - " "Let!  Inever let you kiss me.  You did that all on your
owns is

Did I?

" There was an undercurrent of laughter in his voice.

Mary straightened.

His words hit a little too close to home.

"Why, you mangy... Mr. Moreau, you are no gentleman.  Stay away from
me.  Do you understand?  That's as clear as I can make it."

She swept past him, headed for the stairs and the safety of her room
beyond.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Alex called quietly to her.

Hand on the rail, she turned partially toward him.

"You're right, darling' Clang.  I'm no gentleman, but then you don't
want a gentleman, do you?"

He remembered the way she'd pulled when he'd kissed her, the way she'd
leaned into him.

His voice took on a hushed tone that brushed across her like warm wind
over the plains.

She trembled, her fingers digging into the hard oak.

"No, Clang, you don't want some soft-spoken man who'll treat you like a
porcelain doll because you're not cold or delicate."

He took another step in her direction.

"You're fire and smoke.  What you want, what you need, is a man who
understands the passion that's burning inside you."

He looked at her with eyes so soft, so inviting, it was all she could
do not to walk into his arms.

Her breath came in shallow little gulps.

"What you want is a man who's not afraid of fire."

Speechless, she watched him turn and leave, the door closing with a
soft click.

For a long minute she stood there, waiting for the trembling to stop,
waiting for the frantic pulsing of her blood to slow, waiting for her
breathing to return to normal.

With all that there was one more feeling that overwhelmed all others.

Fear.

Mary Clang was afraid he was right.

Jack Carlin sat on the corner of his neatly arranged birch desk.

One foot was braced on the floor, the other swung back and forth,
mimicking the pendulum of the Seth Thomas clock on the wall over the
file cabinets.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

Alex leaned his shoulder against the window frame in Jack's office and
with unseeing eyes looked down on E Street below.

"She's good.  Damned good, I'll give her that."

"Never mind the compliments.  In the last seven days, the woman and
Macklin have met with every senator on that committee, and if this
thing gets to the floor, it's all over.  My

F

God, she's gotten Robbins to come over to her side- Who knows how many
others.

"Nothing like a little feminine charm to persuade a man to change his
mind."

"You don't mean you think she's..."

Alex shot his friend a hard glance.

"I don't."

"Now what?  I don't sit on that committee" "Unfortunate."

"Come on, Alex, I've never seen you like this.  We've got to stop
her-them, or they just might pull this off."

"I know, Jack.  Believe me, I know."

Silence stretched between them as Alex thought of the lady in
question.

For the thousandth time in the last few days, he-thought of her in the
moonlight, thought of her face turned up to his, thought of the feel of
her lips on his.

That fast his body responded, his blood heating noticeably at the
thought of her in his arms.

But he also thought of her meeting with senators, pleading her case in
that soft throaty voice that made a man want to listen to her forever
while she looked at him with those luminous blue eyes of hers.

Damn.

How could he have been so blind as to let himself get this involved?

Well, it was over.

Done.

He hadn't seen her since Monday-a lifetime ago.

Vvrhile 'he'd been sulking, however,.

she'd been working and doing a damned fine job of it by the look of
things.

Now the family stood to lose everything all because of his.

lust.

"Dammit, Alex, are you just going to stand there?  What are you going
to do?"

"Stop her."

Chapter Seven

it was evening when Alex walked through the ornate iron front that set
Harvey's restaurant apart from the other structures on Pennsylvania
Avenue.

It had been a favorite of the Washington crowd since the Sewards
entertained the Lincolns there in '63.

The place wasn't fancy, far from it, but it had one major distinction,
a claim to fame.

Steamed oysters originated here.

And while some purists still preferred the little devils boiled,
Harvey's had hit a bonanza to the tune of five hundred wagonloads of
oysters a week.

So many, in fact, that the shells were dumped for blocks along
Constitution Avenue.

Besides being one of Washington's favorite eateries, it was the place
where Alex knew he'd find Senator Eli Lauder, chairman of the Senate
Subcommittee on Indian Affairs.

Even in the lamplight it was easy to spot the stark white hair that
distinguished the gentleman from Virginia.

Making his way between tables, Alex headed for the place near the
arched windows where the senator was eating his dinner alone.

"Senator," Alex said with a polite smile.

"May I join you?"

Eli Lauder glanced up from his dinner.

"It's been a while, Alex.  Sure, pull up a chair."

The cane-bottomed chair scraped as Alex dragged it across the scarred
planking of the floor.

A waiter side stepped past with a heaping tray of dirty dishes.

Alex shifted his chair out of the pathway.

"Care for dinner?"  the senator asked.

"No, thanks.  I'm meeting someone in an hour."

"I take it this isn't a social visit?"

'Not entirely.

" Alex hoped his smile didn't seem as forced as it felt.

"You mind if I finish my dinner?"

"Not at all."

The senator popped another steamed oyster into his mouth and washed it
down with a swallow of lager.

"I stopped by to ask about a bill you have in commit" Which bill might
that be?

" Lauder lifted one bushy white brow in speculation.

The old dog knew exactly which bill, Alex thought, but he'd play
along.

"The one concerning the treaty of '68."  i(Ah Lauder confirmed with a
knowing nod.

"I wondered if that was of interest to you."

Alex leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the scarred
pine table.

"Well, of tourse, I'm sorry it's gotten as far as it has, considering
the wide-ranging ramifications breaking the treaty could have."

Thoughtfully, Lauder put his fork down next to his plate.

"It seems there's, a very persuasive -Miss Clang who's helping
Macklin."

"Yes, I know.  She doesn't understand the fine points of dissolving the
treaty."

"You've talked to her then."

"Yes."

"She's very persuasive.  Says her town needs a train, a spur.

Doesn't seem much to ask."

"Like I said, she doesn't understand the implications.

Once that treaty is broken, it is yet another promise the government
has reneged on with the Indians.

So far, the government's record is less than honorable.

"Still, a few acres for a train isn't much."

Alex frowned.

"Come on, Eli, we both know that once that treaty is broken, every
mining interest, every land grab, every slick operator with a way to
make a dollar will move in.  The last time the treaty was renegotiated,
the Absarokee lost half of Montana.  Hardly a good portent of things to
come."

Lauder glanced away, picked up his fork and speared another oyster.

"The Crow were doomed when the Mayflower landed."

He popped the meat into his mouth and began chewing.

The dismissal was subtle but effective.

Except Alex didn't give up that easily.

"Eli, you're chair of this committee and every man in there will vote
the way you do no matter what they think."

Lauder leaned back with a knowing smile.

"Why, Alex, I'm flattered.  You give me far too much credit.  But I'm
sorry, I can't help you with this."

Alex took a moment to consider this, then said, very politely, "I'm
sorry to hear that, Eli.  Of course, I understand.  It was worth
asking, though."

"Of course.  Always glad to talk to you, Alex."

"By the way, how's your son doing?  Is he still up in Maine with his
grandfather?"

The silence stretched for a good fifteen seconds before the senator
answered.

"Why, yes, he is."

Alex looked the man straight in the eye.

"That's good, Eli.  It's amazing the trouble people can get themselves
into, a little gambling, a little drinking, words are spoken, tempers
flare...... He shook his head."  Fortunately, he had his family.

and friends to help settle the problems.

" He thought of that drunken brawl the son had been involved in, where
a man ended up dead.  The scandal could have cost the senator his
career, if Alex hadn't known what strings to pull, what people to press
or pay.  Alex had never mentioned it again-until tonight.  Alex slid
back his chair and stood."  Well, nice talking to you, Eli.

Please send my regards to your son, and if he's ever in Montana, I'd be
pleased to take him-both of youfishing.

Hunting, if you prefer.

"I'll suggest it next time I write, " EH said quietly.

With that, Alex turned and left the restaurant.

The lobby outside the senate committee meeting room was empty.

The dark maroon carpet complemented the walnut wainscot and the stark
white walls.

The furniture, two settees and four matching chairs, looked newly
upholstered in pale rose satin.

Politicians never spared any expense on themselves, Alex thought
ruefully.

"Today's the day."

Jack's tone was morosely soft.

Arms draped casually across his chest, Alex leaned one broad shoulder
against the smooth white plaster.

He was trying to relax but the muscles along the tops of his shoulders
didn't seem to understand .

They were as hard as nails and the tension was moving up his neck at
about the same excruciatingly slow rate as the conference going on in
the hollowed halls of the senate conference room.

Come on.

Come on, his mind screamed in pr waiting, and he glanced.

toward the closed double doorsthat separated the conference room from
the low murmur of voices rumbled like distant thunder that makes you
pause and figten and still "Damn, I hate this," he said, as mug So
friend.

"I hate waiting and I hate not being in control."  apHe moved away from
the wall ar Jack the lobby, his footsteps muffled; d, torn-made
carpet.

He eyed the ok.

hell he could sit still.

never Jack's frowning face mir head was creased in a frown, brows
together.

The tw(, bbying so I ants at a duel, only they w, Washington the.

"You talked to Lauder."

1, I keep on

Alex frowned.

"Come on, Eli, we both know that once that treaty is broken, every
mining interest, every land grab, every slick operator with a way to
make a dollar will move in.  The last time the treaty was renegotiated,
the Absarokee lost half of Montana.  Hardly a good portent of things to
come.

Lauder glanced away, picked up his fork and speared another oyster.

"The Crow were doomed when the Mayflower landed."

He popped the meat into his mouth and began chewing.

The dismissal was subtle but effective.

Except Alex didn't give up that easily.

"Eli, you're chair of this committee and every man in there will vote
the way you do no matter what they think."

Lauder leaned back with a knowing smile.

"Why, Alex, I'm flattered.  You give me far too much credit.  But I'm
sorry, I can't help you with this."

Alex took a moment to consider this, then said, very politely, "I'm
sorry to hear that, Eli.  Of course, I understand.  It was worth
asking, though."

"Of course.  Always glad to talk to you, Alex."

"By the way, how's your son doing?  Is he still up in Maine with his
grandfather?"

The silence stretched for a good fifteen seconds before the senator
answered.

"Why, yes, he is."

Alex looked the man straight in the eye.

"That's good, Eli.  It's amazing the trouble people can get themselves
into, a little gambling, a little drinking, words are spoken, tempers
flare...... He shook his head."  Fortunately, he had his family.

and friends to help settle the problems.

" He thought of that drunken brawl the son had been involved in, where
a man ended up dead.  The scandal could have cost the senator his
career, if Alex hadn't known what strings to pull, what people to press
or pay.  Alex had never mentioned it again-until tonight.  Alex slid
back his chair and stood."  Well, nice talking to you, Eli.

Please send my regards to your son, and if he's ever in Montana, I'd be
pleased to take him-both of youfishing.

Hunting, if you prefer.

"I'll suggest it next time I write," He said quietly.

With that, Alex turned and left the restaurant.

The lobby outside the senate committee meeting room was empty.

The dark maroon carpet complemented the walnut wainscot and the stark
white walls.

The furniture, two settees and four matching chairs, looked newly
upholstered in pale rose satin.

Politicians never spared any expense on themselves, Alex thought
ruefully.

"Today's the day."

Jack's tone was morosely soft.

Arms draped casually across his chest, Alex leaned one broad shoulder
against the smooth white plaster.

He was trying to relax but the muscles along the tops of his shoulders
didn't seem to understand.

They were as hard as knots and the tension was moving up his neck at
about the same excruciatingly slow rate as the conference going on
inside the hollowed halls of the senate conference room.

Come on.

Come on, his mind screamed in protest of the waiting, and he glanced '
toward the glassed double doors that separated the conference room from
the lobby.

The low murmur of voices rumbled like distant thunder, the kind that
makes you pause and listen and still be unsure.

"Damn, I hate this," he said, as much to himself as to his friend.

"I hate waiting and I hate not knowing and I hate not being in
control."

He moved away from the wall and paced four steps across the lobby, his
footsteps muffled in the plushness of the custom-made carpet.

He eyed the settee.

There was no way in hell he could sit still.

Jack's frowning face mirrored Alex's concern.

His forehead was creased in a frown so deep it pushed his white brows
together.

The two men faced each other like combatants at a duel, only they were
on the same side in this battle.

"You talked to Lauder."

"Yes, I talked to him."  I Alex shoved both hands through his hair in
an agitated gesture."  I had to remind him of a favor I did for his son
a while back.

But hell, I don't know if it did any good.

How did it come down to this?

"You don't want me to answer that, do you?"

Alex shot his friend a hard look that effectively silenced him.

His hands curled into tight fists.

III never thought she'd get the votes, get the support.

Lauder is an expansionist.

He thinks every square inch of land should be parceled out.

Jack shook his head in disgust.

"Hell, you don't have to tell me.  I had to fight him tooth and nail
back in '72 on the bill to establish Yellowstone as a park.  The man
said people didn't need parks, they needed land to homestead."

Alex took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"A helluva lot is riding on this vote.  People's lives, people's
futures."

His mother's words echoed in his head again-family first.

Had he let them down?

Had he been so arrogant, so damned sure of himself that he'd failed to
do his job?

Or was it that he was too damned busy lusting after the intriguing Miss
Mary Clang?

The doors to the committee room banged open and the members strolled
out.

Alex remained rooted to his spot.

He scanned the faces of the men.

Some were smiling, some weren't.

What the hell did that mean?

It

"Say, Ralph," Jack called to one of the men, and hurried to catch up.

As his gaze followed his friend's retreating form, Alex realized that
they weren't the only ones in the lobby.

II Sometime in the last five minutes, Mary Clang and Macklin had
arrived and were standing fifteen feet away.

Like Alex, they watched and waited.

Alex's last parting with Mary hadn't been the best and, considering
what was at stake here today, he didn't approach her, though God knew
he wanted to.

She looked so fragile.

Her hands, clasped tightly in front of her, seemed pale and delicate
next to the dark blue of her dress.

Her face was grim, her expression anxious.

Yeah, Alex knew exactly how she felt.

He was still looking at her when Lauder stepped into his line of
vision.

Their eyes locked for the briefest of seconds, and he said, very
softly, "We're even.

Alex let out the breath he'd been holding.

About the same time, he saw a smiling Jack Carlin headed in his
direction, and he saw Macklin corner Senator Likens.

Macklin would be getting the bad news about now, Alex thought.

Of course, it didn't really make much difference to Macklin; he didn't
have his whole future resting on this vote.

Not like Mary.

Not like Rainbow Gulch.

And most certainly not like the Absarokee.

Someone had to win and someone had to lose.

Alex knew where his loyalties were; still, he didn't like the way he'd
done it.

Oh hell, who was he kidding?

He'd done exactly what he'd had to do.

What he didn't like was that it was going to cost him the lady.

The one who was staring so hard at him right now.

He could almost see the wheels turning.

She was bright and it didn't take much to figure what was going on
here.

She walked toward him and he thought she looked a trifle pale.

"Mr.  Moreau."

Her usually throaty voice sounded a little tinny.

"I thought you weren't interested in politics."

"I'm not except-" "Except where your family's concerned, I remember.

So why are you here?"

Macklin stepped up beside her.

His black suit seemed appropriate to the mood.

"Senator."

He acknowledged Jack Carlin, standing to the left and slightly behind
Alex.

"And, Mr.  Moreau."

He extended his hand, which Alex shook.

Macklin gave a mirthless chuckle.

"You know, I never figured you to be interested in this, Moreau."

9 4Why?

') "Well, you've never been one to do much lobbying so I didn't make
the connection.  You're here in Washington every year, and with your
family's position, well, I keep on forgetting you're half Crow.  It was
you, wasn't it?"

He gestured with his head toward the group of senators standing near
the conference room door.

"Mind telling me how you pulled this off?"

Alex knew the second the words registered in her mind.

He saw her straighten, saw her whole body stiffen as though she'd been
hit.

"So..."

Her voice was very soft.

"You did this.  All the time you knew I was campaigning to break the
treaty."

She glanced briefly at Carling then back to Alex.

"You were working to stop me."

What could he say?

He couldn't, wouldn't he.

He hadn't lied to her before, he reasoned, excusing the blatant
omissions in their discussions.

"Yes," he said simply.

She stared at him for a long, long minute.

He expected her to tell him off.

She didn't.

In fact, she didn't say a word.

She looked at him with eyes so cold and hard it sent a chill down his
spine.

"Miss Clang," he started, wanting .

what?

Absolution from this act?

"I'd like to speak to you."

She didn't even acknowledge that he'd spoken.

Instead she turned to Macklin and said, "Thank you for everything, Mr.
Macklin."

She offered him her hand, which was visibly trembling with rage or
disappointment, he wasn't sure which.

Macklin's smile was forced.

"Next term-" "I'll be here," she cut in.

"You can count on that.

Rainbow Gulch is going to get that train.

Out of nowhere it seemed, Michael Strictland appeared.

"Miss Clang.  Hello.  I thought that was you.  I was just on my way
to-" He glanced at all the somber faces.

"Is something wrong?"

"It seems the bill we needed has, as they say, died in committee and
will not reach the senate floor this session," Mary said.

"Oh, no."

Strictland's expression was solicitous.

He spared a brief glance to Macklin, then focused on Mary again.

"My dear Miss Clang, I'm so sorry to hear that.  Is there anything I
can do?"

"Yes.  You can take me back to Mrs.  Dice's if you wouldn't mind."

"Nfind.  I'd be delighted."

Slipping her arm through his offered one, she said simply, "Thank
you."

Silently, Alex watched her go.

Maybe it was better this way.

Outside, Michael helped her into a waiting cab.

"Don't worry," he told her with a reassuring smile and a pat on her
hand.

"I still might be able to help.  Who knows, you may see me in Rainbow
Gulch yet."

Mary returned his smile, though hers was forced.

"Thank you, Mr. Strictland.  I'm grateful for your kindness, and you
can be certain you'll be warmly welcomed."

The first train west was on Friday.

Macklin saw her off at the depot.

He was still standing on the platform as Mary settled into one of the
low-backed wicker seats in the Pullman car.

She peered out the window and waved and mouthed the word '-'thanks" one
-last time.

It seemed she'd come full circle.

Two weeks ago she'd arrived and Mr. Macklin had been standing on the
platform that day, too.

She'd been so full of determination and nownow she hadn't even wired
that she was coming home.

What could she say?

I failed and we've lost everything.

That's how she felt but she couldn't put that in a wire.

No, whatever she said, and right now she didn't know what that would
be, she'd finish the way she'd started, face-to-face.

With a lurch the train pulled out.

A last wave to Mr. Macklin and she settled back, her head resting on
the glass.

he watched the landscape accelerate past her.

Telegraph poles, thin and straight, blurred as the train reached speeds
in excess of forty miles an hour.

The steady, rhythmic click-clack of the wheels over the steel track
jarred her already irritated nerves.

Three seats back a woman was trying to hush a crying baby to no avail,
and if Mary hadn't loved children, she might have been tempted to go
back there and stuff a sock in the little darling's mouth.

The ache behind her eyes multiplied by two.

Of course, the headache hadn't started when she got on the train.

No, the headache had started when she realized what a stupid little
fool she'd been.

That had started the moment she'd met Alexandre Moreau.

She'd been attracted to the man like a bee to honeysuckle.

She'd fought it, denied it, riled at herself and him.

It was there.

Every time she was in the same room with him, goose bumps traveled up
her spine.

Ail he had to do was look at her and she went all soft inside.

And while she was mooning after him, he was working behind her back to
defeat her plan.

And he couldn't plead innocence.

She'd told him her purpose in Washington that first night at Senator
Carlin's party.

They'd walked in the garden and.

and .

and she'd kissed him, that's what!

What a perfect little fool.

He didn't care about her or her plans or her hopes.

All he cared about was getting his own way, with her and with the
treaty, whatever the cost.

Well, he'd won.

The Indians' precious land was saved.

It galled her.

It really galled her.

Rainbow Gulch wasn't asking for much, a few hundred acres, a narrow
strip of land, a right of way for a train.

What harm could a train do?

Had he even tried to understand what she'd been telling him, or had he
gone right out and pulled some political skulduggery and then laughed
while she'd worked her fanny off trying to win votes?

She'd had it all-a train, an investor.

a home for her father and herself.

I'm sorry, Papa.

A lump formed in her throat at the thought of the man she'd loved all
her life, of the promise she'd made to him.

Apologies were hardly enough.

Oh, there was Mr.  Strictland's pledge to try to work something out.

But trying was not doing.

Damn Alex Moreau and damn her own stupidity.

She flounced around in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable
position.

Her corset and two petticoats made that impossible.

Finally, she curled her legs up under her, cushioned her head with her
hand against the window and tried to relax.

It was going to be a long trip.

The westbound Baltimore and Ohio had eight cars-four for passengers and
four for freight, and because of that it stopped at every little town
through Maryland and Pennsylvania.

Passengers and freight were exchanged in a constant flow it seemed.

Mary kept to herself.

That headache was getting worse with every mile.

Her stomach ached, probably from not eating, but she didn't have an
appetite.

She had three days to go.

By the evening of the second day, Mary was tired and grimy and the
inside of her mouth felt as if something fuzzy had made a home there.

She was so upset, so furious, so depressed she didn't even get off the
train when it made a stop.

Steam drifted past her window.

The sharp scream of the whistle announced they were pulling out
again.

She twisted in her seat, trying to find a more, desirable position.

Pullman cars might be the latest in comfort, but they still had a long
way to go to compete with a soft bed and home.

Home.

It was getting closer with every minute and she still hadn't figured a
way to explain her failure to the town.

More than that, she had to find a way to convince everyone to stay, to
tough it out through one more winter.

But could she?

She was bringing back most of their bankroll, nearly one-hundred and
sixty dollars tucked securely in the pocket of her underskirt.

Maybe it would be enough to tide them over.

The train began sliding away from Cheyenne.

Steam belched from the stack and floated back along the cars before
drifting off into the night sky.

"Excuse me, little lady."

She glanced over at a short, balding man with a potbelly that was too
big for his garishly striped brown-and-white suit.

He dropped down on the seat beside her, effectively shoving her hard
against the wall and window.

"So, how's everybody this evening?"

"Fine," the two men who'd sat opposite her since Philadelphia said.

Mary couldn!

t bring herself to be so gracious.

She glared at him once more and tried to claim her half of the seat,
which was obviously impossible, since he occupied twothirds of it.

The man didn't seem to notice.

What Mary noticed was that the man had just retrieved a cigar, one that
smelled foul even before he lighted it.

The smoking car had been left behind on the siding in Omaha, something
about trouble with a coupling mechanism.

"You aren't planning on smoking that, are you?"  she asked, her tone
incredulous.

He bit off the end and spit the tobacco into the spittoon in the
aisle.

"Why yes, little lady, I sure am."

With that he struck a match and began puffing away, producing more
smoke than the.

locomotive.

Surging to her feet, she gathered her recticule and, with a flounce of
her tan skirt, stepped into the aisle and just happened to step on the
man's foot in the process.

"Sorry," she tossed over her shoulder with all the sincerity of a snake
oil salesman.

It was then she realized the car was nearly full.

Oh, there were places, but next to someone, and the seats seemed so
confining; she had hoped for one alone.

Well, there were three more cars on this train and they couldn't all be
full.

She slammed out the door at the end, took a long step between the
moving cars and headed into the next one.

In the third-class car, three little boys playing cowboy charged at her
yelling "Stampede," and she had to turn quickly sideways to keep from
being trampled in the rush.

She decided to investigate the next car.

This time she lingered on the small metal platform outside the door.

The sound of metal rattling against metal filled her ears and drowned
out her thoughts.

Hands curled around the cool iron rail, she let the breeze tug at her
hair.

Lord, it felt good.

She drank in the night air.

Above, the sky was black as fine velvet and the stars glittered like
flecks of silver.

If only the world were as simple as the sky overhead and the wind
against one's skin.

If only there were no need for money, money to buy houses and food and
clothes.

Mary let her eyes drift closed.

Why was life so hard?

Was there never to be any peace for her?

Opening her eyes, she drew in another breath of sagescented air.

A short leap carried her across the moving coupling.

Inside the car she could see the uniformed conductor striding down the
aisle in her direction, pausing to light the two swaying kerosene lamps
suspended from the room.  She stood back as he exited.

"Miss," he said in passing, touching two fingers to the smudged brim of
his black conductor's hat.

She stepped ihto the car.

The seats nearest her were occupied but she spotted a couple of empty
ones at the far end.

Perfect, she thought, scanning the car.

Not a child in.

She stood motionless, staring, her heart thudding.

Alex Moreau sat alone, half in shadow, casually dressed in black pants
and a dark green shirt open at the collar, his black satin hair combed
and Prat.

His gaze was focused on her.

Chapter Eight

Agray-haired lady edged past and Mary turned sideways to give her more
room, yet she kept her gaze fixed on Alex Moreau.

He was startlingly handsome, his face all sharp angles and smooth
planes, and even in the semidarkness she could feel his eyes on her.

A shiver moved up her spine.

"Damn," she muttered, not sure if she was cussing the man or her body's
instant response at seeing him again.

What the devil was he doing here?

Did he know she was on the train?

No, obviously not, or he'd have made his presence known before this.

Or would he?

She dug her fingers into the smooth brown leather of the seat in an
effort to still the sudden trembling.

The train swayed, jostled really, and Mary regained her composure.

Abruptly, she turned and had taken a step toward the door when his
deep, rich voice called to her.

'Sit here.

She glanced back over her shoulder.

He was standing now, though he had to duck his head to keep from
hitting it on the overhead sleeping bunk that angled up over the
seats.

She was instantly aware that people were staring, first at her, then at
him.

Leave it to him to create a scene.

Anger knotted in her stomach.

If she never saw him again for the rest of her life it would be too
soon.

What she wanted was to storm from the car, the entire train, but the
ache in her head pounded like a bass drum.

She rubbed her temple while she considered her choices-return to the
crowded smoke-filled cars or stay.

Her headache pleaded for fresh air and quiet.

Okay, she decided, squaring her shoulders, she'd stay, but not with
him.

Ignoring the man and his invitation, she marched up the aisle and
dropped down in a seat across and three down from him.

Alex snatched up his battered brown Stetson and joined her.

"Move over," he ordered in a firm tone.

It was reflex that made her comply.

"What are you doing here?"

She switched to the empty seat opposite.

"I'm going home."

Alex tossed his hat on the spot she'd vacated, sat down then draped one
arm casually along the top of the seat.

"At least your homecoming will be welcomed," she ground out between
clenched teeth.

She might stay in this car, but she sure wasn't about to sit here and
chat with him as though nothing had happened.

She surged to her feet.

Her hair came loose, falling arouiw her face.

She shoved it back, gathered the combs and stepped out ifito the
aisle.

Alex straightened.

His cold stare fixed on her.

"If you do that, I'll follow," he told her, seeming to guess her
plan.

"It'll get awfully'embarrassing, us playing tag among the seats."

She swiped at her hair again and fixed the combs as best she could.

Bright pink colored her cheeks.

"Then, Mr.  Moreau, don't follow me.

Don't talk to me.

Don't come anywhere near me.

"I wish to hell I could stay away," he replied in a suddenly wistful
tone.

His words brushed across already raw nerves like a warm January wind
sweeping across the snow.

Her traitorous heart took on a fluttery rhythm.

She shook her head in denial.

"Stop it.  Just leave me alone.  Haven't you done enough?"

He grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into the delicate flesh.

"Can't you let me tell you-" "What?"

She jerked her hand free and dropped back down in the seat, aware that
people were staring again.

"I want to explain."

"More lies?"

"I never he'd to you."

"The hell you didn't," she snapped, her Irish temper overcoming the
rules of decorum.

"What lie?"

"You used me!  " she spit out, as angry at herself as him.

"You led me on, you took advantage, dammit, you kissed me like I-" her
tone softened "-was important."

She straightened and her anger returned with renewed vigor "And all the
time you were working, planning to-" She jumped to her feet, the rage
too great to be confined in a small leather seat.

"Sit down!"  he ordered sharply enough to make heads turn once more.

She did.

Back stiff, she turned on him with a look cold enough to freeze a man
to death if he'd let her.

Alex wouldn't.

He leaned closer, elbows resting on the knees of his black wool
trousers, his face only inches from hers.

"I did not use you.  I didn't have to use you.  I've been around
Washington a long time and I knew exactly who and where the strengths
and weaknesses were."

He didn't mention how close he'd come to failing.

Her head came up with a snap.

Anger flared in her like fire in the sky.

"So what, then?  Were you just amusing yourself?  " "No, dammit!

Heads turned again.

Seeing that, he lowered his voice.

"I took you out, I kissed you because I wanted to."

"Oh, I see."

Sarcasm and disbelief colored her tone.

She pulled at a nonexistent thread on her skirt.

"It must have made for great telling around the Washington parties-how
you made a fool out of me.

"I did not tell it around the Washington parties, as you put it," he
flung back, his own temper starting to rise.

"One kiss isn't worth telling."

Tears threatened and she blinked them back.

No way in hell was she going to cry now!

"Oh, please excuse me for being so reticent."

Sarcasm dripped like poison from every word.

"I should have realized that you are used to more ... obliging women,
and that I and my little cause, my silly little dream of saving an
entire town, were too inconsequential to even mention."

He raked his hands through his hair.

"Dammit, Clang, aren't you even going to let me try-" "I don't want
your excuses."

"I'm not trying to excuse myself I'd do it again-" "I'll just bet you
would.  Never mind who gets hurt."

"Somebody had to get hurt in this mess.  The tribe has lost too much
already and we... I have to draw the line somewhere."

Her lips drew into a thin line.

"And that means me, I gather.  Forget about everything I told you,
about what I wanted, about Rainbow Gulch, - about families and needs
...

"I could say the same to you.  The Indians have been pushed and pushed
and pushed."

"That's not my fault.  All I wanted was a little strip of-P) "
Everybody wants a little.

The ranchers, the miners, the loggers, the speculators, the list goes
on and on.

It has to stop.

" Something flashed in his eyes, sadness perhaps.  In a softer tone he
said, " I'm sorry you had to be hurt in the process.

Can't you see it had to be this way?

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?  Don't all those people you
mentioned have rights and-" "And what?"  he cut in harshly.

"Everybody has rights except the Indians.  And everybody forgets the
land they're so free and easy with was the Indians' to start with."

:'Well, nobody says they can't have their fair share.

'Who's supposed to decide what their 'fair share' is?

You, sweetheart?

The government has reneged on every treaty since the Cherokees were
evicted, and all of them nearly died walking halfway across the
country.

"I'm not saying there haven't been injustices."

He sagged back against the seat.

"Injustices, now there's a polite term for it.  So genteel, so
civilized and, after all, we are talking about savages here, right?

They don't deserve anything, right?  What difference if a whole culture
is destroyed, a way of life so pure, so free- Dammit to hell!  " He sat
very still for a moment, letting the anger ease.

In what was barely more than a whisper, he said, "I'm not sorry for
what I did.  I am sorry it was you."

With that, he picked up his hat, stood and went back to his own seat.

How could he have hoped to explain, to tell her?

It was a way of life he was trying to describe, a feeling, an emotion
that surrounded you.

Like love, you had to experience it to truly appreciate it, to grieve
for its loss.

That, he realized, was the pain he felt inside.

An ache, really, that touched every part of him, for in winning he had
also lost.

e didn't like it, not one bit.

He wanted it all, the land and the woman, though his reasons were too
new to name.

The voice of reason told him to walk away, to take his victory and be
satisfied.

He wasn't satisfied.

He'd hurt her-badly.

Not that he hadn't known that he would, but somehow he hadn't thought
it would matter to him so much.

And because it did, he couldn't leave it alone.

If only he could show her, make her see, understand.

An idea began to formulate in his mind.

With a shake of his head, he discarded it.

He couldn't do that .

could he?

He glanced over at her.

She was staring straight ahead, her jaw clenched so tightly he could
practically see the muscles

tense in her neck.

The train swayed rhythmically on the tracks and he glanced out the
window, seeing his own re,flection and the blackness beyond.

"Hardheaded," he muttered.

The woman was beyond reason.

He'd known Missouri mules that were more malleable.

Did she think he'd change his mind?

Hardly.

Then he remembered her words in the senate lobby.

She'd said she would be back in the fall.

And he was certain she meant just that.

He was less certain of his ability to stop her and Macklin a second
time.

He couldn't let her win.

His idea fluttered through his mind again.

It was crazy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at her once more.

Sitting there all stiff-backed, hair all tousled, color high, he could
imagine her looking much the same after making love.

Desire stirred restlessly inside him and he shifted, startled by how
quickly his body responded.

Get your lust under control.

She's never going to be yours.

But she was going to be the tribe's downfall if he didn't do something
about it.

What he needed was to make her change her mind, but how?

Talking had failed.

His idea seemed a little less aibgiird and a little more necessary.

Civilized men don't do this sort of thing.

He wasn't feeling very civilized right now.

Tbred hours later, the train stop* at Skull Creek.

It was a water stop really.

Through the window he could see a small station, all raw wood and
barely big enough for a man to turn around in.

Beyond was a ramshackle lean-to.

Two horses grazed in the rickety log corral.

Probably the caretaker's place, he thought.

Someone had to maintain the water tower and throw the switch for the
southbound cutoff.

The conductor had come through about half an hour ago and set up the
Pullman bunks for the night.

Everyone, including Mary, was bedded down.

Alex had declined the conductor's offer, saying he preferred to sit up
awhile.

He eyed the burgundy curtains drawn across her bunk.

Perfect.

It was now or never, he thought, his heart rate increasing with
excitement the way it did before a hunt.

He put his hat on, dropped his brown leather saddlebags over his left
shoulder and stepped toward the closed curtain, his footsteps muffled
in the dirt-stained blue carpet.

Another glance around to be sure no one was about, then, fixing his
fingers on the wooden rings, he slid the curtain back.

Mary's white blouse was open and she was in the midst of pulling it
free of her waistband.

She stopped midmotion, for an instant too startled to make a sound.

It was all the time he needed to clamp one hand over her mouth.

He felt more than heard her muffled scream, or curse more likely.

She grabbed his wrist with both hands and tried to pull free, but not
before he managed to wrap his other hand around her slender waist.

Wild-eyed, she flailed at him, pushing at his chest then clawing at the
hand still covering her mouth.

When she drew blood, he twisted her face up to his.

"Stop it!"  he hissed.

"You're coming with me."

She was still for about five seconds while the words registered.

Then she tore into him like a cornered wildcat-all claws and bite.

Fortunately, she hadn't been in bed long so she was still mostly
dressed.

He dragged her out of the bunk.

She tore at his hands.

Her fingers felt cold against his skin.

"Stop it," he snarled in her ear, and it worked for about two
seconds.

He had her pressed against him, her back to his chest so those
dangerous feet of hers had nothing to kick at except the air.

And she was doing a helluva lot of kicking.

He had to get her out of there before she raised the roof and he found
himself with a lot of explaining to do, assuming anybody would listen
before they reached for a gun and shot him.

Half dragging, half carrying Mary, he managed to cover the distance to
the door in two long strides.

Her combs came

EL

loose and her hair spilled over his arm and shoulder like storzn clouds
pouring over the Rockies.

Every time she screamed, and that was often, he could feel her heated
breath on the palm of his hand.

"Calm down, will you?"  he ordered while he fumbled with the brass
doorknob.

If he got through this it would be a miracle, pure and simple.

The knob slipped, and she kicked the door with her foot.

It banged, glass-rattling hard, into the wall.

"Hey," a man's voice called.

"Yeep it down.  People are trying to sleep."

"Sorry," Alex replied, straining to keep his voice calm while holding
on to his wildcat.

Mary twisted and kicked and pulled at his hands.

Breathing labored, Alex tightened his grip.

"Stop it," he ordered, not for the first time.

This time she didn't slow for asecond.

So much for orders, he thought.

Cool night air wafted through the open doorway.

Two cars ahead, the locomotive hissed white clouds of steam, which
blessedly helped to cover the noise Mary was intent on making.

His heartbeat came shallow and fast, and as he backed through the
narrow doorway, Mary clutched at the walnut frame,4her nails digging in
like claws.

His gentle jerk didn't budge her.

"Let go," he snapped next to her ear.

When she didn't, he had no choice but to twist around, forcing her to
release her grip.

That brought another muffled scream of outrage.

Down the metal steps he went, his boots making a thudding sound.

She grabbed for the black iron rail.

He pulled her free.

When they reached the bottom, she tried to dig her heels into the hard
earth, but Alex hefted her a little higher against his hip and carried
her across the dark distance to the corral.

A mourning dove cooed from the nearby sagebrush and the horses nickered
at their approach.

The air was cool.

A sliver of a moon helped to hide his presence.

A glance over his shoulder and he could see the train still chugging
and belching steam as it stood under the water tower.

Wouldn't the blasted thing ever pull out?

"Ouch!"  Her teeth got hold of his palm.

"That hurt!"

He whipped his hand away at the same instant she screamed.

"Help!"  Her cry was drowned out by the piercing shrill of the whistle
and the roar of steam as the train made its first lumbering turn of the
wheels.

Leaning to one side, Alex still held Mary firmly around the waist, her
feet two inches above the ground.

"Look what you did!"

He sucked at the bloody teeth marks, then shoved his injured hand in
front of her face.

"You let me go, you bastard, or I'll do worse than that!"

The train picked up speed quickly.

"Wait!"

Mary screamed, but the train was already too far alon , making much too
much noise.

"Help!"

Alex didn't try to stop her; he knew no one would hear her now.

Just as the caboose was disappearing he happily released his grip.

