LAST TICKET TO PARADISE

MARION MARSHALL

© copyright July 1999 Linda Slater

Cover art by Eliza Black

New Concepts Publishing

CHAPTER ONE

LARAMIE, WYOMING

1872

She slid into the dark alley as the flickering torches signaled the mob coming up the street. Pulling the hood of her cloak closer around her face, she could feel their urgency as they swept past her hiding place, heading down the street toward the saloon.

She heard the muttered curses and drunken threats as she shrank back against the building behind her, holding her breath as they moved past.

A loud clap of thunder made her jump and clamp her lips tightly together to keep a gasp from escaping. Moments later the sky was lit with lightning as the thunderstorm rapidly approached. Cold rain spilled down her face as she hesitantly peered around the edge of the building to see the mob come to a halt in front of the saloon only a few feet away.

"Come outa there, you Jezebel!" she heard one of the men shout up at the darkened windows above the saloon. "We know you're in there!"

"You can't get away this time!" another shouted.

She slipped from the alley and began to hurry toward the stage depot located at the far end of the street.

Keeping to the shadows, she ran toward the depot, praying that she wasn't too late. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw the stage still sitting in front of the depot.

The passengers were coming from inside the depot, each complaining about the weather as they climbed into the coach. The driver was checking the lines while the guard finished throwing the luggage into the boot at the rear of the vehicle. She didn't have much time.

Picking up her skirts with one hand, she clutched her carpetbag against her chest as she sprinted from the protective cover of the buildings across the open area separating the depot from the rest of the town. She looked behind her furtively at the mob still milling about in front of the saloon, shouting obscenities and threats. She saw the town marshal, flanked by a half dozen deputies, step onto the boardwalk as he came from his office down the street to quiet the troublemakers. That should keep the mob occupied for a few minutes.

Keeping the cloak pulled closely around her, she hurried into the stage depot, approaching the counter where the ticket clerk waited. She whipped a handkerchief from the cloak, unwrapping a small packet of money she had folded into a neat square.

"I need a ticket," she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.

"Where to?" the ticket agent asked as he opened the company's ledger and handed her a pencil.

"What's the last stop on the run?"

"That would be Paradise, Miss," the ticket agent answered in a friendly manner. "But it ain't much of a town. Nothing there but …."

"Then Paradise it is," she replied quickly, interrupting his description of the stage's destination.

"All right, Miss, if you insist. You're in luck. There's just one ticket left for tonight's stage. It'll be leaving in a couple of minutes."

She hurriedly scrawled her name on the ledger, then unfolded the bills in the handkerchief. "How much will that be?"

"Twelve dollars, Miss," the ticket agent answered as he turned the ledger back around to see the name she had written. "Miss..er.. Randell, is it? As I was saying, it ain't much of a town. But what with all the mines out that way, it's growing all the time. I hear it's a pretty wild place. But then, what with that bank robbery this afternoon, you could say the same about Laramie, couldn't you?" he went on, straightening out the bills she handed him.

She gritted her teeth, trying to contain her impatience with his slow-moving manner. It seemed to take the man forever to put the money away and take out his ticket book. While she chewed her lip in impatience, he wrote her name on the blank ticket, tore it off with great care, and handed it to her finally with a flourish.

"I hear that one of the girls from the Birdcage Saloon was Billy Joe Ballentine's inside help. I hear she set up the whole darn thing. I'd sure hate to be in her shoes when that crowd out there gets their hands on her. Most folks around here had their whole life savings in that bank," he went on, peering at her curiously.

The cloak hid most of her face. The hood was pulled closely around her, hiding her features from his view. All he could see was a wisp of jet black hair as she put the handkerchief back into the cloak's inside pocket. When she reached to take the ticket from him, he caught the glimpse of violet eyes before she quickly turned toward the doorway.

As the stage driver stepped back into the depot for a final check, she almost bumped into him. A startled gasp burst from her lips as he reached to take her bag. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly hear his words when he spoke.

"I'll take that for you, Miss," he said politely, indicating the carpetbag she was clutching tightly. "Better get aboard. We're running a little behind schedule."

She reluctantly gave up possession of the carpetbag and hurried past him. She scurried into the coach and took a seat at the end of the bench seat nearest the window. Shutting her eyes, she leaned her head back against the vehicle's interior, trying to calm her racing heart.

Behind her, the stage driver was joined by the guard just inside the depot. The ticket agent took out a ring of keys, selected one, and showed it to the driver. The driver produced an exact match to the key, and together the three men went behind the ticket counter to the safe that occupied one corner of the room.

The ticket agent knelt, inserted his key into the lock, then stood back as the driver put his key in the double lock, turned it, and swung the safe door open. He reached inside and pulled out a burlap bag tied at the top with rope, then handed it to the guard while he secured the safe.

"Guess that's it, Mitch," the ticket agent said as the two men moved back toward the door. "Have a good trip. See you next run."

The driver nodded. "Take care of yourself, Shorty. Watch out for bank robbing saloon girls," he said with a slight grin.

The ticket agent grinned as he adjusted his visored cap. "No reason to worry about that now, Mitch. You boys are carrying the Army payroll. It's your headache now."

"Yeah, I know," the guard answered with a grin. "That's what worries me."

Then with a nod toward the coach, he added, "Who was that last passenger, Shorty?"

"Beats me," the ticket agent replied. "All I know is her name is Randell and she's going to Paradise."

The guard and driver exchanged glances. Then the driver shrugged. "Let's get moving, Reed."

They gave the ticket agent a wave, then walked outside and climbed onto the coach. Reed Driscoll tucked the money bag into the boot beneath his feet and picked up the Winchester rifle as the driver took up the reins.

"I just love these night runs, don't you, Mitch?" he asked with a big grin as the heavy vehicle lumbered down the street toward the crowd still milling about in front of the saloon.

"I surely do, Reed, especially when we're carrying a twenty thousand dollar Army payroll and a coach full of passengers. Nothing quite like it. I just hope the Ballentine gang is satisfied with the money they stole from the bank today and leaves us alone," Mitch Cole answered.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Mitch," the guard replied confidently as he shifted the Winchester from one hand to the other. "I've got the situation under control." "Yeah?" Mitch returned with a sideways glance at his friend as the stage moved abreast of the mob in the street. "That's what you said about the Crossett gang a couple of weeks ago. Remember? It took us two days to plug up the bullet holes in this coach after we shot it out with them."

"That's right," Reed chuckled. "But just you remember it was the coach that had the bullet holes in it, not us."

"Yeah, right," Mitch replied sourly. "Tell that to my best hat. The only thing it's good for now is scaring crows out of the corn patch. It's just a damned good thing that Crossett was a lousy shot. An inch lower and it wouldn't be the hat with the hole in it."

Reed leaned across the seat to slap his friend on the shoulder. "I'll buy you another hat, Mitch, when we get that bonus for delivering this payroll to the Army. Hell, I'll buy you two hats."

"You've got a deal. But first we've got to get the payroll to the Army. We've got four hundred miles to go. Don't count your bonus just yet, Reed."

"Mitch, you're just too damned pessimistic. I can already see that bonus. You've got nothing to worry about."

Mitch glanced at Reed again, then shook his head. He wished he could share Reed's optimism, but it was a long way to Paradise.

Inside the coach, she shrank back into the shadows as the vehicle swept past the mob that was being dispersed by the marshal and his deputies. She didn't dare breathe until they were moving past the crowd into the darkness beyond the city's lights. Then she let out the pent-up breath, closed her eyes briefly and silently mouthed a prayer of thanksgiving.

Laramie was now behind her. Paradise lay ahead, and with it the new future she'd promised herself. It was a long time overdue.

CHAPTER TWO

The stage made regular stops during the night to change horses and for the driver and guard to grab a cup of hot coffee before dashing off into the night again. The relay stations were located approximately twenty miles apart, consisting of not much more than a crude log hut surrounded with corrals to contain the relief horses. They were usually manned by a station keeper who looked after the passengers and a roustabout who helped out with the horses.

While the passengers were lucky to get a piece of beef jerky and a cup of coffee on those rest stops, the horses were treated much better. They were well fed, well cared for animals, treated with respect and loving care.

Well after midnight the stage stopped at one of the rest stops to change horses. While the wranglers changed teams, she climbed out of the vehicle to stretch her legs and catch a breath of fresh air. Leaving the other passengers sleeping, she walked slowly around the end of the coach, rubbing at the ache in her lower back brought on by hours of sitting in a cramped position.

"You want some coffee, Miss?"

The husky male voice took her by surprise. She stared into the darkness to locate the owner, gasping in alarm a moment later when a shadow near the end of the stage materialized into human form.

"No,...thank you anyway," she stammered, recovering from the momentary fright.

"That's a smart decision. The coffee here is awful," Mitch Cole said as he tossed the remainder of his own cup onto the ground with a slight smile.

She saw the Winchester laying across his arms and swallowed. Looking around for the guard, she realized he was nowhere to be seen at the moment. The only other people around where the wranglers who were hitching up a fresh team.

Glancing back at the driver holding the rifle, she smiled slightly.

"Where are we?"

"In the middle of nowhere." Noticing her startled expression, Mitch shrugged with a tight smile. "We're about a hundred miles out of Laramie."

"We've made good time," she commented as she studied him in the dim light from the ramshackle cabin behind him.

He was tall and well built with a wide chest and muscles in his upper arms that bulged beneath his shirt sleeves when he shifted the rifle from one hand to the other. She judged him to be in his mid-thirties. He was a good looking man, if she was any judge, and if there was anything she knew about, it was good looking men.

"Yeah," he replied, glancing around the area. His hand tightened on the Winchester as another form emerged from the shadows. Then he let out a long breath when he recognized Reed's features in the dimness.

"You got a name?" she asked.

His attention swung back to her immediately. His brows rose in surprise at her question. He could only see a glimpse of her face in the dim light with the cloak pulled up so tightly around her, but remembering his first impression in Laramie, he knew she was young. When she tilted her head slightly in the pale light, he caught the flash of violet eyes beneath the hooded cloak.

"Why does my asking your name surprise you?"

He shrugged, then handed Reed the rifle as the guard moved alongside him. "Most passengers don't ask many questions."

"I figure since we're going to spend the next couple of days together, we might as well be on a first name basis," she replied, watching him curiously.

She liked the way he looked, she decided. He was obviously a man accustomed to hard work. She could see the calluses on his hands from handling the reins of a six horse team. Wearing black trousers, a dark blue long sleeved shirt open at the throat, and a black leather vest, he was a fine figure of a man. The gunbelt strapped around his waist made her wonder if he knew how to use it. She decided he did.

"His name's Mitchell Cole, Miss. Mitch for short. Me? I'm Reed Driscoll."

She turned her attention to the man who had spoken. Leaning against the rear wheel of the stage, Reed was grinning at her mischievously, his teeth a splash of white in the dim light.

Reed was a couple of years younger than Mitch, she decided while she returned his bold gaze. He was also an inch taller and a few pounds thinner, almost lanky in appearance. When he pushed his hat back, she saw a lock of blond hair falling over his forehead. His eyes were light, blue, she suspected, his manner roguish. He had an eye for the ladies if she were any judge.

The way he wore his six-gun told her quickly that he, indeed, knew how to use it, and use it well. Being a passenger on a stagecoach in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, she was comforted by that thought.

"My name's Victoria...Victoria Randell," she said, extending her hand toward Mitch.

He stared at it for a moment, then took it in his, shaking it briefly. She turned to Reed, shook his hand also, then pulled her cloak closer to ward off the chill in the breeze that had suddenly started blowing from the north.

"Team's ready, Mitch," she heard one of the wranglers call from the darkness at the head of the team.

"Better get back inside, Miss Randell," Mitch suggested. "We'll be rolling in a couple of minutes."

Victoria nodded and moved back toward the door of the coach. A moment later Reed reached to open it and assist her inside. He closed the door securely with a grin, then tipped his hat to her before moving into the darkness. Moments later she felt the coach sway as both men climbed into the seat. Within seconds Mitch called to the team, and they were once again moving rapidly into the darkness.

"What was that all about?" Mitch asked as he guided the team onto the ribbon of roadway cutting into the darkness ahead of them.

"What?" Reed asked innocently.

"You know damned well what. Flirting with one of the passengers. You beat all."