The second her feet touched the ground she whirled on him, face pale,
chest heaving, hands curled into fists.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Why, Miss Clang-" He sucked in a couple of deep breaths of air and
willed his heart to slow down.

"Such language, and from a lady."

"You son of a bitch, don't talk to me about language!"

Growing up in mining camps had given her a vocabulary exotic enough to
make a sailor proud and a temper to let her use all the words she'd
learned.

"Cool down, Irish."

He sucked on his injury once more then wrapped a handkerchief around
his wound.

He was already moving and talked over his shoulder.

"We're just going to take a little trip, is all."

Saddlebags in hand, he climbed over the split rail fence and sized up
the horses.

The sorrel looked good.

The bay was at least fifteen and weak in the chest, he decided, running
a trained hand across the animal's withers.

"I'm not going anywhere with you-you-you vile, disgusting excuse for a
man.  I wouldn't go to a cockfight with you.  I..."

Agitated, she paced back and forth, kicking up dust as she went.

"You take me right back to that train."

She rubbed at her temples with the tips of her fingers.

"Can't."

Using his bloody neckerchief as a lead, he was headed toward the gate
when .

"Hold it right there, mister," a scratchy male voice broke into their
argument.

Alex looked around and straight into the business end of a
double-barreled shotgun.

"You ain't takin' them critters nowheres."

For a full five seconds Alex didn't speak, didn't move, just sized up
the situation.

Then he turned on his best smile and extended his hand, all the while
never releasing his hold on the horse.

"I'm glad you're here.  How much do you want for the horses?"

Alex led the sorrel toward the man, who was now lowering his shotgun.

He hesitatingly shook Alex's hand.

Mary watched in wide-eyed amazement.

Could the'man charm the birds out of the trees, too?

Well, she wasn't waiting to find ofit.

"Mister."

She rushed forward.

"You have to help me.

This man took me off the train against my will.

Where's the sheriff?

The man's weathered face creased into a frown.

"Ain't no sheriff, miss."

His expression drew down in a frown.

"Ain't no town," he added in a rather patronizing tone that turned up
the heat on Mary's temper.

The man stepped back and adjusted his grip more firmly on the
shotgun.

"Next train ain't till tomorrow."

" Where is the closest town, then?  " Even as she asked, she could see
they were in the middle of nowhere.

The wiry old man said, "Forty miles south is-" "Never mind the
geography," Alex cut in matter-offactly.

"I'd like to buy these horses.  Now, how much did you say you
wanted?"

The man looked from Alex to Mary and back to Alex.

"Now jest who are you folks and whattya you doin' out here in the
middle of the night?"

Mary turned a smug expression on Alex and sidled up closer to the
man.

"This man is kidnapping me, for heaven's sake.  Weren't you
listening?"

The willow-thin man eyed Alex carefully, his head cocked to one side.

"And jest who is you, mister?"

Alex shrugged.

If he was concerned, he didn't show it.

Still holding the horse's lead, he said quite calmly, "I'm her
husband."

"What?"

Mary shrieked.

"You're my kidnapper, that's who you are!"

Alex shook his head in mock despair.

"She's right, I did take her off the train."

He let himself and the horse out of the rickety gate, closing the latch
behind him.

"You see, she'd run away with a gambler-from Denver," he added in a
conspiratorial tone that reeked of one of those man-to-man things.

"I've been looking for her and now I'm going to take her home."

"It's a lie!  " Outraged, Mary began to pace again.

"You can see that, can't you, mister?  It's a damned lie."

Her words came out in a breathless rush and she clutched at his arm.

Alex didn't seem the least concerned.

He shook his head again.

"There, you see?  She's started using bad language.

Probably started playing cards, too.

Have you take to drink, also, honey?

" He turned a woeful stare on her."  Now, darling', you've just got to
come home.

The little ones miss you so.

') "Little ones?  Little ones!  What are you talking about?"

She shoved her balled fists into her narrow waist and began to pace
again.

"We are not married and there are no little ones)

IL

Alex answered with a weary shrug.

The man raked Mary with his gaze, lingering a little too long on her
still-unbuttoned blouse, Ajex thought possessively but didn't say.

When the man turned to Alex it was with a look of genuine sympathy.

"Mister, you sure you winta take her home?

She sure does have a temper.

" He glanced at Mary again.

"Little $lady, you got youngins at borne needing you and-' " Look, you
stupid fool.

" Anger overcame what little rational thought she had left."  For the
last time, I am not his wife.

Why, I wouldn't marry him if he was the last man on God's green
earth.

We do not have any children and I was on my way home to Montana when-"
" She's right there," Alex cut in againg moving to stand closer to the
man."  We're on our way to Montana.

"Well, then," the man asked cautiously, "why didn't ya jest stay on the
train?"

Alex sighed visibly.

"You see, the gambler's on the train and I had to slip her off or face
his rage- I'm not very fast with a gun-" he patted the single Colt that
hung gunfighter-low on his right hip " -and.  . . well, I couldn't take
any chances, you know, what with those five kids at home waiting."

"There are no children!"

Mary-yelled so loud the horse shied and a flock of pheasants took
flight from the nearby sage.

The man only gave her cursory notice.

Alex didn't even glance her way.

"So," Alex continued without missing a beat, "how much for the
horses?"

"Well, much as I'd like to help you out, I can't."

Mary tugged on the man's arm.

"ArCn't You listening to me?"

All she got back was a woeful shoke of his head- She might as well have
been invisible for all the attention she was getting.

Well, she wasn't going to stand here and be ignored.

With righteous indignation, she, turned and headed for the railroad
tracks.

She'd follow them.

Sooner or later she'd reach a town or help of some kind.

Alex saw her go but knew she wouldn't get far.

The woman did have spirit, he'd give her that.

He hurried the negotiations.

"Would you take, oh, say, a hundred for the horses?"

The man stared opemnouthed.

"Dollars?  A hundred dollars?"

"That's right."

Alex fished in his pocket and peeled off the bills.

"And, say, fifty more for a saddle?"

The man gave a low whistle through his teeth.

"Geez, mister, I ain't seen that much cash since - .  ."

He rubbed his beard-stubbled chin and chuckled.

"Ain't never seen that much cash, not at one time, leastways.  Much as
I'd like to, I cain't give you both horses.  Them's the only ones I got
and I wouldn't have no way to get to town."

Alex sighed inwardly.

The thought of riding two on a horse, while provocative, wasn't the
fastest way to travel.

Still, it appeared he didn't have any choice.

"All right," he agreed, keeping an eye on Mary's retreating form.

"Same price.  I'll take the sorrel.  Get the saddle and throw in an
extra blanket."

In less than five minutes the man was back, the horse was saddled, a
blanket tied behind the cantle.

Alex paid the man, tied his saddlebags behind the saddle, then climbed
on the gelding.

He caught up to Mary right away.

Pulling a foot free of the stirrup, he offered her a hand up.

She didn't even acknowledge the offer, or him, for that matter.

She sure was something, he thought with a half smile.

He was feeling more confident now that they were alone.

"You sure you want to walk?"

His tone was calm as the horse clip-clopped beside her.

"There could be snakes, you know."

"Bigger than you?"

She didn't even slow down.

The slice of moon illuminated the way.

"You going to march into town like that?"  e gestured with his head.

Mary glanced down and realized her blouse was open.

She'd forgotten all about it.

Lord, she'd given the old man an eyeful.

She snatched the blouse closed and fumbled with the buttons.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She said as she continued marching.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but whatever it is, it isn't
going to work."

She stormed ahead with all the vigor that only a raging temper can
produce.

Alex sighed.

This wasn't going to be easy, but then nothing since he'd met Miss Mary
Elizabeth Clang had been.

One thing he knew for certain, there was no sense arguing.

So he rode alongside, braced his feet in the stirrups and simply leaned
over, hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her up.

With a little more force than necessary, he plopped her down across his
lap.

"Now sit still and don't argue."

She tried to twist free.

She tried to slide off.

He blocked her at every turn and nudged the horse into a canter.

"I'd advise you to sit still.  If you fall now, Irish, it's gonna hurt
like hell."

Jaw clenched, she glared at him.

"Do you mind telling me where we're goiriz?"

"To the end of the earth."

By dawn it seemed as if they must have covered at least a hundred
miles, which was impossible.

She had no idea how far they'd come, or where they were going.

Alex had alternately walked the horse and loped, never galloped.

She had tried to sit without touching him, which was absurd, but she
tried anyway and she had the aching muscles to prove it.

Eventually, she gave up and wrapped her arms around his waist, her
cheek resting intimately against the smooth cotton of his shirt.

He smelled of sunshine and leather and sweat.

With every movement, she could feel the muscles in his chest and back
flex and give, feel each breath he took, and soon it seemed she could
feel, as much as hear, each beat of his heart.

At times, it all blurred together-the sounds, the scent, the feeling,
until they were hers as well as his.

And somehow that was comforting to her frayed nerves.

Hour after hour they rode.

From time to time she thought she felt his cheek against the top of her
head, but she never, never looked up.

This sudden intimacy stirred feelings that had nothing to do with
anger.

She was warm and anxious, excited and eager-and confused.

What was she thinking?

The man had used her, had defeated her plans, and unless she could find
a way out, he was responsible for her father and her friends losing
everything they wanted.

With that thought, anger overcame all other feelings.

They'd barely spoken since he'd abducted her.

She'd continued to demand he take her back.

Each time he'd refused.

Finally, she'd stopped asking.

One arm still wrapped around his waist, she used her other hand to push
the hair out of her face while she scanned the countryside.

It didn't look familiar and appeared totally deserted.

As far as she could see, the terrain was flat, treeless and dotted with
yellow green buffalo grass.

For miles in any direction, there wasn't a cabin or a ranch, not even a
head of cattle or sheep.

Nothing, except her and Alex and an occasional ackrabbit.

i Alex seemed to know exactly where he was headed.

The only sound was the steady clip-clop of the horse's hooves and the
creak of saddle leather.

A pair of red-tailed hawks circled overhead, gliding on the warm air
currents.

The sky was blue and endlessly clear.

Alex looked straight ahead as if he didn't know she was there.

His body moved with the horse in a relaxed, easy motion that only comes
from years of riding.

Mary was not relaxed.

Every muscle in her body was coiled tighter than a two-dollar rope.

Her legs and knees were pressed together so hard they actually ached.

Her feet banged into his right leg with a steady rhythm that mirrored
the movement of the horse.

At first she'd tried to stop it, but she couldn't and in the end gave
up.

What was she worried about him for?

He deserved what he got.

He deserved more.

Too bad she didn't have spurs, nice, sharp, spiky ones.

She squirmed a little.

That damed saddle horn kept rubbing painfully hard against her hip
while the buckle of his gun belt kept jabbing her on the other side.

Common sense said she should demand he move, move her, move
something.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

She was dog tired and grimy and thirsty and her headache was fierce
enough to bring a buffalo to its knees.

All that fed her anger, making her mad enough to chew iron and spit
nails.

Maybe if she twisted a little this way, then .

"Stop it."

"Good Lord, the man speaks.  I thought you'd forgotten about me."

Alex glanced at her, his dark eyes churning.

"It's impossible for me to forget about you when you're squirming in MY
lap."@ Mary gasped.  'Well, if you don-t want me squirming, then move
your buckle out of my side!!"  Alex reined to a stop, shoved his hand
between them and compiled with her request."  Better?

" he asked sharply.

"Better would be riding on the train.

"Are you going to start that again?"

"Start it?  I never finished it and I'm not going to until you take me
back."

Silence stretched between them, and for the span of two heartbeats she
actually thought he might relent.

Instead, he rammed his heels into the horse's side and they took off
with a lunge.

Mary had to grab him around the waist to stay seated.

Damn the man.

She clamped her jaw down hard and bit her tongue 'm the process.

"You'll pay for this, Moreau.  I'll have you hanged."

'Okay.

'No, drawn and quartered.

"If you say so."

"Do they still boil people in oil?"

"For you, sweetheart, I'm sure they'll oblige."

She gave him an extra hard thump in the leg with her heel for that
remark.

It was about noon, judging by the angle of the sun, when he reined up
near a small trickle of a creek that cut a slice through the earth.

It seemed out of place in the middle of nothing and nowhere, but Mary
was hot and tired and grateful it was there.

Alex slid off the right side of the horse, then reached up for her.

Since it was take his offer or jump, she decided to
accept-grudgingly.

When her feet hit the ground, her knees buckled.

Alex's grip around her waist tightened.

She could feel his strong fingers dig into the fabric of her corset,
his thumbs hooked dan erously close to her breasts.

"You okay?"  he asked, his tone sincere.

She looked up, lost for a moment in the warmth of his sable eyes.

Her heart gave a funny little lurch before she regained her
composure.

She stiffened and pushed his hands away.

"No, I'm not okay."

Her tone was harsher than she meant.

At the moment she was more angry at herself than him.

"How could I be okay?"

She made a show of smoothing her blouse.

"I'm sorry I asked," he returned flatly.

"I'm sorry I'm here," she retaliated.

Alex sighed visibly.

"Look, since we're going to be together for a while, don't you think
you could at least try to make it pleasant?"

"Pleasant!  You just kidnapped me.  What's pleasant about that?"

Alex turned away, looked up at the pale blue sky and mumbled something
in a language she didn't understand.

"What?"  she demanded, fussing with the brownish dust that clung to the
tan muslin of her skirt.

"Nothing."

He settled his hat more securely on his head.

"Look, I'm going upstream to see if I can find us something to eat.

Would it be too much to ask you to gather a few buffalo chips for a
fire?"

It was an order, not a question.

She opened her mouth as if to argue, then snapped it shut again.

Her mouth turned up in a smile that had about as much warmth as a
Montana winter.

"Of course.  You go on.") He could almost see the wheels turning in her
brain.  He hadn't missed that furtive little glance toward the
sorrel.

"Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?"

Her tone had all the innocence of a kid caught with her hand in the
cookie jar.

"The horse.  Don't think about climbing on that horse and riding out,
because, sweetheart, you don't have the faintest idea where you are.

Do you?"  he added smugly.

His tone grated on her nerves.

"I know the railroad tracks are south of here."

"Are you sure?"

That gave her pause.

They 'd ridden in the moonlight and he could have turned in any
direction without her knowing it, and the sun had come up.

over there?

Damnation.

She flung her hair out of her face.

It was starting to annoy the devil out of her, though not nearly as
much as the man standing four feet away.

"Alex, I'm asking you for the last time to take me home.

What are you trying to prove?

That was a good question.

Last night, it had all seemed so clear.

Looking at her now, dirt smudged on her chin, her eyes dark from lack
of sleep and her hair a tangled riot of black satin that spilled over
her shoulder like a wild waterfall, he wasn't so sure.

His fingers trembled with wanting to touch her hair.

It had been brushing against his hand for hours.

For the last hour he'd been thinking how easy it would be to tangle his
hand in her hair, tilt her face up and cover her mouth with his,
silencing any screams of protest while he carried her to the ground
and.

Damn!

c 'I want you.

" so much it's killing me to stand here and not touch you, he thought
to say but didn't."  I want you to meet the people whose lives you were
playing with in Washington.

I want you to see how they live, to understand why I did what I did.

Why I had no choice.

"You're taking me to the reservation?"

Excitement welled up in her.

She could get help there.

The agent, the sutler, surely she could find someone to take her to the
train or perhaps escort her home.

"Fine."

Alex's head came up sharply.

"Fine?"

I'll go with you.

Chapter Nine

It took Alex a minute to figure out the sudden change in her.

She thought he was taking her to Crow Agency, the headquarters of the
reservation.

He wasn't.

No, Alex was on his way to the summer encampment about a day's ride
from Crow Agency.

He wasn't about to tell her, though.

She looked so pleased with herself.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She was.

something.

Here she was in the middle of nowhere with a man who'd kidnapped her.

If she was afraid, she sure as hell didn't show it.

He admired ;ier for that; he admired her for a great many things.

He even admired her'temper.

She sure wouldn't let him bully her.

The lady stirred him up, kept him guessing all the time.

He liked it-liked not knowing, the excitement, the challenge.

He liked the lady, more than he'd ever wanted to.

Moreau, get the hell out of here.

Now.

Lifting his hat, he raked his hands through his hair then settled his
hat more securely on his head.

Turning sharply on his heel, he strode off along the creek.

Mary stood there watching his retreating form.

The man made her so angry she could scream.

Perspiration beaded on her forehead and she swiped at it with her
sleeve.

When she glanced up again, he was gone.

Where?

Her heart rose in her throat.

Where had he gone?

He wouldn't leave her, would he?

Five minutes ago she'd wished he was gone, and now that he was, she
missed him.

Wind rustled the grass and made her skirt lap against her legs.

She was reassured to feel the money still in her pocket.

Shading her eyes, she glanced around once more.

Well, the horse was ground-tied nearby and Alex couldn't go anywhere on
foot, so he had to be around here somewhere, she told herself
confidently.

The thought occurred to her to climb on the horse and ride out,
somewhere, anywhere, just to show Alex that she wouldn't be bullied by
him.

But that was foolish and she was not a woman who acted without thought,
without reason.

She was stuck, trapped.

She knew it, and what was worse, he knew it.

The ache in her head got worse.

She wished she had some ergot drops.

Cold water would have to do.

She skittered down the small embankment, her shoes sinking in the soft
soil.

Little puffs of dust rose up to coat her skirt.

Kneeling beside the creek, she rolled up her sleeves and unfastened her
collar.

The water was clear and clean and sparkled in the sunlight.

Bright-colored pebbles glistened like jewels in the creek bed.

Cupping her hands together, she scooped up several handfuls of the icy
liquid.

Must be mountain-fed, she thought, wondering just how far the stream
had traveled.

She splashed water on her face.

It cooled her skin but didn't help her temper much.

Then she took several gulps, splashed more on her face and the back of
her neck, and dried her face with her sleeve.

It did help-a little.

Being back on that train would help more.

The only good thing, if there was a good thing, she thought ruefully,
was that no one was expecting her at home.

Unfortunately, that also meant no one would be looking for her.

Well, at least her father wouldn't be worried.

Lord knew he'd had enough worry and heartache lately.

The odd thing was, she wasn't worried, either.

Here she'd been kidnapped and she wasn't worriedmadder'n hell but not
worried, not afraid.

In some strange way, she trusted Alexandre Moreau not to hurt her.

She was as sure of that as she was of her next breath.

When she did get home, and that would be soon, because she would get
help at Crow Agency, she still didn't know how she was going to explain
things to her father, to everyone.

That knot in her stomach drew tighter.

She should have known, she should have recognized Alex Moreau for what
he was.

But no, she was busy daydreaming about a handsome man with eyes like
midnight and more charm than Satan.

This was all her fault and now she was the one who was going to have to
deliver the devastating news.

She shook her head in disgust.

Well, Mary Clang was not a woman who avoided problems.

She always took her medicine without complaint.

Whatever was going to happen in Rainbow Gulch, she wanted to get it
over with.

Standing, she paced five steps, the river gravel pushing into the soles
of her high-topped shoes.

Head down so she didn't have to squint, she turned and paced back.

Where the devil was the blasted man?

The --sooner they got to Crow Agency the better.

Shading her eyes with her hand, she scanned the horizon.

Nothing.

,It was so quiet.

Not a sound or a living thing-like being the only person left in the
world.

Suddenly she was anxious and was about to call out when a single shot,
like a heavy thud, sounded to her right and she whirled to see Alex
striding toward her, a dead jackrabbit dangling from his left hand.

"Miss me?"

His tone was too confident.

"Certainly not," she retorted.

Now that held returned, so had her earlier anger-well, some of it
anyway.

Alex glanced around as if searching for something, then focused his
gaze back on her.

"Where'd you put it?"

"Put what?"

She craned her neck to look up at him, towering above her like a dark
specter on the creek bank.

"The fire."

"Fire?"

"You remember," he prompted in what sounded like a patronizing tone.

"You were supposed to gather buffalo chips while I went out and got
something for us to eat."

He wiggled the @ rabbit in front of her.

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

She extended her hand as a way of asking for help up the bank.

He obliged.

Once she'd reached the top, she pushed past him.

He chuckled as he watched her zigzag back and forth, scanning the earth
for the prairie's natural fuel.

Alex produced a knife from his boot and set about skinning the
rabbit.

d been easy to shoot and would fill the empty void in his stomach.

He didn't have to look to know she was behind him.

He'd heard her, felt her approach.

Unceremoniously, she dumped six buffalo chips on the ground like poker
chips .

Before he could offer to help, she cleared a spot on the hard earth and
stacked the chips.

"Matches," she ordered, holding out her hand.

He fished in his pocket and handed them to her.

She snatched up a little buffalo grass to use as kindling, and in less
than a minute she had the fire going.

Impressive, Alex thought but wisely didn't say so.

He knew women well enough to know when to keep his mouth shut, though
he seemed to be remembering that lesson a little late.

Alex finished his task.

Using his knife as a skewer, he held the rabbit over the flames.

Thirty minutes later the rabbit was done.

He unpacked the one and only tin plate he carried in his saddlebags,
and then went to the stream and fetched her a cup of cool water, which
she took wordlessly.

He had a small sack of coffee but decided against making any.

He was feeling uncomfortable being out in the open too long.

Cutting the rabbit into quarters, he offered her the first piece.

Ouch!

" Mary dropped the juicy meat back on the plate and sucked at her
fingers."  That's hot.

Alex pulled off his neckerchief.

"Here, use this."

She accepted his offer and used the cloth like a napkin to hold the
meat.

"Are you going to sit down?"  he asked, looking up from where he was
sitting cross-legged near the fire.

Silently, Mary complied.

Adjusting the cloth around the meat, she noticed a bloodstain on the
dark green cotton.

His blood.

She'd done that to him.

She hadn't meant to bite him quite so hard.

Through lowered lashes, she glanced at him sitting quietly, his
shoulders hunched a little, his head down.

His ever present charming smile was gone and there were fine lines
around his mouth and eyes that she hadn't noticed before.

Suddenly, he didn't seem so infuriating.

Only tired.

Like a meteor drawn toward a planet, she was drawn to him, and the
results were devastating for both.

Quietly, tired herself, she said, "How's your hand?"

She didn't smile and she didn't actually look at him.

'Alex glanced up from the meat he was forcing himself to eat.

"Hand's fine."

He glanced at his wound, then shrugged.

She murmured'her understanding-.

In a gentle, husky tone, he added, "Clang."

She looked up and met his gaze.

Her hair spilled around her face.

"Thanks for asking."

For a full five seconds, they neither moved nor looked away.

It was as if time and motion stopped and neither was willing to break
the spell.

With all the pain of tearing flesh, Mary looked away.

But in that moment things had changed between them and they both knew
it.

They ate in silence for a while.

"How is it?"

Alex gestured with the last drumstick.

"Fine," Mary replied politely.

Alex took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

At least they weren't screaming at each other anymore.

It was a start.

He went back to eating.

Mary didn't have much of an appetite.

Her stomach had been churning all day, and though she was calmer now,
she still thought it better to be careful.

So she nibbled at the meat, taking small bites.

Juice dripped on her hand where the neckerchief didn't cover and she
had to lick it to keep it from staining the cuffs of her blouse.

Considering that she was already a mess, what difference did a little
grease stain make?

Alex found the silence unsettling.

Earlier, when she'd been railing at him, he would have given anything
for a few minutes of peace.

Now, however, with his stomach full he was in a better state of mind.

He was hoping for a little pleasant conversation.

Obviously, he was hoping for too much.

He couldn't blame her.

After all, he'd tricked her, ruined her plans, kidnapped her.

Hell, the list was too long to recount.

What a mess he'd made of this from start to finish.

Abruptly, he stood.

"All done?"

He reached for the plate.

"Yes."

Standing, she headed for the creek.

"I'm going to wash up."

"We'll be there tomorrow," he called to her retreating form.

He polished off the last piece of meat then wiped his hands on his
black trousers.

She didn't answer.

Alex couldn't help watching her as she bent down to scoop up the pure
water.

He let his eyes trace the shape of her back and the outline of her
buttocks where she had tucked her skirt around her legs.

His body responded uncomfortably.

Get your lust under control Easier said than done, he thought, wishing
he could put out the fire inside as easily as the one on the ground.

He

129 dragged in a gulp of sage-scented air and went to retrieve the
horse.

"Sorry about the lack of supplies," he called over his shoulder.

He needed to keep busy.

"Don't worry, there's several more creeks, and if you don't mind eating
rabbit a few more times, we won't starve."

Alex was a good hunter.

He'd been hunting since he was eight years old and his father and uncle
had taken him on his first trip into the Big Horn Mountains.

The thought brought a smile to his face and he paused a moment to
remember.

He needed the good memories, the warm, caring memories.

They reinforced the rightness of what he'd done.

Wind ruffled his overly long hair and he brushed it back from his
face.

He stowed the plate and cleaned rabbit pelt in the saddlebag.

He checked the cinch on the saddle and inspected the horse's hooves.

A squint-eyed glance at the sun told him it was getting late; they
needed to cover a lot of miles before dark.

"Ready?"  he called.

She was still down by the creek.

Before he could get there, she scampered up the slope and joined him.

Beads of water glistened like diamonds in her hair, and her eyes were
the same-- shade of blue as the summer sky.

She was beautiful enough to take his breath away.

This was wrong, he-thought.

This was all wrong.

Swinging up in the saddle, he offered her a hand up.

She accepted.

Her slender hand seemed almost lost in his.

He could see the broken nails where she'd clung to the doorway.

Guilt churned in his gut.

"Mary, I-" She slipped her hand free.

He didn't say anymore.

They rode all afternoon in silence.

It was the June sun that was making Alex sweat.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky.

In the distance, the Big Horn Mountains looked like nothing more than
hills.

Lifting his hat momentarily, he wiped his brow with the crook of his
elbow.

Sweat stained his shirt.

Yes, it was the sun all right.

It was not the feel of her firm breasts moving against his back with
every motion of the horse.

And it was not the way her legs outlined his, thigh to thigh, knee to
knee.

So why did his imagination keep taking off down paths better left
untraveled if they were going to survive this intact?

Damn, it was hot.

He kept the horse at a steady lope, slowing at regular intervals to a
walk.

He was headed for a familiar camp near Two Hat Creek.

Through it all, she never complained, never asked to stop, never said
more than yes or no all afternoon, and for the first time in his LIFE
Alex was actually glad to see the sun slip below the horizon.

A familiar grove of willows marked the place he was looking for-good
water and secluded.

"We'll make camp here," he told her as he slipped off the horse then
helped her down.

She looked tired, exceptionally tired.

Gazing at her, he fl was beginning to feel like all those names she'd
called him when he took her off the train.

"Why don't you have a seat over there?"

He gestured toward a spot where sweet summer grass fluttered in the
subtle breeze.

"I'll get things set up."

She didn't argue.

He followed her with his eyes as she walked.

Graceful, he thought, and proud.

Anyone could see how proud she was.

Never mind what folks said about the Irish or what people thought of
miners; it was a toss-up as to which were considered worse by proper
society.

Being a half-breed, he understood all about society's judgments.

And it rankled him that he, of all people, had hurt her.

Turning back to his task, he took only a few minutes to make camp.

How long did it take to unsaddle a horse and spread the blanket on the
ground?

He glanced over at Mary, sitting on a fallen tree beside the stream.

She seemed lost in thought and he wondered if she was thinking about
him, hating him.

She looked defeated.

It was the defeat that tore at his gut and made him look away.

He'd taken her hope, destroyed her dream.

You're a helluva man, Moreau.

Snatching up a few pieces of wood, he stacked a fire.

The wood was pretty green, but it would have to do.

The trees would diffuse the smoke, and he'd hold off lighting the.

ire until the last possible minute.

No sense in taking any chances, this being Shoshone territory and an.

For dinner, he roasted a trout that he managed to catch in a shallow
pool using a bent pin for a hook and a thread he unraveled from the
blanket for a line.

C'You)re not eating," he remarked, pulling at the roasted fish, the
white meat flaking in his fingers.  The night breeze had a chill to it
and he tossed a few more twigs on the fire.

"I'm not very hungry."

He paused, his brows knitting together in a frown.

"Don't you like fish?"

"Not really."

It was the most she'd said all day and the silence was beginning to get
on his nerves-his guilty nerves.

His temper was a little short.

"Then why didn't you say so before I cooked the damn thing?"

"Because I didn't see a mercantile anywhere close," she snapped back at
him, "and I guessed you didn't want to fire a shot, so there wasn't
much choice."

.

She was right, he grudgingly admitted, and his temper instantly
cooled.

"What's wrong with fish?"

He popped another chunk into his mouth.

"Nothing, it's just that I've eaten so much trout in the last few years
that the thought of it..."

She swallowed hard, her face screwed up in a grimace.

"Well, you've got to eat something."

He shoved the plate in her direction.

"How come so much fishing?  Doesn't your father hunt?"

"Can't."

She ignored the plate and sipped at the cup of water she'd dipped from
the stream.

"Papa's rifle broke and getting another is too-unnecessary," she
amended with dignity.

"We do fine.  Our neighbors loan us a rifle from time to time.

Papa's not one for borrowing much, though, and-" "And he's as..."

His tone took on a softness.

"As stubborn as you are."

Mary's head came up with a start; she was set to do battle.

That's when she looked straight into Alex's smiling face.

Amusement danced in his dark eyes.

He was teasing, she realized, and the sharp retort died in her
throat.

The old Alex was back, the one with the easy banter, charming smile and
seductive eyes.

And she realized in that instant how much she'd missed him.

It was the most natural thing in the world for her to smile and reply,
"All us Clangs are stubborn."

"Stubborn's not so bad.  I've been accused of being stubborn
myself-once or twice," he responded with a lopsided grin.

Her smile got a touch bigger.

God, it seemed like years since he'd seen her smile.

She had a beautiful smile, the kind that touched her eyes and warmed
his soul.

His heart took on a slow, heavy rhythm.

Damn.

This couldn't be happening.

Abruptly, he turned away and rummaged in his saddlebag.

"It's not gourmet dining," he commented, holding out a piece of jerky,
"but it'll keep your stomach from growling."

She accepted his offered token-peace token, she thought as her hand
brushed his.

For the span of two heartbeats she hesitated, the tips of her fingers
touching the tips of his, their gazes locked across the flickering
firelight.

Slowly Alex released his hold.

Embarrassed, Mary shifted uncomfortably, wanting to break the spell he
wove around her.

Wood crackled and hissed in the fire; sparks, white and blue, cascaded
three feet into the air.

Who was this man who so easily overwhelmed her senses?

What was this power he had?

Still staring into the orange flame, she said, "What about your
family?"

She tore off a piece of the dried meat and tucked it inside her mouth,
letting the delicious juice dissolve against her cheek.

"What about my family?"

He finished the trout and scraped the remains into the fire.

The small flame fluttered in the wind; overhead, the willows rustled
against one another.

Pulling her knees up toward her chin, Mary tucked her tan skirt around
her ankles, leaving the tips of her scarred shoes peeking out.

"You said in Washington you had family.  Where are they?"

Absently, she turned the bright tin cup back and forth in her fingers,
watching the flames reflected there.

Alex noted the graceful motion of her hand, the way her fingers
caressed the smooth metal, and he wondered what it would feel like to
have those same fingers caress his face, skim along his shoulders,
brush over his chest and down along.

He swallowed hard.

against the direction his thoughts kept taking.

"Whatwereyouasking?"

She handed him the cup they had been sharing, since he didn't have
service for two.

"I asked about your family."

"On the reseiiation.  Aunts, uncles, cousins."

"Parents?"  she asked, still not looking at him.

"Gone," he told her, conforming to the Absarokee custom of not talking
about the dead.

He started to toss away the remains of the cup of water but offered it
to her instead.

She took the cup, her cool fingers brushing against his.

This time the exotic fantasies he'd been trying like bell to ignore
marched through his brain and his body quickened.

"We better get some sleep," he snapped.

Yeah, sleep.

As if he could sleep while images, lush and erotic, played across his
mind and fired his senses.

Well, he had to do something.

The creek was cold, and if all else failed he could always drown
himself.

Sleep was a better idea.

When he turned, he realized that there was only one blanket-well, two,
counting the horse blanket he'd spread on the ground for cover.

Alex had known all along, of course, there was only one blanket.

It hadn't seemed important then.

It was very important now.

Removing his gun belt, he tucked it under the saddle, which he was
using as a pillow.

He didn't trust himself to take anything else off, not even his
boots.

Temptation, get thee behind me.

He stretched out on the horse blanket and wrapped the other blanket
over himself.

Crossing his booted feet at the ankle, he covered his face with his
Stetson.

Maybe if he didn't look at her he wouldn't think about sharing the
blanket with her.

When cows fly.

Never mind You're a man and a man can control his lust.

This man had better learn how in a hurry.

That's when he realized she hadn't moved.

Lifting the hat from his face, he said, "What are you waiting for?"

He turned back a corner of the blanket.

"It's share or be cold."

Now this was something Mary hadn't counted on.

Sharing a horse or a cup of water with him was one thing, but sharing a
blanket was quite another.

She looked at his supine form.

He looked relaxed.

Yes sir, he looked relaxed and harmless, sort of like Satan in the
Garden of Eden.

But this was no garden and she was no Eve.

Self-preservation made her say, "I'll just sleep over here."

He lifted up on one elbow to look at the grassy area .

"That's crazy.  It'll be cold by morning.  With no fire it'll be colder
yet.  Come on.  What do you think I'm going to do?"

Now there was a question that created all sorts of downright
provocative images in her mind.

Just the thought of lying down next to Alex, his well-muscled legs
pressed against hers, his sun-darkened hands touching her-she
remembered the feel of his hands all too well from that night in the
garden-made her throat go dry.

9 6 to Come on, Irish.

I need some sleep.

" Instinctively, she ok a step in his direction.  She'd lived on the
plains long enough to know he was right-it would get cold by morning.

She took another step.  He was fully dressed and she was fully dressed
and he hadn't tried anything up to now when he could have.

She stepped onto the blanket.

They weren't sleeping together.

They were merely sleeping together, she confirmed to herself as she lay
down stiffly beside him and he flung the blanket over them both.

Not actually over both of them, since she was way over on one side and
he was way over on the other.

Alex sighed.

She hadn't moved a muscle since she lay down.

If by some miracle she managed to sleep like that she'd be a mass of
sore muscles in the morning-that is if the cold didn't get her first.

He'd seen corpses that were more relaxed.

She had one very tiny corner of the blanket clutched in her fist, which
was balled on top of her chest.

"Woman, this blanket isn't that-big.  If you insist on sleeping a mile
away, neither one of US- is going to keep warm."

In one motion He wrapped his 'arms around her shoulders and waist and
hauled her closer so her head was resting beside his on the saddle.

In the pyoms, she shifted more under h than not, and he more over
her.

Alex lay very still.

Don't even think about it.

Too late.

He couldn't think about anything else.

She was there, warm and soft beneath him, looking at him with those
enormous sapphire eyes of hers.

God, a man would willingly drown in those eyes.

Her hair, @ midnight fog, spilled over her shoulder and partially
covered her breast.

Braced on one elbow, he used his other hand to push the loose curls off
her forehead and cheek.

Pink heightened the color of her skin, and when he touched her face,
she gasped, her lips parting in a seductive invitation that was damned
near impossible to refuse.

Desire, fierce and hot, pounded in his brain and rushed through his
body like molten lava.

He wanted her.

Just like that, he wanted her-had always wanted her-and wondered if
he'd die if he didn't have her.

What the hell was the matter with him?

It hadn't been that long since he'd been with a woman, only a few
weeks.

He remembered it clearly; it had been the day before he'd met Mary
Clang.

He stilled.

Could that be correct?

Of course it was correct!

Ever since he'd met her, he hadn't thought of anything or anyone
else.

Hell, he'd been so preoccupied he'd almost let the bill slip right
through committee.

Damn.

What the hell was happening?

He never got involved with white women, not emotionally involved.

Yet it appeared that that was exactly what was happening.

No, his mind screamed.

His years of well-honed self-defenses would not be easily overcome.

This was not the reason he'd taken her off the train, he repeated again
and again.

The reason he'd taken her off the train was to change her mind about
her plan to break the treaty.

That was all!

Men-half-breeds-got hung for rape, real or otherwise, and while he
didn't think she'd press charges for kidnapping it was a calculated
risk.

If he seduced her, everything would change, and the lady might not be
so understanding in the cold light of morning.

Stark reality put a finger hold on his lust.

A couple of deep breaths helped.

He made a show of tucking the blanket around her.

He should have left bad enough alone.

Those images were still playing in his head, and now everywhere his
hand touched he could feel her.

He could feel the curve of her delicate shoulders, feel the narrowness
of her waist beneath her corset, feel the curve of her hip, even
through all the petticoats and skirt, feel the rise and fall of her
breast against his chest.

Easy.

Slow down.

You can't have her and you won't die.

Right this second, he wasn't so sure about that.

Taking her off that train had been the biggest mistake of his life, bar
none.

What the hell had he been thinking about?

Kid yourself all you want, it sure as hell wasn't treaties.

"Damn," he ground out between clenched teeth.

Mary's heart pounded in her chest as though she'd run a hundred miles
in five minutes.

His hand was paused, curved around her hip, and the heat from his body
seemed to penetrate her blouse, warming her skin beneath.

She didn't move.

Her breath came in shallow gulps, and the look in his dark, dark eyes
was hot enough to melt rocks.

If he didn't move soon, she was going to melt, that was certain.

"I can!t breathe," she said, swallowing hard.