"All I did was help the lady into the coach. Just doing my job, Mitch, that's all. You wouldn't want her to fall and hurt herself, now would you? Why, I probably kept her from suing us. You oughta be thanking me."

Mitch's snort from the other end of the seat made Reed chuckle aloud. "You know what your trouble is, Mitch? You've forgot how to flirt. Why, I bet you ain't flirted with a woman since Claire died, have you?"

"That's none of your business." Mitch glanced at Reed sourly. "It's four hours till sunup. You better get some sleep."

Reed nodded, and grinning, laid the Winchester on the seat and climbed onto the top of the vehicle. Stretching out, he pulled his hat down over his face and closed his eyes. "Call me if anything happens," he said, then yawned.

"Don't worry," Mitch replied. "You'll be the first one I call if we run into trouble."

"Just like Shiloh, huh?"

A flicker of pain flashed through Mitch's face at Reed's question. He was silent for a moment, then mentally shook himself. "Yeah, just like Shiloh," he said to himself as the coach swayed down the road toward the next rest stop.

*************

When Victoria awoke, it was daylight. She sat up straighter on the seat with a yawn, wondering why the coach had stopped. Pulling the curtain aside, she peered out into the gray dawn to see that they had stopped at a river crossing. She started to get out of the vehicle, then remembered and reached inside her cloak to produce the wire-rimmed glasses and set them in place on her nose.

She pushed the cloak off her head, glanced about to be sure her companions were still sleeping soundly, then quickly put her long hair up into a tight bun secured at the nape of her neck with a bit of ribbon and hair pins she'd put inside the cloak pockets ahead of time.

Satisfied with her preparations, she opened the door and stepped out into the crisp morning. It was March in Wyoming, still very cold at night. She saw the steam rising from the horses' muzzles as they tossed their heads.

"Is anything wrong, Mr. Cole?" she called up to Mitch.

"No, Miss Randell," he answered with a brief glance at her.

She saw his brows rise curiously as he stared at her. She had forgotten to put the glasses on the night before when they had stopped, and she knew he was surprised at her old-maidish appearance this morning. She wished there had been time to do that before catching the stage in Laramie but she had barely caught the stage as it was. Mentally kicking herself for the lapse of vigilance, she knew she had to be more careful. She instinctively knew that Mitchell Cole was nobody's fool. Neither was Reed Driscoll. She had to be more careful.

"Reed's just checking on Baby," he said a moment later.

"Baby?"

A slight smile touched Mitch's face. "Yeah, Baby is one of the lead horses. She started limping a mile or so back. I think she's picked up a stone."

"You've named all the horses?" she asked curiously, as she moved toward the front of the stage in order to see him more clearly.

Mitch nodded with a grin. "Yes, ma'am. We spend more time with these horses than we do with people so we named them." He was climbing down from the box as he answered her question. Now he was standing in front of her, his thumbs hooked in the gunbelt, studying her curiously.

Looking up at him in the early morning light, Victoria saw that her first impression of him had been right on target. Tall, good looking, a nice body, and perceptive dark brown eyes, he was as refreshing to look at first thing in the morning as a clear mountain stream.

"Kind of like pets," she commented dryly, watching him push his hat back with a grin.

"Yeah, something like that, I guess."

"Mr. Cole, could I have my bag from the luggage compartment?"

"Sure. I'll get it for you."

She followed him to the rear of the vehicle, watching him quietly while he untied the leather covering and removed her carpetbag. When she reached to take it from him, she saw the gold wedding band on his left hand.

"What does your wife think about you making these long runs? You must be away from home a lot."

"My wife's dead," he muttered without looking at her. He quickly tied the covering back over the luggage boot and brushed past her on his way back to the front of the coach.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Victoria stammered, following him, then standing at the front wheel of the coach as he climbed back onto the seat without looking at her again. "I didn't mean...I saw the ring...I'm sorry…"

"Time to get aboard, Miss Randell," he said curtly as he took up the reins.

Reed was walking toward them tossing a small rock in the air. "Just a pebble. She's fine, Mitch," he said in reference to the lead horse. Curiosity flashed into his face at the stricken expression on the girl's face. Glancing at Mitch, he saw that closed off look he recognized so clearly.

Victoria hurried back into the stage, clutching the carpetbag to her chest, feeling unusually contrite. Maybe being friendly to the stage crew was a mistake. Instead of making conversation to pass the time, she had only embarrassed herself. It was obvious that Mitchell Cole had not gotten over his wife's death and she had inadvertently reopened the wound. She was genuinely sorry.

**********

Shortly, she heard Mitch calling to the horses to slow down again. Peering out the curtain, she saw a lone man on foot waiting by the side of the road about a hundred yards ahead.
"What do you think?" Reed asked Mitch as they stared at the stranger standing by the road, carrying his saddle. "Think it's a trap?"

Mitch glanced around, then shook his head. "No, I don't think so. We're out in the open. There's no trees or cover for a half mile. If this is a hold-up, it's just one man. Think you can handle one man?"

"On an empty stomach?" Reed asked with a grin, cocking the Winchester as the stage began moving slowly forward.

Mitch halted the team when they were abreast of the man. He wisely kept both hands visible, noting the Winchester Reed had pointed at his chest.

"I sure am glad to see you fellas," he said with a grin. "My horse stumbled over a dry creek bed in the dark.. Broke a leg. I had to shoot him. This saddle gets mighty heavy after toting it a ways," he went on in a friendly manner. "I was hoping to catch a ride with you fellas."

"Where you headed?" Reed asked cautiously.

"Elmwood," the stranger replied. "I heard about work there. Thought I'd take a ride and check it out. Look, fellas, I can see why you'd be careful…me being out here in the middle of nowhere and all…but would you mind taking that buffalo gun outa my face? It makes me mighty nervous."

Mitch and Reed exchanged glances. When Mitch nodded slightly, Reed moved the gun barrel with a grin. "Climb aboard, stranger. Just don't step on the rest of our passengers. We've got a full house in there."

"Thanks, fellas," the stranger replied as he handed his saddle to Reed to put atop the coach with the mail bags. He quickly climbed into the coach and made himself comfortable at the end of the bench opposite Victoria.

Moments later, the coach began moving again. Inside, the stranger nodded politely to Victoria and the other female passenger, a pleasant looking woman who was traveling with her young son. Also inside the vehicle was a traveling preacher and a cattle buyer from the East who was on his way to the forts in the Wyoming territory hoping to sell the Army fresh beef.

"Morning, folks," he said pleasantly. "Thanks for stopping for me. My feet are killing me."

Moments later, he and the cattle buyer were engrossed in conversation. While they chatted, Victoria gave the man a closer look.

He seemed very familiar, she thought as she studied him through downcast eyes. Adjusting her glasses, she squeezed back a gasp. My God, she thought frantically. This was one of the men she had seen hanging around Laramie with the Ballentine gang. There could only be one reason he had wrangled his way onto this stagecoach.

She had to do something! She had to warn Mitch and Reed, but how? How could she tell them they were in danger without giving herself away in the process?

Only moments later Victoria shoved her hand deep into the carpetbag and pulled out a Colt. She pointed it directly at the stranger, pulled back the hammer, then spoke to the preacher beside her.

"Tell Mr. Cole to stop the coach."

"What the..? What are you doing?" the stranger blurted out, staring at the gun.

"Do what I tell you. Tell Mr. Cole to stop the coach," she said again, this time more forcefully.

The other passengers sat in stunned silence while the preacher leaned out the opposite window and called up to Mitch. Moments later the stage halted and the door beside Victoria opened. She glanced briefly at Mitch's startled face, then indicated the stranger with her gun barrel.

"What the hell!" Cole said, staring at her in amazement.

"Mr. Cole, this man is a member of the Ballentine gang. I suspect they're planning to rob this coach," Victoria told him crisply.

"How do you know that?"

"I worked at the bank in Laramie, Mr. Cole. This man was one of the robbers yesterday. I'm absolutely positive."

Mitch's gaze swung from her to the man she was holding her gun on.

"Surely you don't believe her?" the man blurted out incredulously.

"I have no reason not to." Mitch took his pistol from the holster and leveled it at the man. "Get out."

"What are you going to do?" the man asked.

"I'm no lawman. Whatever you did in Laramie is between you and the law. But I'm not taking any chances. Get out of my coach."

"You're gonna leave me out here afoot?" the man asked as he climbed past Victoria. "That's a pretty dirty thing to do, mister. You're gonna take the word of a ..a spinster..?"

"Yes, I believe I am." Mitch deftly removed the man's gun from its holster as he stepped onto the ground. "If you're on the level, look me up in Elmwood. I'll give you back your gun then."

"Oh, I'll look you up all right," the man assured him. "You can count on that."

"You can put that hogleg away now, Miss Randell," Mitch said to Victoria as she sat gripping the pistol so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

She slowly lowered the weapon as Mitch swung back onto the top of the coach and it began rolling, leaving the man in the middle of the road. She put the gun back into her bag and adjusted her glasses absently.

There had been no recognition in the man's face. Thank goodness she'd thought of the glasses and the severe hair style. It altered her looks enough that Billy Joe's henchman hadn't known her.

She leaned back against the wall of the coach, ignoring the stares of the other passengers, and shut her eyes weakly. 'Dear God' she thought frantically. 'Will I ever be free?'

CHAPTER THREE

As the stagecoach rolled away, Reed pitched the saddle to the ground while he glanced back over his shoulder at the man in the road, chuckling aloud as the man shook his fist at them, shouting obscenities that they were too far away now to hear.

"His feet will be a lot sorer by the time he walks five miles to the relay station," he remarked.

"If he's really one of the Ballentine gang, that's the least of our worries," Mitch replied dryly.

"What do you make of it, Mitch? The girl, I mean? Her working for the bank that was robbed...her recognizing that fella as one of the robbers?"

"I think we're damned lucky she was aboard, if she's telling the truth."

"You doubt her story?"

Mitch thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm not sure. The only thing I do know for sure is that we couldn't take the chance. And, if she's right, we can expect a visit from the Ballentine gang before we get to Elmwood."

"You think he could know abut the Army payroll?"

Mitch shrugged again. "It's no secret we're carrying payrolls for the Army since Butterfield lost his contract with them. Anything's possible."

Reed nodded as he shifted the Winchester from one hand to the other. "Mitch, does anything strike you as odd about her...Miss Randell, I mean?"

"Like what?"

"Like the way she looks, for instance. She wasn't wearing glasses when she got on the stage in Laramie, and she wasn't wearing them last night when we stopped. What do you make of that?"

"Maybe she don't need them at night," Mitch answered with a shrug. "How the hell do I know? The way she keeps that cloak around her, so tight and all, there's no way to get a good look at her."

"Yeah, that's another thing that strikes me as odd." Reed grinned as a thought occurred to him. "You think maybe she's not wearing any clothes under that thing? That would explain why she keeps it pulled together so tight, wouldn't it?"

Mitch shot him a brief glance as he shook his head in amazement. "Leave it to you to come up with that explanation. Whatever she's wearing...or not wearing...is none of our business. I trust you'll remember that?"

Reed nodded with a wicked grin and sat the rifle upright between his knees. "Oh, sure, Mitch. I'll remember," he replied cheerfully.

*************

When the stagecoach arrived in Elmwood just before dusk with no problems from the Ballentine gang, Mitch and Reed began to breathe easier. It appeared the girl had been wrong about the man they had thrown off the coach. Maybe he just looked like one of the bank robbers, or maybe she was just paranoid since the robbery.

. As he held open the door for the passengers to alight in Elmwood, Mitch stared hard at Victoria. She returned his gaze for barely an instant before pulling the cloak tightly around herself and stepping quickly down from the coach. Seconds later she scurried into the hotel lobby that doubled as the stage depot. Mitch stared after her, then shook his head. She was hiding something. Of that much he was sure. What her secret was did not concern him. All he needed to know was that she was a passenger on his stagecoach. He was responsible for her safety until they arrived in Paradise in three days. Nothing more. Everyone had secrets, he thought wryly as he went to the rear of the coach and began unloading the luggage. If you dug deep enough, you'd find that everyone had a skeleton or two in their closet. He had enough of his own without worrying about Victoria Randell's.

The following morning, after a hot meal and a good night's sleep, the passengers who were going further west once more climbed into the stage to begin the last lap of the journey to Paradise. Only the cattle buyer and Victoria remained on board now.