It was true, though it had little to do with his weight on her.

Her words seemed to rouse him because he quickly rolled away from her,
but not far enough.

They were still sharing a blanket, still lying next to each other,
shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, her head resting right beside his on
the hard curve of the saddle.

They were so close she could feel him breathing, feel the length of him
molded to the length of her in a way that sent electric sparks
skittering along nerve endings.

It was seductive.

It was tantalizing.

It was hiring her up from the inside out.

She had never, been with a man before.

Not that she was with him- now, not in the biblical sense, but this was
close, really close.

As she lay there, she realized that she still wasn't afraid.

Oh sure, her heart was racing, but it was excitement, not fear, that
was compelling her.

Cold hard logic and everything her mother had taught her about survival
warns that this was asking for trouble.

Trouble, she thought, had walked into her life three ago, all done up
in the most heart-stoppingly bar package she'd ever seen.

She hadn't been the same Knowing he was there, feeling the warmth o
next to hers, she realized she didn't have a a chance of going to
sleep.

So she stared up again, and black and endless; like looking into Alex
Moreau's eyes, she thought with tingling excitement.

A small breze ruffled the tops of the willow trees, the branches moving
back and forth in a tantalizing dance.

"I always liked the night."

Her voice was shaky even to her own ears but she pressed on.

"The stars are so clear and bright."

Alex nodded.

"The Crow believe that the North Star, that bright one there..."

He pointed to the star with his right hand, his elbow brushing against
her breast when he did.

His heart lurched in his chest.

Keep talking.

You can get through this.

"Hub?  Oh, the star is the child of the sun, who married an earth
woman.  The rrioon is the boy's grandmother."

How easy it would be to reach out, let his hand travel up her thigh and
spread out across her abdomen or lower.

When her hair brushed against the side of his neck, it prickled the
nerves in his skin, warming and teasing all at the same time.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"It seems the mother tried to return to earth with the child and
failed.  She died in the process."

Alex was dying a little himself but there was nothing mystical about
it.

The heat from her nearness was inflamiiig every nerve ending in his
entire body.

Concentrate on something else.

He had about as much chance of doing that as a drowning man has of not
thinking about the water that is engulfing him.

Still, he tried.

"The boy was taken in by an old woman who became his grandmother.

But the boy had a penchant for killing things with his bow and arrow,
including the dragon that was the old woman's husband.  The old woman,
in retaliation, decided the boy must die, so she sent him off on a
series of adventures, thinking each time the monster he confronted
would kill the boy.  But each time the boy was victorious.  In the end
he killed all the monsters on earth.

When he finished, he climbed into the sky and became Ihkahawaziissee,
the North Star.

She seemed to consider the story for a moment, staring up at the sky.

He felt more than heard her small laugh.

"It's a nice story," she said in a voice as throaty and soft as the
summer breeze.

"That's the condensed version.  There's more with a mythical spider, a
buffalo and a porcupine, but that would take a long time and I'm not a
good storyteller."

It was a respected art among the Crow.

"I think you do just fine."

She stared up for a moment longer.

"Tbere's the Big Dipper."  I " We call it Ihkasahpua.

It means 'seven stars.

"' " Over there's the Little Dipper, and that mass of white with
millions and millions of stars is the Milky Way.

That's all I know.

"We call the Milky Way ammiaaalaau.

"Umm ... Amma ... I I She shook her head in defeat.

"Ammiaaalaau."  His voice took on a husky quality.

"It means 'where they romance women."

' Alex turned his head to look at her.

He could kiss her without any effort at all.

Mary felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

She cleared her throat again and moved, as though searching for a more
comfortable spot for her head.

She kept her gaze focused on the stars.

"The heavens don't look like this-a'@ywhere but here."

"Like you can reach out and touch them," she agreed with a reverent
whisper.

"Do you like the stars-watching them, I mean?"

"Sometimes ... when I'm away from home."

"Are you away a lots" "More than I'd like.;, The gentle gurgling of the
stream was soothing music.

"Were you really in Washington on business?"  she asked bluntly.

Alex glanced over at her.

"Yes, Mary.  I was.  I signed a contract with the army for horses to be
delivered this fall."

She did if t look at him, only nodded.

"Then you didn't come to Washington because you heard about-"I didn't
lie to you.

I do live in Butte, part of the year.

I have businesses there and a home.

I go to Washington every year.

When your legislation passed the House I was already there-the right
place at the right time.

" His tone was hushed and gentle and sincere."  Mary, I really am sorry
it was you that was hurt in this.

For a long time neither spoke, each lost in thought.

A strange feeling, long forgotten, fluttered in the back of Alex's
mind.

A mystical feeling that had haunted him for years, a feeling of
connection, of.

What the bell was he ruminating about?

That had been years ago, the musings of a homesick adolescent.

"Mary."

She still didn't look at him, just kept her gaze focused on the night
sky.

"I never meant to hurt you.  I just-" She did look at him then, for a
long moment, her face so close her eyelashes nearly brushed his
cheek.

It was all he could do not to take her delicate face in his hand to
soothe away the hurt.

"Good night, Alex."

She turned, putting her back partially to him.

Mary didn't speak because she didn't trust herself.

With unseeing eyes, she stared out into the blackness.

Somehow, tonight, Alex had gotten past her defenses.

He sounded so sincere.

She was tired and miserable and homesick.

Days.

weeks of worry and frustration mixed and blended and overwhelmed her
anger.

She felt her control slipping away.

Alex was so confident, so strong, so close.

It would be so easy to turn to him, to put her head on his shoulder, to
wrap her arms around him and hold on until all the worries and fears of
the world moved past.

With a sigh, she let her eyes flutter closed.

Alex heard her breathing change, deepen, and he knew she was asleep.

Settling his hat over his face, he wished the same for himself.

But sleep didn't come as quickly for him, and, putting his hat aside,
he stared at a dark cloud drifting across the moon.

He wondered about the vision he'd had one night so very long ago.

Tired and lonely and more than a little overwhelmed by the
responsibilities of his life, he'd sat alone on a winter night staring
up at the stars.

More asleep than awake, he'd had a vision, a vision of a snow wolf,
white as the winter.

The animal was searching, prowling, when there appeared overhead a
bird.

The bird told the wolf to follow her and she would show him the way
home.

But the wolf hesitated and the bird came closer, and he could see the
bird was beautiful with delicate jet black wings and blue eyes-eyes the
color of the summer sky.

Chapter Ten

Alex woke in the middle of the night.

he didn't know why exactly, but something was different.

The breeze was stronger, the fire had long since burned itself out.

Gray clouds covered the moon.

The horse grazed peacefully nearby, his hobbles preventing him from
wandering too far.

Everything seemed normal yet something was wrong.

A feeling of unease came over him and he stilled, listening, waiting.

Beside him, Mary was sound asleep.

Her face was nestled intimately in the curve of his shoulder and her
arm was draped possessively across his chest and other shoulder.

It felt so good, so right, that for a long minute he didn't move.

She looked beautiful.

Her raven black hair fell across the side of her face, her long lashes
shadowed her cheek.

Her mouth was drawn up in a gentle pout that was half angel, half
seductress.

His heart rate increased Not wanting to wake her, Alex carefully flexed
his shoulder in an attempt to slide away from her.

Instantly Mary was awake.

Her luminous blue eyes flashed open and looked directly into his.

Neither he nor she spoke.

Being awake was not so different from being asleep, Mary thought.

For Alex Moreau had controlled her dreams much as he seemed to be
controlling her life.

His handsome face was a mere breath away and his straight black hair
fell over one eyebrow, giving him a warm sleepy look so different from
the powerful man she'd come to know.

She realized her hand was curved around his shoulder about the same
instant she realized his hand was at her waist.

Even through the fabric of her blouse and corset, she could distinctly
feel his fingers, feel them flex against her ribs, then relax.

For a moment it seemed the most natural thing in the world to wake up
in Alex Moreau's arms.

Alex stared into her alluring blue eyes and wondered if she had any
idea what she did to him.

Or what he wanted to do to her.

It wouldn't take much to close the distance between them, for their
lips to touch.

She'd taste sweet, he knew that, remembering the night of the party.

Her lips were like whipped cream, soft and delicate and thoroughly
delicious.

The thickness between his legs was definite and impossible to ignore.

Her huge expectant eyes watched him.

Her breath was warm against his lips.

Her hair brushed against his neck.

It seemed right, so damned right.

Mary didn't breathe.

Her heart pounded in her chest, harder and faster than she ever
remembered, though right now she didn't remember much.

'Alex always had that effect on her.

His presence seemed to pull her in, engulf her, until there was only
the two of them and the world they -created.

A feeling, warm and certain, coiled low in her abdomen.

It wasn't a,new feeling.

She felt it every time Alex looked at her, every time he got within
-five feet of her.

And now, with him this close, she was hopelessly lost in his spell.

His fingers tightened against her ribs then drifted lower to rest
possessively on her hip.

The warmth inside her coiled tighter, starting a pulsing, an ache, a
longing that she could not deny.

Blue eyes locked with black.

Hers filled with wonder, his dark and hungry.

A breath.

A slight movement.

Their lips came together and then she was in his arms.

His mouth slanted across hers.

His lips were warm and experienced in the art of kissing and she gave
in to him.

Days of hunger and nights of longing came together in that kiss.

It was a merging, a melting of two into one.

His hands slid around her waist and pulled her tighter to him, and when
he couldiyt get her any closer that way, he rolled onto his back,
easing her on top of him.

Mary didn't resist.

Her arms glided up his chest and around his neck, holding him close,
kissing him and kissing him and drowning herself in him.

And the more she surrendered, the more he demanded.

She gave all that he asked, opening to him, welcoming him and all that
he was.

Alex rolled over again, pinning her beneath him.

Savagely, he tore his mouth from hers.

His breathing ragged, he braced himself above her.

"This is wrong.  I never meant for this to happen."

Mary saw the desire, stark and raw, in his eyes and it seemed to reach
inside her and touch her very soul.

He hovered there, not moving, just staring into her face.

Then abruptly he stood.

His sudden absence was like a blow, and she watched as he walked toward
the creek.

She sat up.

Tears of pain or confusion or perhaps sadness at his sudden withdrawal
welled in her eyes.

She wasn't sure.

Her chin quivered and she fought to hold back the tears.

Alex.

Oh, Alex, what have you done to me?

The distant rumble of thunder echoed off the mountains and carried out
across the open plains.

The breeze whipped at her hair, doing little to cool her heated face
and body.

The tops of the willows swooshed and rattled as their ii branches
whipped against one another, and the sky was no longer filled with
stars, just gray-black clouds that hid the moon.

Mary stood.

The wind wrapped her skirt around her legs and lifted one corner of the
blanket off the ground to fan over her feet.

Shielding her eyes from swirling dust, she could see Alex near the
creek.

He was a solitary shadow, moving back and forth.

"Alex," she called.

He didn't answer, didn't turn back to her.

Alex was lost in a hell of his own.

The wind in the willows and the insistent rumble of thunder were only
faint noises to him.

What he was listening to was his own inner voice and the pounding of
his heart.

What were you going to do?

Were you going to just take her, you arrogant son of a bitch!

Yes, came the passion-fueled answer.

The wind pulled at his shirtsleeves.

Reflex made him rake the hair out of his eyes.

The last few minutes revolved in his mind like a runaway carousel.

Partial images blurred together, her blue eyes looking at him with
wonder and welcome, her body soft and warm beneath his.

He clamped his jaw down hard against the longing, the all-encompassing
desire that drummed in his body until he ached with the wanting.

Not four hours ago, he'd promised himself this wouldn't happen.

He'd assured himself of his reasons for bringing her here.

You cannot do this, not to her.

She's not like the others.

You care about her, dammit.

She's going home soon.

Not soon enough.

Muscles tensed and he curled his hands into tight fists to stop the
shaking.

And still the desire pounded in his body.

He could taste her, feel her, imagine her naked in his arms.

All he wanted was to hold her.

Slowly, he turned to face her.

Though she was cloaked in darkness, he could see her silhouette.

-Until the day he died, he would always remember the look in her
eyes.

She had wanted him.

He knew it.

She had no idea what she was doing, of course.

But he did.

Yes, dammit, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He stood there, rooted to the spot, knowing that if he went to her now,
if he so much as touched her, there would be no hope.

He'd never be able to let her go and she would probably hate him for
it.

He wished like hell he had a bottle of whiskey, because getting dead
drunk was about his only hope.

A shard of lightning slashed across the ink black sky.

Thunder crashed like cannon fire.

Alex tried to focus on Mary.

He could see her standing near the blanket.

Beyond her the horse pranced wildly against his rawhide hobbles.

Lightning streaked through the night again, the thunder an
ear-shattering crash.

"Run!"

Alex hollered, racing toward her.

"What?"

She looked confused.

Wind pulled her hair back from her pale face.

He grabbed her by the arm and pushed her toward the open.

"Run.  Get into the open and lie down."

Wind swirled around them like a tempest, leaves and dust filled the
air.

The horse screamed in protest at its confinement.

"Get into the open and lie down," Alex repeated.

"I'll bring the horse."

When she didn't move, he shook her.

"Mary, listen to me.  It's a lightning storm.  Dry lightning.

It'll hit these trees.

Now run!

"What about you?"  she cried over the frantic pounding of her heart as
her childhood fear of storms overwhelmed her.

His face was dark and intense.

"I'll be there.  Now get out of here."

She was riveted to the spot.

Lightning, bright and hot, tore into the willow twenty yards away.

The top of the tree exploded.

Sparks and chunks of burning wood filled the air like thousands of
fireflies, then fell in a brilliant shower over her.

Cinders singed her clothes, settled in her hair.

She screamed.

" he ordered i' Alex was there in an instant."  Don't move, while he
brushed the red-hot embers from her hair.

"Help me!"

She frantically swatted at the embers that .

p covered her shoulders.

"It's okay, honey."

He pulled the last of the embers from her hair, feeling them singe his
fingertips.

Lightning split the sky again, this time touching down nearby.

The horse reared and pawed the air.

Eyes wide, it tried to run but the hobbles held it back.

Frantic, Alex grabbed Mary by the shoulders.

"You've got to get out of here.  Are you listening to me?"

She wasn't.

She was paralyzed with fear.

Thunder roared in her ears.

She was going to die.

She knew it.

Out here, in the middle of this storm, she was going to die.

Alex shook her hard, so hard she bit her tongue.

The pain brought the world back into focus.

"Listen to me.  I should have seen the storm coming.  I didn't.  The
trees are a lightning rod.  We've got to get out in the open."

Eyes wild with fear, she stared at him, shaking her head vehemently
against his order.

"There's no protection in the open.") Lightning lighted up the sky like
a Fourth of July rocket.

"No!  The trees will draw the lightning.  The open is our only hope.

Do it!"

When she didn't move, he shook her hard.

"Dammit, move!  " This time she nodded.

He could see her gesture of acceptance in the bright arc of
lightning.

Thunder slammed overhead like two granite boulders coming together.

Hitching up her skirt, she started to walk then run for all she was
worth.

Lightning knifed through the sky, filling the world with near blinding
light.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

She could barely breathe, she was shaking so hard.

The edge of the grove was up ahead and beyond, open prairie.

She wanted to turn back, to find some safe dark place to hide.

She didn't.

Lightning sizzled all around her.

Thunder rumbled like dynamite in a mine shaft, making the earth vibrate
with the force of it.

Wind pulled at her hair.

She kept going.

Dust prickled her face, stinging her eyes.

She ran faster.

Alex's voice echoed in her mind.

"Run for the open!  " Hitching her skirt higher, she did just that,
breaking into the open beyond the trees.

A hundred yards from the trees Mary, breathing hard and fighting a pain
that knifed in her side, threw herself down on the hard earth, covering
her head with her hands.

Above her, bolts of lightning warred back and forth across the sky like
arrows.

Alex had waited only a second to make sure she was moving before he ran
to the horse.

Eyes wild, the horse reared up, the hooves barely missing Alex's
head.

"Come on!"

He grabbed the reins and pulled, trying to calm the animal.

They'd need the horse if they were going to make it home.

A brilliant arc of lightning lighted up the sky and thunder slammed
against the sides of the mountains.

The horse reared again.

"Dammit!"

Muscles straining, Alex struggled to hold on to the anfinal's bridle.

Somehow he managed to tie his neckerchief over the animal's eyes.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he told the terrified animal, and
started to run, leading the horse with him.

He needed to get to Mary.

He needed to see her, to know she was all right.

More than anything else, more than his own life, he had to protect
her.

Lightning sizzled and crackled overhead, making the hair on his arms
prickle from the electric charge.

Alex kept running, the horse following, and they broke out of the
clearing.

Frantic, Alex scanned the terrain, squinting against the swirling
dust.

Where was Mary?

Soon he spotted her, a small dark mound about a hundred yards away.

Lightning split the sky again.

Alex grabbed the horse by the ears and twisted the animal's head,
forcing it to lie flat on the ground.

He sprawled over the gelding's neck, holding the animal down.

Wind and dust swirled everywhere, obscuring his vision.

Tossing the hair back from his face, he watched Mary's prone form.

Please don't let her move.

The pounding of his heart competed with the pounding of the thunder.

His muscles ached from straining against the impulse to go to her.

He was scared - Please let her stay there.

She'll be all right if she doesn't move.

He kept praying to his spirits, to hers, to whoever watched over those
in trouble.

Mary's whole body shook with fear.

She clamped her hands over her ears against the thunder that threatened
to deafen her.

Dirt collected on her face and lips.

With every bolt of lightning, her body flinched, her muscles
constricted against the need to run.

Then an explosion rocked the night.

The unmistakable groan of wood splitting reverberated around her and
she knew another tree had been struck.

"Alex!"

She screamed, but her cry of terror was lost in the noise.

Please God, let him be all right.

What if he wasn't?

What if lightning struck him and he was lying hurt or dying?

She should go back for him.

She made to get up.

No.

He had told her to run and she'd do what he said.

Her eyes slammed closed as lightning knifed through the sky again.

She pressed her face tighter against the hard earth, the dirt cool
against her skin.

Every fiber of her being screamed in protest, in fear.

Alex.

Please.

Alex.

Please.

She kept saying the words over and over and over, trying to drown but
the storm and the fear.

She didn't know how long she lay there, but suddenly she reaaw the
storm'was moving away as quickly as it had come.

She could see the lightning farther off, no longer head.

The thunder seemed s over softer now.

Lifting only her head, she glanced around.

That's when she saw a silhouette moving against the trees toward her.

She scrambled to her feet.

"Alex!  " She ran to him and flung herself into his arms, holding on to
him for all she was worth.

He had the reins of the horse twisted around his hand, but he wrapped
both arms around her and held her tight, burying his face against the
side of her neck.

"Are you all right?"

He kissed her cheeks, her chin, her brows.

"Answer me!"

"Yes.  Yes."

Joy welled up in her and she kissed him, wet, wild butterfly kisses all
over his face.

And she kept on holding him.

Around them the storm retreated.

Lightning sizzled in the eastern sky but the rumble of thunder was
drowned out by the pounding of her heart.

Muscles sagging, she leaned into him, reveling in the feel of him.

Frantically, her shaking hands traveled up his arms and across his
square shoulders, the cotton of his shirt warm beneath her cold
fingers.

She needed to touch him, to see him, to assure herself.

"Irish."

He cupped her face in his hands, his strong fingers curved under her
jaw.

"When I tell you to move, woman, do it."

He smiled, and his voice was filled with relief.

She felt the same relief.

Emotions, fear and desperate need, welled up in her throat, making
speech impossible.

All she could do was turn her face up to him and let his mouth cover
hers.

They ate each other hungrily, greedily, no longer concerned with right
or wrong, only with joy and desire.

And the feeling consumed them both.

Life.

They were alive.

They were with each other.

Nothing and no one else mattered.

They both knew it and clung to it, and to each other.

For a long minute they stayed like that, each feeling the storm that
raged between them even more than the one overhead.

Lightning slashed once more across the sky, farther away now but close
enough to fill the air with an electric charge that crackled and
sizzled like the emotions racing through Alex's body.

"Irish."

He spoke the words against her ear.

"We've got to stop this, or I won't be able to stop."

It took more strength than he knew he had to put her away from him.

Her face was flushed, her eyes bright with desire.

Her heart beat with a frantic rhythm, and her breathing was quick and
shallow.

He could see the redness of her lips where he'd just kissed her.

The look in Alex's eyes was heated and endlessly tempting, leaving her
weak and wanting more of him and the delicious longing he had ignited
in her.

Searching his face, she said, "And if I don't want to stop?"

Alex looked at her, took in every part of her, filling himself with the
beauty and delight that she was.

He had to take a step back to keep from pulling her into his arms and
crushing her.

"Don't, Clang."

He shook his head in defiant denial.

"Don't say that because it wouldn't take much for me to - " "To what?" 
she prompted.

He shook his head.

"It isn't going to happen.  Dammit!

Not like this.

You're not the kind of woman who rolls in the dirt with some man.

' ' "You're not just 'Some man," ' she countered, her eyes wide with
innocence and wanting.

"And you're not just 'some woman," ' he replied in kind, thinking of
all the women he'd known and lusted after and not cared one bit
about.

But this was Mary Clang.

His Clang.

She'd been his Clang ever since that first day and there was no way in
hell he'd do this now.

So he clenched his fists against the lust surging through his body like
a living entity with an insatiable hunger.

"You deserve better than this, Irish.  You deserve better than me."

With that, he turned and walked!  back to the grove and began to gather
their few belongings.

This was never supposed to happen, but the truth of it cut through him
like a searing pain.

His body tensed against the assault.

It didn't help.

The awful truth was there.

He was in love with Mary Clang.

God help them both.

Chapter Eleven Only the brightest of the stars lingered in the sky when
they rode out.

Another hour and the first traces of pink pushed up from the eastern
horizon.

The gentle cooing of mourning doves filled the dawn with their wake-up
song.

The gelding, calm now after last night's storm, kept a steady walking
pace.

Up ahead a cottontail rabbit paused to consider the two riders before
darting into a convenient hole.

Silently, Mary rode behind Alex, her hands resting on the coarse denim
of his waistband, just like before.

Yet nothing was the way it was before.

She knew it.

He knew it.

They didn't talk of it.

It wasn't so easy to shut Mary's mind off.

Memories sizzled through her brain like the lightning.

Dimly, she remembered running into his arms, the kisses, the urgency,
the wanting.

That memory, that feeling, cut sharp as a knife through the
fog-shrouded memories.

Startled, she released her grip on his waist and sat up straighter, her
hands braced on her thighs.

The dirt-stained muslin of her skirt wrinkled and draped over her legs,
which hung loosely on either side of the horse.

The sun warmed one side of her face and body and kindled visions of her
and Alex that flashed through her head like a series of erotic
photographs.

There had been a frantic touching, harsh, hungry kisses and the moment
when desire overcame reason and she would have done anything, anything
he'd asked.

Her pulse raced and nerves tingled in response.

She gulped a couple of lungsful of air.

The position of her body, curved intimately around his, wasn't
helping.

It was wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

He was the one responsible for her failure.

He was the one who had single-handedly destroyed her future and the
future of an entire town.

Where was the shame, the all-consuming guilt, the fear?

What she felt was excited and more alive than she'd ever felt in her
life.

He shifted, and his denim-covered leg rubbed seductively against the
inside of her leg.

Even through all of her petticoats she could feel the heat of him.

Her breath caught as she wondered what it would be like to feel his
flesh against hers.

Goose bumps skittered up her spine.

Alex.

Just his name evoked feelings too lush, too exotic to ignore.

It came over her then- as it had since the first moment she'd seen
him-the unquestioned power and the -sheer masculine beauty of him.

His hat had been lost in the storm, allowing the early mornin sunlight
to glisten on his black hair.

She knew now 9 that his hair was soft, like silk against her face when
he'd kissed her.

He sat straight and tall, with a sureness that was typical of him.

The cotton fabric of his shirt pulled tight, outlining the finely honed
muscles of his shoulders and upper back.

It was only with the greatest restraint that she kept from reaching out
to touch him, to feel him warm and solid beneath her hand.

He had a strength she was only now coming to understand.

Yes, she'd felt his power as he'd crushed her to him, felt the hard
plane of his chest against her aching breasts, felt the straining power
of him as she'd wrapped her arms around him and hung on for all she was
worth.

But now, in the early morning light, there was more-he was more.

Last night he could have had her, she would have gone to him; in fact,
she did go to him, and he'd turned her down.

Oh, his reasons were admirable, but at the time she didn't want
admirable.

She wanted him-in a way she was just now coming to understand.

Held had the strength to resist.

The scent of white sage drifted on the air and the steady clip-clop of
the horse's hooves was marked counterpoint to the rapid, uneven beating
of her heart.

Sitting close to Alex, taking in the sight and feel and scent of him,
she suddenly saw a different Alex Moreau.

Not the charming, seductive man, the ruthless adversary.

Not even the half-breed.

She saw only a man handsome beyond all others she'd ever known, a man
filled with indomitable courage, fighting a battle that he would surely
lose.

Alex must see that; nonetheless, he had set himself not only against
her but against the government of the United States and a westward
migration that meant the Indians' demise by sheer force of numbers.

Yet with strength of will, of purpose, he refused to surrender to the
government, to inevitable destiny and to his own fierce desire.

She would do no less.

Rainbow Gulch would have its train.

As the day wore on, logic and emotion battled within her, and by the
time they stopped for lunch, logic, fueled by embarrassment and
self-determination, won out.

How dare he kidnap her!

How dare he think he could hold her like some prisoner-some captive!

As the list built, so did her anger.

By the time they reached the Indian encampment her anger was at full
boil again.

The sun was already slipping behind the mountains, streaking the sky
with gray and white and violet, when the distinct silhouette of
hundreds of lodges appeared on the horizon.

The wolves, young boys who acted as scouts, spotted them several miles
out.

Sharp cries alerted the camp of the riders' arrival.

Alex smiled.

Home.

He was home.

Three of the scouts rode full speed in their direction, skidding
dramatically to a halt only a few feet from Alex.

Painted horses pranced and pawed the earth, stirring up dust in the
process.

Young men, bodies naked and tanned, feathers tied in their waist-length
hair, smiled in greeting.

"Biia Cheote."

They called Alex's name in the lyrical language of the Absarokee.

Alex smiled right back.

It was good to be home, to hear the language of his mother's people, to
see familiar faces.

He glanced once more at the encampment.

He couldn't get there fast enough.

If he hadn't had Mary riding with hfin, he would have been tempted to
race.

He had no hope of winning on this aging animal, but the race would have
been fun.

Fun.

Now there's a word that -hadn't crossed his mind since.

.

since this time last year.

.

.

@ Horses milled and shifted nervously.

Alex reined back while smiling at the-boys he'd known since they were
children.

In the language of his mother's- people, he said teasingly, "What are
you pups up to?"

"We are scouts for the summer camp, Biia Cheote, " they called out
almost in unison, their pride obvious.

"You are here for the hunt and the games?"

one of the boys asked in the native tongue.

"I wouldn't miss it."

"And you will race AI(tute?"

"Of course," he replied, thinking of his favorite horse grazing with
the herd beyond the camp.

The scouts smiled and nodded again.

"Everyone was worried you would not come this time," another boy
said.

"What?  And miss a chance to show you cubs how to hunt?"

He laughed, feeling the tension drain out of him at the easy banter.

The second boy returned his grin.

"We will ride ahead and tell you are coming."

It was a question more than a statement.

Alex nodded and, wheeling their horses with a flourish, the three took
off at breakneck speed, kicking up dust and clods of dirt.

Mary coughed and turned her head away, her face brushing against his
back.

"Sorry," Alex said over his shoulder.

"Young men are always in a hurry."

Alex was in a hurry, too.

Home was so close he could see it, taste it.

There, among the people he called family, everything would be all
right.

Somehow he'd find a way to deal with his feelings.

He had Mary and now he'd have time.

The next few days would tell the story.

Mary didn't know what she expected an Indian camp to look like but this
wasn't it.

Whatever it looked like, she would find help here and that was all that
mattered.

There must be an Indian agent, a sutler, a trader, somebody to give her
a ride to the nearest town or fort.

Anywhere away from Alexandre Moreau and the sizzling sensations he made
her feel.

Shoving her hair out of her eyes, she peered over Alex's broad
shoulder.

Where were the buildings?

Where was the agent's office?

The lush river valley, as far as she could see, was covered with
tipis.

There must be a couple hundred of them, she thought.

Their supporting poles extended high into the air, like two triangles
tip to tip.

A horse herd, numbering in the hundreds, grazed serenely on the gentle
slope beyond the camp.

Children, bare-chested and bare-legged, swarmed around them, laughing,
whooping, making the sorrel nervous.

Men, some old and graying, some young, stepped out of their tipis to
see what the ruckus was about.

A few women paused from their chores to look up.

Mary felt outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

She also didn't feel nearly as confident as she had an hour ago.

Alex didn't seem to notice her discomfort.

He waved and called out to a few men, who returned the wave and
answered in their native language-the same language Alex had spoken
that night they lay together under the stars just before he'd kimd
her.

stop it.

Slamming her eyes shut, she swallowed hard against the thoughts and,
worse, the delicious feelings.

When she was in control enough to look around again, she saw that
adults had joined the crowd of children following them and a hundred
yards ahead an even larger crowd was gathered.

Quickly letting her eyes roam the faces, she realized they were all
Indians.

There was no Indian agent or soldier or anyone who could even remotely
be considered as help.

Well, wait.

The Crow were one t)f the few tribes that had never gone on the warpath
against-whites.

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

Alex reined to a stop, looped his right leg over the saddle horn and
slid off, the horse.

Then he.

turned and held out both hands to Mary.

Reluctantly, she -reached out, braced her hands on his broad shoulders
and let him lift her off the horse and set her on the ground.

For just a moment Alex hesitated, looking into her pale and drawn
face.

He didn't like the dark shadows that tinged the delicate skin beneath
her eyes.

She stepped away from his touch.

He watched her straighten and saw her chin come up in an
all-too-familiar gesture.

Her voice was small but firm when she addressed the crowd.

"Does anyone here speak English?"

Alex didn't try to interfere.

He didn't have to.

Most of those gathered couldn't speak English, and the one or two
"What?  And miss a chance to show you cubs how to hunt?"

He laughed, feeling the tension drain out of him at the easy banter.

The second boy returned his grin.

"We will ride ahead and tell you are coming."

It was a question more than a statement.

Alex nodded and, wheeling their horses with a flourish, the three took
off at breakneck speed, kicking up dust and clods of dirt.

Mary coughed and turned her head away, her face brushing against his
back.

"Sorry," Alex said over his shoulder.

"Young men are always in a hurry."

Alex was in a hurry, too.

Home was so close he could see it, taste it.

There, among the people he called family, everything would be all
right.

Somehow he'd find a way to deal with his feelings.

He had Mary and now he'd have time.

The next few days would tell the story.

Mary didn't know what she expected an Indian camp to look like but this
wasn't it.

Whatever it looked like, she would find help here and that was all that
mattered.

There must be an Indian agent, a sutler, a trader, somebody to give her
a ride to the nearest town or fort.

Anywhere away from Alexandre Moreau and the sizzling sensations he made
her feel.

Shoving her hair out of her eyes, she peered over Alex's broad
shoulder.

Where were the buildings?

Where was the agent's office?

The lush river valley, as far as she could see, was covered with
tipis.

There must be a couple hundred of them, she thought.

Their supporting poles extended high into the air, like two triangles
tip to tip.

A horse herd, numbering in the hundreds, grazed serenely on the gentle
slope beyond the camp.

Children, bare-chested and bare-legged, swarmed around them, laughing,
whooping, making the sorrel nervous.

IL

Men, some old and graying, some young, stepped out of their tipis to
see what the ruckus was about.

A few women paused from their chores to look up.

Mary feIt outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

She also didn't feel nearly as confident as she had an hour ago.

Alex didn't seem to notice her discomfort.

He waved and called out to a few men, who returned the wave and
answered in their native language-the same language Alex had spoken
that night they lay together under the stars just before he'd kissed
her.

stop it.

Slamming her eyes shut, she swallowed hard against the thoughts and,
worse, the delicious feelings.

When she was in control enough to look around again, she saw that
adults had joined the crowd of children following them and a hundred
yards ahead an even larger crowd was gathered.

Quickly letting her eyes roam the faces, she realized they were all
Indians.

There was no Indian agent or soldier or anyone who could even remotely
be considered as help.

Well, wait.

The Crow were one of.

the few tribes that had never gone on the warpath against whites.

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

Alex reined to a stop, looped his right leg over the saddle horn and
slid off the horse.

Then he-turned and held out both hands- to Mary.

Reluctantly, she reached out, braced her hands on his broad shoulders
and let him lift her off the horse and set her on the ground.

For just a moment Alex hesitated, looking into her pale and drawn
face.

He didn't like the dark shadows that tinged the delicate skin beneath
her eyes.

She stepped away from his touch.

He watched her straighten and saw her chin come up in an
all-too-familiar gesture.

Her voice was small but firm when she addressed the crowd.

"Does anyone here speak English?"

Alex didn't try to interfere.

He didn't have to.

Most of those gathered couldn't speak English, and the one or two
wouldn't get involved without talking with him who did first.

Mary waited, forcing a little smile.

No one moved.

"What's the matter?  I know I don't look very..."

She started to fuss with her hair then halted.

She glanced up at Alex, who was standing close beside her.

His expression was blank, so if they were taking some sort of cue from
him she couldn't see how.

She was about to try again when everyone started talking at once.

That would have been fine if any of the words were English, which they
weren't.

People pushed in a little closer.

Her hopes sank.

In the midst of so many strangers, Mary instinctively edged closer to
Alex.

When he offered her the safety of his arm, she grudgingly took
refuge.

At his familiar touch, goose bumps skittered up the backs of her
legs.

Darn the man.

He wasn't even trying and he shattered her resolve.

Fortunately, Alex was busy talking to two young women and didn't seem
to notice her response.

However, as their conversation continued, she noticed plenty.

About the same time, the women became aware of Mary.

At least they spared her a look that had "hands off " written all over
it.

She would gladly tell them not to worry if she could speak their
language.

As it was, all she could do was stand there while the two, dressed in
ankle-length buckskin dresses, smiled up at Alex with adoration.

They finally turned'and moved out through the crowd.

That headache of Mary's was getting worse again.

What she wanted was something to drink and maybe a place to wash up,
then transportation out of here.

"Alex, we've got to talk about this."

"In a minute," he fired back at her, not even looking her way.

He just kept his arm around her shoulder in a familiar way that was at
once soothing and distracting.

Now was not the time to debate it, she wisely decided.

Alex had the hometown advantage.

She faced the crowd of people head-on and they, in turn, did the
same.

The men more than the women eyed her carefully, and she didn't miss the
hard glances that passed between Alex and a couple of the younger men
as Alex and those gathered continued to chat amiably.

"Alex, I-" "Five minutes," he cut in, then went back to his
conversation.

She sighed.

"What are they saying?"  she finally interjected.

"Just wondering who you are," he told her, deciding to leave out the
couple of ribald remarks and the less than polite comments by Red
Weasel.

It seemed as if they stood there talking forever.

Truth was, Mary guessed it was about fifteen or maybe twenty minutes.

The same two women edged back through the crowd and pointedly ignored
her to gaze up at Alex once more.

Mary's gaze flicked from Alex to the women and back to Alex again.

She narrowed her eyes, watching the easy way he smiled at them-that
lazy, lush smile that always turned her knees to water.

Judging by the way they were smiling, it had the same effect on them.

She didn't have to understand the words to understand what the devil
was happening here.

"Don't let me keep you from anything," she said rather sharply.

"I'm thanking them for setting up my lodge."

He inclined his head in a patronizing manner that set her temper off.

Tight-lipped, she pulled away from him.

The men, she noted, were frowning, and the women looked genuinely
surprised.

Whatever, she didn't have time or energy to spare on it.

She wanted out of here- and now.

"What the devil's going on?"

Her voice carried above those present and all conversation abruptly
stopped.

She plastered a smile-more like a feral snarl-on her face.

No sense upsetting the neighbors with their little misunderstanding.

Especially when the neighbors were sure to take his side.

She squinted and rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers.

Shed had enough of this, of them, of him.

Her jaw ached from keeping that smile firmly in place.

"Take me to Crow Agency, Alex.  I can get a ride from there."

"No.

She stared at him in disbelief.

"No?  What do you mean no?  There's no point to this.  I thought surely
once we-" "No," he interjected, then unceremoniously scooped her up and
headed through the crowd.

"Put me down," she instructed, but she didn't struggle.

Instead she kept that clenched-teeth smile in place.

"I'll get even with you for this.  If it takes years, I'll get even."

"Yes.  I remember.  Just take it easy, honey.  We're almost there."

"And don't call me honey!  " she ground out through her gritted
teeth.

Suddenly, he ducked inside a huge, almost white tipi and abruptly let
her feet drop to the floor.

It wasn't'an actual floor, covered as it was with what appeared to
be.

several buffalo skins, fur side down.

"This is it," he told her matter-of@factly.

"This is what?"

She scanned the interior of the large circular structure, with a fire
pit laid out in the middle.

There were stacks of furs around the edges.

She recognized bear and rabbit, but the others she couldn't tell
without closer examination.

The entire lower half of the structure was lined with more skins,
stretched and hung as if for a decoration, the way a person might hang
pictures in his home.

And these skins had drawings, figures, strange markings in shades of
red and black and green and blue.