Mitch held the door open for Victoria as she climbed back into the coach. He stared at her more closely now as Reed's suggestion came back to him. He was surprised to find the girl had loosened the cloak, taken the hood off her head, and was dressed as any other woman would have been making such a journey.

The simple gingham dress was demure in color and style, but tailored to her slim figure. Her hair was jet black in color, arranged at the nape of her neck in a tight bun secured with pearl hair pins. For the first time, Victoria met his gaze squarely, looking him straight in the eye while he secured the door behind her.

Even through the wire rimmed glasses he was astounded by her eyes. They were a deep violet color, fringed by long thick lashes, so clear and luminous they took his breath for a moment. Recovering, he occupied himself with checking the door latch while she continued staring at him.

"You think I was wrong about that man, don't you, Mr. Cole?"

Mitch pushed his hat back and leaned both forearms on the open window ledge as he shrugged. "Well, Miss Randell, we haven't seen anything of the Ballentine gang. If they were going to hold us up, I think they'd have done it before we reached Elmwood."

"Why?" Victoria asked curiously. "The stage goes all the way to Paradise, doesn't it? Isn't that where you're taking the Army payroll?"

Mitch's brows rose in surprise. "How did you know we're carrying an Army payroll?"

Victoria's shoulders moved in slight shrug as she studied him in the early morning light. "The way Mr. Driscoll carries that rifle everywhere he goes tells me you're carrying something of value. And it's common knowledge that the Butterfield Line lost the Army contract to you. So…"

Mitch stared at her in silence for a moment, then nodded briefly. "Okay, you're right. We are carrying an Army payroll, and it's going all the way to Paradise. The Army sends a special detail to meet us there and take it off our hands. But what makes you think the Ballentine gang will wait until we leave Elmwood to try and take it?"

"I don't. I just know that the man who tried to hitch a ride with us is one of the Ballentine gang. I don't think his appearance on the side of the road was a coincidence."

"Don't you believe in coincidence, Miss Randell?"

Victoria shook her head, adjusting her glasses absently. "No, I don't. Especially when it comes to low-life thieves and killers like Billy Joe Ballentine."

Mitch straightened and pulled his hat down with a nod. "Well, I guess we'll see, won't we, Miss Randell? It's a hundred miles to Half-Way House, then another hundred to Paradise. That's a lot of territory. Anything can happen."

"And if it does, Mr. Cole? Can you prevent the Ballentine gang from taking that payroll from you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mitch said confidently, stepping back from the stage. "The only way anybody will take that payroll off the C & D Stage Line is over our dead bodies."

With a slight grin he added, "And that's been tried by everybody from General Robert E. Lee to the Crossett gang a couple of weeks ago. It's a lot harder to do than most people think. Billy Joe Ballentine will be no exception."

As he moved away to take his seat in the box atop the stage, Victoria let out a pent-up breath. "I sure hope you're right, Mr. Cole."

**********

At least the stagecoach was more comfortable, now that Victoria and the cattle buyer were the only occupants. She learned his name was Peter Bettenger. He was in his mid-fifties, a friendly fellow sporting a thick handle-bar mustache and crooked, tobacco stained teeth. He carried a round, bowler hat that he frequently wiped the dust from lovingly.

He tried several times to make conversation with her, but Victoria was not in the mood for small talk. The knot of fear that had formed in her gut when she recognized Billy Joe Ballentine's henchman had not lessened as the miles piled up. She felt nauseous at times but was unsure if it was a result of her anxiety or the bad food grabbed at the last relay station.

She leaned back against the wall of the coach feigning sleep. Lulled by the sway of the vehicle, she dozed throughout the afternoon.

The vehicle, designed and built by the Abbott-Downing Company, and named the Concord after its home town in New Hampshire, was not terribly uncomfortable, unless you were packed into it like sardines. It was framed of steam-bent ash, fitted with laminated panels made of poplar or basswood, resting on thick leather straps called thoroughbraces, made from ox hides instead of steel springs.

The swaying motion had caused it be referred to as cradle on wheels, though over rough roads that description left a lot to be desired. It was upholstered in padded leather and damask cloth, the exterior painted pomegranate red with straw yellow wheels, with the C & D company logo also in yellow painted on the exterior. The crowning touch was a distinctive oil landscape painted on the inside of each door.

Victoria roused from her nap to realize it was nearly dusk. She took off the wire rimmed glasses and rubbed at her eyes, then replaced them with a sigh. She was tired, hungry, and sweaty in spite of the cool weather. What she wanted most right now was a hot bath, followed by a hot meal, neither of which she expected to get for some time.

"We'll be pulling into Half-Way House in less than an hour," the cattle buyer told her with a smile.

"You must have made this trip before," Victoria replied resignedly. It was obvious the man intended to have a conversation.

"Yes, ma'am. Many times. Half-Way House is the best stop on the route. Deke Parsons sets a fine table. His rabbit stew is mighty tasty."

Even rabbit stew sounded good to Victoria. Her stomach growled as if in agreement. "Then you must know Mr. Cole and Mr. Driscoll pretty well."

Bettenger nodded. He laid the bowler hat on the seat as he slid closer to Victoria. "Made this trip with them many times. I assure you, Miss Randell, you couldn't be in better hands. Mitch and Reed are two of the most capable young men I've ever known."

Victoria remembered how Reed Driscoll wore his six-gun and nodded. "I'm not worried, Mr. Bettenger. Mr. Cole assured me that we are in no danger. I'll take his word for it."

"Only a fool would try to rob a C & D stage, Miss Randell."

"Why is that, Mr. Bettenger?"

The cattle buyer leaned closer, giving her a whiff of bay rum cologne mixed with a good cigar. "They've been fighting together since the war. They were scouts for General Sheridan's cavalry. Been together for years. They can almost tell what the other one is thinking without any words. After the war they came up this way and started the stage line. They've become pretty successful with it, even beat out Butterfield for the Army contract.

"They've been tried by some of the most notorious highwaymen in the territory. They've never lost a shipment. Not one. That's a record Butterfield or Wells Fargo can't match."

"Did you know Mr. Cole's wife?"

Bettenger shook his head. "No, ma'am. She died before they came to Wyoming territory. He does have a son though. I've met him a few times. Cute little fellow, name's Donny…Danny, Davie…something like that."

"Really? Who takes care of the child when Mr. Cole is away from home?"

"He spends a lot of time at Half-Way House. Deke looks after him most of the time."

Glancing out the window as the coach began slowing down, Bettenger smiled again. "Looks like we've made it to Half-Way House. I can already smell Deke's stew."

Victoria was relieved that conversation was over for the moment. Although, she had learned some interesting things about Mitch Cole. She wondered why a man that attractive had not remarried, especially since he had a child to look after. She felt sure it wasn't due to a lack of female applicants.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the vehicle's arrival in front of a log cabin, much larger than any of the others she had seen thus far on her journey. It was a pleasant looking place, though in need of a thorough cleaning, she decided. She took Bettenger's arm and stepped from the stage.

As she stood stretching her legs before moving toward the house, a small boy flew from inside straight into Mitch Cole's arms.

"Papa, papa! I was watching for you! Deke said you'd be here tonight!"

"Well, it looks like Deke was right, doesn't it?" Mitch said with the first real smile Victoria had seen. He lifted the child over his head and twirled him around for a moment, then hugged him tightly before settling him in the bend of one arm.

The child laughed out loud as his arms encircled Mitch's neck. "I missed you, papa."

"I've missed you too, son." Looking up at Victoria, who was watching them curiously, Mitch put the boy down. "Danny, this is Miss Randell. Why don't you show her inside while I bring in the luggage? I'll be right in."

"Hello, Danny, it's very nice to meet you. I bet you're a big help to your papa, aren't you?"

The boy's head bobbed in a quick affirmative nod. "Yes, ma'am. I help Deke with all sorts of things. He couldn't run Half-Way House without me."

Victoria smiled as the child took her hand to lead her into the house. He was approximately seven years old, a bit small for his age, with a mop of black hair and startling hazel eyes. His cherub-like face was sprinkled with freckles. One front tooth was missing. He immediately won Victoria's heart.

The wrangler began unharnessing the horses. This was an overnight stop so they led the animals toward the barn, a large ramshackle building a hundred yards or so from the main house.

Reed took the money bag from beneath the box on top of the coach. Carrying the Winchester in one hand and the payroll in the other, he moved toward the house.

Mitch unlatched the luggage boot and took out the cattle buyer's bag, then walked toward the house himself.

Behind them, Danny tugged at Victoria's hand. "Would you like to see my kitties?" he asked in a very serious tone. "They're in the barn cause Deke won't let me keep them in the house. There's a white one, a gray one, and a black and white stripped one."

"I'd love to see your kitties," Victoria assured him, as the child started toward the barn, still holding onto her hand.

Inside the relay station, Mitch handed the bag to Mr. Bettenger. Taking off his hat, he hung it on the deer-horn hat rack inside the door. "Deke, what's for supper?" he asked the elderly man at the stove in the kitchen area of the room.

"Stew and biscuits," Deke Parsons answered. "Don't ask what's in it. You don't want to know."

Reed chuckled at he set the rifle upright beside the hat rack and put his own hat beside Mitch's. "I don't care what's in it, Deke, as long as it's hot. I'm so hungry I could eat a rattlesnake."

"Good. Remember you said that after supper," Deke replied with a grin. Then his cheerful features became more serious. "Boys, there's a fella here that needs a ride into Paradise. Walked in this afternoon after his horse broke a leg."

The hair on the back of Mitch's neck stood on end. He flashed a glance to Reed, who was reaching for the Winchester.

"I wouldn't do that, Driscoll, if I was you. You either, Cole. Now take those gunbelts off and kick them over here. Don't try to be a hero."

When they both hesitated, the owner of the voice moved from the shadows into the lamplight. He was holding a pistol, the hammer cocked, his finger on the trigger. It was pointed at Mitch's chest.

"Well, Mitch, at least we know the girl was right after all," Reed drawled.

Mitch nodded, his features drawn into a scowl at the sight of the same man he had thrown off the stage the previous day. "You do get around, don't you?" he asked the outlaw.

The man nodded with an evil grin. "Part of my business, Cole. Toss that payroll over here, Driscoll, and I'll be on my way. Do it!" he snapped when Reed hesitated.

"Does Ballentine know what you're doing?" Mitch asked as Reed tossed the burlap bag containing the Army payroll to the outlaw.

The man grinned as he shook his head. "You could say that I'm free-lancing this time. There wasn't much money from the Laramie bank after it was divided up. I've got expenses, you know? Billy Joe wanted to lay low for awhile after that job. I decided not to."

"You won't get away with this," Reed vowed.

The outlaw tucked the money bag into his belt and began moving toward the door. "I think I will. There's not another stage due through here for almost a week. Your bodies won't be found until then. I'll be in Mexico living it up by then."

His implication sent a flash of fear through Mitch's heart. He knew that Danny and the girl had not come into the house yet. He could only pray they were far enough away to be out of danger.

"But I owe you something first, Cole," the outlaw snarled. He was standing directly in front of Mitch, the gun pointed at Mitch's heart. With a sudden move, the man struck Mitch across the face with the gun butt, opening up a gash that spilled blood down Mitch's neck, soaking the collar of his shirt in seconds. "I told you I'd see you again, didn't I?" the outlaw smirked as Mitch reeled from the blow.

A flash of movement caught his eye. His gun barked flame and lead when he shot at Reed, who was diving for the Winchester. Rolling on the floor, Reed escaped the bullet by diving under the dining table while he flipped the lever of the rifle to send a bullet into the firing chamber.

An instant later another gun roared. The outlaw looked surprised, then collapsed to the floor as his eyes rolled back. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Wiping blood from his eyes, Mitch shook his head to clear his vision. Reed climbed from beneath the table, staring at the open doorway in stunned surprise. Victoria walked into the room with Danny hiding behind her skirts, his face so pale the freckles stood out like beacons. The gun in her hands was still smoking as she lowered it slowly back into her carpetbag.

Satisfied the danger was over, Danny ran to Mitch, his arms uplifted while his eyes spilled tears. Mitch took the boy in his arms to comfort him, murmuring in his ear that everything was all right.

"Damn!" Reed said softly, staring at her in amazement. "That was some fine shooting!"