Curiosity overcame anger, and she stepped closer.

"To commemorate the first horse I ever stole," he told her.

She turned sharply.

He'd been so silent she had almost forgotten he was there.

almost.

"You steal horses?"  she repeated, unable to keep the disdain from her
voice.

"I have," Alex confirmed as he dropped down on one knee, struck a match
and lighted the fire.

There was already a chill in the early evening air and he was happy for
the shelter, happier still to be home.

For the first time in weeks he felt calm and confident, safe and
protected-until he focused his attention on the woman, five feet away,
glaring at him hotly.

The cottonwood crackled and popped, sending a small spray of
multicolored sparks a few inches into the air.

"So stealing horses or people comes naturally to YOU."

"I deserved that, I suppose."

He stood and tossed the match in the flickering fire.

"Just so we have things clear, we, the Absarokee, steal horses from
other tribes.  It's ackyape, a matter of honor for men.  The two I
stole were from the Sioux when we raided into Canada."

"Honorable stealing.  Of course."

Her voice dripped with sarcasm and she rubbed at her temples.

That headache was intensifying fast and her stomach felt like a
magician's knot trick.

"It's easy to judge something you don't understand.  Do you think you
could at least pretend to keep an open mind?."

His tone matched hers.

"It's a little difficult to be open-minded when you've been stolen-"
she whirled to face him square on "-like a horse."

He thrust his hands through his raven black hair, only to have it fall
free around his shoulders again.

"I apologize for taking you off the damned train.  It wasn't right but
it seemed the only way to make you listen."

"I don't want to listen to anything you have to say.  Now, are you
going to take me home or am I going to have to walk?"

"Try to leave.  You won't get far."

"Watch me!"

She stormed toward the opening in the tipi.

He was there in an instant, grabbing her wrist and swinging her back to
face him.

Anger glinted in his dark eyes.

"Are you crazy?  We're fifty miles from Crow Agency."

"I don't care," she raged, twisting easily away from him.

Survival, emotional more than physical, meant getting away from him, as
far and as fast as she could.

He paced away, his steps silent on the buffalo robe covering the
floor.

She watched, saw him pause, then straighten and turn.

His voice was quiet, dangerously quiet.

"I can hold you and there's not a soul who'd go against me.  No one
will ever think to look for you here."

"You'd do that?"

Her voice was a thready whisper.

Their eyes met.

She flushed then paled.

"I will if you force me."

"We're not alone now," she retaliated, refusing to knuckle under this
time.

"There are hundreds of people here and everyone knows the Crow have
always been friendly to the whites.  Custer had Crow scouts with the
Seventh."

She flung her hair back out of her face.

"Just becau8e,no one stepped forward today doesn't mean no one will.

I'll go to

)I

every tipi, knock on every door.

Someone will help me.

"These are my people, -Miss Clang, and very few speak English."

"Then I'll follow your example-" she waved her hand in the direction of
the painting " -and steal a horse."

"And just where will you go in the pitch-black night with that stolen
horse?"

"Anywhere that's away from here and you," she replied, defiance
overcoming reason.

He towered over her, dark and powerful.

The moonlight filtered through the open smoke hole above them, and Mary
could see the firelight reflected in his velvet black eyes.

"My people do not take kindly to horse stealing, Irish, and if you
would be so foolish as to ride out at night, make no mistake-" his
voice dropped to a husky timbre " -I will come for you.

Mary stilled.

She searched his face and knew he meant what he said .

"So I'm to be your prisoner."

"Guest," he corrected.

"Prisoner," she reiterated.

He shrugged.

"As you like.  Either way, you might as well make yourself
comfortable.

You'll be here awhile."

She was trapped, at least for tonight.

He was right about trying to leave in the darkness.

There was a half-moon, but since she didn't know the area, it would be
extremely foolish to ride out.

Tomorrow was another matter.

And unless he was planning to tie her up, sooner or later she would
slip away, steal that horse and ride out.

She'd be miles away before he even knew she was gone.

The silence stretched between them.

It was a standoff, a test of wills, and neither would give an inch.

Finally he said, "You can sleep there."

He pointed to a stack of what appeared to be wolf pelts.

She scowled.

"And just where will you be?"

"Over here."

He dropped down on a buffalo robe and sprawled against a woven
backrest.

Damn the man, he was enjoying this entirely too much.

"You expect me to share this with you?"

She made a sweeping gesture with her hand.

"It's better than out in the open."

His tone was deliberate.

"Never mind what I want!"  she breathed in astonishment.

"Never mind what people think.  Is that it?"

"They think what I told them, that you're my woman."

"What do you mean I'm 'your woman?"  I'm not your woman."

"Whose woman are you?  Michael Strictland's, perhaps?"

That stopped her.

He was looking at her in that absorbing way of his and something
flashed in his eyes, mockery, perhaps.

Whatever it was, it was too quickly gone to know for sure.

"I am no one's woman, as you put it.  Not Mr. Strictland's and most
certainly not yours.

I 'You let him kiss you that night on the porch.

"He did if t kidnap me.  He didn't trick me.  He is going to help me.

And if I want to let him kiss me or anything else itps-$ P " Like hell
you will!

Abruptly, he stood and closed the distance between them in four long
strides.

Mary steeled herself against the impulse to step back; it would mean a
retreat.

He stopped a scant foot from her.

His face filled her line of vision, a handsome face, with bottomless
black eyes and lips parted and slightly drawn up in a smile that
bespoke his power.

Eyes narrowed, he searched her face.

A muscle flexed in his jaw.

He didn't speak, just stood there so close that she could feel the
warmth of his body and his breath on her cheek.

She was frightened.

Her blood surged with awareness, her breath came in short, shallow
gulps - "Alex .  . ."

It was a breathy whisper.

The air was suddenly charged with the memories of what they'd shared.

"Beautiful sweetheart."

With two fingers, he captured a curl near her temple, letting the hair
slide through his fingers.

"Isaahkawuattee, Old Man Coyote, has played-a.cruel trick on us
both."

Mary didn't understand Alex dragged in a breath, then another.

He let his hand drop away and then he stepped back.

His tone was hushed when he spoke.

"Stay with me."

It was a plea, an order.

He wasif t sure.

He only knew he didn't want her to leave.

Mary's senses pulsed with the nearness of him, the sight and sound and
touch of him.

This time she did step back, once and then once more, needing the space
between them.

He watched and made no effort to stop her.

Her voice cracked when she spoke.

I 'This is not a game.

Futures, lives, promises are at stake here.

I cannot change who I am and I will not change what I want.

Would you give up everything, pledges and promises to-" Unbidden tears
filled her eyes."  You were right last night .

If we'd.

" She shook her head."  We are from two different worlds.

Mine is rushing toward the future-" " And mine is clinging to the
past," he said honestly, frustration evident in his voice and his grim
expression.

Sadness flashed in his eyes and he looked away.

The logic of the situation told him that he was a halfbreed and she was
white, though it didn't seem to matter to her.

A first in his experience.

He knew he could seduce her.

He knew she was discovering a woman's passion.

It was for that very reason that he wouldn't take her.

She mattered to him and a man didn't force a woman he cared about even
if he called it seduction.

Mary was innocent and vulnerable, and her judgment was clouded.

Alex's judgment wasn't much better.

With every fiber of his being he wanted her, all of her, the pride, the
determination, the passion.

Could he let her go again?

Could he give her up?

The answer cut through the longing like a knife through flesh.

"In the morning, I'll take you home."

Mary's fever began just before sunrise.

She groaned in her sleep and Alex instantly heard the pitiful sound.

"Irish?"

He rolled over on his bed and sat up, looking across the lodge at
her.

She didn't answer.

"Irish," he called more firmly.

"What?"

Her voice was small, childlike.

"Are you all right?  I thought- II " I don't feel very good," she
groaned."  My head hurts.

My whole body hurts.

At the first mention of not feeling well, Alex was out of bed.

Modesty demanded he put on a breechcloth.

Barefoot and shirtless, he hurried to her side.

She was very pale, and he knew even before he touched her that she had
a fever.

"It's awfully cold in here."

She pulled the fur robe tighter around her, the soft wolf pelt brushing
her chin.

" Why's it so cold?"

Alex didn't like the sound of that or the way she was shivering.

With a gentle smile, he said, "It's not cold, honey."

He reached out the back of his hand and touched her flushed cheek.

It was warm and dry.

She had a fever all right.

Maybe it was just a summer cold coming on or perhaps she was a little
upset from traveling.

When she tried to get up, he ordered her back to bed.

She didn't put up much of a fuss and her meekness only added to his
concern about how sick she really was.

He remembered that his mother always used pine needle tea when he was
sick, so he brewed some and encouraged her to sip as much as
possible.

Throughout the next day he watched her, hovered really, constantly
feeling her cheek, bathing her face with cool clear water and offering
her more tea and food-neither of which she wanted.

By late afternoon she was burning up, and Alex's concern turned to
outright fear.

When she started vomiting, he panicked.

She was so pale, a contrast-to her blue eyes, bright with the fever
that Alex feared wE(s still climbing.

He poured more tea and helped her take a few sips.

"That's a good girl," he told her with a smile.

He bathed her face and neck with cool water, held her hand and to her
she would be fine, though he wasn't as sure of that as he seemed.

Think, Moreau.

You've got to get the fever down.

If he didn't there was the danger of convulsions and even death.

No, he wouldn't think about that.

Just get the damned fever down and everything will be all right.

Cold.

He needed cold and lots of it.

Ice was cold, but it was summer and there wasn't an icehouse closer
than Butte.

He wrung out a cloth and started to bathe her face again, when he
stopped and stared at the water dripping from the white cotton cloth.

That's when he knew what he had to do.

"Honey," he told her, "you're going to be fine."

He wasn't sure she really heard him, but when he started unfastening
her skirt, she roused at least enough to put up a struggle.

It was sort of like battling an angry kitten, he mused, sliding her
skirt away and reaching for her petticoats.

"Alex, stop.  You can't."

"It's not what you're thinking, honey."

He pushed her hands away and finished the job.

In five minutes he had her naked.

Her slender body was deathly white and he could see she was
trembling.

She cannot die.

It was an order to the spirits from a man used to giving orders.

He wrapped her in a fur robe and effortlessly lifted her in his arms.

Once outside the lodge, he strode toward the river a quarter mile
away.

People turned and stared; some called to him, asking if he needed
help.

He kept on walking, only thinking of what he had to do.

Mary was too damned still in his arms.

She seemed to be barely breathing.

Alex hoped like hell he was doing the right thing, because if he was
wrong.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

The river curved through the earth like a dark snake, lying in wait for
those who would venture near.

The waves of the slow-moving water were like the undulating ripples of
the serpent spirit that Alex was about to give his woman up to.

There on the riverbank he hesitated, frantically rethinking his course
of action.

It always came back to the same thing.

He had to get her fever down fast.

You cannot keep her," he told the river spirit.

Then slowly, with Mary held tightly in his arms, he waded into the
water.

The ice-cold current swirled around his bare legs, sending shivers over
his flesh.

He held on to Mary and kept walking, the rocks on the bottom cutting
into his bare feet.

When he was nearly waist-deep, he turned into the current, bent his
knees and submerged Mary up to her shoulders in the water.

Her eyes flew open, and she screamed against the cold that sent great
racking shivers through her body.

Alex tightened his grip, refusing to let her pull away from him.

The fur robe, saturated with water, became too heavy and he let it sink
away, holding her naked body against his.

"It's all right, Irish.  Trust me.  I've got to get your fever down.

This is the only way."

He kept talking, not entirely sure what he was saying, only hoping that
she'd understand.

She tossed her head and clawed at his shoulders, but even that was a
weak effort that didn't do much more than make him tighten his grip.

And he just kept talking, soothing, reassuring her and himself that he
was doing the right thing, the only thing.

It was pure torture standing there, holding her slender body against
his while she cried.

It was worse when she stopped crying, stopped clawing, stopped berating
him.

His muscles cramped against the cold yet he continued to stand there,
refusing to relinquish his woman to the river serpent or to death.

He kept whispering to her, encouraging her, telling her she'd -be all
right, hoping she'd believe him.

Wanting to believe it himself.

He didn't really know how long he stood there, but suddenly there were
people around him in the water.

His cousin Gray Dog was beside him, offering to take her from his
cramped arms.

Alex refused.

Others were gathered on the riverbank not knowing what was wrong, only
knowing they would help.

They were all family, his family.

"Come."

Alex heard the voice of Three Trees, the medicine man.

He was standing in the water next to Alex.

With a gentle smile on his weathered face, he touched Mary's
forehead.

"Come," he encouraged.

"It is time."

For a long moment Alex didn't move.

He forced his eyes to focus on those around him and the words
penetrated his brain.

"We must go to the lodge now," Three Trees encouraged.

"It is enough."

Alex didn't speak, he couldn't seem to find the words, so he turned and
walked out of the water, knowing somehow he had defeated death and, in
so doing, made her his forever.

On the bank, women rushed forward carrying blankets and fur robes.

Then Alex did let Gray Dog take Mary from him, but only until she was
wrapped in several blankets and Alex had dried himself.

Alex was nearly frozen with the cold.

His muscles, deprived of warmth, cramped as he moved.

Still he would let no one carry her but him.

With the others following, he started back to his lodge with Mary
wrapped warm and safe in his arms.

As long as he held her, she was his.

Alex settled her on the fur pallet.

Three Trees and his cousin and his cousin's wife, Yellow Flower, helped
him.

Alex circled like a dark angel while they dried her hair and skin and
covered her in warm fur.

They fueled the fire, made more tea, this time from the ise' that Three
Trees had given Mary.

"The sacred powers are offended," he told Alex.

"We must restore the harmony for the woman to be well again."

The medicine man, well past sixty, stood tall and straight, the muscles
of his bare chest still clearly defined.

Alex had actually thought to send to Butte for a doctor, perhaps even
to attempt to take her to Butte.

There was no time for either.

Dread, awful gut-tightening fear, gnawed at him.

Since he'd carried her back from the river she hadn't spoken.

She was white as winter snow and just as still, and he was fighting the
urge to rage at the spirits for doing this to her.

Didn't they know she'd suffered enough?

Will she live?

" he asked in a voice that was low and barely audible.  Those present
knew that tone, knew that ominous look in his eyes.

"If the spirits will it," Three Trees answered.

Alex was less than satisfied with his fatalistic response.

He paced away and back.

"She must live.  No matter what the sacrifice, the woman must live."

Those present were startled.

Not that Alex wanted her to live; that was only human.

No, they were startled by his vehement tone, his barely controlled
rage.

The woman must be worth many horses.

Yellow Flower brought food, roast venison and wild berries.

Alex took the offered food out of courtesy, but he had no appetite.

After a few bites, he set the meat aside.

They sat up all night.

Three Trees sang the physician's song and incense was burned to call on
the spirits to heal Mary.

Alex sat beside her, holding her small hand.

He watched those around him carefully, questioning each dose of herbal
medicine, each sip of water.

Was the lodge too hot, too cold?

Like a dark spirit, he watched and waited.

A few hours before dawn, Mary rolled over in her sleep.

It was ordinary act, except that Mary hadn't moved since they'd brought
her back from the river.

Everyone in the lodge breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Three Trees checked her temperature with the back of his weathered
hand, touching her cheek and forehead and bare shoulder.

A smile cracked his wrinkled face.

"She will sleep now.  The spirits are pleased."

Around him the others quietly slipped out, returning to their own
lodges.

Alex dragged in a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Thank you," he breathed to the spirits.

To be on the safe side, however, he sat by her side all night, gently
holding her hand, feeling the subtle movements of her fingers as she
slept.

"Rest easy, Irish.  I will keep you safe."

Chapter Tweive Outside the lodge, the distant barking of a camp dog was
a call to rise.

Not that anyone needed to be roused.

Alex knew the women were already up and about; the muffled voices, the
occasional laughter confirmed that.

The woman he cared about, the one he'd sat up with all night, was
resting peacefully.

A couple of times during the long ordeal she had stirred and asked for
water, which he'd gladly brought her.

He would have hauled the moon down from the sky if she'd asked.

As it was, the river and the medicine of Three Trees had worked their
magic.

Her fever was down and he knew she'd be all right.

The scent of sage and burned sweet grasses fingered in the air.

Sitting cross-leggfd on the buffalo robe, Alex was content simply to
observe Mary.

Her finely arched brows were drawn down in a ghost of a frown, her lips
were parted in a seductive pout and her hair was a mass of black-satin
curls that spilled around her delicate face and covered her bare
shoulders.

She was beautiful beyond words.

More than that, he saw her-perhaps for the first time-not as the
stubborn firebrand, not as the adversary, but as the woman.

One who'd been forced to grow up fast, educate herself and struggle to
keep food on the table and a roof over her head.

That didn't set well with him.

So young and so much responsibility.

He'd been in a mining camp or two-tents Mostly, no running water, no
sanitation, rampant disease.

The ones he'd seen would have to come up a notch to qualify as a
slum.

The irony was that Alex Moreau, the half-breed, hadn't had to worry
about any of those things.

His father's trading business had grown into a store, then a bank.

Because of his success, his father always was a soft touch for every
hard luck story to come down the road.

What goes around comes around, he used to say, and Alex guessed he was
right, because when his father died, so many people showed up for the
funeral there wasn't room in the church.

People stood in the pouring rain in the churchyard waiting to pay their
respects, and each had a story of how Jacques Moreau had helped him.

Alex had always loved his father but that day he was also filled with
immeasurable pride.

He'd also pledged to continue his father's philosophy, and, lo and
behold, revenues were up, doubled in fact, over the last eight years.

But also, like his father, he hadn't done all this work for himself.

No, the bank and the hotel he'd bought last year, those were for his
children, not that he'd ever said that to anyone.

Mainly because children, like marriage, were something he wasn't ready
for-before now .

Instinctively, his gaze was drawn to Mary.

The thought curled pleasantly around him like a warm blanket on a cold
night.

"Darlin' Clang," he.

murmured, brushing the hair back at from her temple with the tips of
two fingers, grateful that her skin was cooler.

She stirred at his touch.

I 'Alex.

" It was a sleepy murmur, natural, familiar, making him smile.

"It's all right.  Go back to sleep.  I'm here."

"Hmm," she murmured trustingly-never opening her eyes-as she curled
deeper under the furs.

If only she could trust him as easily when she was awake.

As he watched her he wondered what it would be like to wake with her
each morning.

Would she curl lazily against race and him, warm and naked, while he
held her in his emb kissed her awake?

He'd like that, like that a lot.

A feeling came over him slowly and, like the rising of the morning sun,
light slipped into all the dark corners of his soul until no place was
left cold and dark.

Being with her did that.

Because of that, another new emotion, fear, circled in his mind like a
hungry predator.

He stilled as his muscles tensed along his spine and shoulders.

Last night he'd almost lost her.

He could have lost her in the storm.

Hell, he'd let her walk out of his life in Washington.

A man only gets so many chances and he was well over his limit.

Certain facts were unequivocal.

He was in love, hopelessly, helplessly in love.

It was time to start fighting for the woman the way he fought for
everything that was important to him.

What he wanted was a way out of this damned mess.

A way to love Mary Elizabeth Clang and have her love him in return.

It was risky as hell.

It was more than he'd ever thought to risk again in this lifetime.

He knew full well the pain of rejection and it was something he never
wanted to go through again.

But the lady had gotten past all his defenses and no logic, no
reasoning seemed to help.

If you want her then you're going to have to fight for her.

A plan was required.

Step one was to keep her here, to find a way around that promise to
take her home.

Okay, he'd think of something.

Next was to find a way past all the hurt and betrayal she felt.

If she was here, she'd have a chance to get to know him and his
people.

She'd see that he was not always ruthless.

She'd understand why his action was so important and she'd forgive
him.

He almost laughed out loud at that one.

Why was it that the most difficult things to accomplish sounded the
simplest?

Well, are you fighting or not?

Damn right!

Once she forgave him, it would be an equally simple matter to show her
that he truly loved her and wanted to care for her.

And she would believe him.

His head dropped down to his bare chest.

Eyes closed, he spoke to the spirits.

"You got me into this," he said with a wistful smile.

"Now help me."

He was going to make this work.

Coming to his feet, he soundlessly yawned then stretched, an arms-wide,
all-over stretch that flexed stiff muscles from his waist to his
shoulders.

Then he raked his hands through his hair.

He needed to take care of a couple of things, getting some food, for
one.

Since he hadn't had time to hunt, he would have to impose on Gray
Dog.

More important was paying a courtesy call on Pretty Eagle, one of the
tribe's leaders.

Taking care of both those things early would mean he was free to spend
the rest of his time with Mary.

And spending time with Mary was the most important thing on his
agenda.

Okay, he was motivated.

It took only a minute to retrieve his buckskin leggings from the
leather storage pouch.

He tied them at the hip under his breechcloth and slipped his feet into
comfortable moccasins, that were beaded green and blue along the
tops.

There was no mirror but he didn.

t really need one to make a small braid on the right side of,his
shoulder-lengtlx hair.

He added a single white feather, dotted with black.

It was part of his medicine and he wouldn't feel complete without it.

When he was in the East, he carried it in his breast pocket along with
his eagle-claw necklace in a small leather pouch.

He slipped the rawhide strip over his head, the eagle claw resting
comfortably near his heart.

He chuckled to himself.

Wouldn't Washington society be surprised to see him now?

Half of them probably didn't realize he was a half-breed.

Right now, he didn't feel half anything.

He felt one hundred percent Absarokee.

Changing clothes was merely a symbol.

What it really was was a change in attitude.

When

175 he was here he was part of the people, he felt connected.

When he was in Butte or in Washington or anyplace in the white man's
world, he felt tolerated.

Money was what made the difference to the white man, not honor.

Shaking his head, he slipped a couple of silver bracelets on his right
wrist, crossed the four steps to the door and ducked outside.

The sun was working its way higher in the clear blue sky.

Must be about six, he thought.

Fortunately, the people didn't worry about the time of day.

Time, as with all things, was measured in fours-day, night, moon and
year.

That was as exact as was necessary.

And now that he was here, he didn't plan to keep track of anything more
than day and night.

Quietly he said, "Thank you, bd' kukurg.  Thank you for bringing me
home again and thank you for sparing my woman."

My woman.

He glanced back at the lodge then smiled.

"My woman," he repeated out loud.

A man, this man, could get to like the sound of that.

She's not yours yet.

But she will be, he confirmed.

Oh sure, and while you're at it, why not figure out how to move
mountains?

Dammit, maybe he would.

He'd been going against the odds all his life, and now it really
counted.

Anyway, he'd make that courtesy call one of the fastest in history and
get back here before she woke.

Just in case he miscalculated, a little help was in order.

The solution presented itself in the form of Never Walks, his
ten-year-old aptly named cousin, son of Gray Dog, who was
enthusiastically involved in a game of mock hunting with five other
boys.

"Never Walks, come here," he called in the language of his people.

The lad eagerly obeyed.

After all, Alex was one of honor among his people.

He'd stolen horses and snatched an enemy's weapon, two of the four
marks of a great warrior.

The boy skidded to a halt, kicking up a small dust cloud in the
process.

His black eyes were wide with anticipation, and the expression on his
youthful face was solemn.

"I have a mission for you."

"For me?"

There was the unmistakable tone of awe in the boy's voice.

"You are to stay here."

Alex pointed to a spot near the doorway.

The boy nodded with great seriousness.

"No one is to enter."."  The boy shook his head."  If there is any
sound from inside, if the woman calls, you are to run to me like your
feet have wings.

I'm going to pay my respects to Pretty Eagle.

"You do me great honor, Biia Cheote," he said firmly and with enough
volume that the other boys standing nearby could hear.

"You are to be my wolf, my scout," Alex added, also loud enough for the
others to hear.

Never Walk's black eyes lighted up with excitement.

"With my life I will do as you ask.  The woman of Snow Wolf will be
safe with me."

Folding his small arms across his bare chest, he forced the expression
on his cherublike face into a frown that wouldn't frighten a -puppy,
but Alex wisely refrained from saying so.

He knew he could count on Never Walks to keep a watchful eye and that
was all he wanted.

"I will return quickly."@ With that Alex trotted off in the direction
of Pretty Eagle's lodge about a quarter of a mile away.  The summer
grass cushioned his steps, though he could feel small twigs and pebbles
through the thin soles of his moccasins.  The day was bright and clear,
the sky an azure blue, and there was just enough breeze to cool the
skin.

It was the same place the tribe had camped since Alex had been a boy,
coming to the summer camp with his parents.

He cut between two lodges, their bottom edges rolled up to let the
summer breeze in.

Sidestepping, he avoided a spotted dog that tried to nip at his heels
as a way of proclaiming that Alex had trespassed.

He laughed.

It felt good to be here, to be outside, to be moving.

It felt familiar, comfortable.

Home.

Some would say it was crazy to think of a buffalo skin lodge on the
barren plains as home, especially when there was that big house in
Butte, complete with cook and maid.

But the house in Butte was just that-a house.

He spent winters there, conducted business from there.

Home was where the soul was at peace, and that was here.

Pretty Eagle's lodge came into view and he increased his pace.

His leg muscles warmed and stretched with the movement, his heart rate
increased fractionally, his lungs sucked in the cool air and energy
surged inside him.

Up ahead was the lodge he sought; beyond, the open plains called to him
-freedom.

He was tempted to go, to run and run and run, like the wolves of his
name.

Out there was freedom, no restrictions, no obligations, no one but
himself and .

He stopped short.

Energy continued to surge in his body.

The breeze ruffled his hair and he twisted his head to move the hair
out of his eyes.

When his vision cleared he realized one more thing.

Out there he was alone, and he didn't want to be alone- not anymore.

, He glanced at Pretty Eagle's lodge, then back in the direction he'd
come.

There was a lodge back there sheltering his woman, and that was where
he wanted to be.

Glancing at Pretty Eagle's lodge once more, he stepped up to the closed
flap.

This was going to be the shortest courtesy call in history.

"Dee-ko-tali, " he called politely as was customary, halfway hoping no
one was at home.

If the occupants wished company they would respond, otherwise the
visitor would leave with no hard feelings.

"Kahe, " a male voice he recognized as Pretty Eagle's called back.

So much for that hope.

Shoving aside the flap, Alex ducked inside.

The interior was dappled in sunlight and shadow.

Buffalo hides covered the floor and stacks of wolf and bear pelts lined
the perimeter.

The lining was decorated with drawings of Pretty Eagle's exploits,
which were many and valiant.

Pretty Eagle's wife and sister-in-law stopped talking at Alex's
arrival.

He nodded to them before crossing to join the men who sat in a circle
near the back of the lodge.

"Biia Cheote, " Pretty Eagle greeted him in the language of the Crow.

"You are returned and I am glad."

Alex smiled at the warm greeting.

"I'm glad to be back."

The language of his childhood came easily to him.

"It seems each year the time away gets longer and the time here gets
shorter."

"Medicine Crow."

Alex acknowledged one of the tribe's greatest warriors, then dropped
down to sit cross-legged with the others.

"Plenty Coups," he said by way of acknowledgment to the man seated next
to him.

None of the men were more than a few years older than him, yet by
action and wisdom had come to lead their tribe.

A pipe was produced and each of the four men smoked, lifting the pipe
in the four directions as he did.

Glancing at the illustrious group gathered, he asked, "Is there some
problem that brings our people's leaders together

A frown marred Medicine Crow's extraordinarily handsome face.

"The Blackfeet and Viigans have been'taking buffalo nearby.  There @
some who feel we should drive them off."

"Ah yes, the young men are always eager to prove themselves," Alex
commented thoughtfully, suspecting it was Red Weasel who was stirring
things up.

While he couldn't blame the man for being protective, Alex knew the
danger of raids.

Pretty Eagle seemed to sense Alex's thoughts.

"There was a time when no one would have dared enter the Absarokee
land, but the buffalo are few now, and those which remain are here."

He stared at some unknown spot on the far side of the lodge, obviously
lost in thought.

"And that is why we must protect what is ours," Plenty Coups
interjected.

"Even the Bloods come down from the north to steal from us."

Caution tinged Medicine Crow's deep voice.

"It is a difficult decision.  We are smaller now than before the white
man brought us the spots that killed."

Alex knew he was referring to the smallpox epidemic of the 1840s that
killed nearly six thousand members of the tribe.

Plenty Coups's hand curled into a white-knuckled fist at the
reminder.

"We can put close to one thousand warriors in the field," he countered
proudly.

"Do we want to risk our young men?"

Plenty Coups made a derisive sound in the back of his throat.

"If we do not fight for what is ours, next year there will be more
buffalo stolen and the year after more still, until all know that the
Absarokee are weak like women and will not defend what is theirs."

There was truth in his words-.

- All the men fell silent.

Finally, Pretty Eagle spoke.

"I suggest we do not make this decision now.  There is time."

Alex shifted uncomfortably, glad this decision was not his.

In truth it did not belong to these men, either; they could suggest,
state their own determination, but each member of the tribe was free to
make his or her own choice in this as with all things.

The Crow were truly an egalitarian society.

The uncomfortable silence stretched on for a full minute until Medicine
Crow turned to Alex and said, "What of things in Washington?

We heard there was some trouble."

Alex looked up, startled.

"You know about the move to break the treaty?"

"Agent Keller told us there was such a thing," Pretty Eagle
confirmed.

Bracing his hands on his buckskin-covered thighs, Alex told them,
"There was a fight.  It seems there are those who wish a railroad to
cross our land."

There was no need to mention Mary's involvement.

' 'Why is it the whites always take?

" Plenty Coups asked to no one in particular."  Once the Absarokee land
took many days to ride across.

It was as big as what the white man calls Montana.

Each time the white government takes a little more-" he paused and
gestured, holding his forefinger and thumb together " -then a little
more, then a little more.

How much is enough?

A frown knit Pretty Eagle's brow.

"The Great Father promised at Fort Laramie that this would be ours."

Plenty Coups shook his head, his black eyes sparking with anger.

"The whites have our mother earth with holes for gold and silver and
iron rails slash like a knife across the plains.  They do not see the
earth is our sacred mother."

"We must learn to live with the white man," Medicine Crow said
reflectively.

"Perhaps.  But this time at least," Alex was pleased to say, we are
victorious.

The trea stands.

All present murmured their congratulations.

"The people are fortunate you were educated in the ways of the whites,"
Medicine Crow added.

Suddenly all those years at school were worth every lonely hour.

"I'm only doing what needs to be done.  And in fairness, not all white
men think like the government.  There are people, churches, other
organizations, even some newspapers that support the Indian cause."

Plenty Coups's eyes widened with surprise.

"It is good.

But do these people who would help us have the ear of the Great
Father?

Alex shook his head.

"This support is new and small."

Much as he wished it were otherwise.

"Most people are too busy with their own lives to be concerned with the
problems of strangers."

"There is no wrong with a man caring for his family first."

Medicine Crow seemed far away for a moment, then nodded gravely.

"Perhaps the railroad is destined to be.

Many years ago, as I fasted in the Big horn Mountains, I saw in a
vision something black with round legs, puffing smoke and pulling
boxlike objects behind it, coming down the Valley of the Chieftains.

A chill moved through Alex's body, for everyone knew that Medicine Crow
was a visionary and surely what he was describing was a railroad.

"Are you saying the railroad will come no matter what we do?"

Disbelief colored his tone.

He'd just pulled out all the stops in Washington to keep that very
thing from happening- and had won.

"I am saying that sometimes these things are out of our control no
matter what we want.  The plans of the spirits are not always obvious
to us."

"The spirits can surprise a man," Alex returned.

They sure had astonished the bell out of him.

"But surprises are merely challenges."

Normally he liked challenges and faced them head-on.

This time, thinking of a certain Irish miss with a stubborn streak a
mile wide, well, maybe he'd take the path of least resistance.

"Perhaps it is your destiny to change the future."

"Perhaps it is."

Medicine Crow's face lighted up with a smile at Alex's confidence.

"Enough talk of futures and fates.  What of you?  And what of the woman
you brought with you?  Is she well?"

"The woman, Mary, is better."

He made a mental note to give Three Trees two horses for his help.

It was an extravagant gift to be sure, but where Mary was concerned he
felt extravagant-in a great many ways.

An inquisitive smile turned up one corner of Medicine Crow's mouth.

"And the woman... is she Snow Wolf's woman?"

The Crow's rules on lovers and wives were liberal by the white man's
standard, allowing men and women the freedom to take a lover.

Mary was not his lover, not yet, but she also was not available.

Alex had seen the way some of the young men had admired her openly.

There'd be no men offering horses and playing flutes outside his
lodge.

An unfamiliar possessiveness welled up in him and he said simply, "She
is buah, wife."

Three faces mirrored surprise.

"There are those," Medicine Crow said quietly into the uneasy silence,
"who will be saddened to know that Snow Wolf has taken a wife."

"Then they- " Alex emphasized the last word knowing his friend was
referring to Many Blue Beads, who had been his lover at the last summer
encampment "-will have to accept my decision."  An uncomfortable
silence hung in the air.  Politeness prevented them from asking more
questions about Mary, about him taking a white woman as his wife.  Alex
wasn't the first to take a white person as a mate.  Hell, his father
was white and his parents had been the most happily married people he'd
ever known.

He wanted that kind of relationship and, honestly, he'd never thought
to find it, until now.

A restlessness moved.

through him.

It was Mary who made-him restless, made him want to see her, be with
her, touch her, hold her.

Shifting, he was already eyeing,the doorway.

Just-a.

couple of more things and he was on his way.

"The contract with the army is signed.  The first horse delivery is in
the'fall.

The money is better than last year so we'll be able to buy more
supplies for the winter, blankets, food and extra guns and
ammunition.

All the men smiled at once.

"It is good to play this joke on the white man.  He does not know that
it is us that he buys the horses from.  It is even better when the
horses are the ones we steal from the Sioux when we raid into the north
country."

Chuckling, Alex gave them the details.

The conversation drifted to general topics and Alex stood to leave.

"What of the hunt?"  he asked, looking down at those gathered.

"Two days."

Pretty Eagle glanced up at him.

"You will ride with us?"

"I'll be there."

After a few more words, he departed.

It was late, well, not late, but thirty minutes can seem like a
lifetime when you have other things on your mind.

Stretching his stride into a steady lope, he cut through the camp and
headed straight for Gray Dog's lodge.

He would impose on his cousin's wife for some food both for himself and
Mary.

Alex shifted anxiously from one foot to the other.

He'd been waiting in Gray Dog's lodge for a full five minutes
already.

Wouldn't Yellow Flower stop talking long enough to ladle up some
venison stew?

"I will call on Snow Wolf's woman," she said with one of those
I'll-tell-her-everything-guaranteed-to-embarrassyou smiles.

"No.  Better you come for the evening meal."

"Yes, Yellow Flower.  As soon as we can."

Women.

He shook his head.

The second she'd turned with the platter, he practically snatched it
out of her hand and headed for home.

About the time his lodge came into sight, so did Never Walks, running
as if the Seventh Cavalry were on his heels.

The boy slammed into Alex's legs so hard he had to juggle the steaming
food to keep it from spilling all over the boy.

'Whoa.

"It's the woman," the boy told him breathlessly as he pointed his small
hand toward the lodge.

"I heard her speak.  '01 X she said."

His youthful face drew up in a questioning frown.

Alex didn't wait to answer.

The platter forgotten in his hand, he took off at a run and, without
pausing, ducked inside the lodge, the boy hot on his heels.

He blinked twice as it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the
dimmer light.

That's when he saw her clutching the white rabbit skin robe.

She stood, tall and slender, near the empty fire pit, illuminated by
the sunlight filtering through the open smoke hole at the top of the
lodge.

His eyes never left her as he patted Never Walks on the shoulder.

"It's all right," he said quietly.

He felt the boy step back, then heard the gentle swoosh as the deerskin
flap fell back into place.

Alex wasn't thinking about the boy or food or anything else.

He wasn't thinking at all.

The lady was a vision in white, a spirit come to life.

The air rushed out of his lungs.

How could one woman be so beautiful?

How could a woman affect him so?

Quite simply, she took his breath away, always had.

Her hair was wild and free, a mass of ringlets that cascaded down her
back like a storm-tossed waterfall.

The fur draped around her like a regal cloak, swirling around her
feet.

Alex knew that she was naked beneath the robe.

A quick glance at the clothes stacked by the door had told him that.

Blood heated and rushed through his veins.

This was crazy.

The woman was recovering from an illness; she was weak, she was
vulnerable.

She was breathtakingly beautiful.

His senses sprang to life with memories of her exquisite body in his
arms, her long legs pale against his darker flesh.

Like sunlight and shadow, they merged together in his mind.

She was evidently lost in her own thoughts because.

she didn't look up.

He wondered what she was thinking?

Was she hating him for bringing her here?

"Irish."

At the sound, her head came up but she didn't look at him.

The air became charged, ripe with anticipation.

He took a predatory step in her direction.

Mary chose that precise moment to turn toward him.

Her hair slid over her shoulder and down across her breast, hidden
beneath that damned robe, and he thought maybe he would throw the fur
out, throw out all the robes and clothes and .

"Alex?"

Mary stared, trying to confirm that the magnificent warrior standing
five feet away was the same man she'd known in the elegant parlors of
Georgetown.

He was lean and bronze.

The wejl-sculpted muscles of his bare chest were marred only by several
small white scars, and his legs were encased in beaded buckskin.

A matching breechcloth hung to midcalf.

For all the world he looked the warrior and very much at home in these
exotic surroundings.

"Yes, Clang."

His rich, smooth voice soothed her.

He stepped toward her, his moccasin-clad footfalls silent on the
buffalo hide floor.

"You shouldn't be up.  You're too weak."

"And you are-" Even more handsome, more enticing than Satan himself,
she thought over the sudden thunder of her pounding heart.

Her fingers trembled and she told herself the sudden shiver that passed
through her was from the fever, not his presence.

Her voice sounded small and wobbly as she managed to say, "May I have
some water?"

His smile was immediate and devastating to her frayed nerves.

She watched him put the bone platter down near the empty fire pit, then
turn and walk over to the buffalo paunch filled with water.

Mary stood where she was.

She wanted to be angry, she wanted to hate him.

Oh, not for saving her life.

For that she was eternally grateful.

No, she wanted to hate him for winning, for kidnapping her, for almost
making love to her, even for being so damned charming and handsome and
for causing her knees to liquefy when he looked at her and.

Oh God, it was all she could do not to throw herself in his arms.

"Here," he said, and she jumped, not realizing he'd returned.

Reaching out from the robe, she took the offered cup and drained the
contents, peering at Alex over the rim and wishing like crazy he
wouldn't stand so close.

"You were very ill."

His voice was like a warm summer caress that soothed and excited her
all at once.

He took the empty cup and tossed it casually aside.

"I'm sorry I was so much trouble."

She looked at him with luminous sapphire eyes.

"You were no trouble."

There was going to be a whole lot of trouble if she kept looking at him
like that.

"You are feeling better, though, aren't you?"

'Yes.

"Then you won't mind if I just make sure."

Although his words were innocent, his tone was not and he closed the
last step between them.

Alarms went off inside her.

She tried to move but the damned robe was tangled around her legs,
cutting off any retreat.

"You can't," she managed to say as his dark head dipped gracefully
toward hers.

The unique musky scent of him filled her nostrils as he took her
shoulders firmly in his hands.

"I have to," was his husky reply.

Their lips touched, and hers parted in a tantalizing invitation that
sent his heart rate soaring.

His tongue slipped inside her mouth, laving at the delicate flesh, and
as she swayed into him, a small moan escaped from herthroat.

Maybe it was the sound or the way his hands tightened painfully on her
shoulders, but reality fluttered in Mary's brain and, with more
strength than she had ever possessed, she tore her mouth from his.

Breathless and still clutching the robe, she tried to back away.

She wobbled; the world seemed a little fuzzy.

Instantly, Alex was there, pulling her back into his embrace.

Mary stood quietly, her head on her bare chest, his cheek resting on
the top of her head.

She shouldn't do this, shouldn't be here, shouldn't want him.

And she did want him, more than the night of the storm.

Dear God, what was happening to her?

She filled her lungs with air, fresh and strong with the scent of
sage.

Alex spoke first.

"You scared the living hell out of me, you know."

When she didn't answer he put her slightly away from him.

"Honey?"

His dark brows drew together.

"You are all right, aren't you?"

Perspiration beaded on her forehead and he felt her tremble in his
arms.

"I wish you'd stop asking me that.  I'm fine," she lied, feeling a
sudden wave of dizziness wash over her.

' 'Yes, sure.

That's why you're shaking like a willow in the wind.

Come on, let's get you back to bed.

She eyed the soft fur pallet and the heart-stoppingly handsome man who
was setting her nerves on edge.

Better not tempt fate.

"I'm all right.  A little shaky, but fine."

If she said it often enough, maybe it would be true.

If he heard her he didn't show it.

"No more being stubborn.  I'm putting you back to bed, that's an
order.

Now give me the robe and we'll..."

He reached to take it and her grip got white-knuckle tight.

"I'm naked under here!"

"Yes, I'm well aware of that," he teased, his devil black eyes
dancing.

"You're also weak as a kitten and you know it, so come on then and I'll
bring you some nice venison stew."  ) " I don't want any stew and I
don't want to go back to bed.

" The world tilted on its axis and she blinked twice trying to make it
right itself.  No luck.  If she thought her legs would work she'd run
for the doorway.  What she needed right now was to get as far away from
Alex Moreau as possible.

"Honey, if you don't give me that robe I'll be forced to take drastic
action."

"The only drastic action I want is for you to take me home like you
promised."

So much for hoping she'd stay on her own.

It was time for plan B.

"And I would take you home except you're in no condition to travel."

The dull ache behind her eyes confirmed the truth of his statement.

She wouldn't last a mile on horseback.

She felt as if she could sleep for a month.

Alex tugged on the fur robe.

She shot him a cold look.

" I can't sleep in nothing."

"You already did," he replied with a chuckle.

4 'You're enjoying this, aren't you?

" she snapped.

"You being sick?  No, honey, I didn't enjoy that at all," he said with
great seriousness.

"But the idea of keeping you in bed for another day or so, well, it
does have a certain appeal."

His mouth turned up in that lazy smile of his that made her go all
goose-bumpy.

"Well, think again, Mr.  Moreau."

She started for her clothes, taking tiny steps to avoid tripping.

About that time the damed dizziness struck again and she naturally
grabbed his arm for support.

"That's it, Irish.  This time I'm getting my way."

With that he scooped her up and deposited her back on the fur pallet,
letting her keep the robe and covering her with a blanket.

"If I weren't so weak, I'd give you holy hell for doing this."

"I know, honey.  I know."

He tucked the fur blanket around her shoulders.

"I'm a vile, sorry excuse for a man.

I remember that from the train, and after you're feeling stronger, you
can rant and rave at me all you want.

, Right now, I want you to go to sleep and when you wake up you'll feel
better.

She shoved the tangled mat of fiair back out of her face and her lips
thinned to a tight line that didn't seem to intimidate him in the
slightest.

"Go on," he admonished.

"I'm staying right here."

The fur felt so soft and warm and comfortable and she had to admit,
only to herself of course, that she was tired.

Fevers have a way of doing that.

Over the next twenty-four hours, she dozed a lot-until she wasn't sure
whether it was day or night.

All she knew was that every time she woke, he was there, hovering like
a guardian angel.

Only this guardian angel bore no resemblance to the ones in
storybooks.

No this one was hand some and exotic and tempting.

This one was make-youwant-to-cry gentle.

And she did want to cry, because she wanted him so much and she knew to
surrender to him would mean turning her back on her promise to her
father and their beloved friends.

So she tried to stay angry, to remember that they were enemies, that
he'd kidnapped her.

Just about the time she'd get all @ up, he would bring her tea or
broth, or just sit there and smile at her or tell her stories about
mythical characters like Old Man Coyote.

The stories made her laugh, which was a mistake, because then he'd
smile.

And, oh Lord, that smile of his made her go all soft inside like warm
strawberry preserves.

When the world started to close in, she told him she was well enough to
get up.

He disagreed.

She insisted.

They compromised, and he allowed her to sit up with the aid of a willow
backrest.

She felt grimy, achy and weak as a newborn.

She was grateful to be alive and she knew she owed it to Alex, who was
looking a little ragged around the edges himself.

The man was wonderful-endlessly wonderful.

She felt pampered and cared for.

No one had ever done that for her before.

She owed him for that and a lot more.

Shifting to a more comfortable position against the backrest, she
tucked the blanket securely under her arms and said, "Thank you, Alex,
for everything."

He was hunkered down near the fire pit, his back to her when she
spoke.

He didn't turn, only looked at her over his right shoulder.

"My distinct pleasure."

He smiled, and she could see amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

He tossed another couple of branches on the fire, and the flames leapt
and crackled.

Then he rose and walked the two steps over to her.

For a long moment he just stood there, tall and powerful, silhouetted
in the firelight.

His face was cast in shadow but she could see his hands; silver
bracelets gleamed on one wrist, his long graceful fingers brushed his
buckskin-clad thighs.

She remembered those fingers touching her, holding her intimately.

She shut her eyes as if to block the man and the memories from her
mind.

"You saved my life, Alex," she said when she was sure her voice would
work.

He dropped down beside her, his knees pressed against her hip, covered
by the fur throw.

He was so damed close.

She thought perhaps a woman could willingly drown in the depths of his
eyes.

"I don't know how I can ever repay you.") Soft as the petals on a rose,
he said, " Stay with me.

"What?"

"Stay with me," he repeated slowly, and tucked a raven black curl
behind her left ear.

"No," she murmured on a suddenly expelled breath.

But the invitation was as tempting as the man who'd made it, and desire
flared to life inside her, setting her nerves on edge, making her
fingers tremble.

"I can't.  We... I can't.

You know that.

He seemed to consider this for a moment then said "You owe me,
remember?"

Mary stilled.

Her eyes searched his face.

"Alex, I am grateful.  What you're'asking-" "I'm asking you to
staylwith me'."

He brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

"Until you're stronger."

.

At his delicious touch, her eyes fluttered closed and she turned her
face more fully into his hand, knowing she couldn't have him, yet
unable to give him up.

"I'm asking you to let me show you my world."

Lifting her hand, he kissed her wrist and then her palm and then the
tips of each finger.

All the while his gaze never left hers.

He wasn't playing fair and he knew it.

He didn't care.

He was feeling absurdly possessive.

He wanted what he wanted, and right now he wanted Mary Clang.

"Say yes, Clang."

The invitation was temptation itself, and if she hadn't been a
practical person, if she'd been a person given to flights of fancy, she
might have said yes.

"Are you asking me to be your mistress, because-" "No.  I'm asking you
to stay."

Then he nibbled on her palm in a way that contradicted his words.

"You can name the terms."

"But... People, your friends..."

"This is not your world.  It's mine.  There is no one here to pass
judgment on you.  We have different rules about men and women and ...

love.  Stay and I'll promise-" he took her thumb in his mouth and
gently sucked on the end in a provocative gesture that her mind didn't
understand but her body certainly did "-to be good."

If he got any better she'd liquefy like butter in the sunlight.

She shook her head, not trusting her voice.

The man was wreaking havoc on her senses and he hadn't even done
anything.

Well, almost nothing.

Well .

This was hopeless.

"Three days," he prompted on a breathy whisper.

"By then you'll be recovered and I'll take you... anywhere."

Never mind that being alone with him set her nerves deliciously on fire
and made her heart take on a frantic rhythm more suited to someone
about to go over a waterfall.

Never mind that he was making love to her in ways so subtle and sensual
it was impossible to refuse.

He saved your life and you do owe him.

Her conscience was nothing if not convenient.

Being here was like being in another world, where time and rules and
obligations didn't exist.

He was right about her not being fully recovered, and since she hadn't
wired of her arrival, no one knew she was on her way home.

And you do owe him.

"For three days."

A lifetime of setting limits was difficult to overcome.

"To see your world.  But you sleep over there, and I'll sleep over
here.  Agreed?"

"Agreed."

She hadn't said he had to stay "over there."

"Thank you, darling' Clang.  It'll be three days you'll never
forget."

His eyes were softer than fire-warmed velvet.

He whispered something in his native language then kissed the palm of
her hand lightly, like the brushing of butterfly wings.

"And now, what would you like?  Anything... anything Chapter Thirteen
at all," Alex told her, happier than he thought one man could be.

"Well, Mr.  Moreau," she replied, matching his buoyant mood.

"I think I'd like a bath if that's possible."

"For you, Irish, anything."

And for the second time in three days he realized he meant just that.

He stood, and when she didn't move, he held out a hand.

"If you want that bath..."  he prompted, wiggling his index finger in
her direction.

"Unless you'd like something to eat."

He nodded toward the platter of stew he'd put down near the fire pit.

"It smells delicious, but..."

Her stomach did a funny flipflop at the thought of serious food.

"Bath first, I think."

4 'I-et's go then.

A quick glance around the tipi confirmed there was no bathtub or
anything remotely similar.

"Just where is this bath you so graciously offered?"

"The river, of course."

"The river?"

She shivered at the memory.

"Never mind."

Her hold on the robe got death-grip tight.

It was warm and soft and she didn't need a bath that badly after all.

"No thank you, I remember that river quite well.  Just give me a little
water in a dish or something and I can wash up."

"Now, honey."

His tone was irritatingly patient.

"Everyone bathes in the river.  I know a nice sunny spot-" "How come
you didn't find a sunny spot two nights ago?"

His mouth drew down in a hard line, his eyes dark like obsidian.

"That night was ... hell."

She was startled by the intensity in his tone.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply..."

"Just promise?"  he returned, his dark mood disappearing as quickly as
it had come.

"Promise you'll never scare me like that again?"

"Promise," she agreed, her smile radiant, feeling joyful at the man and
this brief time they would be together.

"Now, about that sunny spot..."

"You're sure it'll be sunny and warm?  Warm is important."

"Honey, trust me, one way or another, you'll be warm."

He wiggled his index finger in her direction again.

"Okay."

She let him help her to her feet.

"I'm trusting you on this."

"I won't fail you."

She believed him, about the bath and everything else.

She had to.

Two steps and she realized she was still traipsing around like the
Queen of the Nile and the thought of walking through the camp like this
was disconcerting.

"If you'll give me a minute," she said as she spotted her clothes
neatly stacked by the doorway, "I'll get dressed and we'll go."

She couldn't help curling her nose a bit at the thought of putting
those clothes back on.

They were dusty and sweaty, no doubt about that, what with days on the
trail and then the fever.

"What about washing clothes?"

She talked as she rummaged around and found her pantalets and camisole
buried beneath her skirt.

"The river," she heard him say from somewhere behind her.

As discreetly as possible, she gathered her undergarments and tried not
to think about Alex taking these things off her.

Instead, she was wondering how she was going to get them back
on-modestly.

Sure it was silly, considering he'd seen her naked.

But she conveniently chose not to remember.

No, she didn't remember him expertly undressing her, she didn't
remember her bare flesh pressed intimately against his, she didn't
remember his hands cradling her at hip and waist.

So how come not remembering she was suddenly all hot and trembly?

Fever.

That was it.

The last of the fever making itself known.

"Looks like your clothes could use a good scrubbing."

His voice close at hand brought her out of her musings.

II What?

Oh, true.

" She clutched the garments demurely to her and she thought she heard
him chuckle."  But since I'm.

.

without luggage.

" She carefully didn't mention that her luggage, every stitch of
clothing she owned, was whoknew-where by now.

"Perhaps you would rather wear this."

"Wear what?"

She glanced back, pushing that darned tangle of hair out of her face to
see clearly.

What she saw was Alex holding up a dress for her inspection.

Her gaze flicked quickly to his face then back to the dress.

"It's absolutely gorgeous."

Instinctively she reached out from the robe to touch the leather.

"It's soft as butter."

"It's doeskin."

"And the color, like coffee with lots of cream."

She was overwhelmed.

"Look at this beadwork, it's exquisite.  The colors ... blue and green,
like earth and sky."

"Exactly," he confirmed with a small smile, and shook the dress
slightly to make the delicate fringe sway luxuriously.

"I've never seen anything like it."

"It's for you."

"For me?  Where did you get it?"

"In the box, over there," he explained as he motioned with his head.

Mary spotted the painted leather container about the size of a
suitcase.

Her eyes sought his, her brows pulled down in a frown.

"Did you make this?"

There was a touch of the impossible in her tone that made him
chuckle.

"No, honey, the women do this."

"I see.  You have a woman here who makes dresses for you..  . just in
case you have an unexpected house guest."

Alex didn't miss the sharpness in her tone.

"It belonged to my mother," he said quietly, breaking with the
Absarokee custom to avoid any mention of the dead.

But he wanted her to know that this dress was special, different from
any other, at least to him.

It was then Mary noticed he seemed lost in thought, a faraway look in
his eyes.

Was he thinking of his family, lost to him?

She knew all too well the pain of loss.

It was something they had in common.

She saw him take a deep breath and his gaze seemed to refocus.

"Now how about wearing the dress?"

She was already shaking her head as she spoke.

"Her things must mean a great deal to you.  If I wore it-" "She'd be
pleased."

A warm memory of his mother's smiling face assured him he was
correct.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

Touching the butter-soft leather again, she looked up at him.

His expression was intense, yet there was a wariness in his eyes.

And she knew in that moment he was sharing more than a garment; he was
sharing who he was at heart.

, It was a generous gift and one she could not refuse.

"Then I accept.  Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He released the dress into her,outstretched hand and let out the breath
he'd been holding.

He'd taken more risks, revealed more about himself in the last ten
minutes than he had in the last ten years, and all because of this
stubborn woman with eyes the color of the summer sky.

Looking at those blue eyes, he realized she hadn't moved since he'd
handed her the dress.

"Go ahead.  Put it on."

He almost laughed when he saw her gaze dart around the lodge.

No screens, no doorway, no escape, Irish.

Not from me.

"What's wrong?"  he asked innocently, knowing the answer.

"Uh, could you turn around?"

Now he did laugh.

"Why?  I have seen-" "Stop saying that.  Turn around," she ordered.

"Why, Irish, I believe you're blushing," he returned with a roguish
grin.

"Now, Alex!

Chuckling, he obliged.

Women had some strange ideas about modesty.

"How about if I wait over there?"

He gestured toward the far side of the lodge, the thought of stepping
outside a little too distant for him.

"I'll promise to keep my back turned until you call."

"Perfect."

Relief practically dripped from her voice.

Still grinning, he sauntered away and Mary watched him carefully until
he turned his back to her.

She saw him lift a leather pouch from under one of the furs, then she
turned.

Whatever he was doing should occupy him for a few minutes.

A few minutes was all she Eteeded.

Clutching the dress in one shaky hand and the robe in the other, she
stood still.

Wobbled was more Re it.

A couple of slow, deep breaths and the world stopped spinning.

She could feel the perspiration on her forehead.

Lord, she was as weak as a newborn kitten and she hated it.

Hated being sick, hated being weak in any form.

She shot one more covert glance in Alex's direction but all she could
see was his broad back, its muscles flexed as he rummaged in the box in
front of him.

Now was her chance.

In one motion, she dropped the robe and pulled the dress over her
head.

"What about underwear?"

"Don't need any."

He was right, she realized.

She was draped in velvet-soft doeskin from chin to toes.

No corset, no layers of petticoats- It was indecent, it went against
her entire vision of what and how a lady dresses.

The fringe lightly brushed the tops of her bare feet while the supple
leather molded to her body like a second skin.

'Does it fit?

" he called as if he'd known the moment she put the dress on.

"Fine."

She moved, and the light illuminated the quill work so it was like
sparks of blue and green fire as her fingers traced the pattern.

"All set?"  cMI set.

@ P She was still smoothing and fussing with the dress when he
turned.

He held the moccasins he'd been looking for in his left hand, a blanket
in the other.

"Snow Wolf's woman," he murmured so softly she didn't hear-wasn't meant
to hear.

The dress was exactly right, the colors, the length.

"What do you think?"  she asked, turning toward him.

I think you're beautiful enough to make a missionary take up sinning.

"Looks perfect."

He closed the distance between them in three long steps.

"How does it feel?"

He tossed down the moccasins and she slipped them on.

"It feels-" she looked up at him through lowered lashes "-deliciously
wicked."

Pink colored her cheeks.

.

"I mean there's nothing under-" "Honey," he teased, "nothing that feels
good is wicked."

He let his hands play over her slender shoulders, the beads rough to
the touch, the leather shirt but not as soft-as the lady.

His fingers tightened ever so slightly and it was all he could do not
to pull her into his arms and kiss her and touch her and tease her
until, hot and wild, she.

God help him, she was driving him crazy and she didn't even know it,
wasn't even trying.

Mary sighed at his touch.

At the familiar way his thumbs brushed at the hair curling at her
temples.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she gave in to the sensual feeling.

Her hands naturally came to rest at his waist, and as she felt his bare
skin, her eyes snapped open and stared straight into his.

His eyes were dark and bottomless, and seemed to hold the answers to
all her questions.

"Relax.  Please.  I know you're feeling a little awkward.

Right?

"About as awkward as you do the instant before you plunge off the side
of a mountain."

He laughed.

"Think of it as flying, not falling."

I 'It's hitting bottom that worries me.

"But you are the eagle," he told her, thinking of his youthful
vision.

"I'm not an eagle.  I can't fly."

"How do you know?"

He bent at the knees and looked straight into her eyes.

His voice was soft as the summer rain, and in that instant she thought
perhaps she really could fly, at least with Alex.

"I'm glad you're staying."

"I'm glad, too," she said honestly.

"Besides, we Clangs always pay our debts."

"You still look a little worried-about what people will think, I
mean.

If it makes you feel better, I can guarantee that no one here will
think twice about you staying with me."

It wasn't exactly true.

People would wonder about Snow Wolf's woman.

"We are not, and have never been, judgmental.  Here men and women are
free to live their lives As they see fit-any way, with anyone."

That was true.

"But I'm not Crow."

"For as long as you're here you are," he replied, sensing her failing
courage.

"You're my guest and you will be treated with respect."

He hooked his curved index finger under her chin and lifted her face
toward his.

"I would never do anything to dishonor you, Mary Elizabeth Clang.  I
care about you."

It was as much as he'd risk for now.

"We may be on opposite sides on this issue of the railroad, but it
doesn't mean that because we disagree on one issue we can't respect
each other.  I do admire what you're doing, you know."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I didn't know."

He chuckled.

"If I was in your place I'd do exactly the same thing," he told her
respectfully.

"Well, as long as we're being honest here, then I was angry when you
outmaneuvered me in Washington, but I understood why you did it.  This
fall..."

She shot him a defiant look, softened with the trace of a smile.

"This fall when I go back to Washington, I won't be so easy to get
around."

His mouth pulled up in a lazy half smile.

"Fair enough.

But what do you say that for right now we don't talk about next fall or
treaties or railroads.

You promised me three days to get to know my world and my people,
remember?

" He felt suddenly weary and more than a little vulnerable at the grim
prospects the future held for his tribe.

"I'm not promising to change my mind."

"Will you promise not to close your mind?"

She hesitated, sort of like a person walking across a frozen lake.

Taking it one careful step at a time.

"I'll try."

She wondered how she could and still keep her pledge to her father and
her town.

Brushing her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, he said, "I'm glad
you're staying, Irish."

The world around them stilled, and she was caught in the bottomless
depths of his gaze.

"I promise you won't be sorry."

She swallowed hard against the languid warmth of his touch and his
nearness.

Needing to break the spell he wove around her, she said, "Well, if I
don't get that bath,-we're all going to be sorry."

She curled up her nose in mock disgust.

"Never," Alex teased, laughing.

"But I promised and I never break a promise, so one bath coming right
up."

With one motion, he shoved the blanket into her hands.

Reflex made her take it.

Before she could speak, he scooped her up in his arms and ducked
through the flap.

"What are you doing?  I can walk, you know."

"Humor me, honey.  I'm not taking any chances."

Heat rose in her cheeks, but it wasn't entirely from embarrassment, it
was from delight, pure, unadulterated delight.

"Alex, please, people are staring," she whispered, her face buried
against the side of his neck, his shoulderlength hair brushing against
her cheek as he moved.

But Alex was laughing as he made his way through the camp.

Puffy clouds were stark white against the azure of the sky.

Children ran past in games of chase, and as they walked, people stopped
to call or wave.

Alex called back in the language he had learned before he'd learned
English and French.

Mary knew she should object, should demand he put her down.

She flat out didn't want to.

She liked being in his arms, she liked being close to him, feeling the
warmth of his body, feeling his bare skin beneath her fingertips.

It was crazy, of course; this wasn't why she had agreed to stay.

She was paying off a debt, and if she enjoyed it, well, where was the
harm?

For a few days there was no one to worry about, no one to be
accountable to, no one to explain to.

It was almost a relief to be able to postpone facing her father and
friends-but only for a couple of days, until she was stronger.

Then she would go back to Rainbow Gulch and in the fall she would go
back to Washington, of that she was sure.

But this place, this life, was so far removed from everything and
everyone she knew.

Was it so wrong to indulge herself, just a little?

With every step, every second, every beat of her heart and his, she
felt better and better.

It was as though she'd never been sick, as though there were no
yesterday and no tomorrow.

As he'd promised, he took her to a private pool in the curve of some
rocks.

Sunlight heated the air and the water while cottonwood trees provided a
screen from the rest of the world.

The day was Montana at its best.

A gentle breeze carried across the plains, and the sky seemed to touch
the earth it was so immense.

Mary luxuriated in the bath, letting the pristine water wash away the
fever and her fear.

She was here and she was glad.

For once she was following her heart.

Alex waited for her.

She stepped out from behind the rocks feeling like a princess, like an
Indian maiden in one of the stories Alex had told her.

The buckskin dress brushed her skin like a lover's caress and the long,
long fringe that hung from sleeves and hem, moved sensually as she
walked.

She could feel the moisture of the soil through her moccasins as they
strolled along the riverbank.

"It's so peaceful," she said after a few minutes of silence.

She paused to stare into the moving water.

"Look at the way the sunlight catches the pebbles at the bottom.

Each shines like a precious gem."

They walked along the river, letting the sunlight and the solitude ease
their minds and feed their senses.

They talked of childhood days, of fond memories.

Alex tried to skip stones but the current moved too quickly for the
stones to do more than make a splash.

He translated everything into Crow for her, each rock and tree and bird
and blade of grass.

She tried to repeat them all.

She succeeded once or twice and got her tongue tied in a knot the rest
of the time.

He told her that his tribe was divided into two groups and he belonged
to the Mountain Crow, specifically the acirario clan, one of
thirteen.

She was fascinated when he explained that Crow women had the right to
own property and to divorce, and that family lineage was maternal.

She chuckled.

"Sounds like the rest of the world could learn a thing or two from the
Crow," she said honestly, admiring their open-mindedness at a time when
white women were still very much second-class citizens.

As they strolled and talked and laughed, it seemed the world was in
total accord.

Much later, when the afternoon sky filtered golden sunshine through the
green leaves about them, Alex asked, "Are you getting hungry?"

Mary was perched on a rock, eyes closed, her face turned up to the
sun.

"I am."

"Well, we've been invited to dinner."

She turned her head slightly and arched one brow in question.

"You mean out?"

Alex restrained himself from smiling.

She sounded so much like a wife who didn't want to be bothered dressing
up tonight.

"My cousin Gray Dog and his wife, Yellow Flower, have invited us to
dinner.  Since I haven't been hunting yet, it's either dine with them
or... I think I have some jerky left."

"The jerky wasn't so bad," she returned, suddenly hating the thought of
giving up this moment, this place.

In one smooth motion, Alex rose to his feet and crossed to her.

"Come on," he said, holding out his hand, his lean body glistening in
the sunlight.

"Dinner with the relatives won't be so bad, either.  Evening attire is
optional," he added with a grin that got him splashed with water.

Alex smiled often on the walk to Gray Dog's lodge.

He paused to introduce Mary to several people who had names too
difficult for her to pronounce, but whose smiles were genuine and warm
and welcoming-all except one.

A beautiful young woman who looked at Mary hotly then spoke briefly to
Alex.

His smile faded and his reply was sharp.

The woman turned abruptly and left.

"Is there some problem?"

Mary asked.

Alex was distracted.

It seemed Many Blue Beads was less than pleased that Alex had taken a
wife.

It also seemed that Red Weasel had been talking of taking the white
woman and"Alex?"

"What?  Oh, no problem," he replied thoughtfully, taking Mary's hand
and continuing on.

Gray Dog was waiting outside his lodge when they arrived.

The man was tall and lean and almost as handsome as Alex.

The family resemblance was obvious.

"I am pleased to meet you," Gray Dog said haltingly.

Mary beamed.

"I'm pleased to meet you, too."

She shot Alex a smug look.

"I'm especially pleased to know Alex isn't the only one who speaks
English."

Alex made a show of groaning, which got him a jab in the ribs with her
elbow.

Gray Dog watched the little exchange.

It was unheard-of for a woman to treat a man, a respected warrior, so
in public.

It was even more unheard-of for a warrior to allow it.

Yes, he thought, amusement dancing in his dark eyes, Snow Wolf was in
love.

"Come, food is ready," Gray Dog said, and they followed him inside.

The lodge was very similar to Alex'slarge, the floor covered with
buffalo skins and with a fire pit in the center.

Mary was introduced to Yellow Flower, who unfortunately spoke no
English.

Too bad.

Mary was looking forward to talking to another woman.

Their son, Never Walks, bounded in and said something in Crow, which,
judging by his mother's stern expression, it was an apology for being
late for dinner.

A brief conversation resulted in ' the boy putting his.

belongings away and contritely sitting down in the circle.

Dinner conversation was a little difficult but not impossible.

Gray Dog delighted in telling stories of Alex as a boy-stories that
embarrassed Alex and made Mary laugh.

The couple was friendly, open-the kind of people that you know for five
minutes and feel you've known a lifetime.

After a while Mary relaxed, feeling oddly at home in these foreign
surroundings.

Never Walks chattered away, telling stories of his latest adventure or
his latest victory in a game.

Games taught techniques important for survival as an adult.

Alex and Gray Dog took turns translating and heaping praise on the
boy.

While they talked they dined on buffalo meat stew seasoned with sage
and wild celery, and wild turnips baked in hot ashes.

For dessert, Yellow Flower served service berries in a creamy white
pudding made from the bark of the cottonwood tree.

The menu was exotic but delicious.

"This is a wonderful meal, Yellow Flower," Mary said.

As the slender woman made to clear the last of the dishes, Mary reached
out to help.

Yellow Flower's black eyes widened.

She said something to Alex, who translated.

"She says you don't have to help.  You are an honored guest in her
lodge."

Mary smiled and kept right on helping, picking up the buffalo shoulder
bones that were used for serving platters.

Ingenious, Mary thought with admiration.

"Tell her that she has worked very hard to make a wonderful meal and I
would feel guilty if I didn't help."

Alex quickly translated and Mary was rewarded with a bright smile from
Yellow Flower.

"I think you've made a friend," Alex told her.

"Good," Mary countered playfully.

"We women have to stick together."

One of those woman-to-woman looks passed between them.

As they were leaving, Yellow Flower exchanged a few remarks with
Alex.

He then turned to Mary.

"She asks if you'd like to spend the day with her tomorrow while Gray
Dog and I go hunting?"

His voice was low, his inquiry cautious.

"I didn't realize you were going hunting."

"Buffalo.  What's left of the herd is south of here."

She nodded, suddenly aware she would miss him.

They hadn't been apart for several days now and she was getting used to
being with him.

Okay, she admitted, she liked being with him-liked it a lot.

"About tomorrow..."

Alex interrupted her musings.

"Yellow Flower's working on a dress and she thought you might like to
help."

"Beading?  I-" "No, that she'll do in the winter.  Right now she's
cutting a dress and sewing it together."

Mary was genuinely pleased by the thoughtful invitation.

"Will you tell her that I can't sew at all, but I'd be pleased if she'd
let me watch her."

It was quickly agreed that Yellow Flower would call for

Mary in the morning.

Alex and Mary departed.

The camp was quiet as they walked back to Alex's lodge.

The Milky Way shone like a spill of white paint on black canvas.

It was peaceful here.

No one was in a hurry.

No one worried about money or clothes or homes .

They asked only to live simply without disturbing the land they
loved.

It was I a beautiful way of life, Mary realized.

One to be envied.

Staring up at the night sky, feeling the gentle breeze stir the fringe
of her dress, she thought for a moment, just a moment, how wonderful it
would be to stay here forever.

To freeze this place in time.

No.

That was silly.

That wasn't what she wanted.

She wanted a house for her father, eventually a place of her own.

Marriage hopefully, with children.

She smiled, thinking of Never Walks, so full of energy and
excitement.

Is that what little boys were like?

She thought maybe she'd like to have

one of her own someday.

"Like you very much."

"What?"

She realized Alex was talking.

"Okay, Irish, a penny for your thoughts."

"Oh, I was just thinking."

The howl of a lone coyote echoed across the plains and a camp dog
answered.

"I'm glad I stayed.

It's wonderful here.

"I'm glad you stayed, too."

His voice was as soft and quiet as the night that surrounded them.

"I'm not ready to turn in yet.

What about taking the long way?

Mary smiled and nodded.

They passed between the lodges, some dark, the occupants obviously
asleep, while firelight shifted and danced inside others, silhouetting
those inside.

Occasionally, voices could be heard, laughter.

It was a perfect night-the finish to a perfect day.

A day she'd remember all her life.

A day of total freedom from responsibilities and cares.

A day with Alex.

Dew clung to the grass and seeped through, the moccasins Alex had given
her.

He'd been so different here, caring and gentle.

Oh, charming to be sure, but different-almost vulnerable.

It was a side of him she'd never guessed existed.

She wanted to know more.

"Tell me about the hunting tomorrow."

She pushed her hair back to look at him more fully.

"There's a small herd of buffalo southwest of here.  Early in the
morning we'll leave for the hunt.  Tomorrow night there'll be a dance
to celebrate our success."

"Pretty confident, aren't you?"  she teased.

"Planning a celebration before the act?"

He chuckled.

"We'll do fine."

His tone bespoke the confidence that comes from experience.

She stopped abruptly and turned toward him.

"Is it dangerous, Alex?  I mean, buffalo stampeding across the
plains...."

She touched his arm lightly.

Alex was startled and pleased by her concern.

It had been a long time since anyone had shown that kind of feeling for
him.

He covered her small hand with his larger one, his bronze skin in stark
contrast to her pale flesh.

"It's not dangerous," he lied, thinking of the men who had survived a
horse fall only to be trampled by the buffalo.

He laced his fingers possessively through hers.

"Don't worry.  I'll probably be back by noon."

"But-" "I've done this before, honey.  We have a hunt every year to
stock up for the winter.  I'll be fine."

His lodge came into view and he headed in that direction, pausing to
chat with a couple that was sitting outside enjoying the night.

Introductions were made and handshakes exchanged, and after a brief
conversation Alex and Mary started walking again.

"You've got to teach me the word for hello," she told him, wishing she
could communicate with these people.

"Well, we don't have a word for hello.  We usually say, 'What are you
doing?"  or 'Where are you going?"

' Mary considered this.

"There are so many ways we are alike and so many more ways we are
different."

She glanced over at him, thinking Alex Moreau himself typified that
difference.

He was a man who moved in two very different worlds.

The question was, could two worlds live side by side in harmony?

The night breeze cooled her skin, making her shiver.

"Feeling cold?"

Alex asked as he walked along beside her.

"No.  I feel-" She stopped and craned her neck to look up at the sky.

Refusing to think beyond the moment, she spread her arms wide and
turned slowly in a circle, letting the night, the freedom, the
peacefulness, saturate her senses.

Grinning, she looked at Alex, who was watching her intently.

"I feel wonderful."

She turned in a circle once more, letting the fringe of the dress twirl
out around her.

She spoke as she moved.

"I can't remember feeling this good-ever."

She stopped abruptly.

"Is it always like this?"

"Always," he confirmed, pleased that she'd come to feel what be felt
about his world and his people.

Looking at her standing there bathed in silver moonlight, he thought
she was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

His throat tightened as he watched her, so enticing, so tempting.

Mary's feeling of relaxation fled the instant she stepped inside the
lodge.

Moonlight filtered through the smoke hole.

The inside of the lodge was dark.

Shadows in shades of gray and black clung to the edges of the lodge,
blurring reality as they did.

LL

The fire pit was cold and empty.

Outside, the yipping of a coyote howling at the moon broke the eerie
silence.

She stood motionless, aware of Alex moving around behind her, aware
that they were about to go to bed.

Separately, her conscience blessedly reminded her.

That thought didn't help the sudden knot that formed in her stomach as
she eyed the pallet.

Somehow, alone in the darkness, it seemed much more intimate, much more
seductive than it had this morning.

Maybe she had been too weak this morning to think clearly?

Maybe she had been kidding herself that she could or should do this?

MaybeAt the touch of his hand on her shoulder, she whirled on him, her
hand clutching her chest.

He stood half in shadow, naked from the waist up, his well-muscled body
an invitation to her suddenly trembling fingers.

His black hair was furrowed as though he'd run his hands through it.

His eyes were dark and inviting.

Her mouth went dry.

"Clang?  Are you all right?"

He brushed the hair back from her face with the tips of his fingers,
pleased when he felt her shiver.

"Yes, fine."

Her voice was a little higher than usual and a little shaky.

He advanced a half step.

"You promised!"  she told him, hoping he could hear her over her
pounding heart.

Alex stopped.

He fractionally lifted one brow in question.

"Promised what?"

A lazy, seductive smile pulled up one corner of his mouth.

She backed up a couple of steps.

"You promised you'd sleep over there and I'd-" She glanced at the two
pallets barely ten feet apart.

"I know I promised, Irish.  I was only going to say goodnight."

Her huge, expectant eyes seemed to swallow him.

"Good night," she replied on a breathy whisper, then turned her back to
him but didn't move.

" Irish?  " "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

Because the way you say it makes me go all shivery inside.

She was in enough trouble as it was.

Maybe it was because she was feeling frightened that she didn't resist
when he turned her toward him and pulled her into the protective circle
of his arms.

She rested her face naturally on his bare chest, feeling the smoothness
of his flesh against hers, hearing the steady beating of his heart.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered.

His cheek rested lightly on the top of her head.

The clean scent of her hair filled his nostrils.

He loved her hair, especially the feel of it in his hands, slipping
through his fingers, caressing his face.

And he wondered if her hair would be like a veil around them when they
made love.

Would it pool on his chest like fine silk and glide across his shoulder
as she moved?

A heaviness tingled in his loins and he struggled to subdue it.

Breathing became difficult.

"You know I want you, don't you darling' Clang?"