"I've been around guns all my life, Mr. Driscoll," Victoria said quietly, her eyes fixed on the dead man's body sprawled on the floor at Mitch's feet. "Men who used them too. I could shoot before I could walk."

CHAPTER FOUR

Victoria put the bag down and hurried to assess Mitch's injuries. "I'll need some hot water, Mr. Deke," she said, taking Danny from Mitch's arms and setting him on the floor.

Deke jumped to fill a basin from the tea kettle on the stove. Victoria pulled a chair from the dining table, indicating that Mitch sit down on it. While she began mopping the blood from his face, Reed and Deke disposed of the dead outlaw's body.

"Now, now, Danny, there's nothing to be afraid of," Victoria said to the little boy. While she gently washed the blood from the gash on Mitch's cheekbone, Danny climbed up in his father's lap and burrowed his face against Mitch's chest, both hands clenched in Mitch's shirt.

"It's just a tiny cut," she added with a reassuring smile. "Nothing to it. We'll just clean it up a bit and he'll be as good as new."

It was obvious from the dubious expression on his face, that Danny was not convinced. He hid his face against Mitch's chest while his small body shook with frightened shudders.
"Son, why don't you go bring those kittens I've heard so much about to the house so I can see them?" Mitch's voice was gentle and reassuring. "Can you do that for me?"

"Deke don't want them in the house," Danny pointed out as he sat upright on Mitch's lap.

"I think he'll make an exception this time."

With a encouraging smile, Mitch set the child on the floor and gave him a gentle push toward the door. Danny hesitated momentarily, then dashed out the door.

"It's just a nick. No need to make such a fuss," Mitch said to Victoria.

She wrung out the towel over the basin, then applied it to the bleeding cut. It was two inches long, just along the cheekbone on the right side of his face. "You're bleeding like a stuck hog, Mr. Cole. Sit still! This needs a couple of stitches."

"You're a nurse now?"

"If need be," she replied, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice. She held the steaming towel against the wound with one hand and unbuttoned his shirt with the other. A second later she wrung out the towel again and began cleaning the blood off his neck where it had flowed from the nasty cut.

"You need to take this shirt off so I can wash it out before the stains set."

Mitch shrugged out of his vest, then the shirt. She took the bloody shirt with one hand, dropped it onto the table, then wrung out the bloody towel again, once more applying pressure to the wound to stem the flow of blood.

Mitch opened his left eye to watch her while she worked. Her lips were pursed with concentration, her eyes narrowed as she studied the wound. Her hair was coming loose from the bun at the nape of her neck, hanging in soft whispers around her face. She looked very wise through the wire-rimmed glasses as she worked.

The texture of his skin was softer than she'd expected. Beneath her fingers, she felt the stubble of a day's growth of beard. She saw his chest rising and falling with each breath, saw the latent power in his upper body. She felt her face grow warm as she hurriedly wrung out the towel again.

His tan went all the way from his hair line to his belt. The hair on his chest felt like satin when her hand brushed against him in the course of tending to the wound. Her nostrils quivered as the subtle man scent of him reached her.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cole," she said in a voice that was nearly a whisper.

Mitch's brows rose in surprise. "Sorry? For what?"

"For all this. For that man. It's my fault he hit you."

"I owe you my life...my son's life. If you hadn't shot when you did, he'd have killed all of us. You saved my life...all our lives."

"Amen to that," Mr. Bettenger agreed from his perch on a stool in front of the make shift bar. He hadn't spoken a word since the entire episode had begun. He was recovering his courage, one drink at a time, his hands still shaking, his face pale with fright.

Victoria had all but forgotten his existence. She flashed him a quick glance now, then bent her head back to the task at hand. "As I said, Mr. Cole, this needs a couple of stitches or it'll leave quite a scar."

"Lord knows he has enough of those already," came Reed's voice as he and Deke returned from outside.

"So I see," Victoria agreed with a downward glance at Mitch's body. She had already noticed the jagged scar that ran from his rib cage on the right side of his chest down his side, disappearing beneath his belt. "Cut yourself on a tin can?"

Reed chuckled dryly as he moved across the room to the bar. He poured two shots of corn whiskey, tossed one back himself, then handed the other one to Mitch.

"Yeah, something like that," Mitch replied with a sour glance at Reed.

"It was more like a Confederate saber, as I recall," Reed said cheerfully as he poured himself another drink. "Where was that, Mitch? Shiloh, wasn't it?"

"You ought to know. You carried me out on your back through creeks and woods and a half dozen Reb patrols."

"All after sticking my hand in your guts up to my elbow to put everything back in place. Ruined my best uniform in the process. It took my belt and yours to keep you pulled together long enough for me to find a field hospital," Reed went on with a tight smile after tossing back the second drink.

"I trust you returned the favor?" Victoria prompted, turning to take the needle and thread Deke handed her. "This is going to smart, Mr. Cole. Do you want another drink?"

"I surely do," Mitch said as she began taking small neat stitches to close the wound. "Yeah, I managed to return the favor," he added in reference to her first question. "Nothing quite that dramatic, though."

"No, just shot it out with a Reb patrol after I screwed up and got myself captured," Reed said with a grin. "I damn near got us both killed that time. That was a ten man patrol. He followed us for over a week, picking them off one at a time, until he cut down the odds enough to get me out."

"Sounds like the two of you have quite a history."

"I guess you could say that," Mitch and Reed both said at the exact same time, then broke into a chuckle.

"What about you, Miss Randell? What kind of history do you have?"

Victoria's head snapped up, her violet eyes flashing to Reed's inquisitive face. "What do you mean, Mr. Driscoll?"

"You're an interesting young woman," Reed replied with a friendly smile. He nodded toward the carpetbag on the floor containing her pistol. "Yesterday you drew down on a bank robber without batting an eye, then today you killed him without so much as a blink.. Do you do this kind of thing often?"

"Reed!" Mitch snapped. Their gaze met across the room, but Reed wasn't ready to let the matter drop.

"I don't make a habit of killing people, if that's what you mean, Mr. Driscoll," Victoria retorted. She turned away after making a neat knot in the end of the thread, handing the needle back to Deke while she met Reed's challenging stare without blinking. "As a matter of fact, until today I've never killed anybody. Would you be more happy if I'd fainted and let him kill all of you? Is that the kind of woman you're used to?

"I can assure you, Mr. Driscoll, that I'm not the kind of woman who faints if there's a job to be done. I'd prefer a more peaceful solution to problems, but sometimes violence is the only solution. I'm sure after what you've told me about your adventures in the war that you can appreciate that."

"The two things are completely different."

"Are they?" Victoria questioned. "You killed men because of the uniform they wore. Did you enjoy it? I don't think so. You did it because you had to. If you think for one minute that I enjoyed killing that thief, you are totally mistaken. I feel like I'm going to be sick. But I had no choice. If I'd stopped to think about it, you'd be dead now, wouldn't you?"

She was aware that Mitch had stood up and moved away from her. He walked across the room to Reed. "Drop it, Reed. You've said enough."

The two men stood eye to eye, staring at each other with some unspoken message passing between them. After a long moment, Reed let out a deep breath and grinned.

"I apologize, Miss Randell. I had no business asking personal questions. And I am sincerely grateful that you can shoot so well," he said in a friendly tone.

Victoria didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until it came out in a rush. She nodded and turned away, cleaning up the mess and struggling to regain her composure. She adjusted her glasses absently, then lifted a shaky hand to smooth her hair back into place.

"Mr. Deke, I'd like to wash up," she said, turning her attention to the station keeper. "I don't feel very well. I'd like to lie down for awhile before supper."

"Yes, ma'am," Deke hurried to agree. "Follow me, Miss Randell. I'll show you to your room."

He led the way toward the back of the house where the passengers' rooms were located. Victoria followed him on shaky legs, swallowing the urge to vomit. Her eyes burned with angry tears that she quickly wiped away.

Damn Reed Driscoll for his nosy questions. Damn Mitch Cole for touching some secret part of her that she thought was so deeply buried it could never be reached again. She gave a short bitter laugh. If killing was as easy as Reed insinuated, she could have salvaged her life with a single bullet years ago. One bullet would have prevented the mess she was in now. She wished fervently she'd had the courage to use that bullet when she'd been given the chance. Now it was too late.

CHAPTER FIVE

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Mitch demanded.

Reed shrugged with a grin, then turned to refill both their glasses from the liquor bottle on top of the bar. "Nothing. Just curious, that's all."

"You've got no business asking personal questions of one of our passengers."

Reed leaned one elbow on the bar, sipping his drink slowly this time. "I thought I apologized for that." Studying the half angry expression on Mitch's face, he added, "I don't know what you're getting so bent out of shape about. I was just making conversation. I asked a question that she didn't want to answer. Nothing so unusual about that."

"The lady saved your life. That ought to be enough."

Reed nodded with a grin. "You're right, Mitch, but then again, if she's going to become your private nurse, I think we ought to know a little more about her."

Muttering a curse under his breath, Mitch turned on his heel and stalked down the hallway to the room he shared with Danny to get a clean shirt. It was hard to ignore Reed's laughter coming from the other room, joined in by Deke and Mr. Bettenger. Knowing Reed as he did, he knew it was better to ignore his remark about Victoria's nursing skills than to react to it. Sometimes Reed's sense of humor wasn't so funny. This was one of those times.

Pausing at the bedroom door, he heard a sound coming from across the hall. He stepped quietly to the opposite door and listened for a moment. Then he heard it again, the definite sound of a woman crying. So Victoria Randell wasn't as calm about killing a man as Reed thought. Feeling frustrated and irritated with himself for not knowing what to do, he quickly crossed the hall to his own room, shutting the door firmly so he couldn't hear Victoria's tears.

*************

It was nearing midnight when the first scream woke Victoria. She jerked upright in bed, every nerve instantly on guard. Then she heard it again. She bolted from the bed, scrambling across the hall. Without a thought to her state of dress, she yanked open the door to Danny's room.

In the dim light coming through the windows, she saw the little boy huddled in his bed. His knees were drawn up to his chin, his hands clawing at some unseen danger.

She grabbed the child into her arms, holding him tightly to her chest. "Danny, it's all right. You're having a nightmare. It's just a dream. Nothing is going to hurt you. I'm here. Everything is all right."

The calm soothing tone of her voice finally broke through the child's fear. He climbed up her body to put his arms around her neck so tightly he was almost choking her. His screams dissolved into sobs as she held him securely, whispering comforting things in his ear.

"I..I want my papa," he choked out between sobs. "I want my papa."

Glancing around the room, Victoria realized the other bed was empty. "Danny, your papa is probably out checking on the horses. That's all. He'll be back right away."

"No, no! He's gone! He's not coming back! I want my papa!"

"Honey, your papa would never leave you. He'll be right back, I promise," she smoothed his tumbled hair, then kissed the top of his head. "Is that what your dream was about? You dreamed that your papa had left you alone?"

Danny's head bobbed against her chest. His body shook with frightened shudders as he pressed himself to her. "It was dark...dark...and papa was gone...I was scared!"

"I know you were, honey, but it was only a dream. I promise your papa will be here soon. He would never leave you alone. Your papa loves you very much."

A second later Mitch burst into the room. Danny gave a muffled cry and flung himself into his father's arms. Mitch caught him up, pressing the child tight against his chest.

"Shhh. Son, it's all right. I'm here. There's nothing for you to be afraid of," Mitch assured him gently.

Victoria was amazed at the effect Mitch's gentle voice and comforting embrace had on the child. In moments Danny was calmer. He wiped at his eyes and stuck one finger in his mouth.

"Was it the bad dream again, son?"

Danny bobbed his head. He lifted one shaky hand to touch Mitch's cheek as if to convince himself that his father was really there. "It was dark, papa...I couldn't find you...I was lost. It was scary. I was scared."

"Well, it's all over now, son. Let's get you back into bed, what do you say? It's late and you need some rest."

Mitch stood up with Danny in his arms, then put him back into bed and tucked the covers around him securely. "Go back to sleep, Danny. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

While Mitch sat on the edge of the bed, Danny stuck one hand out of the covers and reached for Mitch's hand. Gripping it tightly, he closed his eyes and gave a heavy sigh. "I like her, papa," he said. "She's a nice lady."