His voice was harsh with the urgency of his desire.

He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs hooked under her chin.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?-@ I want you the way a man wants a
woman."

He was only human and so he kissed her-lightly, because he didn't trust
himself to db more.

And it was trust that he needed right now, so he steeled himself
against his carnal desire.

Tiny prickles of heat skittered out along her nerve endings as his
words, explicit and direct, filtered through her mind and inflamed her
senses.

She should be outraged.

She should be repulsed.

But every nerve in her body was singing with awareness.

The hair on the back of her neck was damp.

She didn't move.

Couldn't have if she wanted to.

For a full five seconds they stood like that, her delicate face,
flushed beneath his fingers, her eyes, bright with wonder, staring up
at him.

"But, darling' Clang..."

He kissed her once more, lingering a little longer, letting his tongue
trace the outline of her lush bottom lip.

A shudder moved through him.

"But I'm not going to force you and I'm not going to seduce you, though
right this minute it's pure torture I Nerves in his body screamed in
outrage."  There's too much history between us, and I won't make any
promises about the future.

She covered his hands with hers.

"If you want me, and I think you do, then you must tell me."

"Alex, I-" He shook his head.

"Not now.  It would be too easy now-too easy to make love and too easy
to have regrets.  I don't.  want regrets.  I'll keep my promise to you,
all my promises to you."

He visibly dragged in a lungful of air and let it out slowly in what
sounded like a moan.

"If you want me-" his mouth took hers in a short, hard kiss " -then you
must tell me in the broad light of day, standing ten feet apart so
there can be no questions."

I His mouth slanted across hers in a demanding kiss that turned Mary's
knees to the consistency of warm syrup.

Her whole body seemed alive with him, his nearness, his promise.

Her eyes fluttered open.

All she could see was his face.

His mouth was grim and passion heated his devil black eyes.

"Good night, Mary Elizabeth Clang."

He turned and went out into the night.

An hour before dawn, Alex slipped quietly into the lodge, gathered his
rifle and knife and left.

Moments later, Mary heard and felt the tbunder of dozens of horses
riding away from the camp.

She hadn't moved, hadn't risen to say goodbye.

She had lain awake all night trying to think, to understand this spell,
this delicious longing, that Alex stirred in her.

She didn't understand it.

She couldn't control it, and after last night she sure as hell couldn't
deny it.

As she rolled onto her side, the soft fur brushed against her bare
flesh, which seemed strangely sensitive.

Across the lodge she could see Alex's bed.

She imagined the form of his body in the crushed fur.

She sat bolt upright, the fur dropping away from her naked body.

This was a big mistake, she told herself, flinging back the fur cover
and standing.

Women didn't do this sort of thing.

Not decent women.

She paced the length of the lodge and back again.

What was happening to her?

Alex had said he wanted her-the way a man wants a woman.

It was explicit.

It was blunt.

She paused.

It was exciting.

Her heart skipped a beat.

No.

She snatched back the thoughts and tried to ignore the feelings.

She couldn't do this.

Alex had been right all along.

There was no way they could be together.

And yet she wasn't sure she would ever be complete away from him.

"Oh, Alex.

Just saying his name stirred desire in her.

It was desire, she knew now-longing so intense, so lush she wondered if
other people felt like this.

How did they survive?

She paced again, the cool morning air chilling her bare skin.

She was not some woman of easy virtue.

She was not some harlot.

She was a woman with a purpose, with plans il and goals for her
future.

She should leave now, before it was too late.

She eyed her unwashed clothes still neatly stacked by the door.

Clothes.

Yes, that's it.

Get dressed and leave while Alex is gonewhile all the men are gone.

Yellow Flower would loan her a horse, and she had a pretty good idea in
which direction Crow Agency was located.

i She snatched up her pantalets and put them on, feeling I strangely
restricted in the garment.

Never mind.

She needed to leave before it was too late, before Alex returned from
the hunt, and before she did something she would regret.

She had one arm through the satin strap of her camisole when she
stopped.

A cold shiver passed through her, a feeling of dread, of loneliness
like nothing she'd ever known.

It was the thought of leaving Alex.

She glanced around the lodge, filled with his belongings.

In a few days she'd come to feel at home here.

She'd come to respect this way of life and the man who'd shown it to
her.

Her heart fluttered in her chest.

She closed her eyes against the sensual feelings that washed over her
as she thought of their days in this paradise.

But what of her home and her father and friends?

She had to tell them what had happened, she had to make them understand
she was going back to Washington and she'd get the train this time.

She and Alex would square off as adversaries in the same way.

Yet it wouldn't be the same this time.

She wouldn't be the same.

Being with Alex had changed her in ways she still didn't fully
understand.

She was still standing there when: she heard a scratching at the door
and a familiar female voice called out.

"Dee;-kotah."  It was Yellow Flower.

With sightless eyes she stared at the.

clothes in her hand.

Her gaze sought the beaded dress Alex had given her folded carefully
next to her bed.

She watched the way the sunlight danced across the beading, noticed the
seductive swirl of the fringe lying motionless.

She remembered the gentle look in Alex's eyes when held given her the
dress, remembered how her heart had pounded when he carried her through
the camp to theriver in that dress, how they'd walked together.

"Mer-ee?"

Yellow Flower called.

Heart pounding, Mary put down her clothes and, walking Over, picked up
the beaded dress.

In one careful motion she lifted it over her head and let it slide down
her body.

Her decision was made.

In the next few hours, Mary helped Yellow Flower with sewing.

The woman taught Mary how to tear the sinew to make thread and how to
cut the supple doeskin for a dress.

By noon, Mary started searching the horizon for the men's return.

By midafternoon she'd given up the sewing and started to pace.

When the lodge became too confining, she moved outside.

The sun heated the leather of the dress and warmed her face.

But an icy dread was inching along Mary's nerve endings, chilling her
hands and her blood with every passing minute.

No one in the camp seemed concerned.

Her gaze flicked to the horizon again.

Alex had said they'd be back by noon.

It was well after that now.

Was something wrong?

Needing an answer, she went back inside Yellow Flower's lodge.

"Does it always go this long?"  she asked the woman, who only stared,
her dark brows drawn down in a frown.

She shook her head, her bone needle poised in midair.

"Long," Mary repeated.

"The hunt.  Does it always take so long?"

She made gestures like shooting an arrow.

Yellow Flower smiled and nodded.

As if sensing Mary's anxiety, she tried to draw her back to the
sewing.

It didn't work because a new fl emotion, fear, was niggling at the back
of Mary's brain.

Something was wrong.

They should be back by now.

Maybe someone was hurt and they had to return to camp slowly.

Her fingers trembled and she hugged herself against the fear that was
fast overtaking her control.

In the end she gave up and went back outside.

The call of a mourning dove greeted her and the ever-present scent of
sage kept the air clean and pleasant.

Two women passing by smiled and nodded.

Mary smiled in return.

She started walking in the direction the men had taken, not intending
to follow, simply needing to move.

Maybe Alex had overestimated.

Maybe the herd wasn't where they thought it was.

Damn.

Shading her eyes against the late afternoon sun, she scanned the
horizon once more.

Nothing.

She was never any good at waiting.

Pacing was her only choice.

She walked the path from Alex's lodge to Gray Dog's and back again.

Ail the while, images of buffalo, huge, lumbering beasts in full
stampede, thundered through her mind.

She could imagine men on horseback riding flat out alongside, using
only their legs to hold on to the horse while they fired their
rifles.

But stampedes caused dust, blinding dust.

Horses fell.

Men were killed.

She shivered against the sudden cold that passed through her like a
premonition and scanned the horizon again.

Where was he?

Why didn't he return?

Never Walks skidded to a halt beside her, three little boys with him.

None of them was more than ten.

They were all bare-chested, and their waist-length hair gleamed in the
sun.

Holding a short wooden spear and wooden hoop in one hand, Never Walks
confidently slipped his free hand into hers.

Mary forced herself to concentrate.

I 'Hello, II she offered.

When he frowned she repeated the word.

"Hello."

"Elmo," Never Walks repeated, working his mouth as though he were
tasting the word.

"That's it."

Mary chuckled.

"Hello."

She shook hands with each of the boys, who made faltering attempts to
repeat the word.

Then Never Walks said something that sounded very long and involved,
and which she didn't have the faintest idea about.

In truth, she was only half listening.

Her mind was thinking of something else, of someone else.

Please.

Alex.

The boy tugged, his hand small inside hers, his skin warm and soft.

"What?"

He waved the hoop and spear in her direction.

"No.  I don't want to play.  Thanks."

Never Walks wasn't so easily put off.

His persistence and the fact that she just plain liked the boy caused
her to give in .

With a whoop, the other boys ran ahead.

She let Never Walks lead her to the edge of the encampment, away from
the river.

There was nothing in the distance but open grassy plains with the horse
herd grazing on sweet summer grass.

"Okay, brave hunter, now what?"

Her tone was kind.

He smiled, his face lighting up with delight as he demonstrated the
game, which essentially was to roll the hoop and throw the spear
through the moving hoop.

Her mouth puckered in a thoughtful expression as she was distracted
from her fears.

The game seemed simple.

Never Walks managed to get the spear through the hoop two out of the
next five times.

Of course, he was just a small child.

She'd have to be careful not to win, she thought, accepting the
spear.

A couple of tries and she discovered the game wasn't as easy as it
looked.

She missed every time, and each time Never Walks patiently instructed
her, helping her to hold the spear differently, signaling her when to
throw.

After about the hundredth time she finally managed to do it, though she
thought Never Walks had rolled the hoop particularly slow.

She bent down to look him more fully in the eye.

Her hands rested lightly on his small shoulders, tan from days in the
sun.

"Never Walks, I know you don't understand, but I want you to know I
think you're wonderful.  And when you grow up, I think you're going to
break a lot of hearts."

"I turn my back for a minute and already you've found another man,"
said a lazy voice, warm and familiar.

Mary spun around.

No more than five feet away, Alex stood smiling at her.

He was tall and more handsome than any one man had a right to be, and
this image of him now would forever be imprinted on her mind: naked
from the waist up, his raven black hair wet from bathing, the Indian
village spread out behind him.

He was a warrior of paintings, of dreams-her dreams.

Happiness welled up in her and she ran toward him, her face alive with
laughter.

Alex didn't hesitate.

He crushed her to him, swinging her around in joyful excitement.

Mary clung to him, his flesh smooth and still cool from the river.

He smelled of sunshine and felt like happiness.

"Does this mean you missed me?

" he teasingly murmured as he let her feet settle on the ground.

"I missed you like crazy," she told him honestly, now that her fears
were overcome.

She buried her face in his shoulder and clung to him.

A warmth that defied all logic had replaced the cold inside her.

Alex gently lifted her face.

and brushed her cheek with the backs of his knuckles.

"If I'd known I would get this kind of reception I would have returned
sooner."

His tone was teasing but he was genuinely moved by her welcome.

"Are you all right?"

Her hands splayed wide over the broad muscles of his back.

His skin was cool against her fingers and she felt the tendons flex as
he moved.

"Of course, darling' Clang.  You know nothing can hurt me."

He favored her with a lazy grin that sent a delicious shiver up her
spine.

"I don't know any such thing," she snapped, feeling feisty now that he
was home safe and sound.

"What took so long?  You said noon."

"Oh, there was a -little unexpected company.  It took.us a while to
explain that they'd made a mistake and were on the wrongland."

It was an understatement of gargantuan proportions.

In truth, they'd run into a Blackfoot hunting party and were
outnumbered two to one.

They'd had to fight to drive the Blackfeet off, killing one in the
process.

Alex had counted first coup that day.

It was a huge honor among his people.

But he didn't tell her because she wouldn't understand and would only
worry.

He knew now he was right.

About that and a great many other things.

Tlrough the battle, the war cries, the pounding of hooves, the
terrified screaming of horses, Alex had had one thought, one driving
need-to get back to Mary, the woman heloved.

And as they'd returned home victorious, with buffalo meat carved and
ready for ton' lit's celebration, Alex had 19 wondered if he would have
something to celebrate.

He had been blunt with Mary last night.

He'd told her that he wanted her, told her that she must come to him.

It was a helluva gamble, he knew, but he had to try.

If she cared she'd stay.

If she didn't she'd run.

When he'd found his lodge empty his heart had sunk until he'd spotted
her here playing with the children.

Now he had his answer.

She was his and soon she'd be his completely.

Alex spared a smiling glance at the four boys, who were intently
watching this exchange.

Then, dropping his arm possessively around Mary's slender shoulders, he
started walking away from the camp toward a little spot he knew of that
was perfect for watching a sunset.

Perched on a rock just made for sitting, he said, "Everyone is fine.

We killed six buffalo."

Alex never took his arm from around Mary.

He needed to touch her and hold her and feel the warmth of her body
against his.

And he was content to stay like that, touching and talking, until the
sun, like a ball of orange and yellow light, slipped down below the
mountains.

It was good to be home.

ChapterFourteen The drums started right after sunset.

There was a definite chill in the air.

The rich aroma of roasting buffalo carried through the camp like an
unwritten invitation.

Alex was dressed as she'd never seen him before.

He wore moccasins so pale they were nearly white in color and beaded
leggings under a matching knee-length breechcloth.

His leather shirt was as pale as his leggings, and several feathers
hung from the front of his shirt across his chest.

His hair glistened raven black.

One white feather hung from a small braid on the right side near his
face.

His silver bracelets adorned his wrist.

He was quite magnificent.

Mary wore the dress Alex had given her.

They hurried out and weren one of the last to arrive.

Hundreds of people gathered in the grassy area near the war, to form a
circle at least fifty feet across with the center open.

A roaring bonfire cast an orange glow in the black sky.

Men sat around a large drum, using rawhide-wrapped sticks to pound a
rhythm like a hurried heartbeat while they sang-chanted almost-in a
language that seemed to merge With the drums until the two were one.

The full moon hung like a silver dollar in the summer sky.

Mary edged closer to Alex as they mingled with the crowd.

She noticed that Alex was the subject of intense interest tonight.

People seemed to go out of their way to seek him out.

There, was lots of smiling and nodding and what almost appeared to be
congratulating.

"What's going on?"  she asked.

II Nothing.

Everyone's happy about the hunt, is all.

" He took her hand then hesitated as he scanned the crowd.

Recognition flashed in his eyes and he said, "Come on, there's someone
I want you to meet."

"Who?"  she asked, but he was already moving and her voice was lost in
the noise.

His grip tightened on her hand as though he were saying, "I won't let
you go."

All around them people, dressed in their finest, were laughing,
talking, seated on blankets with children or standing.

It was like an old-fashioned town picnic, she thought pleasantly.

Alex stopped.

"Mary, this is Medicine Crow, war chief of the Absarokee."

"I'm pleased to meet you, she said politely, transfixed by penetrating
black eyes.  The man was tall like Alex and equally handsome-more so,
if that were possible.  His face was sheer masculine beauty, deep-set
eyes, long straight nose, perfectly shaped mouth.  His hair glistened
shiny black, the front done in the upswept style popular among the
Crow.  Unlike Alex, there were wolf tails on the heels of his
moccasins, hair fringe on his leggings and shirt, and mussel shells
hung from his ears and hair.

It took being jostled for Mary to regain her composure.

Embarrassed, she stammered, "Excuse me.  I didn't mean to stare."

Alex translated.

Medicine Crow smiled and spoke again.

Alex chuckled.

"He says the feeling is mutual."

Mary felt heat move up her cheeks.

lbank goodness it was dark.

"Ah, so charm is not your sole domain," Medicine Crow said to Alex in
their own language.

"You wound me," Alex teased, then quickly translated.

Medicine Crow laughed and patted Alex on the back.

"He says to tell you we are cousins and that all the men of our clan
are favorites with the ladies.  He wants to know if you agree."

Alex arched one winged brow in question.

Mary was laughing now.

"I think I'm outnumbered here."

They all laughed.

The rhythm of the drum changed and the song sounded more complex to
Mary's untrained ear.

The three moved toward the edge of the crowd.

As they did, more men stopped Alex to talk.

Near the trees it was a bit quieter.

Medicine Crow spoke and Alex nodded then said, "He wants to know if you
like our encampment."

" Very much.

As they talked, Alex translated back and forth until she felt as if
they were conversing directly.

"He says that he is glad you've come.  He's glad I have found-" A wife,
he almost said but didn't, since Mary didn't know that under Crow law
they already were thought of as man and wife.

"He's glad I brought you here," he supplied.

"He asks if you've met many of the people?"

"Well, Gray Dog and Yellow Flower and Never Walks.  I like them very
much.  Never Walks was teaching me to play.  - ."

She shook her head.

"The- game with the hoop and the spear.  You know I " Batsi'kisu'a, "
Alex supplied.

Medicine Crow chuckled and spoke.

"He wants to know how you did," Alex teased.

"And come to think of it, so do I."

"Not good."

She laughed.

"I'm embarrassed to say Never Walks beat me hands down, but he is a
good teacher and I did finally do it once."

They talked on for several more minutes about the camp and the games
and the success of the hunt.

Mary liked Medicine Crow very much.

He was polite, soft-spoken and seemed sincerely pleased she was here.

As they walked back to the festivities, they were joined by Gray Dog,
who fell in step beside Mary.

In the language of the Crow, he spoke to Alex.

"I came to warn you.  Many Blue Beads has heard about your honor
today.

She is making it known that the white woman is not worthy of such a
brave warrior and she will ask you to dance with her in the couples'
dance.  She has been talking with Red Weasel."

Alex sighed.

Great.

This was just what he needed.

He thought he'd made it clear that he wasn't interested.

Well, she could ask, but he would say no and that was that.

"I would watch Red Weasel," Medicine Crow offered into the
conversation.

"His hatred for the whites is well known, and the fact that she is Biia
Cheote's woman may not protect her.  He is of the Lumpwoods."

"It's not the season for abducting," Alex returned tersely, referring
to the Crow custom of stealing wives from those of other clans during a
short season each year.

Alex spoke rapidly to Gray Dog.

"Find Red Weasel, get some others to help you.  I don't want him
anywhere near Mary."

Mary didn't know what was going on, but she heard her name mentioned
.

They rejoined the crowd, which seemed even bigger now.

Medicine Crow said his goodbyes and told her she was welcome at his
lodge always.

Mary was touched by his kindness, and realizing he was a man of great
power and importance among the Crow made his sincerity even more
astonishing.

Everyone here had been accepting of her, welcoming, something she knew
wouldn't happen if the situation were reversed.

44 Well," Alex began as they stood side by side, watching the dancers
make their way around the circle."  Are you ready to dance?

"What?"

She instinctively took a step back.

"I don't dance real dances and I-" "This is a real dance?"

"You know what I mean."

She shot him a look.

"I don't dance."

"But this is easy.  Come on, I'll show you."

Before she could say a word in protest, he had her by the hand and was
leading her into the circle.

Mary tried to retreat.

He stopped her.

"Come on, Irish.  It's easy."

Mary felt very much the object of public scrutiny.

The music was loud and commanding.

"Maybe I should just watch awhile."

She tried to release his hands but he wouldn't let her.

"Don't be afraid," he coaxed gently.

"I won't leave you."

Mary was held by his dark gaze, firelight dancing in his eyes.

As people moved past them, the unique clatter of elk teeth that
decorated the dresses added to the drumbeat.

Older women and men moved in a slow step that complemented the music.

Some of the younger ones danced in double time, showing their energy.

"Bend your knees a little, take small steps, two forward, one back,
like this."

Faltering at first, watching her 'feet and his, she danced her way
around the-circle with A-lox.

Soon her steps, her breathing, even her heartbeat, seemed to mimic the
rhythm of the drums.

Alex was awareof the people watching them.

One in particular, Red Weasel, kept his dark gaze clearly focused on
Mary.

He and Red Weasel had been enemies from way back.

And something in the way the warrior was watching Mary made Alex
particularly uneasy.

He spotted Gray Dog and a few others.

Good, they were watching, too.

The song ended and another started, this one with a different rhythm.

"For women only," Alex told her.

Mary watched for a moment.

"Could I try?"

"Of course."

He grinned, pleased that she was enjoying herself.

The fire blazed, shooting flames of yellow and orange six feet into the
air.

Wood crackled and popped, and the scent of pine mingled with the
natural sage fragrance Alex watched as Mary entered the circle of
women.

He was proud that she was dancing, prouder still that she was his
woman.

He hadn't spoken of his declaration again and neither had she.

He was trying to go slow, as if he were gentling a skittish colt.

He'd told her what he meant to do and had given her time to think on
it, to become accustomed to the idea and, he hoped, to warm to it.

Her movements caught his eye.

Lord, she was beautiful.

He looked at the way the moonlight glistened in her hair, as flecks
there.

The fringe of if someone had sprinkled silver she made.

her dress swayed seductively with each small step left.  Right.

Left.

Right.

She moved to the pounding rhythm of the drums.

"K,ihg, " a soft female voice said, and, looking along the length of
his left shoulder, Alex stared straight at Many Blue Beads.

She was beautifully adorned in white buckskin decorated with red beads
and elks teeth.

A matching red shawl had fringe that reached the ground.

"Shils baaloo, " he said, speaking her name.

Many Blue Beads kept her gaze focused on the dancers.

"She dances well-for a yellow eyes."

"She dances well," he corrected flatly, refusing to be Pulled into
conversation.

He noticed the covert glances from several people nearby, the knowing
smiles.

Damn.

Whatever they were thinking, they were wrong.

Many Blue Beads continued talking, her voice soft and lyrical.

She looked at him through lowered lashes.

' CYOU are the talk of the camp tonight.

Counting first coup against the Blackfeet is a great triumph for you,
Biia Cheote.

"I was lucky."

She touched his arm with an easy familiarity that came from having been
lovers.

"You are too modest.  You have great skill in battle as you do in.

other things.

" Her tone took on a husky quality that drew his attention.

4 'Don't.

"I've missed you.  Perhaps you would like to come to me-@@ " I have
taken a woman, a wife," he told her flatly, angered by her
suggestion.

"The yellow eyes?"  she said with a haughty toss of her head that sent
her straight black hair cascading over her shoulder.

"She will not be first wife to the great Biia Cheote, not for long.

She is a toy.  It is an embarrassment to such a great warrior, a man
who deals with the whites and beats them at their own game.  Such a man
needs a woman who can cook for him and go on the hunt with him to help
with the butchering of the meat.  She is without relatives-" "You go
too far, Shzis baaloo, " Alex said harshly, responding to one of the
Crow's worst insults.

He took her shoulders in his hands and held her.

The scent of her perfume carried to him.

Many Blue Beads' eyes widened in surprise and she braced her hands on
his bare chest, pushing slightly.

He didn't release his hold.

They would have this out here and now.

He wasn't going to have any trouble, not now, not when he was so close
to having.

what he wanted.

"Mary Clang is my wife.  What was,shared by us is done.  It is my right
and the way of our people."

Many Blue Beads looked up into his face, her hands still pressed to his
chest, and she smiled, a seductive smile of a woman well practiced.

"But I miss you-late at night when I am cold.  You remember how it was
with us, how you would warm me?"

Her hand traced the pattern of his collar bone in a seductive
gesture.

It was not seduction but rather frustration that consumed Alex.

He rolled his head skyward and willed his flaring temper under
control.

"Are you listening to me?  I'm in love with my wife.  If you need
someone to warm you, then I suggest you take a husband."

It was this scene that Mary walked up to.

Alex stood with another woman in his arms, his head back while she
caressed his shoulder in a manner that was telling to anyone with
eyes.

Mary stilled.

Her heart, which had been pounding with the music, took on a slow, hard
beat all its own.

She recognized the woman immediately.

She'd met her on one of their walks.

She was quite beautiful.

It was an intimate scene made more so by the sly smiles of those close
by.

Mary suddenly felt out of place, like an intruder at a lovers'
rendezvous-which perhaps it was.

The music started again.

Men and women entered the circle and laughter rose from a group
standing behind and to the left of her.

Awkwardly, she watched as the woman put her hands on Alex's chest.

He didiyt step away.

Mary remembered his words that first day.

"Our rules about men and women, wives and lovers, are different."

Obviously, he was telling the truth.

She backed into the crowd.

Across the circle Alex still held the woman, and it hit Mary then that
he was probably making plans for when she left.

A new song started, the woman slipped from Alex's touch and joined the
others dancing.

She danced like no one else.

Her feet moved in an intricate step that was incredibly graceful, not
like the sluggish little dance Mary had done.

increased in tempo and As the music played, the singing so did the
woman's dancing.

The elk teeth on her dress created a sound that drew every eye to her,
including Alex's.

it was only natural, Mary told herself.

He was, after all, a man, a damned attractive man, and she was
leaving.

What did she think?

That he would stop living just because she was gone?

Hardly.

Ugly images paraded through her mind.

Alex with this woman, with other women; hundreds, maybe thousands of
other women.

Was that why he'd said he wanted her?

He

227 naturally expected that all women would be willing to give
themselves to him.

Maybe all women did.

Thank God this one hadn't.

But she nearly had, on more than one occasion.

Even today she had worried about him and had been thrilled beyond words
when he returned.

He'd probably thought her a naive little fool.

Frustration took the form of tears.

Her chin trembled first, and she knew she had about ten seconds before
the tears that were welling in her eyes slid down her cheeks.

It was dignity that made her turn and push through the crowd, who
barely seemed to notice.

She needed a little space, she told herself as she broke free of the
crowd and started to run.

Alex Spotted her just as she disappeared into the throng of people.

He shouted her name but she was too far away to hear him over the
music.

What the hell had happened?

he asked himself, already guessing at the answer.

She'd seen him with Many Blue Beads.

Damn.

He shouldered free of the crowd and was starting in the direction where
he'd last seen her, when he ran into Gray Dog.

"I lost him," Gray Dog proclaftned.

"I lost Red Weasel."

Alex scanned the crowd.

It was impossible to see anything or anyonf,.

"Mary.  Did you see Mary?"

" Isif t she dancing?"

"No.  She just took off."

Gray Dog shook his head.

"I don't like it.  If Red Weasel finds her..  ."

He let the implication drag out.

"He'd love to make you lose honor and if he could get Mary-" "She
doesn't understand how we do things."

With a small nod, Gray Dog said, "She'll head for your lodge, won't
she?"

He was already backing up.

"Damned if I know.  She could be anywhere."

Alex's heart rate increased fractionally.

"You find Yellow Flower.  They may be together.  If not, go to your
lodge, it's the closest.  I'll check mine."

"If she's not there, do you want me to check Red Weasel's?  If he's got
hen" "Abduction?  He wouldn't dare."

"He's of the Lumpwood clan, of course he would.

Abductions are a matter of honor.

If he takes her, she's lost to YOU.

"The hell she is."

Alex's tone was killingly cold.

Gray Dog was visibly startled.

"The loss of face would be unrecoverable."

"The hell with honor.  Mary is mine, and if he's touched her..."

Alex was already moving through the crowd.

Gray Dog took off in the opposite direction.

Dammit, she wasn't going to Cry.

She swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands and put all her
energy into running, just as fast and as far as she could.

Heart pounding, she wove her way between the maze of lodges, her
footsteps uncertain in the light of the moon .

All she knew was that she needed some distance from Alex Moreau and she
needed it now.

It was absurd, of course.

She had no rights, no claim at all.

But logic had no place here.

She was hurt and angry and she was going to be illogical if she damn
well pleased.

She slowed to a fast walk.

That Irish temper of hers was boiling over, and if she didn't walk some
of it off, she was liable to say or do something she'd regret, like
strangle the man.

How could he stand there in front of God and everyone, holding that
woman, while she, like some fool, was dancing twenty feet away?

Did he think she couldn't see him?

Couldn't he at least have the common courtesy to wait until she was
gone!

Here she'd worried herself to death over him today.

Worried that he was hurt or dying somewhere, that he needed her.

To think she'd seriously considered surrendering to his request.

Ha!

The breeze pushed her hair in her face.

Angrily she tossed the dark locks over her shoulder.

Her heart was pumping blood faster than a flash flood.

Overhead the stars filled the sky, the same stars that she and Alex had
looked up at while they shared their intimate secrets.

He probably sat under the stars habitually-with a different woman every
night.

Anger knotted muscles along her shoulders and neck, Until this minute
she'd never imagined Alex with anyone but her.

Now she was imagining him with other women, lots of other women.

The man was obviously a skilled lover, something he didn't learn in a
cloistered monastery.

Shutting her eyes, against those tears she refused to acknowledge, she
could imagine him with the Indian woman tonight, imagine him kissing
her in that really tender way of his, imagine him whispering words of
seduction and promise in her ear.

"No!"

Hands curled into fists, she took off at a run.

Her foot caught on a lodge pole and she fell, sprawling.

Her knees hit the ground with a bonoaning thud and her hands dug into
the sandy soil.

"Damn."

This time the tears did flow, with great racking sobs in fact.

She lay there in the darkness, her face pressed into the dirt, her
hands and knees throbbing.

She didn't care.

It wasn't more than ten seconds when she felt strong hands at her
waisthelping her to her feet.

"Get away from me, Alex."

She-slapped at his hands.

"I'm not going to- I' She turned sharply and came face-to-face with a
slender young warrior, beautifully dressed in beaded buckskin leggings
and a matching breechcloth.  His chest was bare and his straight black
hair reached well below his shoulders.  Mary recognized him as someone
she'd seen around the camp, though they'd never spoken.

"Kdh@, " he said politely.

"I'm sorry."

She started pushing her hair back then straightening her dress.

"I thought you were someone else " Biaitche, " he said softly, then
smiled.

Mary didn't understand the word, but she smiled back anyway.

"I was trying to find my way when I tripped and fell and..."

She held out her hands as if to demonstrate what she was saying.

He nodded and cradled her injured hand in his larger one.

His handsome face drew down in a frown as he brushed at the dirt and
bits of grass clinging to her hands.

Mary flinched.

"Can you help me find my way?"

She said each word slowly as if this would make him understand.

He stared at her a long moment, then smiled and nodded again.

He then wrapped his hand around hers and started to walk, taking her
with him.

"Thank goodness," Mary said as she fell in step.

"I was afraid there for a minute you didn't understand."

He wasn't looking at her now, but he seemed to know exactly where he
was going, which gave Mary pause, because she hadn't said where she
wanted to go.

She realized he'd probably seen her with Alex, and since she was the
only white woman in camp, how many places could she want to go,?

They walked for several minutes.

It seemed almost eerie, she thought as they turned behind a
particularly large lodge.

A camp dog growled at their approach.

The usually bustling camp was nearly deserted.

And only the occasional horse picketed near a lodge noted their
progress.

The man spoke to her as they walked.

She didn't understand a word, but his tone was friendly and he always
smiled, so she nodded and smiled and lengthened her stride to keep up
with him.

Just wait until she got back to Alex's lodge.

Maybe Alex would be there when she arrived.

Now that would be a pleasant surprise for him when she returned home on
the arm of this starkly handsome warrior.

A smug smile tugged up the corners of her mouth.

Ah yes, a little of his own medicine wouldn't hurt.

Mary was so lost in thought it was several minutes before she realized
they were moving away from the camp.

UP cottonwood ahead she could make out the silhouette of the grove that
lined the river.

"Wait," she said, stopping short.

II The camp is back that way.

" She gestured with her free hand."  I guess you didn't understand
after an.

" She smiled brightly and he smiled right back.

"I want you-" she touched his bare chest with the tips of two fingers
"-to take me-" she thumbed her own chest -tomex's lodge.

His raven brows knit in a frown.

"Hukawe, " he re, turned, and pointed toward the river that was only a
few hundred yards away.

His grip tightened on Mary's wrist and he started walking again.

"No.  Wait.  I don't want to go to the river.  I want to go back to
Alex's lodge, only I can't remember which way.

Don't you understand?

Evidently he didn't because he started walking again, pulling her along
after him.

Fear made nerves flutter, just a bit.

They were alone, very much alone.

Everyone was gathered at the dance, which was being left farther and
farther behind with each step.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Well, look," she began, trying to sound casual, "I really don't want
to go to the war now, maybe tomorrow, so I'll just be going on my own
way."

She tried to slip her hand free of his.

His grip tightened.

Fear clenched her stomach.

Stay calm.

"You don't have to help me anymore."

She tried unsuccessfuuy to twist free.

"If you'll just let me go, I'll be on my way."

"Hukawe kussee xakaalawe, " he said and reached out to trail his hand
along the top of her shoulder and then along her jawline.

Mary might not have understood his words, but she understood his
meaning well enough.

When he started walking again, she dug her heels in for good this time,
not that it helped.

The man hardly even slowed.

Fear turned to panic.

She thought to scream but there wasn't a soul around and those drums
would drown out any possibility of being heard.

Still, she wasn't going without a fight.

And she did just that.

She pried at the hand, gripping her wrist, and when that didn't work
she balled up her fist and hit him in the back.

Might as well have hit a rock.

"Let me go!"

He didn't even turn .

This time she screamed, twisted, pulled and finally clawed at him.

His grip loosened for a second and it was enough for her to break
free.

Heart pounding, she hiked up the buckskin dress and took off running in
the direction of the encampment.

The soft grass cushioned her feet as she stretched out her stride.

A quick glance and she saw him gaining on her.

A sharp pain stitched her side.

She faltered but kept runmng.

Up ahead was the edge of the village.

If she could only make it there, she had a chance to duck in somewhere
and lose him in the maze.

asn't used to Her breath came in labored gulps; she w running.

Keep going.

Suddenly she felt his hands around her waist.

She felt herself being lifted off the ground and slammed against his
chest, his grip vise-tight.

His expression was frighteningly dark.

She struggled in his arms, kicking, pushing.

He barked an order and shook her hard.

Mary stilled.

She realized he wasn't even winded, and that if she did get free again,
she'd never have the strength to get away.

They stood like that for a full fifteen seconds and then he surprised
her.

He lowered her feet to the ground, turning her toward him.

She felt his arousal pressed against her belly.

Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders.

"You don't want to do this."

She struggled to keep her voice calm when she'd never been so terrified
in her life.

I 'Let me go.

Please.

" He seemed to be listening, so she kept on talking."  Let me go and
we'll forget all this ever happened.

I won't say a word.

She spoke as one would to an infant child."  I don't even know your
name," she lied, " so I can't possibly identify YOU.

She pushed gently against his broad shoulders.

He didn't budge.

Instead, he bent his head in her direction and she knew he meant to
kiss her.

Dear God, please don't let this happen.

Frantically, Alex had been searching the camp for her.

His heart beat wildly and his muscles tensed as he rushed between the
lodges straining to see in the shadowy moonlight.

That's when he spotted her-them.

What he saw he sure as hell didn't like.

He took off at a run.

"Let go of the woman," Alex commanded in Absarokee, his tone
dangerously low.

Red Weasel's head came up with a snap and he whipped around to face
Alex.

He still held Mary in his arms.

A smug smile spread across his face.

"The woman is mine."

He eased his arm more fully around Mary's shoulder.

The implication was obvious.

Rage, cold and black, exploded in Alex's brain.

"Step.- away from him, woman."

This time Alex spoke in English'.

A muscle twitched in his j aw.

Mary had never seen Alex like this.

His barely controlled rage was evident in the way he clenched and
unclenched his fist and the remote look in his coal black eyes.

The nearby cooing of the mourning dove and the distant thunder of the
drums were the only sounds.

Gray Dog skidded to a halt behind Alex.

"What's going on?"

"Woman, I advise you to step out of his arms before I kill him.tp.

The harshness of his words and the bluntness of his accusation brought
reality back to Mary.

"Alex, no' " she screamed.

"It isn't... I-" "I can see what it is!

Rage won over common sense.

"See anything you want!

She wisely stepped away from Red Weasel.

"No one was telling you what to do when you were with the woman in
front of - " "Gray Dog, take her with you to my lodge and keep her the
hell there, even if you have to tie her up to do it!  " Without a word,
Gray Dog took her by the elbow, but Mary twisted free and charged at
Alex.

"I won't be sent off like some child.  I'm an adult who, even in this
tribe, has a right to make ... choices."

She let the word hang dangerously between them.

"The hell you do!  Take her now, Gray Dog, before I do something I
regret!"

Without a word, Gray Dog unceremoniously scooped her up onto his
shoulder, making it difficult for her to breathe let alone talk.

But she would talk .

In fact, she had a helluva lot on her mind and she saved it all for
Alex Moreau.

Alex never took his gaze from Red Weasel.

"The woman is mine."

Red Weasel's mouth turned up in an insulting smirk.

"I think the great warrior Biia Cheote has grown weak and now must beg
for the woman's favors."

"I beg for nothing.  The woman is mine," he repeated harshly.

"If you ever touch her again..."

Red Weasel's eyes widened in surprise.

"You would fight for a woman?  Has being with the whites so turned your
heart away from our rules of honor?"

"I don't need lessons in honor from you or anyone," he retorted
sharply.

"The woman doesn't understand our rules.

It is my obligation to protect her.

"It seems you have failed, then."

"It seems I have not, since I'm the one with the woman."

"For now."

"Forever."

Alex stood stiffly, as taut as a bow.

It was the only outward sign of his all-consuming rage.

"So the stories are true.  Snow Wolf is bianishtaatuuk, ruled by the
woman."

The insult was harsh.

Alex held fast, knowing his need for her would push him beyond the
limits of all he held sacred.

And that revelation scared him almost as much as the killing rage that
was driving him.

It took a full thirty seconds for him to get enough control to speak.

"Don't touch my woman again.  I would hate to kill a brother, but I
will, Red weasel.  Make no mistake.  I will kill you or anyone who
tries to take her."

He hesitated only briefly, and when Red Weasel said nothing, Alex
turned and strode away.

Gray Dog was pacing outside Alex's lodge when Alex arrived.

"I'm sorry to get You involved, old friend@ Alex said in a low voice,
his gaze already focused on the closed flap of thelodge.

Gray Dog followed the line Of Alex's vision.

"What are you going to do?"  I " I don't know.

" If she were Crow you could beat her, but.  .

Alex smiled for the first time in several hours.

"I'm not going to beat her."

In truth he'd never raised his hand to a woman in his life, though
there was A moment back therewhen she was in Red Weasells embrace-that
he seriously thought he might.

Gray Dog studied his cousin's face for a long moment.

"This one, I think, is not easily cowed.  She needs to be gentled ...

without breaking the spirit."

"I know.  Don't worry I With that, Alex gave Gray Dog a pat on the
shoulder and moved past him.  He hesitated only a moment then ducked
inside the lodge, the flap swooshing closed.

Mary was waiting for him.

Color high, fists balled at her waist, she railed at him.

"How dare you do that to me!  How dare you have me carried off like
some piece of property!"  Barely checked anger exploded in his brain.

" Not property, sweetheart, but you do belong to me.

"Only as your prisoner," she raged, ignoring the fact that she'd chosen
to stay.

"I belong to no one."

He sucked in a calming breath, then another.

It wasn't near enough.

He didn't trust himself to say more, fearing that the words said now
would be so cruel and hurtful there'd be no hope -and he wanted to re
of recovering re painful than cover.

The thought of giving her up was mo get his feelings fighting for
her.

He needed a little time to under control.

He tried to move past her.

She blocked his way.

"I rue the " Damn you, Alex Moreau, she hurled at him.

day I ever set eyes on you.

" The words poured out, fueled by weeks of fear and frustration."

Wasn't winning in Washington enough!

Why did you have to humiliate me!

" " What are you yelling at me for?

I'm not the one who was-" Anger mixed with desire, making his fingers
ache with the need to grab her and pull her into his arms and ...

oh, the hell with it!

" He threw himself down on a stack of wolf pelts.

Mary was there in an instant, standing over him and glaring down at his
prone form.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!"

"You know, sweetheart, you're right.  I'm tired of walking away."

With that, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down.

In one smooth motion he covered her body with his, pinning her
shoulders to the bed.

I 'This time I'm not waiting for a lightning storm or anything else.

This time you're going to be mine.

" He ground his hips against hers, makith Red Weasel ate ing his
intention clear.  The vision of her w at his very soul, leaving him raw
and hurting.

Anger, not fear, made Mary push against the heavy weight of his body.

"Get Off me.  Or are you going to rape me like Red Weasel tried to
do!

Alex stilled.

"What?"

His tone was suddenly soft, deadly quiet.

"You heard me!"  she shouted out pushing at him again.

"He tried to take me to the grove by the river, and when I tried to
leave he wouldn't let me."

Those blasted tears welled in her eyes again.

She twisted her head away.

She wouldn't give Alex the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Alex took her chin in his hand, forcing her to turn back.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and disappeared into her
hair.

She couldn't answer as the fear and frustration would no longer be held
in check.

She closed her eyes, determined not to let him see her cry.

Alex was not so easily deterred.

In a tone that was dangerously quiet, he said, "Did Red Weasel hurt
you?"

"No" was her thready reply.

Alex stared at her, and for a moment she thought he didn't believe
her.

Then suddenly he shifted and made to stand.

"I'll kill the bastard.  No one touches my woman and-" Mary grabbed
him, suddenly afraid for him.

"No, Alex, please, I'm all right."

He hesitated and she forced a small, shaky smile.

"I'm all right," she repeated.

"I won't have you threatening-" "It's no threat, sweetheart.- I'd kill
anyone who hurt you."

He rolled off her and onto his back.

"I'm sorry, Mary."

There was a sadness in his voice she'd never heard before.

"Dammit, this is all your fault."

Alex scanned Mary's face.

Her expression was tighthpped with rage.

Her jaw was clenched, her body was stiff beneath his and her hands were
curled into tight fists.

my fault?

My fault!

"Yes."

He turned to her, his expression grave.

"Dammit, I love you, and seeing you with another man, even thinking
about you with another man, makes me crazy.

Mary's heart slammed into her throat.

"What did you say?"

"I said seeing you with other men - .  ."  he began, his tone more
gentle than she'd ever heard before.

He looked at her with those sable eyes, which were softer than she'd
ever seen them.

"No."

Her voice wobbled.

,Before that.

"Your fault - - ."

"After that."

Alex knew what she was asking.

The words had come so easily he'd been surprised, probably as surprised
as she.

"I love you so damned much," he said.

You love me?

"I love you," he confirmed softly, at once relieved and afraid.

Now that the words were out there was no taking them back.

For the second time in his life he was totally vulnerable.

ire eyes wide with wonder.

She stared at him, her sapph "You can't love me."

Alex chuckled.

it seems as though I do.

" In one motion he stood and paced away from her until he was a pale
shadow in the darkened lodge.

"What about the woman?"

"There are no other women, not now."

She sat up, following his pacing with her gaze.

"Look, Alex, you don't have to do this."

"Do what?"  this.

she waved her hand negligently in the air.

"I'm not angry anymore.  It's okay."

"What's okay?  What are you talking about?"

"Me.  Us.  You don't have to try to make some kind of amends here,
Alex.  You certainly don't have to profess love just to soothe my
feelings."

Alex laughed, a warm, genuine laugh.

"Is that what you think?  Good God, woman, I'm not in the habit of
confessing love to soothe feelings, yours or mine."

"You're serious?"

I 9 I've never been more serious in my life.

" He crossed to her and dropped down on both knees in front of her.

Taking

239 her face in his hands, he kissed her.

He @ her for a long time, taking her breath and giving her his.

He kissed her until she stilled in his arms, until her lips moved
against his, until he felt her shudder.

When he lifted his mouth from hers, he continued to hold her delicate
face in his hands.

Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes bright.

" I'm trying to tell you.  . . to ask you.  .

His lips moved sensually against hers.

"Marry me."

It sounded more like an order than a proposal, but either way it had
the same effect.

Mary sat back on her heelswell, fell back actually, eyes wide.

Inside she was shaking like a small earthquake.

The man had cut a swath through her life like an avalanche and now
this.

"Are you sure?"

Her voice cracked and she had to clear her throat.

"But I have- " Alex cut off her words with another kiss.

He knew what she was going to say, what she was thinking.

Heil, he was thinking it himself.

He had no answers and right this minute he didn't want to take the time
to look for them.

There was only one answer he wanted.

Say yes.

She wanted him so much she could taste it.

Desire, hot and urgent, flared to life; nerves trembled with the memory
of the-touch and taste and feel ol[him.

She shook her head in denial, as much of his request as of the man and
all he represented.

How could she have let things get so out of hand?

"Will you?  Will you marry me?"  he asked, his tone urgent as old
fears, old pain, welled up in him.

He was risking all that he was.

She looked at him, her gaze inquisitive.

Passion battled with reason.

The silence between them stretched taut with anticipation.

He continued.

" Ours hasn't been the best of .  . . I should never have taken you off
the train but I knew I couldn't let you walk away.  I didn't understand
why until..."

He sank back on his heels, letting his hands rest lightly on his
buckskin-clad thighs.

"Do you care about me at all?  Do you love me, Irish?"  he asked
simply, his eyes showing his anxiety.

Mary looked at him, the starkly handsome beauty of his face; the eyes
that could be wicked as the devil's or gentle enough to make her want
to cry; the mouth that could Smile and make the sun envious of its
warmth; the chin, with just the right amount of arrogant tilt to it.

In a world that was about to turn inside out, she could be certain of
at least one thing.

"I love you.  I love you very much.

"Are you sure, Mary?"

He abbed her shoulders, his gr grip hard, his fingers digging into the
flesh through the soft leather of the dress.

His tone was an agonizing whisver.

"Be very, very sure.

Because I want you.

His grip tightened.

@ 7

And unless you stop me right now.

She smiled at him, a slow, languid smile.

"Make love to me, Alex."

She took a small breath to steady her trembling nerves.

"I think I'll die if you don't make love to me."

He hesitated, trying to gauge the sincerity of her sensuous
invitation.

The heated look in her eyes confirmed her words.

Still, his hands were gentle when they curved over the top of her
shoulders and pulled her to him as though he half expected her to
change her mind.

Mary went willingly.

She wanted him.

Had wanted him from the first, she realized.

She'd thought about him, lost sleep over him, worried about him and
been jealous over him.

Now he was here.

The voice of reason warned against this act, but the voice was faint
and drowned out by the pounding of her heart.

His gaze never leaving hers, Alex lowered his head, covering her mouth
in a kiss that was at first tender, then fierce, then demanding.

One hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers twisting possessively
in her silken hair.

He wanted to possess her, to own her, body and soul.

p 241

Alex's kiss was startling in its intensity.

Mary welcomed it, welcomed him.

She loved him and this was right, being with him was right.

Later, they would talk of families and treaties and trouble.

Not now.

Now was for them, for the desire that had sparked between them from the
first moment.

Alex lifted his head, his eyes rich with invitation.

"More," she ordered softly, and pulled his dark head down to hers.

He obliged this time, taking her mouth in a feverish kiss that ignited
the desire inside him like a flame to kerosene.

He crushed her to him, wrapping his hands around her at shoulder and
waist, feeling her firm breasts pressed provocatively against his
chest.

She was everything he wanted, everything he'd dreamed about.

He wanted her so much it was like a living force inside him.

Holding her in his arms, he moved against her to let her feel his
arousal while his mouth ate hungrily of hers.

Mary felt more than heard his groan, and felt his body shudder against
hers.

When he lifted his mouth this time, he blazed a trail of tiny kisses
along her jaw and down her neck, stopping to nip at the sensitive skin
behind her ear then kiss away the-hurt.

He kissed her passionately, allowing the desire of the last few weeks
to overtake him.

When his tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, she opened it to him.

He felt her jolt as his tongue slipped between her lips to lave at the
sensitive flesh, only to withdraw and then plunge in again in a ritual
as old as time.

Mary's heart took on a labored rhythm as her arms glided up around his
broad shoulders and her fingers laced in the silk of his hair.

He smelled of leather and soap and sage.

He felt like heaven in her arms.

Alex kissed her again and again, his mouth expertly slanting one way
then the other, teasing the hunger and the passion he knew was
there-waiting.

His tongue traced her bottom lip, then slipped inside her mouth once
more, this time tasting, savoring.

Dear God, she was sweet.

His sensual invasion heated her, turning flesh and bone to the
delicious consistency of sun-warmed honey.

Her whole body came alive with his touch.

"Clang.  My darling' Clang," he murmured in a sultry tone that brushed
across her senses like fine velvet.

44I've wanted you like this from the first-until I thought I'd go
insane with the hunger.

need.

But now she was here and his and he gave in to his He rained kisses
along her cheek then sucked on the tip of her chin, tasting her flesh,
feeling her respond, hearing the small moan of pleasure when he laved
at the inside of her ear.

"You like that?"  he murmured, his breath warm on her moistened flesh
guess .

I do," she agreed in a breathy voice."  Do it again.

"What else do you like, sweet darling?"

She didn't answer, only looked at him with half-lidded eyes, dark with
her growing passion.

"We have all night to find out."

His hands drifted down f her her body, pausing for a moment at the
sensuous curve o hips before moving around to cup her firm buttocks.

His hands drifted lower, searching for the hem of her dress, but it was
out of reach.

Gathering the body-warmed leather in his hands, he glided the garment
upward.

Cool air brushed the backs of Mary's legs but it only served to inflame
her.

She felt the dress bunched at her waist, her legs and buttocks
exposed.

Her eyes new open and she covered his hands with her own, stopping his
progress.

All she could see was his handsome face, his heated eyes.

"I want to see you, to touch you," he said to her unspoken question.

Then he smiled, that roguish, lazy smile that sent delicious shivers
racing up her spine.

He kissed her gently then, tenderly, invitingly.

She let her hands drop away and, in one smooth motion, he pulled her
dress up over her lifted arms and tossed it aside.

Alex sank back on his heels and took in the sight of her.

Her shoulders were as slender as he'd remembered, but her skin was
whiter, like fine porcelain.

Her breasts were full, proud, the nipples already drawn into hard nibs
that begged to be kissed.

The pounding in his loins increased dramatically.

Her waist was narrow and he remembered holding her there as he'd
carried her to the river that terrible night.

Tonight he would wash away the fear and the memories.

Tonight they'd make new memories together.

He swallowed hard and said, "You are more beautiful than there are
words in your language or in mine to express."

There was hesitation in her eyes and she reached for the discarded
dress.

He stopped her with the barest of touches.

4 'Don't.

When she turned back to him, he lifted her hair over her shoulders and
arranged it across her breasts.

The backs of his hands brushed against her nipples as he did so.

The air around them seemed charged, ripe with promise.

Mary trembled but didn't turn away.

Her muscles tensed then relaxed at his scrutiny.

Everywhere his eyes traveled it was as though he'd touched her, and her
skin heated in response.

Desire raced through Alex's body, turning his blood to liquid fire.

His heart pounded in his chest like the incessant beat of a war drum.

He reached for her, surprised to see his fingers tremble.

With expert precision, his hands glided along the tops of her
shoulders, tracing the shape of her collarbone, brushing over the swell
of her breasts then down her arms.

Taking both of her hands in his, he lifted them to his mouth, kissing
and licking each palm.

Each touch, each kiss, was a lush delight.

Her breathing became shallow, and a delicious warmth started low,
between her legs.

"Alex, I feel so..

"What?"  he asked, already knowing the answer.

He took one of her fingers into his mouth then slowly withdrew it.

She watched, mesmerized, as the simple act sent waves of pleasure
washing over her.

"Alex ..."  was all she said in a breathless voice.

Fantasies, carnal and urgent, pounded in his brain.

He d waited a long time for this moment and he was determined not to
rush, though right this minute his determination was more than a little
unstable.

His breathing was ragged and the air around them seemed thin.

He ached to touch her everywhere, explore her body, show her all the
pleasures a man and woman can share.

When his hands moved to cup her breasts, she flinched.

"It's all right," he said softly.

At his words, she steadied herself against the feelings so luscious
they threatened to consume her.

This was Alex.

This was right.

This was pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.

His thumbs circled her nipples, already puckered and aching.

Instinctively, she arched back, exposing her breasts more fully, her
body crying out for his touch.

When he obliged, brushing his thumb across the hardened peaks, she
gasped in delight.

"Oh, Alex.  It feels wonderful."

He smiled at her pleasure.

Taking her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed and
she bucked in response, her hands grabbing his shoulders.

"Do you like that?"  he asked, his voice low and roughened as he
brushed her nipple once again "It's bliss," she told him.

She thought nothing else could feel this wonderful.

"It gets better."

With each touch, her breasts throbbed and ached for more, while the
warmth that had started between her legs spiraled out, consuming her.

Watching her and touchinp- her were not enough for Alex.

His body cried out for more.  He needed to feel her against him, heated
flesh against heated flesh.

In one motion, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside.

He shed the rest of his clothes and pulled her against him.

Dear God, she was luscious beyond words, beyond thought or reason.

His hands splayed across her bare back then drifted lower to cup'her
firm buttocks.

He held her to him as he moved, letting his pulsing arousal caress the
smooth skin of her belly.

Frantically, they clung to each other.

Alex took her mouth in a hungry kiss.

Her fingers dug hard into his shoulders.

Desire built and built like an avalanche that nothing and no one could
stop.

He trailed kisses along her neck and shoulder, reveling in the feel of
her skin against his lips.

Putting her slightly away from him, he cupped one breast in his hand
then took the nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping until Mary
groaned with pleasure.

"Please," she whispered as her head lolled back.

"Please."

And though it sounded like a plea to stop, her fingers laced through
his hair and held him there, demanding more.

He was only too willing to.

comply.

"I want to kiss and lick every delicious inch of you-."

His skin prickled with excitement as it rubbed against hers setting off
unbelievable desire.

Mary was Ixot.

' Her breath came, in short, panting gulps.

Moisture collected between her legs.

as her blood heated and rushed like molten lava.

"Alex, something is happening..."  she groaned, pulling him to her
again.

Her body instinctively knew he had the answer, the power to give her
relief from this exquisite agony.

"Yes, honey.  I know.  I feet it too."  Alex lowered them to the soft
fur pallet.  Mary sprawled languidly on top of him.  Her hair pooled on
his chest as in every fantasy of her.  He held her there, pressing his
arousal against her belly.  When she braced herself up on her elbows,
he looked directly into her eyes."  This is what you do to me," he told
her, wanting her to understand.

She smiled with wanton abandon and slipped her slender leg between his
seductively.

It was almost his undoing.

In one motion, he rolled over, pinning her beneath him.

Mary felt his weight on her before he propped himself up on his
elbows.

Alex's mouth devoured hers, his hand stroked her flesh intimately from
hip to breast and back again.

A fierce yearning was carried with the fire that was consuming her.

She began to move, her body arching and writhing beneath his.

Her feet pushed against the soft fur while her hands clutched at
Alex.

Perspiration glistened on her skin, making it slick.

Alex's body moving over her added to the heat, the delicious torture
that overwhelmed all else.

She kissed him just as hard and hot as she could, feeling she would
never get enough of him.

She partook of his lips, laved his ears, kissed and licked his neck and
shoulders.

He tasted of salt and leather and he felt like fire in her hands.

"Alex!"

It was a fevered cry-one that Alex recognized.

Moving partially off her, he caressed her ribs and hips and the flat
plane of her belly as he sought the junction of her thighs.

I ,Open your legs for me.

" she spoke, and he knew what " No, Alex.

" She arched as she needed, what she wanted .

"Open your legs for me," he repeated, then sucked on one nipple.

She cried out and did as he asked.

With the tips of two fingers, he stroked her hot core.

At his touch, her body bucked and desire shot through her like a
searing bolt of lightning.

Her body recognized the promise of his touch and she pressed against
him.

Her hands balled into fists as she moved in desperate response.

With each movement the ache intensified, yet she was unable to stop.

He delved deeper and she felt his fingers slide into her; still she
couldn't stop the frantic need.

Muscles tensed and eased with every touch, every breath.

Her skin was on fire.

"Alex," she moaned, her eyes half-lidded.

"What are, you doing to me?"

Her fingers clawed at the fur bed.

"I'm making you mine" came his heated reply.

With expert touch, he stroked her again and again, seeking her pleasure
spot.

Once more he caressed her sweetness, feeling her arch, hearing her
moan.

Mary gasped, wanting to hold on to the dizzying feeling that rocked her
to the core.

Nothing could have prepared her for this.

His fingers moved Over her with exquisite gentleness, stroking lightly,
then hard, then faster until, with an incoherent cry, she climaxed.

Her eyes flew open as pleasure, hot and sweet, poured through her.

She was left breathless and more alive than she'd ever been.

Watching her, pleasing her, Alex knew his own need could no longer be
restrained.

He moved on top of her, his leg slipping between her parted ones, his
hard length poised at her entrance, slick and heated with her orgasm.

She looked at him in wonder, her eyes filled with passion.

He brushed the sweat-dampened hair back from her face and offered a
smile, pleased that he was the one to awaken her womanhood.

"Do you like flying?"  he asked softly, thinking of the beautiful black
bird of his vision.

Her voice was a thready whisper.

"" I like flying with you.

Her arms slipped around his shoulders and pulled him to her.

His mouth covered hers in a consuming kiss that blocked all thought,
all reason, all fear.

Every nerve in her body seemed to center between her legs.

Her pulse beat frantically in her ears and her body strained toward
him.

"I want you," she said simply.

It was enough.

Slowly but firmly he pushed into her.

He hesitated slightly at her barrier and then buried himself in her
slick core.

She cried out, and he stilled, kissing her lips, her eyes and her
cheeks in apology for the hurt.

Alex felt the delicious tightness of her wrapped around him, felt the
wetness of her on his sensitized manhood, and he steeled himself
against the need to move.

He needed to give her time to relax, to get used to him being inside
her.

His hand brushed the hair back from her face and he kissed her forehead
and eyes and cheeks.

"It won't hurt anymore.  I promise."

When he felt her tension ease and saw her reddened lips turn up in a
trace of a smile, he started to move inside her.

With deliberate strokes, he slowly withdrew, then thrust forward
again.

He watched her face, felt the subtle movement of her body.

He wanted to know what pleased her even if she didn't know herself.

With exquisite care he withdrew again and carefully glided into her
once more, testing, learning the limits of her desire.

She purred when he went slow, she clawed his back when he moved
faster.

She was everything he'd ever imagined and more.

Mary welcomed him.

The familiar pleasure-pain started quickly and built with each
thrust.

Her body heated, knowing that beyond the unbearable longing was bliss,
pure and lush and all-consuming.

Alex could give her that.

So she met him stroke for stroke as her desire built, until she thought
she had died from the feeling.

Yet she couldn't stop as she reached with body and soul for the rapture
that was waiting.

With each stroke, his flesh glided over hers, his bare chest caressed
her swollen nipples, his fingers tightened on her shoulders.

His lips pressed against her ear, and he whispered words of promise and
of love.

He told her what she was doing to him in such detail that it sent
erotic fantasies flashing through her mind.

Faster and faster he pounded into her.

She felt his muscles straining beneath her fingertips, felt his breath,
hot and labored, on the side of her neck.

She felt the first tiny tremors and clutched at him, desperate for the
release that was so close.

"Please.  Oh, please," she begged, her body writhing against his.

"Yes, Clang," he encouraged.

"I-et it happen."

One more powerful stroke and she arched high against him and screamed
his name as her climax washed over them both, and it was then that Alex
gave in to his own driving need, pouring himself into her luscious
warmth.

The world around them disappeared.

Nothing existed beyond them.

No one had ever made him feel this exquisite bliss.

They clung to each other in languid contentment, neither one wanting to
break the spell.

Alex was still inside her, feeling her wrapped around him.

Relieved but not sated, within minutes he felt desire stir again.

A sensual smile curved her lips.

Her arms draped around his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair.

"You want me again, don't you?"  she asked with the sensuous smile of a
wanton.

"Yes," he told her honestly.

She moved slightly, as if testing the truth of his words.

He shuddered and rolled over, pulling her with him.

She straddled him, the sensitive flesh Of her inner thighs pressed
against his hip.

Her eyes widened in surprise as he took her firmly by the waist and
began to move her up and down on his pulsing erection.

Mary quickly understood.

On her own she moved, reveling in the realization that she could give
him pleasure.

With each stroke, her sensitized breasts brushed against his bare
chest, sending waves of delight along her raw and throbbing nerves.  ,
Perspiration glistened on their bodies and made their skin slick.

Alex pulled her down and slightly forward and took one aching nipple in
his mouth, sucking, nipping, kissing, feeling it harden.

Her hair fell like a curtain around his face and neck.

She increased her movements and felt his length glide fully into her.

Desire peaked quickly this time, and in minutes she felt the tremors.

She reached with mind and body for the ecstasy that was so close.

When her climax came this time she groaned in pleasure as Alex
shuddered in his own release.

By the time morning came they had made love twice more.

Alex had never been so happy.

He knew that she was his forever.

He had risked it all.

He had trusted his soul to a woman and she had loved him in return.

The old pain and fear was but a distant memory.

Slipping one bracelet from his arm, he slid it onto her wrist.

The next two days were heaven.

They played and made love, each time as though it were the first time
or perhaps the last.

They kissed and touched and explored each other.

They never talked of the future, of the world that lay outside this
isolated place.

Mary gave in to him and all that he offered, knowing he was unique in
this world and in her life, knowing that no man would ever be his
equal.

Alex had never felt so alive.

Every day, every hour, every minute was a precious time, a gift to be
cherished.

He told her she was more beautiful than the first flowers of spring,
that her voice was softer than a velvet caress, that her eyes were
bluer than the finest sapphires.

And he always told her that he loved her endlessly.

She responded differently each time.

With a kiss or a smile or a brazen touch.

"You're becoming quite the wanton," he teased one afternoon as she
sprawled naked on top of him after making love outdoors.

The sun dappled the landscape in shades of white and gray and the
gentle call of the meadowlark kept them company on the isolated
hilltop.

Mary was feeling wanton and free.

She'd never been this happy in her life and, she thought sadly, she'd
probably never be this happy again.

Hands folded on top of his bare chest, she propped her chin on them and
looked at the man half-dozing in the afternoon sun.

He wasn't asleep, though; she knew that by the way his hand was
drifting up and down her spine with sensual slowness.

Ail day she'd been trying to find a way to discuss the subject they'd
avoided.

Their lives were extraordinarily complicated by forces they had no
control over yet forces that neither could deny, at least not
forever.

Rainbow Gulch

251 still needed that train and Alex's devotion to his people was as
strong as hers was to her people.

'Alex.

She felt his hand stop.

"Alex," she repeated as she rolled off him and sat up.

Her hair spilled over her bare shoulders and the sunlight warmed the
thin skin of her back.

The scent of sage wafted on the breeze.

Alex braced himself on his elbows, his muscles tensed as his dark gaze
searched hers.

"What's wrong?  II " Nothing's wrong exactly.

" She wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees.  She pointedly didn't
look at him.

Alex was sitting up now.

"Exactly what, then?"

When she didn't answer right away, he filled in her unspoken
thoughts.

"Are you thinking about Rainbow Gulch?  II She nodded, not regretting
their days together but knowing this fairy tale couldn't last
forever.

"What about Rainbow Gulch?"

He lifted her chin with the tips of three fingers.

"You don't have to think about anything or any-one but us."

"It's us I'm thinking about... and them."

She hesitated, searching forthe words.

There was no easy way to say this.

"I have to go home."

Alex let his hand drop away.

"No."

He surged to his feet and put on his breechcloth and leggings.

Mary stood, too.

"What do you mean, no?"

Astonishment colored her voice.

She put on her dress.

Alex talked over his shoulder as he searched for his moccasins.

"Just that.  No."

His tone cut through her earlier happiness like a knife.

"Alex, we can't stay here forever."

"Why not?"

His tone was casual as he turned and started back in her direction.

The breeze fluttered the grass, making it change from green to gray
with the movement.

She sighed,.

not taking him seriously.

"Come on, Alex.

Even the tribe will be leaving soon to go to the winter camp.

You'll be going back to Butte or Washington.

"I'm taking you with me," he returned smoothly.

"We're getting married, remember?  We'll live in Butte.  I told you
about the house there.  Send for your father and he'll live with us."

Mary was picking up their blanket when his words caught her full
attention.

"Live in Butte?"

"Well, yes, where did you think we'd live?"

"I don't know," she told him honestly.

She'd been so caught up in being in love she hadn't thought beyond the
moment.

"Don't you want to live in Butte?"

Alex felt a sudden chill move through him.

"Butte's fine ... I guess."

Her tone was hesitant and those old fears circled in the back of his
mind like a hungry dog waiting for scraps.

Was she having second thoughts about being with him, married to him, in
the white man's world?

The breeze ruffled her hair and she pushed it back with her free hand,
crushing the blanket to her with the other.

"I have my father to think about.  Without the train he won't be able
to mine.  He'll have to leave like all the others."

Guilt and anger merged inside her at her behavior.

Suddenly she felt selfish beyond words.

How could she have so easily given in to her desire and forgotten all
about her father, her promises?

What was she going to do?

"I'll give your father a job.  He can live with us or in his own place
and-" "He won't do that."

She thought of how proud he was.

Too proud to live off someone else.

More than that was her promise that he could stay in Rainbow Gulch-stay
where her mother was buried.

Guilt twisted like a knot in her stomach and her fingers dug into the
coarse wool of the blanket.

Alex closed the distance between them.

He took her shoulders in his hands.

"Mary.  We'll work this out."

"How?"

She looked at him, her eyes suddenly bright with tears.

"How?"y AleX released her and paced away."  I don't know.

, "I've got to go home, Alex.  I've got to see my father.  I've got to
tell him how I failed to get the train."

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

His back was toward her when he said, "All right.  I 'll go with
you."

"No.  I'll go alone.  I need to see my father to explain."

Fear turned cold and hard inside him.

"I'm asking you not to go.  I've given you a solution."

"It's not acceptable," she snapped, and started down the hillside
toward the encampment.

"I've got to go home."

Alex caught up with her and, grabbing her by the wrist, spun her back
toward him.

"Don't do this, Mary.  If you love me you'll stay."

"I have to go.  Please try to understand, Alex."

" No.

I won't allow it.

Mary twisted away and kept walking.

He caught up with her at the bottom of the hill.

"If you go, it will never be the same with us.  Out there we are two
different people."

' "Alex, as much as I wish it was Otherwise, I made a Promise to people
who mean the world to me-to my own father.  We've got to have that
train."

"You'd do that, after being here, after living here?  You'd tear their
world down?"

His tone was incredulous.

"I'm not tearing their world down.  I only want-" "A train," he said
tersely, his eyes cold as granite.

"And, of course, you have to be the one who makes that happen."  He
paced two steps away then back."  It's all a lie, isn't it?

Admit it.

All of this-" He gestured broadly with his hand.

"It's a lie.  Loving me is a lie.  Understanding my people is a lie.

Marrying me is a lie."

"No, Alex, that's not true.  It's not a lie."

Tears welled behind her eyes.

"Why can't you understand?  Why can't you trust me?"  resurrected old
defenses.

"Bye then, damn Old hurts YOU."

Sadly, slowly, she turned and walked away, knowing there was nothing
she could say to convince him, knowing she had to leave or this
conflict would always be between them.

Alex shrugged, defeated.

Then, he followed her back.

They were close to camp when they spotted Gray Dog headed in their
direction.

"Hello, Mary.  Biia Cheote.  I- " He scanned their faces.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Alex snapped.

Mary glared at him.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Gray Dog frowned.

"But I thought-" Alex's glance flicked to Gray Dog then back to Mary.

"Things have changed."

"Things have not changed.  You won't believe me."

Gray Dog held up his hands in a gesture for them to stop and both Mary
and Alex turned to glare at him.

"Can I help here?"

"No!"

4eyes!

lp He glanced back and forth between them before addressing Mary.

"How can I help?"  he asked quietly, politely.

"You could take me to Crow Agency.  From there I can get a ride home,
I'm sure."

"Well, I could if..."

Gray Dog looked hesitantly at Alex, who was pacing back and forth like
a chained grizzly.

"Take her, if she's so damned determined to go."

And with that he strode off.

Mary watched his retreating form, knowing she had to do this, that if
they were ever going to have a future, it was up to her to find a way
to make it work.

They started out at dawn, Gray Dog and three warriors.

Mary had said her goodbyes to Yellow Flower and Never

Walks.

She was going to miss them terribly.

She was going to miss all of them.

She'd come to care for them a great deal in these few days.

Alex stood silently while she climbed on board the horse he'd
provided.

He never moved, never said a word.

There was really nothing to say.

They were in love, but it wasn't enough.

Anger and hurt sparked in his bottomless black eyes.

it tore at her.

Finally, as she was about to leave, he said simply, 'Don't.

It was all she could do not to throw herself in his arms, to say she
didn't care about anything or anyone else.

She couldn't.

"Goodbye, Alex," she said sadly, then shook the reins and started
off.

It took all day to reach the agency headquarters.

While the agents were surprised to see a white woman riding in with a
bunch of Crow warriors, they refrained from saying anything.

Mary was able to get a ride to Bozeman on a freighter.

From there she could rent a horse and head home.

She needed to see her home.

She needed to tell her friends what had happened.

Right now what she really needed was a hug, a fatherly hug' How could
sc(something so right turn out so wrong?

Mary was gone.

Alex sat cross-legged on a blanket in front of the campfire.

The night was warm, with a breeze that carried the strong scent of
sage.

There were more stars than a man could count in a lifetime sparkling in
the velvet sky.

It was the worst night he could ever remember.

A sadness, an emptiness, overwhefined him, touching every nerve.

Around him people talked and laughed and visited.

Occasionally someone tried to draw him into a conversation.  The best
he could manage were a few polite words.

Eventually, he went back to his lodge.

He was sulking, and when a man sulks he likes a little privacy.

The lodge seemed strangely empty without her.

Hell, his world seemed strangely empty without her.

He dropped down on the pallet.

Absently, his hand caressed the soft fur as he stared at the cold fire
pit.

He thought about making food.

He wasn't hungry.

He wasn't anything except damned angry and hurt.

Yes.

There it was.

Alex Moreau, the great Biia Cheote, was hurt.

This wound went deep, all the way to his soul, it seemed.

He'd confessed his love to her, and miraculously she had returned his
love.

It was perfect.

They were perfect.

He'd offered marriage.

It was settled.

Then suddenly, somewhere, somehow, everything changed.

What the hell had happened?

He still couldn't figure it out.

All he knew was that they were in love and it still wasn't enough.

She was gone.

That damned train proved more important than him.

Rage fueled the hurt.

Well, she wasn't going to get her damned train.

He'd move heaven and earth to see to it!

Chapter Fifteen

In two more days, she was in Bozeman.

She moved through the streets as if she were only half-there.

In truth she was; the other half, the most important half, was back by
the banks of a gently flowing river.

A vision of Alex's face as he watched her ride out that day flashed in
her mind.

Her step faltered on the rough plank sidewalk.

She headed for the livery stable at the far end of town.

All the way there she kept asking herself if she had made the right
decision.

It was the only decision, She had to see her father, her friends.

She had to face them.

, .

to tell them of her failure.

Much as she would have liked to stay away, she couldn't pretend they
didn't exist-not any longer.

Yet what was she going to say?

, She sighed visibly and kept walking.

Her heels made a hollow thudding on the wooden walkway, and her tan
skirt was stained and smudged with dirt.

With a little jump, she stepped down from the sidewalk, into the muddy
street.

She had to hitch up her skirt to protect her hem.

A freight wagon loaded with supplies rumbled past, heading south out of
town.

She paused to watch it go, wondering if those supplies were going to
the reservation.

That thought bothered her as she hurried across the street to Fox's
Livery.

Oh, not that the Indians were getting supplies.

No, what bothered her was that she saw clearly now that these people
didn't need handouts or charity.

What they needed was to be allowed to live their lives the way they'd
always lived their lives before the white man came.

But how?

How could one survive without destroying the other?

With icy fingers, she pushed open the unpainted door and spotted Mr.
Fox cleaning a harness.

"Ain't seen you in a while, " the graying man said gruffly, looking up
from his task.

"I've been to Washington."

The old man let out a whistle through his teeth as he went to get her
usual horse.

"Washington," he repeated.

"That's a fer piece.  I ain't never been east of the Mississip'
myself."

He saddled the horse and led him over to Mary.

Dragging over a chair, he helped her climb up into the saddle.

Mary paid him with two silver dollars and was rewarded with a grin.

She was halfway out the barn when she heard him call, "You ain't going'
to Washington, are ya?  I'd have to charge you four dollars for
that."

He laughed at his joke.

"No," Mary called over her shoulder.

"I'm going home."

But this time there was no joy in her voice.

It was raining like hell when she rode into town.

At first she thought that was the reason there wasn't a soul around.

But the lights and the noise coming from the Number Two saloon
suggested another reason.

Wet and cold and more than a little tired, she reined up in front of
the building.

Her cold stiffened muscles ached as she dismounted.

Rain poured off the roof, splattering the street in mud.

Mary shoved her matted hair back and began trying to clear her
vision.

No use, it was raining cats and dogs.

She climbed up on the rickety wooden porch and headed for the inviting
warmth of the saloon.

Her hand paused on the raw wood of the door.

From inside an unfamiliar voice was talking, shouting.

What the devil?

she wondered as she pushed open the door and let it slam behind her,
making the glass rattle.

The long narrow room was nearly filled with miners, who were either
standing at the bar or seated at the half-dozen homemade tables.

"Mr.  Strictland?"

She said the words softly, she was so surprised.

All done up in his Eastern-style blue suit, he looked as out of place
as an elephant in a henhouse.

What was he doing here?

Did he have some news?

Excitmnent fluttered her pulse and she took an eager step in his
direction.

Michael Strictland spotted her at once.

Grinning, be made his way through the crowd.

Everyone turned and Mary was immediately surrounded by friends.

"Mary, welcome back."

"We was wondering what happened to you.  Mr. Strictland said you left
Washington before him and-" Michael stepped between Mary and the man
speaking.

His handsome face was the picture of concern-his blue eyes narrowed in
worry.

"I was distressed when you weren't here," he said politely, taking her
cold hand in his warm one.

His touch felt strangely unpleasant, not at all like Alex's, she
thought, slipping her hand free of his grasp.

"Are you all right, Miss Clanroy?"

Strictland's voice was quiet.

Water trickled in rivulets down her face and neck and back.

"I wasn't feeling well andgot off the train... for a whites' she told
them with a dismissing wave of her hand.

" I'm fine now.  What are you doing here?  II Water dripped from her
skirt and puddled on the dusty plank floor."  Is it the train?

Did something happen?

" She remembered he'd promised to write to the governor.  Perhaps there
was hope yet.

Before Strictland could answer, Mary felt a hand at her shoulder and
turned to see her father,s smiling face.

He gave her a fatherly hug.

"I was about to set out looking for you."

"I'm okay, Papa."

She shoved her hair out of her face but couldn't stop the shiver that
made her teeth chatter.

"For heaven's sake, girl, you're drenched."

Brian quickly removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders.