Victoria met Mitch's gaze, then gasped in sudden embarrassment. It abruptly occurred to her that she was dressed in only her nightgown. She had dashed to Danny's deliverance so quickly, she hadn't thought of grabbing her robe and slippers. She sat there a thin gown, her hair in disarray, hanging softly around her shoulders, no wire rimmed glasses, unable to break the mesmerizing contact with Mitch's dark eyes.

She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing at the goosebumps that suddenly appeared on her skin, knowing they were not caused by the temperature. Finally Mitch remembered his voice. He cleared his throat as he looked away from Victoria's tousled beauty, tucking Danny's arm back inside the covers.

"Thanks," he said gruffly, then cleared his throat again. It took all his will power not to look at her again. God, who would have guessed how beautiful she was without the severe hair style and the glasses? Her eyes damned near took his breath.

"I take it he's had this dream before?" Victoria asked with a nod toward the yawning child, hoping Mitch wouldn't notice the tremor in her voice.

Even with the right side of his face bruised and swollen, even with the tiny stitches on his cheek, he was so handsome her breath caught in her throat.

It was more than his physical characteristics, she thought as she studied him. Sure, he was the best looking man she'd seen in a long time. He had a body that made her weak in the knees, but it was the gentleness he exhibited to his small son that impressed her most. He was capable of very deep emotions, she could see that clearly. More importantly, he wasn't embarrassed to show them. She had never known a man could be totally masculine and still be gentle until this moment.

"Yeah." Mitch glanced down at the sleeping child and smoothed Danny's hair. "He's afraid something is going to happen to me, that he'll be left alone."

"Because his mother died when he was so young?" Victoria settled back on the foot of Danny's bed to watch him while he talked. Every nerve ending was on edge. Her nostrils were quivering. She realized she was staring, but was unable to stop.

Mitch nodded, stood up, and moved away from the bed. He stood with his back to her for a long moment, wondering why he felt so comfortable discussing this with her. He'd never talked about Danny's nightmares, nor the reason for them with anyone but Deke and Reed, yet it seemed perfectly natural to tell Victoria.

Victoria stared at his broad shoulders encased in a dark green shirt and the black vest. As her gaze moved down his body, she noticed he wasn't wearing the gunbelt. She admired the way his trousers snugly fit his hips and long legs. She felt a tremor run through her body. The last time she'd admired a man in this manner….

"He was only a baby when his mother died," Mitch said, breaking into her thoughts by turning suddenly to face her. "You wouldn't think a child that young could sense that kind of loss, would you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Victoria said quietly. "Kids are a lot more sensitive than we give them credit for, I think. Smarter too."

Mitch didn't speak again for a moment. Instead, he drew a long breath, then let it out. It was hard to concentrate on anything but the musical timbre of her voice. The sadness that flashed through her face touched him, then it was gone.

"When he got older he became afraid that I'd leave him too. Nothing I say or do will convince him otherwise," he said with a rueful glance at the sleeping child.

"He has reason to worry. You lead a dangerous life. Robbers, storms, floods, and a few dozen other things, I imagine."

"Not to mention tight schedules, sick horses, broken equipment, competition from Butterfield and Wells Fargo." Mitch agreed with a tight smile. "But I always come back to him. God willing, I always will. I don't know what else to do to convince him."

"Kids need security." Victoria glanced at Danny with a affectionate smile, then looked back at Mitch. "They need a place of their own, someplace they feel safe. Material things don't matter much. They just need to feel loved and safe."

"This place is the closest thing to a home Danny has. Reed and I have a place in Paradise but it's not much of a home. With me being on the road so much, this is the only place I feel safe about leaving him."

"What about school?"

Mitch let out a sigh. He ran a hand through his thick black hair. "That's going to be a problem. He'll be old enough to start school in the fall. I'll have to make some arrangements for that, but I'm not sure what."

He studied her silently for a moment as she sat on the foot of Danny's bed chewing her bottom lip. "What about you, Miss Randell? What are you going to do in Paradise?"

Victoria's head snapped around to meet his steady gaze. She looked surprised, as though the thought had not occurred to her before. "I..I don't know exactly."

"Paradise isn't much of a town. There aren't many jobs for women there. Not for a lady like you anyway."

The compliment made a strange warmth surge through her blood. She glanced away as a blush stained her cheeks. "You still think I'm a lady after I killed that man this afternoon?"

"One thing has nothing to do with the other," Mitch said evenly.

"Well, it's getting late. We all need some sleep." Victoria abruptly got to her feet and moved toward the doorway. She glanced at Danny one last time, then back at Mitch. "Goodnight," she murmured before slipping into the hallway.

Hurrying back to her own room, she closed the door securely behind her and leaned back against it for a moment with her eyes closed. Then with a sigh, she picked up her carpetbag and dug into it. Holding up the skimpy red dress with its spaghetti straps and sliver spangles, she smiled grimly.

"If you knew that this was what I was wearing when I got on your stage, Mr. Cole, I doubt you'd think I was a lady. Your interpretation of a lady doesn't wear dresses like this," she said sadly as she put the dress back into the bag and securely fastened the clasp. "But that's all in the past now, Mr. Cole. With a little luck, I just may turn out to be the lady you think I am."

Smiling, she climbed back into bed and snuggled into the covers. In moments she was sound asleep.

**********

Victoria awoke long before dawn. Accustomed to rising early, she hopped out of bed, dressing in the modest gingham dress. She pulled her hair into a bun and put the glasses on. That done, she left the room and ventured down the hall toward the kitchen.

No one else was up yet, she realized. That made it all the easier to put her plan in operation. She quickly built up the fire in the cook stove, stoked the fire in the fireplace in the living room, and put a pot of coffee on to boil.

By the time the men were up, she had the table set and breakfast almost ready. Smiling at the surprise on their faces as they trooped into the living room, she pointed to the coffee cups on the table. "Coffee's ready, gentlemen," she announced with a perky smile.

She quickly filled the cups with the steaming brew as the men exchanged glances before taking their places at the table. "How do you like your eggs?" she asked Reed from the kitchen where she stood with an egg in each hand.

"Well, I.."

"You look like a scrambled egg man to me," she said brightly as she broke the eggs into a cast iron skillet. "Bacon's ready when you are."

Mitch took the plate of crisp bacon she handed him and looked at Reed across the table. They stared at each other for a moment, then both shrugged at the same time. Moments later they were helping themselves to hot biscuits and scrambled eggs.

"Mighty good, Miss Randell," Mr. Bettenger said as he pushed his plate back and accepted another cup of coffee from the pot she brought to the table. "Mighty good."

"Thank you, sir, but I can't take all the credit," she said with a smile as she filled his cup. "Mr. Deke helped with the biscuits."

Deke looked up from his seat at the table with a grin. "She had all this going when I got up. Let me tell you boys, it's a treat not to have to eat my own cooking for a change."

"It's a treat for us too," Reed said dryly. He reached for another biscuit from the platter Victoria brought from the kitchen.

"How's your cheek this morning?" she asked Mitch. Neither of them made mention of Danny's nightmare, but they were both thinking about it as she lifted his chin with her finger and turned his head from left to right, examining the wound. "It looks fine. I'll take those stitches out in a few days. You'll be as good as new."

Inhaling the clean scent of him, she saw that he had shaved and dressed in clean clothes before coming in for breakfast. >From this moment on, the scent of bay rum cologne would remind her of him.

"Yeah, you look great. That black eye really adds to your charm, Mitch," Reed said with a grin.

"You want one? I can arrange it," Mitch teased back as he tossed a biscuit to Reed across the table.

"Here, here, boys, don't play with your food," Victoria scolded with a cheerful smile as she removed the plate of biscuits from their reach.

While they finished their coffee, she took off the apron and pulled up a chair to the table. "Okay, now that you've been fed, there's something I want to talk to you about." Ignoring the way their brows rose with curiosity, she took a deep breath and tried to pull her scattered thoughts together.

"What's on your mind, Miss Randell?" Mitch asked cautiously.

"That, for one thing," she answered as she met his steady gaze across the table. "You can drop the Miss Randell. Call me Victoria. Since I'm going to work for you, we should all be on a first name basis, don't you think?"

"Wait a minute," Reed said. "When did you start working for us?"

Victoria glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel, then back to Reed's surprised face with a quick smile. "At four thirty this morning, to be exact. Now, do you want to hear my proposal?"

"We're all ears," Reed replied incredulously.

"Okay, here it is. I need a job. As you pointed out, Mr. Cole, Paradise doesn't have a lot to offer a woman looking for work. But C & D Stage Lines does. I need a job and you need me."

Reed and Mitch exchanged glances again, then looked back at her in amazement. "Just what is it we need you for?" Reed asked.

"Helping Mr. Deke with running this place. Look around, gentlemen, this place hasn't been dusted or cleaned in God knows how long. Oh, it's not your fault, Mr. Deke," she hastened to add while she reached to pat his hand reassuringly. "You've got your hands full cooking and looking after Danny. You don't have time for all those other things. But…those things are important to the success of your company." Cutting off Reed's protest, she waved one emphatic hand in the air. "Sure, you get your passengers where they're going on schedule and keep outlaws from stealing the valuables you carry, but, your image needs a good overhaul.".

"Image? What the hell are you talking about?" Reed exclaimed.

"You need to project an image of cleanliness and friendliness," she explained patiently, ignoring his protest. "This place needs a woman's touch. As more people settle in Paradise and points beyond, more women will be coming through. Believe me, gentlemen, cleanliness is important to those women. A simple thing like clean sheets and freshly scrubbed floors will be the best advertisement you could hope for."

"I like the way she thinks," Deke said with a wink at her.

"I like the way she cooks," Mr. Bettenger agreed.

"So, you propose to do all this cleaning and ..stuff?" Reed asked.

"That's right. And I'll do it all for a reasonable wage."

"She's nuts!" Reed exclaimed as he swung his attention to Mitch's amazed face across the table. "You're not considering this, are you?" he added when the glimmer of respect flared in Mitch's dark eyes.

"Why not?" Mitch asked. "What she says is true enough. Deke isn't a young man anymore. We've been asking too much of him for a long time, Reed, and you know it. She could ease his load considerably."

"Ease his load?" Reed repeated incredulously. "What about us? Do you have any idea what having a woman around here will cause? Why, she'll have us tap-dancing to her tune in no time."

Mitch's amused laugh made Victoria focus her attention on him. He met her gaze squarely before turning his attention back to Reed. "Miss Randell, would you leave us alone for a few minutes so we can discuss this?"

"Of course," Victoria said as she rose from the table and made a fast exit down the hallway.

When she had disappeared from sight, Mitch reached to grip Reed's forearm. "Listen, Reed, we owe it to her. She saved our lives yesterday, remember? Besides, there's nothing for her in Paradise. She's got no job, no idea of what she's going to do there."

. "That's not our problem!"

"No, it's not. But I think we ought to give it a try."

"I don't know." Reed ran one hand through his hair. "Something about her just doesn't add up, Mitch. She's hiding something...or hiding from something."

Mitch nodded in agreement. "I know that. I also know that it's none of our business. Come on, Reed, admit it. She'd be good for the company, and good for Danny. He likes her. I think she could really help him get over this fear of his."

"You're going to trust your son with a woman we know nothing about? Mitch, we don't know a damned thing about her."

"We know the most important thing, Reed. She saved our lives yesterday, and she had to kill a man to do it. That tells me all I need to know. What about it?"

Reed cupped his chin in both hands with his elbows on the table. Several moments passed silently before he exhaled deeply and nodded. "All right, damn it! We'll give her a chance. But on a trial basis. If it don't work out, she's history. Agreed?"

Mitch smiled as he rose to his feet. "Agreed."

He called to Victoria and a moment later she hurried back into the room, looking from one to the other expectantly.

"All right, Miss Randell, you're hired," Mitch told her, wondering as he did so, why the sparkle in her eyes made him feel good inside. "You'll be paid the same as our other employees. Twenty dollars a month and board. After three months we'll talk again. If it's working, you'll stay on. If it's not, you move on. Agreed?"

"Of course, Mr. Cole," she assured him as she stuck her hand out.

Mitch took it in his briefly, then let go of her and stuck his thumbs in his belt. "One more thing. C & D Stage Lines employees call the owners by their first names too."

"Yeah," Reed echoed. "This is a small company. We like that family feeling."

Victoria ignored the sarcasm in his voice. Her heart felt lighter than it had in months. She had a job; she had a home. Reed Driscoll's skepticism wasn't going to spoil it for her. Staring into Mitch Cole's dark eyes for a moment, she smiled happily. Maybe she even had a future.

CHAPTER SIX

Feeling very triumphant, Victoria began cleaning up the breakfast dishes and straightening the kitchen. Her mind was buzzing with a dozen projects she could see right off. The windows needed washing, the floors needed scrubbing, every pot and pan in the place would have to be thoroughly scrubbed and the linens washed with lye soap. There were curtains that needed to be made and a couple of braided rugs would do wonders for the living room floor, which was nothing more than rough lumber.

And Deke could stand a good overhaul, as well, she thought with a critical eye on the old man as he came in the front door with a bucket of water. He was clean enough, she supposed, but he could stand a shave and a hair cut, and the worn trousers he was wearing needed a couple of patches in strategic places.

She mentally made her list of projects in order of importance while she scraped the breakfast remnants into one plate for later delivery to Danny's cats in the barn. She glanced out the kitchen window to see that the wrangler was beginning to lead the harnessed horses toward the coach. Looking in the other direction, she saw Mitch and Reed carrying the dead outlaw's body from the shed behind the house.

Her heart caught in her throat. It had never occurred to her that they would have to do something with the body, or that they would probably report the shooting to a lawman. She quickly dried her hands on the apron and hurried to the front door. When she stepped onto the front porch, she could hear their conversation, but they couldn't see her.

"What do we do with him, Mitch?" she heard Reed ask.

"We bury him."

"Good. I wasn't looking forward to hauling his carcass all the way to Paradise."

She heard the clank of shovels being taken from the shed. Peeking around the corner of the porch, she saw that both men had put a shovel on their shoulder and were standing over the body as if debating about what to do next.

"Then what?" Reed asked, squinting at Mitch in the bright morning sunlight.

"We report it to the sheriff when we get to Paradise."

"What're you going to tell him, Mitch?"

Victoria's breath froze in her throat. Had she come this far to have it all turn into disaster now? While she stood trembling from sudden fear, she watched Mitch and Reed exchange glances.

"We tell him this joker tried to rob us and got himself killed for his trouble."

"What about the girl?" Reed asked.

"What girl?"

After a moment, Reed grinned, then nodded. "Yeah, right. What girl?"

They traded a grin, then went about the task of taking the outlaw's body behind the barn to bury it. Victoria leaned back against the house for a moment to give her heart a chance to start beating again. She didn't know exactly why Mitch and Reed were going to dispose of the body and keep her name out of the report. She was just grateful they were.

By the time the stage was ready to roll out a short time later, Danny had gotten up and wolfed down his breakfast. He rushed through the meal, then ran outside to say goodbye to Mitch.

Victoria waited on the porch while the child bid his father a tearful farewell. Again, she was touched by Mitch's gentleness when he held the boy, talking quietly to him, reassuring him that he would be returning in a couple of days.

Danny seemed consoled as Mitch carried him to the porch and put him in Victoria's arms. Still, his eyes filled with tears as Mitch ruffled his hair.

"Son, you be a good boy and look after Miss Randell and Deke, okay? I'm depending on you."

Danny nodded and wiped at his nose with his shirt sleeve, then put his arms around Victoria's neck. "I will, papa."

Mitch's gaze lifted to Victoria's face as she stood holding the child. The bespectacled young woman with the wise expression bore little resemblance to the breath-taking woman from the previous night. The simple dress hid the lush curves he had seen beneath the thin nightgown as she sat on Danny's bed, consoling his child. The severe hair style pulled her hair back so that her high cheekbones became more prominent.

"Take good care of my boy," he said to her gruffly as their gaze met over Danny's head.

"You can count on it," she replied softly, wondering why her voice seemed suddenly strange to her ears.

"I am."

He stared at her for another moment, watching her expression grow wary at his implication. Her violet eyes widened slightly, then she wet her lips and nodded. Satisfied that he had made his point clear, Mitch leaned forward to kiss the top of Danny's head. Then he pulled his hat down lower over his eyes, turned on his heel, and walked to the coach where Reed waited impatiently. Moments later, the vehicle rumbled out of the yard on its way to Paradise with Mr. Bettenger and the Army payroll safely aboard.

While she watched the stage grow smaller on the horizon, Victoria fought back a chill. For the first time, she wondered if convincing Mitch Cole to let her stay here was wise. She gave a reassuring hug to the little boy in her arms and kissed his cheek.

Half-Way House was safer than Paradise. She had realized that right away, but she had not counted on the powerful wave of affection she felt for this child. It was dangerous to allow herself to become attached to Danny Cole. Even more dangerous to let this attraction for his father grow any stronger.

Mitchell Cole was a decent, hard-working, honest man. He was straight-forward in his dealings with other people, and he expected the same in return. Sudden tears burned Victoria's eyes as she reminded herself that honesty was the one thing she could never give. She couldn't tell him the truth and she wasn't sure she could live with the lie she had invented.

CHAPTER SEVEN

When the stagecoach disappeared from view, Victoria let out a long breath and glanced at Danny. His arms were still entwined around her neck, his eyes still filled with tears. His chin quivered as he watched the stage vanish beyond the horizon.

"Hey, Danny, I saved all the scraps from breakfast for your kittens. Let's go feed them. They must be getting hungry by now," she suggested cheerfully.

Danny nodded as he scrambled out of her arms, then dashed into the kitchen to find the plate of scraps. Watching his features change from sad to cheerful helped dispel the gloom that Mitch's subtle warning had brought upon her. In spite of giving her the job and leaving her name out of any report about the dead outlaw, she knew he wasn't sure how far to trust her. The very fact that he entrusted his most precious possession to her care warmed her. She would not let him down.

As she accompanied Danny to the barn to feed his kittens, she took a moment to acquaint herself with the layout. Half-Way House sat in a five acre clearing just off the main road between Elmwood and Paradise. There were mountains to the north, still snow-covered and imposing. To the west it was open country as far as she could see. To the south a mile or so she could see the sparkle of a river cutting through the land.

There were huge, centuries old oak trees scattered around the relay station. A rope swing swayed from one as the morning breeze stirred. Two more stood near the barn. Behind the barn was the corral where the horses were kept. She could see six of them now, with their muzzles deep in a feed trough.

A well shed was located at the east end of the house, the wood shed, where they had put the outlaw's body, on the opposite side. The buildings all had a ramshackle appearance that could be greatly improved with a coat of whitewash, she thought as she followed Danny into the barn. That would go on her list of projects. She smiled cheerfully, thinking she had enough things on that list to keep a small army busy for a month. It felt good to have plans again.

Danny called her name, and she hurried into the dark interior of the barn to find him. He was sitting in a empty stall with the kittens, giggling at their antics, all thoughts of sadness gone for the moment.

Victoria sat down in the hay with him. Picking up one of the kittens, she saw the mother cat perched on the top rail of the stall watching them anxiously. "Don't worry, mama," Victoria said to her. "We're not going to harm your babies. We're just going to love them a little, aren't we, Danny?"

Danny nodded seriously as he looked from her to the mother cat. He gently rubbed the kitten's soft fur, smiling when the animal began to purr happily. "Yes, Marmalade, we're just loving them."

"Do you have any little boys, Miss Randell?" he asked after a moment.

Victoria smiled as she shook her head. "No, Danny. You know, since we're going to become good friends, why don't you call me Vicky? That's what only my special friends call me."

Danny nodded enthusiastically with a big smile. "That's a pretty name, Bicky. I like it."

Victoria smiled at his attempt to pronounce her name. With one front tooth missing, he had trouble with some letters. Somehow, she liked Bicky better than Vicky anyway.

"Why don't you have a little boy?"

"Because I've never been married, Danny."

"Papa has me and he's not married."

"He was married once...to your mother. That's different."

Her explanation seemed to satisfy his curiosity for the moment. But the mention of his father brought back a flash of fear to his face. The barn was large, with heavy shadows where the sun streaming in from the open door did not reach, but one sunbeam caught him directly, showing all too clearly his anxiety.

"I..I miss my papa." His chin began to quiver.

Victoria moved closer in the hay to put her arms around him and give him a reassuring hug. "I know you do, Danny, but remember what your papa said. He'll be back in a couple of days. There's nothing for you to worry about."

The child nodded, then grinned as the kittens began tumbling over one another in the hay. "You won't leave me, will you, Bicky?" he asked a moment later, once more fearful and uncertain.

"I'm going to be here, Danny, for a long time."

"Promise?"

"I promise," Victoria said confidently as she smoothed his hair. For as long as I can, she added silently, hoping it would be true.

**********

Two days later the stage made its eastbound run. Knowing they would arrive at Half-Way House shortly before dusk, Victoria anxiously scurried through the house to make sure everything was in order. Pausing to straighten the tablecloth again, she strained to listen for the coach but instead heard only the twittering of birds in the oaks outside as they began making preparations for their spring nests.

"Will you stop fidgeting?" Deke scolded her fondly. "You act like you're expecting the president or something."

Victoria flashed him a tight smile as she smoothed her apron. She absently adjusted her glasses, then hurried into the kitchen to check on their supper.

Deke stepped out of her way with a chuckle. "Them two boys will be so hungry they ain't gonna notice nothing but food."

"I'm not worried about them in the least," she told him. "It's our passengers I'm thinking about. I want to be sure everything is just right."

Deke filled an enamel cup from the battered coffee pot on the stove, then stepped out of her way as she made another pass through the kitchen. "How could it not be just right? We've done nothing but scour and boil and scrub everything around here that couldn't get out of your way for the past two days." The smile on his weathered face offset the sarcastic remark.

"Tell me about them, Deke."

"Ain't much to tell, I reckon. They came out here when the war was over and started the company. Didn't have two cents to rub together when they started. Used a freight wagon till they could afford a stagecoach. Worked themselves half to death getting the company off the ground. But you should've seen their faces the day that Concord was delivered. Lordy, you'd a thought they'd given birth to it themselves."

"They seem more like brothers than friends," Victoria prompted as she turned the fried chicken in the skillet on the stove.

"Yep," Deke agreed. "Reckon that's how they feel about it too."

"Don't they ever disagree?"

When Deke nodded, his bald head gleamed in the lamplight. "Sure, once in awhile, like over you." Pausing to grin at her disgruntled expression, he added, "But when it comes to the important stuff, they always see eye to eye."

"Bicky! Deke! I see it! Papa and Uncle Reed are here!"

Victoria glanced up as the child raced down the porch steps to greet the coach as it pulled into the yard. She lifted one hand to smooth back her hair and adjusted her glasses again, surprised to find her hand was shaking. Until this moment she hadn't realized how important their approval was to her. All she could do now was wait.

A couple of minutes later they came into the house. Mitch had Danny in his arms, while Reed carried in the bag containing the mail they were taking back to Elmwood for delivery back East.

"Boy, something sure smells good," Reed said, closing the door behind him. He put the mail bag down next to the hat rack and turned around. "It's a good thing we don't have any passengers this run. I'm starving…."

His voice trailed off, then dissolved into a chuckle at the sight of Deke. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked when he found his voice.

"And just what's wrong with me?" the old man demanded, with a flush beginning to creep up his neck.

Reed and Mitch walked slowly around him, looking him up and down, then up again. Indeed, this was not the same man they had left here two days earlier. In place of the scruffy, unkempt man they knew, now was a clean shaven man with a fresh hair cut and clean clothes. Even his fingernails were clipped and clean.

"Ain't Deke pretty, papa?" Danny asked, trying to figure out why his father and uncle were suddenly speechless.

"Isn't," Victoria corrected automatically.

"Damn," Mitch said after a moment of staring at Deke. "Is that you, Deke?"

"Can't be," Reed said. He glanced at Victoria with an incredulous expression on his face. "What have you done with Deke?"

"Oh, knock it off, you two," she snapped, pausing to shoot him a glare while she began taking up the fried chicken. "You act like you've never seen a man after a bath and a hair cut."

"Bath?" Mitch echoed. "You took a bath, Deke? It's not even spring yet."

"Go ahead and laugh, you two sidewinders," Deke grunted. "You don't know what I've been through the past two days. That woman has scrubbed everything in sight. She's worked me like a slave to get this place cleaned up, so don't either of you give me any lip about it. This place ain't never been this clean before…you damned well better appreciate it too."