"Let's get your bags and get you home before you catch your death."

Mary pulled the coat around her, feeling the warmth of her father's
body.

It was like being hugged, and God knew she needed that right now.

She scanned the weathered faces of the miners present.

Their expressions were calm.

Her gaze flicked back to Michael Strictland.

He must have told them, so why weren't they upset?

"Mr.  Strictland, you were about to tell me why you're here."

Please, God, let it be good news.

"Well," Michael began, then took her elbow and led her toward a wobbly
chair next to a scarred pine table.

He pulled another chair out and sat across from her.

Brian stood protectively behind her.

"The assay reports you had sent were very promising-" Michael glanced
appreciatively at the men gathered around them "-and I am a
speculator.

So I'm here offering a deal."

Mary's eyes narrowed as suspicion replaced excitement.

"What kind of deal?  Without a train there's no-" Brian's baritone
voice cut in.

"Ten cents on the dollar of assayed value for fifty-one percent of each
claim."

What?

Mary couldn't believe it.

The man must be insane.

She felt her father's hand on her shoulder and looked slightly in his
direction, though not really seeing his face.

She didn't have to.

She knew what he was feeling.

"Mr. Strictland, what you're proposing would mean giving up control of
the mines to you.

Michael shrugged casually.

"It's just my way of protecting my investment."

"It seems rather low-your offer, I mean.  These are rich claims."

"I know," he agreed with a rueful shake of his head.

"But who knows how long it will be before a train comes.

Could be years.

"Could be soon," she countered, remembering Macklin'S optimistic tone
when she'd left Washington.

Strictland shrugged, his blond hair gleaming in the flickering
lamplight.

I "that's true, but there's no guarantee," he lied smoothly, knowing
that when she'd failed in her efforts to break the treaty, he had been
forced to reveal his interest.

When the politicians caught the scent of money, they were Only too
willing to talk about treaties and trainsfor a share.

And their shares had cost him, but he could recover if he could pull
this deal off.

"You didn't get it this time, thanks to that damned-exCUSE Me-thanks to
Alexandre Moreau."

He and that damned half-breed had had run-ins before.

It wasn't right that Moreau should have the kind of money and privilege
he had, while Michael had to scramble for everything he got.

Well, if he could pull this little deal off, he wouldn't be scrambling
anymore.

Mary stiffened at the mention of Alex's name but she kept her
expression schooled.

"Yes, I know how Alex-Mr.  Moreau-feels.

" Sadness welled up in her."  The Indians stand to lose a great deal if
that treaty is broken," she added, thinking of Yellow Flower and little
Never Walks and all the others who'd been -so kind to her.

"Who cares about them damned Indians, Sam Rafferty cut in."  Mr.
Strictland is making us an offer that's better than nothingwfiich is
what we got now.

"But in the fall-" "In the fall," Sam cut in, "'it's another trip to
Washington and maybe we'll get it and maybe we won't.

Then what?

We can't tough it out through another winter without no hope.

I say we take Mr.  Strictland's offer.

Mary surged to her feet.

"These claims are the richest that have ever been found in Montana.

You all know that.  Are you going to sell them for a fraction of what
they're worth?"

"They ain't worth nothing right now," Tim Johnson shouted, fear and
strain obvious in his voice.

Mary's gaze flicked back to Mr. Strictland, who was watching the
exchange.

something flashed in his eyes, a smugness that was quickly gone.

With a shrug and a rueful shake of his head, he said, "I'd like to do
more, but I could have money tied up here for years.  I have to look
out for my own interests."

He paused, then lounged back in the rickety Windsor chair, the wood
creaking as he did.

"I'll tell you what.  If the treaty does get broken this fall and it
looks like the train is going to put a spur in, then-" he scanned the
crowd 4 4-then I'll hire anyone who wants to work and I'll pay top
wages.

'l He was going to.

need miners and these men sure as hell had nowhere to go.

New strikes were few and far between these days.

He had to fight back the smile that threatened.

But that would be too obvious.

"That's an ... interesting proposal, Mr. Strictland," Mary supplied
softly.

She should be grateful for his offer; it was the only one they were
liable to get.

She wasn't grateful, though.

She was mad as hell-at herself, at Alex, at the whole damned world.

Wet cold seeped through her skin, making her bones ache.

Lord, she was tired.

She couldn't think.

She needed time and a miracle.

Right now time was the only thing she might manage.

All she wanted to do was to go home to their little cabin and curl up
in a warm corner.

"Papa, I'd like to go home now?

With a pat on the shoulder as his answer, Mary stood.

She looked at Sam, then Tixn, then Mr.  Strictland.

"Could we have a little time to think about this?  To talk it over
among ourselves?  You understand."

"Sure we can," Brian said, as much an order as not.

She noticed Strictland's momentary frown.

"What?"

Michael muttered, obviously startled by this turn in the
conversation.

"I really have to leave and-" "We could wire you... say by Friday."

' 'Friday," he repeated, struggling to keep the anger from his voice.

He'd had them all set to say yes until she'd walked in.

He had to be careful.

He didn't want to raise any ruspicions.

"Friday is fine but no later.  I have other investments that I'm
looking into and decisions have to be made.  Wire me in Butte."

Everyone agreed and Mary and Brian left.

Outside it was still pouring, which was fine because Mary felt like
crying and the rain hid the tears.

"Where's your bags?"

Brian asked as he picked up the reins of the horse.

Mary shivered and pulled her father's coat tighter around her.

"Tbey went on to Ogden when I got off the train.  I wired and the
stationmaster is sending them."

Funereally silent, they walked home together.

Even the rain seemed to slip soundlessly from the night sky, no
thunder, no lightning-just rain, buckets and buckets of rain.

Were the spirits crying, too?

she wondered, thinking of Alex.

Was he thinking of her?

Stepping into their one-room cabin a few minutes later, Mary tossed
aside the jacket and squeezed the water from her hair.

"I'm a mess."

She meant more than her appearance.

She shivered against the cold that soaked into her skin.

"That you are," her father admonished as he quickly changed shirts,
"and if you was sick..."

He glanced up from stacking- wood for a fire.

"You'Was sick?  What happened?"

He worked as he talked.

Mary fetched her flannel nightgown from the peg on the wall, along with
a towel, and, slipping behind the blanket they used for a screen, she
changed her clothes.

Brian struck a match and lighted the fire.

Just the crackling sound alone made Mary feel warmer.

She shrugged out of her sopping clothes.

Retrieving the money from her skirt pocket, she set it carefully
aside.

She'd return it tomorrow she thought as she dried her hair then briskly
rubbed her skin.

Mdmotion she paused, remembering that day at the river.

She'd dried herself then, but instead of a flannel nightgown, she'd put
on that beautiful dress that Alex had given her.

Alex.

Oh, Alex.

She loved that dress and the man who had given it to her.

With cold, stiffened fingers, she pulled on the pale yellow nightgown
then stepped around the blanket screen.

The pine-planked floor was rough and cold against her bare feet as she
crossed'the room and deposited her soaking clothes in a galvanized
washtub.

Brian Clang was making tea by the hearth.

"Hot and strong," he told her as he handed her a cup.

Mary wrapped her hands around the smooth metal as she sat down next to
her father.

The flames in the earthen fireplace flickered yellow and orange and
blue.

Wordlessly, she sipped at the warm liquid.

The silver bracelet slid on her wrist with each movement.

She hadn't taken it off since that day he'd given it to her as she lay
wrapped in his strong embrace.

She missed him so much she thought she would scream with the pain of
it.

Alex, I love you.

The chair creaked as Brian leaned forward to adjust the logs in the
fireplace.

She shot him a shaky smile, which he returned.

Rubbing his denim-covered legs with his free hand, he settled in,
propping his worn black boots up so they would dry.

"I missed you something terrible."

He sipped his tea and they sat in easy silence for a while.

"I didn't mean to worry you, Papa.  I had no choice."

She didn't mention that she'd been kidnapped.

"Well, I wasn't so much worried, since I wasn't actually expecting
you.

But when Mr. Strictland showed up and said you'd left Washington
before him, well, I was scared."

The distinct crackle of flames devouring wood and the strong aroma of
pine filled the cabin.

Brian sipped his tea again.

"Were you in Cheyenne or Rawlings?  The stationmasters there wired they
hadn't seen anyone and I

Mary looked at her father, the man she'd loved all her life.

Softly she said, "I was at the Crow reservation."

"You were where?"  he asked, his voice suddenly hushed.

"It's all right, Papa.  If I hadn't been there ... well, I was sick and
they saved me."

Brian twisted in his chair.

"Saved you?  What do you mean, 'saved you'?  Saved you from what?

And what were you doing there to start with?  There's no train to the
reservation."

"I went with Alex Moreau."

"Alex Moreau?"

Brian eyed her intently.

"Isn't that the man Strictland said stopped us from getting the
train?"

"Yes," she said, half-lost in her own thoughts.

Even now she could see Alex's handsome face, see him that day he came
home from the hunt, tall and powerful, the returning warrior-her
returning warrior.

The clatter of rain on the roof brought her out of her musings and she
realized her father was talking.

"Explain yourself."

"He asked me to go with him to see why it was important to protect the
Indians."

Brian seemed to consider this for a minute and leaned forward, elbows
on knees, his cup held lightly between his work-scarred hands as he
stared into the crackling fire.

Not looking at her, he said, "You went?  -Alone?  With this man?"

Mary understood what he was asking.

"Yes, Papa.  I did."

He never looked at her, just continued to stare into the flames, and
for a long, long minute she thought perhaps he hadn't heard her.

"Papa'?"  Why?

" His voice sounded strangely far away.

Reaching out, she touched his shoulder.

The worn blue flannel of his shirt was smooth against her fingers.

"I love him, Papa."

Brian didn't straighten, only looked at her over his shoulder.

His blue eyes stared into hers, and she met his gaze.

"I love him," she repeated sadly.

"He asked me to marry him and I said yes."

Brian did straighten then, abnost as if he needed to distance himself
from her.

"If a man loves a woman, he doesn't take her off somewhere alone.  He
courts her, meets her family, asks for her hand."

He surged to his feet.

"What kind of a man is he, for God's sake!  " Mary was momentarily
startled by the anger in her father's voice.

"He's a good man, Papa.  He's a man who loves his family.  He's a man
who puts promise and responsibility first."

On a softer tone, she said, "He's like you."

"The hell, you say.  I never dishonored your mother!"

He paced away, hurling his metal cup against the back wall of the
cabin.

It landed with a thud, tea splashing against the wood wall.

Mary flinched but didn't retreat.

"I went because I love him.  I'm sorry if I've disappointed you.  I
never meant to do that or to hurt you.  We thought we could make things
work out."

She sipped her tea, trying to wash away the lump that formed in her
throat.

"We couldn't."

He shot her a look half sad, half angry.

"When things didn't work out, he walked away?"

"I'm the one who walked away.  I came home to see you, to explain about
Washington, to tell you I failed."

Tears welled up in her eyes.

"I failed to get the train.  I failed to save your claftn...... Tears
slipped down her cheeks and the words continued."  I failed to keep the
man I love.

" Her tears turned into great racking sobs.

Brian was there in an instant, fatherly love overcoming all else.

He wrapped her in his comforting embrace and rocked her as he'd done so
often when she was a child.

"Tbere, there.  It's all right.  We'll be all right."

He continued rocking.

Mary clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder.

Eventually her tears slowed.

"Oh, Papa, I've made such an awful mess."

Brian held her slightly away from him.

"No such thing, girl."

He swiped at her tears with his thumbs.

"We'll sell the mine and move on.  As long as we have each other, we'll
do fine.  This wasn't meant to be, is all."

With tear-clogged eyes, she looked at him.

His face was drawn down in a frown.

He seemed a little older than she'd remembered, a little grayer, a
little more weary.

"You're going to sell?"

"Strictland's right.  We don't have much choice.  It's take his offer
or risk getting nothing at all.  Besides," he added, forcing a smile,
"you might like to move on, all things considered."

"Move on," she repeated numbly, thinking of Alex and her father and all
they had to lose.

Could she do that?

Could she give up?

The stubborn determination of the Irish welled up in her.

"There has to be a way, Papa.  There has to be a way to make this
work.

Will you help me?"

"Mary, you know I'd go through fire for you, but this..."

He shook his head sadly.

"Maybe Strictland can get the treaty broken."

"That's just it.  We can't let that happen.  I've been to the
reservation.  They're wonderful people, Papa.  They deserve better than
they got, and I won't be the cause of more grief."

Brian stroked her hair while he gazed into her eyes.

"This Moreau must be a helluva man for you to feel this way."

"He is, and I'm not going to give up without a fight."

Brian smiled.

"I hope he knows how lucky he is."

Mary returned the smile.

" If he doesn't, you can tell him when you meet him."

"It'll be my pleasure."

Brian refilled their teacups, and he settled in next to her.

"Now, what are we going to do?"

Michael Strictland was buying a round of drinks for everyone in the
saloon.

He threw back another shot of rotgut whiskey.

It was disgusting, but tonight he was being one of the boys, so to
speak.

The girl had thrown him a curve, asking to hold off until Friday to
make a decision.

What the hell did she think would change by the end of the week?

Nothing, he assured himself, reaching for the whiskey bottle and
pouring another drink.

There was no way out of this for them.

He was going to get the railroad and the mines and as much of the
reservation as possible.

Finally, things were turning in his favor.

There was no stopping him now.

Friday would be here before he knew it.

"A few days is all I need," Mary told her father as he saddled her
horse.

The sun was just a faint glow in the eastern sky as they walked a ways
down the trail together.

"Be careful, girl."

"I will, Papa."

She put her foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle.

"Don't let anyone sell anything until you hear from me."

Her father shook his head, his overlong black hair brushing his
collar.

"I'll try."

"Do more than try.  I need that time, and you've got to get it for
me."

He gave her knee an affectionate pat.

"Okay, okay.  I'll use my best blarney, but Strictland is a fine talker
himself and he's offering us a solution to all our problems."

"Four days."

She adjusted the reins more securely in her fingers.

"Send Eddie to the telegraph station in Bozeman on Thursday.  I'll wire
no matter what."

With a smile that was forced, she twisted in the saddle-and trotted off
down the rocky trail.

II Slow down!

" Brian called.  She answered with a backward wave but she didn't slow
down.  In fact, she nudged the horse a little faster.  She had to cover
a lot of ground, and fast

All the way down the mountain she kept thinking about this plan they'd
come up with just before sunup.

It was a long shot, as gamblers would say.

A real long shot.

It was all they had.

It took all of one day to get to Butte.

She still had the town's money.

She bought a ready-made dress at the mercantile because, with the
exception of what she'd worn home, all her clothes were still somewhere
between here and Ogden.

The next two days were a frantic rush to cover ground.

Late Tuesday she checked into the hotel in Ogden and practically fell
into bed.

Sleep came in fitful dreams and she was awake and dressed before
dawn.

She spent the next few hours pacing, rehearsing her speech and doing a
fair amount of handwringing and praying.

Downstairs, she heard the bell for breakfast.

She ignored it.

Her stomach was clenched tighter than an angry fist.

She was so nervous that every part of her seemed to shake with the
force of it.

"Stop!"  she ordered out loud.

to her reflection in the dusty mirror in her room.

It didn't help.

Nothing would help except making this-crazy plan work.

She looked awful.

She pinched her cheeks to try to get a little color in them.

The dark circles under her eyes were hopeless.

She checked her dress once more, smoothed the wrinkles out of the blue
muslin, adjusted her jacket and marched out of the room.

Ten minutes later she was standing in the offices of the Utah Northern
Railroad.

"I'm sorry, miss, the directors are in a meeting and aren't seeing
anyone today."

The secretary peered down the length of her long straight nose.

"Did you have an appointment?  " "No," she snapped, tired and more than
a little shorttempered.

"I didn't have time to make one."

The woman arched one graying brow.

"Well then," she said as she fumbled with a ledger, flipping through
the pages covered with notations.

"Ut me see."

She leafed back and forth some more.

"Mr.  Dillard could see you on the thirtieth."

"That's three weeks!

The woman's mouth drew up in a smug smile.

"That is correct.  As I said, Mr. Dillard is a very busy man and he-"
Mary skirted around the mahogany desk and pushed open the carved walnut
door.

"Wait, you can't-" She stormed into the room.

Heads turned, men looked startled.

"Gentlemen, I'm Mary Clang of Rainbow Gulch and I have a business
proposition for you."

The secretary grabbed Mary by the arm.

"Miss, you can't come in here."

She tried to escort Mary out but Mary twisted free.

"Young woman."

A portly gray-haired man stood at the end of the long conference
table.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

"I have a business proposition for you.  A lucrative business
proposition.  You are in the business of making money, aren't you?"

The man cleared his throat and tugged on his blue brocade vest.

"Of course we make money.  But we're not used to people storming in
here and-" Mary took a half step in his direction.

"I apologize for my poor manners, and, if I had the time, which I
don't, I'd make an appointment and wait the three weeks, but I don't
have three weeks, and if you'll give me ten minutes... five minutes,
I'll leave."

The graying man cast a glance at the others present.

Mary saw the slight nods, even a couple of smiles.

I 'That's all, Miss Hicks," the man told the secretary.  He dropped
down in his chair."  Go ahead, young lady.

let's hear your offer.

Heart pounding, Mary spelled her plan out for them.

They seemed to consider it, then to her surprise, they replied with
their own offer.

This was good.

At least they didn't throw her out.

Mary helped herself to a chair at the far end of the table and made a
counteroffer.

Negotiations lasted the better part of an hour, and when they were
done, she shook hands all around.

"Now, gentlemen, I'd like someone to come with me to the
reservation."

The men looked startled.

"You mean you want to go to the savages' stronghold?"

If it hadn't been so cruel, Mary would have laughed.

"Gentlemen, I've already been to the 'savages' stronghold as you call
it.  There's nothing to be afraid of" Except maybe a certain warrior.

"I promise to protect you."

She half teased, half challenged.

Several men looked sheepish, flustered.

Finally the grayhaired man, who she now knew was Henry Dillard, the
president of the railroad, said, "I'll go with you, Miss
Clang.BebackhereFriday."  .

"Friday?  I was thinking more like today."

Dillard stared at her with hard eyes, and for a moment she thought he
meant to refuse.

Her heart sank ' "It has to be today," she prompted, remembering that
Michael Strictland was circling like a vulture, waiting to pick the
bones of the miners.

"Please," she'added softly, thinking about how that one word spoken by
a certain man had changed her life.

She hoped it would change her life again.

"Two hours," he agreed.

Those present looked shocked.

But, Henry, you can't possibly..."

"What about our meeting?"

Everyone spoke at once.

"It can wait," he said with all the authority that she knew must have
earned him the presidency of a railroad.

Mary leaned forward.

Her silver bracelet clinked on the wood.

Her face was reflected in the polished mahogany surface.

"Thank you, Mr.  Dillard."

She scanned the others present ' "'Ibank you all.  You won't be
sorry."

Mary hurried from the room and went straight to the telegraph office,
where she sent a wire.

Railroad said yes.

Up to Indians.

Don't sell.

Mary.

Up to Indians.

That wasn't the half of it.

It was up to Alex, because she knew he was the one they'd listen to
when it came to dealing with the government, the railroad-anything that
remotely had to do with the white man.

Dammit, this had to work.

She had to make him listen.

Two days later, Mary, Mr. Dillard and Agent Keller paused at the edge
of the camp.

Agent Keller pulled his horse alongside the buckboard.

"I think we should head for Plenty Coups's lodge.  He can call the
other leaders into counsel."

"All right, Mr. Keller," Mary replied, stealing a quick glance at Mr.
Dillard, who was seated next to her.

"This Plenty Coups," Mr. Dillard asked, shifting the reins to one
hand, "is he a reasonable fellow?"

Agent Keller lifted his brown hat and wiped his forehead with his
sleeve.

"Plenty Coups is reasonable on most things, except fighting the
Sioux.

That," he continued, replacing his hat firmly, "he'd like to see go on
for as long as possible.

Old enemies, you know.

"Well, just as long as he knows we're not Sioux," Mr. Dillard
replied.

Agent Keller chuckled.

"Oh, you folks don't look much like a raiding party, though when they
hear why you've come..."

He left the sentence unfinished.

The knot that had formed in Mary's stomach about three days ago got
tighter.

She was scared.

Everything depended on this meeting.

The town, the treaty, she and Alex.

It was the "she and Alex" that had her most worried.

She could still see the cold anger in his eyes when she'd ridden out.

No, dammit, she wasn't giving up.

Henry Dillard slapped the reins on the rump of the team and they headed
into camp.

Just like before, people stopped what they were doing to stare or join
in the procession that was forming behind the wagon.

Everything looked the same, achingly familiar.

Memories came flooding back and washed over her in a wave of regret.

Mary scanned the crowd, looking for Alex.

He wasn't there.

Maybe he was away hunting.

Maybe he'd left.

Maybe he'd gone to Butte or back to Washington.

She wasn't sure if she was glad or not.

Agent Keller paused to talk to a man Mary didn't recognize.

Judging by the brief conversation and the way the man was pointing,
Mary guessed Keller was asking for directions.

"This way," he told them, turning left.

They followed.

A short distance later they stopped in front of a large lodge.

A beautiful chestnut stallion was tied outside.

Agent Keller followed the required protocol, and after meeting with
Plenty Coups for a few minutes, he emerged from the lodge.

"Plenty Coups'says he will listen to the white man's story."

Mary let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Thank goodness," she said over her shoulder, already climbing down
from the wagon.

"I was worried-" "Not you, Miss Clang.  Only Mr.  Dillard."

"What?"

Mary whirled and almost lost her footing on the spokes of the wheel.

"What do you mean, not me?"

"Women aren't allowed in the counsel meetings."

Mary skirted around the buckboard.

"This isn't a counsel.  This is a business meeting."

Agent Keller shrugged.

"To them it's a counsel."

"Well, they're wrong and I'm-" "Trouble, Miss Clang?"  came a deep
familiar male voice she hadn't heard in days.

It was Alex's velvet-soft tone, and even before she turned, her body
thrummed in reaction.

Mary whirled breathlessly, her hands trembling.

He stood tall and lean.

A thin sheen of perspiration gleamed on his bare chest.

"Hello, Alex," Mary said, thinking of nothing else to say.

She wondered if he could hear the sudden pounding of her heart.

Alex closed the distance between them.

"How nice of you to drop by."

His voice was strangely quiet, his expression shuttered.

His eyes, those sable eyes she'd remembered each night, were hard and
cold as Rocky Mountain granite.

She extended a hand in his direction, sunlight glinting on the silver
bracelet.

"Alex, we need to talk."

Alex arched one black brow in question.

"Some other time perhaps," he returned smoothly.

He leaned one hip against the side of the buckboard in a relaxed pose,
his arms draped casually across his bare chest.

Mary's hand fell back to her side.

Astonished, she stared at him for the span of three unsteady
heartbeats.

"Alex, please."

Her whole body seemed to ache with the sight of him, with remembering
him, with wanting him.

He was all she'd thought about, stared up at the night sky and dreamed
about since she'd left, and now he was here, within reach and yet so
remote.

She wanted to say more but there were too many people.

The sound of Mr. Dillard clearing his throat brought her out of her
musings.

Around them people stood watching, wondering what was happening.

A little breathless, Mary flicked her gaze from Alex to Keller to
Dillard and back again.

It took a moment for her mind to focus on the reason she was here.

Clearing her throat, she said, "Mr. Dillard, may I present Alexandre
Moreau."

Henry Dillard looked confused, and Alex hesitated in the Process of
extending his hand.

"Dillard?  Of the Utah Northern?"

"lbat's right The men shook hands briefly.  Very briefly.

Mary hurried on.

III believe you know Agent Keller.

, "I(eller," he said in recognition.

All Alex could think of was that she'd done it.

He knew now it was true.

Everything she'd said, everything she'd promised, had been a lie.

And he, like a damned fool, had believed her.

When things didn't go her way she left.

Now she was back with the railroad, no less.

"What brings you out our way?"

Alex asked casually, refusing to reveal the anger and betrayal that
filled him.

"I want to talk to Plenty Coups, but they won't have a woman in
counsel."  "Too bad, sweetheart" came his smooth reply.  ,Guess you
lose ... again."  He was in no mood to be polite.

"It's not like that," she returned, more than a little defensive.

"I can see exactly what it's like!  " He flung the words at her so
harshly that she stepped' back.

He closed on her menacingly.

"You are determined to bring that damned railroad through here, to
break the treaty.  Do you think the ignorant savages will sign
something if you bat your blue eyes in their direction?  I won't allow
it.  Not in Washington and not here, sweetheart, no matter what you're
offering."

He raked her with a slow, appraising gaze, as if he were buying meat in
a market.

"You're wrong," Mary told him, blinking back the tears in her eyes.

"Won't you even listen?"

"No-" Alex steeled himself against the woman and her tears and the
impulse to pull her into his arms, which were achingly empty without
her.

If shed been gone longer, perhaps the hurt would have healed more,
perhaps he would have been more inclined to show some smattering of
sympathy.

"Go home, Miss

Clang, and take the railroad and the government with you.

There'll be no treaty breaking and.

no railroad built, not here, not ever.

Henry Diflard shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, Miss Clang, maybe this isn't going to work out."

"What?"

Mary muttered, then drew in a sharp, cleansing breath.

"No," she countered, hurt and resentment altering her mood.

"I'm not walking away, not when we're this close."

Her narrow-eyed gaze challenged Alex's cold one.

"It seems, sweetheart, you don't have any choice.  Plenty Coups won't
sit in counsel with you."

"Biia Cheote?"  said a male voice in the language of the Absarokee.

Alex turned sharply to see Medicine Crow step up next to him.

The war chief's gaze scanned those present.

He paused briefly to smile at Mary, before addressing Alex in Crow.

"What is this about?"  he asked.

"Medicine Crow."

Mary started forward.

Alex's hand came out to stop her, touching her lightly on the arm,
while his posture remained rigid and inflexible.

"It's about railroads again," Alex said in the language of his
people.

Once more Medicine Crow scanned those present.

"And your woman, what has she to do with this?"

"She is no longer my woman," Alex told him.

"She is the one who would bring the railroad here."

Medicine Crow gave a nod of understanding.

Alex continued.

"Plenty Coups has declined to let her sit in counsel and she's upset.

She doesn't understand our ways."

"It is always our way to listen," Medicine Crow returned softly.

"Medicine Crow," Mary asserted again, knowing he didn't speak English
but feeling a desperate need to try to make him understand.

"I have to talk to you and to Plenty

Coups.

Please.

" Her heart drummed wildly in her chest.

"Tell him, Mr.  Keller."

The agent compiled.

"Very nice."

Alex's voice was calm and smugly controlled.

"Just the right amount of pleading.  But it won't help you any."

"I hope you suffer in hell for this, Alex Moreau."  Frustration and
anger stirred her temper.

0 late, Irish.

" His mouth thinned to a straight line.

"I'm already there."

Medicine Crow listened to the agent.

He watched the heated exchange between Alex and Mary, then took a
couple of steps toward the lodge.

Over his shoulder he said, "Tell the woman to come with me."

"What!"

Alex straightened, visibly stunned.

"You're not seriously going to listen to her-to them, are you?  They
want a train!

Medicine Crow paused at the flap covering the entrance, his hand
resting lightly on the buffalo skin.

"Tell the woman to come."

Mary didn't understand the words, but she understood that something was
happening, something that Alex pointedly didn't like, and she made a
strong guess as to what that was.

Agent Keller confirmed her suspicion.

As she walked toward the lodge, she heard Alex's voice.

"Where do you think you're going?

Feeling a little smug, she said, "I'm going to talk to Medicine
Crow."

Pausing briefly at the flap, she added, "Gentlemen, if you care to join
me, I think we can settle this once and for all."

The lodge was dark and Strong with the scent of sweet sage.

Medicine Crow and Plenty Coups sat near the back of the lodge and Mary
waited until they motioned for her to be seated .

Agent Keller and Dillard joined her in the circle.

It was a full thirty seconds before Alex stormed in and took his place
next to Medicine Crow.

They began with the traditional smoking of the pipe.

Mary struggled not to choke on the fumes.

She waited impatiently for the nod to go ahead.

She spoke to Agent Keller, who translated to the others present.

"I've come with an offer."

"I'll just bet you have, sweetheart."

Alex's tone was wearily sarcastic.

Mary ignored him.

She wasn't taking any chances on offending anyone now that she had the
audience she wanted.

She continued, pausing every now and then to let the agent translate.

"As you know, I come from the silver mining town north of here.

Rainbow Gulch."

"We know of this town," Medicine Crow acknowledged.

"We need a train to take the silver from Rainbow Gulch to Butte, where
there's a smelter."

"Then go around," Alex said bluntly.

"'the railroad can't go around.  It's very long to go around the
mountains and it's too expensive.  Our only hope is a train across the
reservation."

"Which you can't have without breaking the treaty," Alex stated.

She focused on Medicine Crow.

Mr.  Dillard stoically watched the exchange.

I 'At first I thought that it was a simple matter to break the treaty,"
Mary continued ."  But that was before I came here and met all of you
and learned what would be at risk if the treaty were broken.

Plenty Coups eyed her suspiciously.

"Do not try to trick us with words of concern.  We know the white man's
concern is only for himself."

The Indian agent translated his words.

Mary's confidence faltered.

She had to make them understand, trust her.

"Finish your story," Medicine Crow encouraged.

"You have been treated badly, but so have we.  We are a Small Village
like yours, with people like yours, only our men can't even be with
their families because they have no way to take care of them."

Plenty Coups nodded in understanding.

"It's not good for a man to be gone from his family.  A woman needs a
man to provide for her."

"We are trying to survive the same as you are, and I think I've found a
way to make that happen."

"Sure, we agree to break the treaty and you get what you want," Alex
cut in in English.

She shifted awkwardly.

"No, Alex.  I've been to the railroad-" she nodded in Mr. Dillard's
direction "-with an idea, and if you'll agree..."

She paused to let Agent Keller catch up.

"The idea is this.  If you will grant the railroad a right-of-way, a
narrow strip of land just wide enough for the train track to run on,
the railroad will pay you in stock."

"What?"

Alex was stunned.

Agent Keller quickly explained what stock was and Mary spoke directly
to Alex.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you.

Don't you see?

There's no need to break the treaty.

The tribe has the authority to grant a right-of-way.

You'll lose very little land.

The railroad has agreed to fence the track so that the horses and
animals will be protectdd.

"What about hunters slaughtering game from the moving train?"

Plenty Coups asked.

Dillard spoke up.

"We've agreed that there will be no hunting.  It won't be a passenger
train, it'll be a mine train, carrying supplies in and ore out.  The
train could also carry supplies for the reservation.  The railroad
agrees to give free passage to the tribe, up to thirty each year for
the next three years.  After that, you'll have to pay like anyone else
would."

"And the payment for the land?"

Alex questioned.

Dillard answered, "It would be in stock instead of money.

The railroad then will pay dividends on the stock, and that means the
tribe will have a steady source of income separate from the government
allotments.

As the railroad prospers, so does the tribe.

Plenty Coups started to laugh.

Medicine Crow chuckled.

Mary felt her heart sink.

They were laughing at her idea.

"Please, don't you understand?  This way everyone wins," she appealed
to them.

The three men spoke quickly in Absarokee to one another.

Mary's anxious gaze flickered between them, then to Agent Keller's
face.

Suddenly, he was smiling.

"They understand and they like it."

"You mean they'll do it?"

Her face lighted up like a kid's in a candy store.

She looked at Alex and smiled.

A happy childlike smile.

A smile that tugged at his rapidly beating heart the way it had the
very first time he'd seen her.

A smile that had teased and tempted and heated and ultimately
overwhelmed him.

"Yes, Irish, you win."

So she'd gotten her train and the tribe was better off for it.

The woman was something, he thought with admiration.

Now that she had what she wanted, she'd be going home.

He couldn't watch her ride out of his life again.

With that he stood and took a step in the direction of the door, only
to stop beside her to reach down and lightly finger her flowing hair.

"You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever known," he said, more
to himself than to her.

Then, seeming to remember where he was, he added, "I hope you're
happy."

He strode across the lodge and left.

Chapter Sixteen

It took thirty endless minutes for Mary to finish her negotiations with
Plenty Coups and Medicine Crow.

As soon as she got back to Crow Agency, she would send a wire to her
father confirming the deal and telling him to let Mr. Strictland know
he was out of luck.

What a pleasure that would be.

This time she hadn't failed.

This time Rainbow Gulch, and her father, would win.

Even the tribe would win.

Everyone would win this time but her.

She found him by the river.

Their place by the river.

She stood in the-shade of the cottonwood tree thinking he was still the
most magnificent man she'd ever seen.

She still wanted him like crazy.

Alex knew she was there.

He could feel her presence as surely as he felt her absence.

With his back toward her, he said, "I would have thought you'd be on
your way back to Rainbow Gulch to celebrate your victory."

Sunlight glistened silver white on the moving water.

"They're waiting for me now.  It's just that somehow I don't feel much
like celebrating."

"Why not?  You got everything you wanted."

When he couldn't stand not seeing her, he turned.

Dressed in blue muslin, the same shade as her eyes, she was the most
beautiful woman he'd ever known.

And like always, he wanted to take her in his arms.

"I didn't get everything I wanted," she countered in a breathy tons,
that stirred memories that poured over him like sweet summer rain.

"No one gets everything they want, Irish."

His dark brow rose.

It was an admonishment as much for himself as for her.

"It's a lesson I've learned the hard way, but of course I had a very
good teacher."

Mary ignored the gibe.

"What about us ... ?"

"Us?  There is no 'us."  You made that clear when you left."

Being this close and not touching her was more than a man should have
to endure.

Frustration flashed in her eyes.

"I had to leave.  Dammit, I had no choice.  What would you have me do,
stay here with you, be your squaw, forget about my father, my friends,
my promises?"

He crossed the distance between them in four quick and angry strides.

He gripped her tightly, digging his fingers into the tender flesh of
her upper arms.

"I never, ever treated you like a squaw.  You were my wife-" "Wife!"

Her hair spilled around her shoulders and face while her fingers curled
around the hard muscles of his upper arms.

"What are you talking about!  We never-" The silver bracelet glinted in
the sun.

Grabbing her wrist, he held it between them.

"What did you think this was for?

A wedding gift, sweetheart.

" He held his wrist against hers, letting her see that the bracelets
were a pair, just as he thought they were."  In the eyes of my people
we are married, and you left, you walked away.

" He shook her slightly.

"I loved you.  I gave you my heart.  Dammit, I gave you my soul, and
you left.  Obviously it wasn't enough."

Mary drew in a sharp breath.

"You never said we were married!  " "My God, Clang!"

He exploded.

Lack of sleep brought on by hurt and frustration had his usually
controlled temper on high.

"Did you think I would keep you, shame you, in the eyes of my
people?"

"Yes!"

Mary's patience slipped.

,I'd never do that.

" He thought of all that had gone between them, Washington, the
kidnapping... " I've hurt you enough.

" His dark eyes fixed on her for a long moment en while, he recalled
his convoluted reasoning, his fear."  But on left me.

y "I had to.  How many times do I have to say it?  There was nothing
else to do.  I love you and there's no way we'd survive with this
betrayal between us.  I left because I love you."

Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back.

Alex looked at her, really looked at her.

All soft eyes and quivering chin.

God, she looked so damned vulnerable.

Dark shadows tinged the delicate skin under her eyes.

Suddenly Mary was tired of this emotional whirlwind she'd been living
in since she'd gone to Washington.

The tears came slowly, steadily, slipping down her cold cheeks, pooling
in the corners of her trembling mouth.

Alex hesitated only a moment then reached out and pulled her into his
anus.

He let her head rest on his shoulder, and her hair spilled over his
arms.

He cradled the back of her head with his hand.

He felt the 'warm tears on his bare chest, the familiar intimacy of her
breath against the side of his neck.

She was so sad, so unhappy, and all he could think was that he wanted
to comfort her.

In Alex's arrhs, she felt calm and reassured for the first time in many
days.

She understood -how he filled her LIFE, made her complete.

She needed him, and nothing else in the world mattered if she couldn't
be with him.

The day she'd left was the worst day of her life, not counting every
day since.

She'd never realized a person could be so alone.

"It's all right, honey," he said against the top of her head, stroking
her hair as he would a child's.

She gulped air.

"It's all right," he repeated gently, holding her tightly against
him.

"You got your railroad.  Your town will survive, and it appears even my
people will benefit."

Her weeping quieted and her arms wrapped lightly around his waist, her
fingers resting against his spine.

"I got everything but you," she said with a tear-choked voice that tore
at him.

Feeling her in his arms again, feeling the softness, the warmth, the
soul-filling presence of her, he knew there was no way in hell he was
ever going to let her go again.

"Are you telling me you want me?"

He looked down into her upturned face.

"Because if you are, then the answer is yes, darling' Clang.  I want
you.  I love you and will until my dying day.  You must promise never
to leave me again, no matter how stubborn I am."

His profession sounded suspiciously like an order.

One she was glad to obey.

"I love you, Alex," she whispered from the security of his embrace.

He lifted her face tenderly and traced the line of her bottom lip with
the tip of his finger.

The intimacy sent shivers up her spine.

"Stay with me," he said, dipping his dark head toward her to look at
her assessingly.

"For three days," she teased, feeling the joy at being in his arms
again.

"Forever," he corrected.

Then he kissed her as if he meant just that.