As he glanced around the room, Mitch could see that what Deke said was true. The windows had been washed, inside and out. The floors had been scrubbed clean. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. And the smells coming from the kitchen were positively heavenly.
"I guess we can overlook her cleaning frenzy if supper tastes as good at it smells," Reed said as he pulled out a chair and started to sit down at the table.

"Just a minute," Victoria said, staring at him with both hands on her hips.

"What?"

"You haven't washed up, that's what. There's a basin of hot water and some soap over here on the stove. You wash your hands, mister, before you eat at my table."

"Your table?" Reed echoed. Turning in the chair, he glared at Mitch. "What did I tell you? She's taken over, just like she owned the place."

"I don't think a little hot water and soap is going to kill you, Reed," Mitch said with a grin as he took off his hat and tossed it onto the hat rack. He began rolling up his shirt sleeves as he walked toward the stove.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Deke said with an evil grin. "She even washed your clothes."

Reed's eyes bulged as he rose to his feet and pushed the chair back. "My clothes? You washed my drawers?" he demanded, glaring at Victoria.

"What are you complaining about?" she retorted. "You weren't in them, were you?" Then looking him up and down, she added, "But you probably should've been. We've got to do something about your hair too. I'll trim it for you after supper."

Turning to observe Mitch washing his hands with the bar of lye soap she'd laid out, she went on. "Don't look so smug, Mr. Cole. You're next."

Mitch grinned at her as he dried his hands on the towel she'd laid out. "Well, it didn't kill Deke, so I guess it's all right."

The flash of his straight white teeth in the lamplight, and the way his dark eyes danced made her palms sweat. She quickly rubbed them against her apron and swallowed, trying to remember what it was she was doing.

"You're going to let her cut your hair?" Reed asked as he joined Mitch at the water basin.

"I don't see why not. I let you cut it once, didn't I? Had to wear my hat night and day until it grew out. She can't do any worse than that."

A smile spread slowly over both their faces as they stood staring at each other. Reed rolled up his shirt sleeves and plunged his hands in the hot water. "All right, but you go first. If she don't butcher you up too bad, I'll let her do mine." He glanced back over his shoulder at Victoria. "You better be some kind of cook if you expect us to put up with all this nonsense."

"Oh, I am, Mr. Driscoll," she assured him "Sit down and see for yourself."

She brushed past him to the stove, took up the platter of fried chicken and handed it to Deke to put on the table. When Mitch attempted to move past her, she caught his chin in her hands, turning his face toward the light so she could see the gash on his cheek clearly.

"I'll take those stitches out too. Looks like you're healing nicely."

"Where did you get the chicken?" Mitch asked curiously while he unrolled his shirt sleeves and buttoned them around his wrists.

Watching him, Victoria swallowed nervously to see the muscles flex in his forearms as he fastened the buttons into place. His fingers were long and nimble, the nails cut short and clean. His arms were covered with dark hair, giving the impression of remarkable strength. Amazing, she thought, that he was capable of such physical strength and yet exhibited such gentleness with his son.

"Don't ask," she said softly, answering his question. The brilliant smile he flashed her lifted her spirits and brought a quieting to the uneasiness she'd felt before.

Moments later they were all seated around the table enjoying fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and hot biscuits. Victoria ate little, nibbling at her food while she watched the men dig in eagerly.

The friendly banter they exchanged back and forth made her smile throughout the meal. They discussed business with Deke, and listened to Danny's stories about his kittens with equal attention. They were a family, she realized suddenly. And the way they heaped praise upon her for the delicious food made her feel a part of it.

She felt like she'd finally come home.

***********

Later that night when everyone was in bed asleep, Victoria slipped down the hallway into the darkened living room. She glanced around, looking for the bag containing the U.S. mail Reed had brought into the house when they arrived. Spotting it leaning against the wall by the hat rack, she moved through the room and knelt beside it. She glanced around nervously to be sure she was unobserved, then quickly untied the rope that secured the bag.

Pausing to brush back the strands of jet black hair falling around her face, she reached inside her robe to produce an envelope. She put it into the mail bag, then reclosed it and hurried back down the hall to bed.

A few minutes later Mitch eased the front door open and walked silently into the house. Unable to sleep, he had left Danny sleeping soundly and gone out to check the horses. Through the window, he had seen Victoria enter the living room as he stepped back onto the porch.

For a moment he was speechless. With her hair falling softly around her shoulders, without the glasses, wearing only the thin gown, he watched her put the envelope into the mail bag before returning to bed. The moonlight that drifted through the windows made it all too easy for him to see the firm curves of her lithe body through the thin gown. What he saw made his breath freeze in his throat. For a moment he could hardly breathe.

Then he shook himself. He twisted the wedding band on his left hand, remembering.

Now he dropped to one knee beside the mail bag. It took only a second to open it and find the envelope Victoria had laid on top of the others. He held it up to the light from the windows, tucking the name and address she had written away for future reference. Then he closed the bag securely and went back to bed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Another appetizing breakfast the following morning, convinced Reed more than ever that hiring Victoria had been a good idea. He held out his plate for another helping of flapjacks and bacon, then attacked it with appreciation.

Across the table from him, Mitch sipped a second cup of coffee and shook his head. "I've never figured out where you put all that food," he said with a grin. "You eat more than anybody I've ever seen."

Reed glanced at him with a mouthful of flapjacks, shaking his fork for emphasis. "I have to keep up my strength. Running a stage line is hard work." He pointed at Victoria, who was humming cheerfully in the kitchen as she poured batter into the iron skillet, and swallowed. "Didn't I say hiring her was a good idea? Aren't you glad you listened to me?"

Mitch's brows rose in surprise, then he nodded with a grin. "Yeah, Reed. I should listen to you more often."

Danny looked up from his seat beside his father with a satisfied expression on his face. "I didn't have a nightmare last night, papa."

"I know, son. I'm real glad about that."

Mitch ruffled his son's tousled hair, then pointed to his empty plate. "You're starting to eat like your Uncle Reed. If you keep this up, I'll have to take on a second job just to keep you in food."

Danny giggled as he pushed his plate back. "It's cuz Bicky is a good cook, papa."

Victoria piled another stack of flapjacks on the platter in the center of the table. Reaching back for the coffee pot, she asked, "Anybody want more coffee before Danny and I go feed the kittens?"

At their affirmative nods, she filled each cup, smiling at the three new hair cuts around the table. True to her word, she had insisted Mitch and Reed have a hair cut immediately after supper the previous evening. It turned out to be such fun, Danny begged for one too. Looking down on those freshly shorn heads, she felt extremely satisfied.

She put the pot back on the stove and took a moment to take off her apron. Adjusting her glasses, then smoothing back the loose wisps of hair that had worked loose from the bun, she glanced at each man in turn.

Reed's hair was blonde, almost golden in the morning sunlight pouring in through the kitchen window behind him. He was fair skinned, with eyes the color of the morning sky on a clear day. He had a ready smile and a quick temper, but Victoria had already decided his bark was much worse than his bite.

Her gaze shifted to Mitch. He was the opposite of Reed in almost every respect. His jet black hair was the same color as her own, his eyes dark brown and serious. He didn't talk as much as Reed but when he did, people listened. He possessed a quiet, understated manner that she was learning to appreciate. With the wound in his cheek healing, she was again impressed by his handsome features.

They were as different as daylight and dark, but there was a bond between them stronger than any blood tie. She wondered what it was like to have a friend like that.

"I'm ready, Bicky," Danny announced.

Startled out of her thoughts, she smiled as she took the plate from the child and added the scraps on the other plates to it. "Then I guess we need to feed the kittens, don't we?"

Danny scampered toward the front door while she paused to get her cloak from her room before joining him on their daily trek to the barn. As the door closed behind her, Reed leaned both elbows on the table, cradling his coffee cup between both hands.

"Have you figured out what she was hiding under that cloak all the way from Laramie?"

"Nope," Mitch answered. "If she was hiding anything, I figure it's still none of our business."

"Do you ever wonder what she'd look like without those glasses? With her hair down loose?"

Mitch shook his head but didn't answer. The vision of her sitting on the end of Danny's bed, with her hair spilling around her shoulders and her eyes brilliant in the lamplight, swept over him again.

"Well, I do," Reed was saying when he re-focused on the conversation. "I've been thinking about that a lot."

"Forget it."

"Why?"

"Because she works for us, that's why."

"Wondering don't do no harm, Mitch," Reed pointed out with a grin.

"She's a nice girl, but she's real unhappy. I think being here is helping her with whatever it is that makes her so sad," Deke said from his seat at the end of the table. When both men looked at him in surprise, he shrugged. "I hear her crying at night after she's put Danny to bed."

"Maybe she needs comforting," Reed suggested. "Question is, which one of us gets to do it?"

"I imagine if she wants to be comforted, she'll let us know," Mitch replied stiffly as he pushed the chair back and rose to his feet.

"I figure it's a man," Deke said. "Never seen a woman cry that there wasn't a man responsible for it."

Reed pushed back his own chair as he got up. "Maybe the two of you ought to compare scars, Mitch. You're carrying enough of them."

"Maybe you ought to mind your own business," Mitch growled as he stalked through the living room to snatch his hat off the rack, then yanked the door open.

"Reed, you can sure be an asshole when you put your mind to it," Deke said curtly while his gaze followed Reed toward the door.

Reed put on his hat but turned back to the old man before leaving the house. "Just trying to make him realize he didn't die when Claire did, Deke. He's only thirty-four for Christ's sake. He ain't kept company with a woman since Claire's death. I doubt he's even looked at one twice. It's been seven years and he's still holding it in. One of these days he's going to explode if he don't get rid of it. I don't aim to let that happen, if I can help it."

"That ain't for you to do, Reed," Deke reminded him. "He's a grown man. Pushing him ain't going to help nobody." He rubbed at his hawk nose thoughtfully for a moment, then looked back to Reed with a slight smile. "But that boy needs a mama. If Mitch won't think about his future, he ought to be thinking about Danny's."

"And he's already seen how good Victoria is for Danny. Maybe with a little help, he might decide that she'd be good for him too."

Deke looked thoughtful. "You mean two broken hearts together is better than two broken hearts separate? I don't know, Reed. That could be like pouring kerosene on a fire. It could blow up in your face."

Reed put on his hat as he flashed the old man a parting grin. "Maybe. But if it did, at least he'd feel something, wouldn't he? I'd settle for that."

**********

With the kittens fed, Victoria was anxious to get back to the house and start cleaning up the breakfast dishes but Danny was in no hurry. While he lingered with the kittens, she walked to the open barn door to enjoy the sunshine.

It was going to be springtime very soon, she realized happily. She needed to start looking for a spot to plant a small garden. Fresh vegetables would sure spice up their meals, and not only would it save money on supplies, but she had always loved tilling the ground. There was something rewarding about planting your own seeds and watching them sprout into life.

As Danny approached from the barn's interior, she saw a lone horseman ride into the yard. He halted near the coach where Mitch and Reed were making a final check before leaving for Elmwood.

"Hello, Mitch, Reed," she heard the man say as he pushed his hat back.

"'Morning, marshal," Mitch replied, squinting up into the sunlight at the man.

Victoria's heart stopped for an instant. The blood roared in her ears as she stepped back into the barn's dark interior.

"I'm ready now, Bicky," Danny said at her side.

Wetting her lips, she knelt down beside him and put her hands on his shoulders. "Why don't we play a game of hide and seek, Danny? You go hide and I'll come look for you," she suggested as calmly as her pounding heart would allow. She gave a tight smile at the child's enthusiastic nod,. "Stay in the barn though. Don't go too far. I'll count to a hundred, then I'll come look for you."

He gave a giggle and ran toward the back of the barn to hide. When he had gone, she turned back to the doorway, staying in the shadows, straining her ears to hear the conversation in the front yard.

"You're a long way from Laramie," Mitch was saying to the marshal.

U. S. Marshal Lon Bennett nodded as he shifted in the saddle. "Just finished taking a prisoner to hang in Paradise. I heard about your trouble with that fellow a couple of days ago. Glad you boys are okay.".

"You'd think these jokers would figure out sooner or later that they won't be taking anything off the C & D," Reed said with a wry grin as he bent to inspect the single-tree between the second team.

"You didn't ride all this way to congratulate us on killing a stage robber," Mitch remarked warily. "What's on your mind, Lon?"

"There was a bank robbery in Laramie a few days back. Maybe you heard about it. I'm looking for a young woman in connection with it."

"What'd she do?" Reed asked. The marshal had captured his full attention now. He came to Mitch's side to hear the answer to his question.

"Maybe nothing. I just want to talk to her, that's all."

"What about?" Mitch asked.

"Folks in Laramie seem to think she might have passed along information to the gang that held up the bank. Me? I don't know. Sounds pretty flimsy to me, but folks are always needing to blame somebody when something goes wrong. At any rate, she disappeared right after the robbery. I want to ask her some questions."

"What does this girl look like?" Reed asked curiously.

"I figured if anybody would remember a female, it'd be you, Reed," the marshal said with a grin. "I never saw her myself. Folks say she's young, got long hair. Last time anybody saw her, she was wearing a short red dress with those silver sparkly things on it. That's about all I know for sure."

"There must be a hundred women that'll fit that description," Mitch pointed out.

"Yeah, but I was thinking maybe she left Laramie on your stage that night. Do you remember a passenger like that?"

Both men shook their heads in unison. Reed went back to checking the harness and the marshal pulled his hat down. "That's what I figured. You'll let me know if you remember anything?"

Mitch nodded. "Sure, Lon, but no one like that got on our coach that night. Sorry."

The marshal grinned as he started turning his horse. "Take it easy, boys, see you in Laramie the first of the month?"

"We'll be there to pick up the Army payroll on the first, just like always," Mitch assured him.

The marshal waved as he rode off down the road toward Elmwood. As he faded in the distance, Mitch slapped Reed on the back.

"Finish this up, will you, Reed? I want to talk to Danny for a minute."

He didn't wait for Reed's answer before heading toward the barn with a determined stride. As he approached the barn, Victoria wet her lips and moved into the sunlight. Glancing at the lawman riding away, it was difficult to appear calm.

"Where's Danny?" Mitch demanded when he reached her.

"We're playing hide and seek," she answered with as much cheer as she could muster. "It's his turn to hide. Do you want me to call him?"

"No. It's you I want to talk to."

"Okay. I'm listening. What's on your mind?"

"I've got one question to ask you, and I want the truth, Victoria."

Victoria's mouth went dry at the seriousness in his manner. He stood in front of her, a full foot taller, his eyes boring into hers, his thumbs hooked in his gunbelt. He looked so dangerous at that moment, her knees were weak.

"I don't usually ask personal questions. I wouldn't now if it wasn't important." At her understanding nod, he decided to just get it out. "Did you have anything to do with that bank robbery in Laramie?"

"No, Mr. Cole, I did not."

Her voice was firm and calm. She looked him straight in the eye when she spoke. They stared at each other for a moment, then Mitch let out a long breath and nodded. "Sorry, but I had to ask.".

Now that the tension in the air was easing with his curt apology, Victoria felt the blood start flowing through her veins once more. "Do I look like a bank robber, Mr. Cole?"

Mitch's gaze swept over her in one long glance before resting on her face. "No, ma'am," he replied. "But then, if there's one thing I've learned about women, it's that they're seldom what they appear to be."

"I don't know what kind of women you're used to, Mr. Cole, but I assure you that I am not one of them."

The cool, appraising expression on his face made her itch to kick his shins as he stood in the doorway staring at her thoughtfully. "There are only two kinds of women. I haven't decided yet which one you are. All I know is that my boy likes you and you seem to be good with him. Right now, that's good enough."

He turned to return to the stage without waiting for her to respond. She stared at his back for a moment, then remembered the shopping list she had prepared for him. Digging into her cloak pocket as she pursued him, she produced the list and handed it to him with a flourish.

"What's this?" he asked with an incredulous glance at the list.

"Things I'll need for Half-Way House."

"There must be close to a hundred dollars worth of supplies here. Who do you think is going to pay for all this?"

"You, of course. I'm only an employee."

Before he could reply to her sarcastically spoken comment, she scampered into the barn's recesses to look for Danny. Mitch stood for a moment, watching her hunt for the child, and upon finding him, pick him up and swing him around until they both fell laughing into a pile of fresh hay.

Mitch clamped his lips together as he turned on his heel. Muttering under his breath, he stalked back to the coach, wondering just what the hell it was that ever possessed him to hire her. Reed was right; she had them all dancing to her tune. Then, pausing at the sound of Danny's happy laughter coming from the barn, he shook his head, thinking maybe that wasn't so bad after all.

CHAPTER NINE

Twenty miles from Half-Way House on the road to Elmwood, the coach turned a curve in the road. Reed pushed his hat back with one hand while he motioned toward the solitary figure a hundred yards ahead on the side of the road.

"Damn, will you look at that, Mitch?"

"I see him."

Mitch began slowing the team as they approached the man. The coach ground to a complete stop a few moments later. The horses' breath blew frosty clouds when they took advantage of the unexpected rest stop to catch their breath.

"Morning, George," Reed said to the tattered figure who came a step closer, peering up at them curiously, holding his rifle across his arms loosely.

"You boys carrying any gold?"

"Not this trip, George," Reed answered with a grin.

"Move on, then." The imposing figure dressed more in rags than actual clothes waved them on.

Mitch slapped the reins against the team's backs as he released the brake with his foot. The horses lunged into the harness and moments later they were out of sight of the strange man with his bedraggled floppy hat and flapping shirt tail.

"Our run wouldn't be complete without at least one visit from Crazy George," Reed said with a grin. "Reckon he ever loads that buffalo gun?"

"I doubt it." Mitch guided the horses around yet another bend in the road. "Everybody knows he's not right in the head. Who'd sell him bullets?"

"Yeah, he'd just shoot himself in the foot," Reed agreed as pulled his hat down lower over his eyes, settling back in the box. "Wonder he comes from? He just appears out of nowhere, on foot, in the middle of nowhere wearing those same grungy clothes and carrying that empty rifle. Don't it make you curious to know how he got this way?"

"Nope."

"Not at all?"

"Nope."

Reed shot Mitch a disgusted glance as he settled lower in the box. "You beat all, Mitch. You know that? Aren't you curious about anything?"

"Nope," Mitch answered with a grin at the sour expression on Reed's face.

"Wake me up when we get to Elmwood," Reed said, shaking his head in wonder.

Mitch glanced at him briefly, then returned his attention to the team. The next several miles contained so many crooks and turns, they nicknamed this part of the route Rattlesnake Ridge. While Reed dozed peacefully, oblivious to the road, it took all Mitch's expertise to negotiate the curves. Keeping a six horse team from getting itself tangled up in the harness as they made those sharp turns was a full time job.

They each had their job to do. Mitch did the driving and took care of the management end of the company while Reed provided the protection. Mitch glanced at the Winchester sitting upright in the box next to Reed's knee. He had never known anyone who could shoot better than Reed Driscoll. Several dead men attested to that fact, caught in the act of trying to take the strongbox off the C & D.

It had always amazed Mitch that a man with Reed's easy going disposition could kill so easily without remorse. It was that factor that had made Reed such a gallant soldier during the war. It was also the factor that had earned the C & D Stage Line the reputation of being the toughest overland line in the country. After several failed attempts to hold them up, even the most daring stage robbers had decided to go after easier prey.

It was an hour before sundown when they arrived in Elmwood. Mitch pulled the team to a halt in front of the hotel, then reached across the box to nudge Reed on the shoulder. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. End of the line."

Yawning, Reed sat up straight on the box, pushing his hat back. "We made good time. Let's eat."

Mitch climbed down from the box, going to the rear of the coach to open the boot and retrieve the mail sack. Throwing it over one shoulder, he stepped up on the boardwalk in front of the hotel. "We eat when the horses are fed and watered," he reminded Reed as they walked into the lobby.

A counter had been set up along the inside wall of the hotel lobby to serve as a ticket counter for the stage line. The ticket agent who worked for C & D was also the Elmwood postal clerk, so it was there Mitch deposited the mail sack.

"Evening, boys," the thin, gangly man said with a toothless grin. Taking the mail sack, he stuffed it on a shelf beneath the counter, then took an envelope from the ticket ledger and handed it to Mitch. "This came for you boys yesterday afternoon. Reckon it's important."

He looked on curiously as Mitch tore the envelope open and quickly scanned the contents. With a disgusted scowl, he looked to Reed as he crumpled the letter into a ball, then tossed it into the wastepaper basket behind the counter.

"That shipment we're expecting has been delayed. Looks like it'll be tomorrow before it'll make it."

"That means one of us is going to have to stay in town to take charge of it," Reed pointed out with a grin. "We can't expect the mine owners to leave a gold shipment with Chops, can we?"

Mitch glanced from Reed's amused features to the ticket clerk, then back again. Shaking his head, he replied, "No, I guess not. They'll only turn the shipment over to one of us."

"I'll stay," Reed volunteered. "You know I can't drive a six-up worth a damn."

"All right, but just remember you're staying to guard that strongbox they're bringing, not to spend your last red cent in the saloon."

"You can count on me, Mitch," Reed assured him with a grin. "That gold will be as safe as a baby in its mothers arms. That means you'll have to take the coach back to Paradise alone."

Mitch flashed him a wry grin as they headed for the doorway. "I think I can manage."

As they left the hotel, stepping onto the boardwalk outside, a familiar figure approached them.

"Well, well, if it isn't the C & D stage company," the swaggering man drawled as he blocked their path. "I see you boys are still in business."

"Should that surprise you, Hawkins?" Mitch replied.

"Just wanted to let you know that I've still got room for a good driver and a shotgun guard over at Butterfield," Emmett Hawkins returned. "When you boys get ready for a job, look me up. I'll try to make room for you."

"Don't hold your breath," Reed snapped. "The way we hear it, it's you that'll be looking for a job pretty soon. I hear Butterfield is going broke. But, Hawkins, don't come to us looking for work. You won't find it."

"Mr. Butterfield is doing okay. If you hadn't stole the Army contract from him, you'd still be shoveling horse shit, Driscoll," Hawkins barked.

"We didn't steal anything, Hawkins, and you damned well know it. We offered the Army the best deal for their money, and they took it. That's all. Just business, plain and simple. Mr. Butterfield understood that." Mitch's words were clipped, his eyes cold as he stared at the stocky man with the handlebar mustache.

"Just business? Is that what you call it?" Hawkins retorted. "He taught you everything you know and then you stabbed him in the back. There's a word for men like you."

"Yeah, successful," Reed said with a ice cold smile as he and Mitch shouldered their way past Hawkins, leaving him on the boardwalk glaring after them as they went back to the coach.

Leading the team toward the livery stable down the street a couple of blocks away, Mitch drew a deep breath, then exhaled to rid himself of the tension that made his teeth grind.

"What an asshole!" Reed said, glancing back over his shoulder at Hawkins. "How did we ever work for him so long without killing him?"

"We needed the jobs, remember? It's amazing what you can put up with when you have to."

"Best day of my life was when we quit Butterfield and took out on our own. Wonder if Butterfield will ever find out Hawkins is stealing from him?"

"He's had enough complaints over the years," Mitch answered as they neared the livery. "He's been stealing the company blind for years, and he's cost Butterfield more business than he can shake a stick at. If he hasn't figured it out yet, he's not as smart as I always thought."

"He wasn't so cocky the day you beat the crap out of him though," Reed reminded him with a grin as they began to unhitch the horses from the coach in the cozy livery's interior.

A dark scowl settled upon Mitch's face as he deftly hung the harness on the pegs along the wall. "I'm not proud of that, Reed. He just pushed me once too often."

"If it hadn't been for that fight, Mitch, we might not have had the guts to strike out on our own. I guess you could even say Hawkins did us a favor that day."

Mitch looked up from the feed bin where he was dipping up a bucketful of grain for the horses to shoot Reed a rueful smile. "Yeah? I recall it was a week before I could use my left hand after that fight. Damned near broke my knuckles on him."

"I've never seen you that mad before. I thought you were going to tear him apart with your bare hands."

Reed paused in the course of rubbing down one of the horses to stare thoughtfully at Mitch. "You ever wonder why it is that some things make you mad enough to fight, and others just roll off your back?"

"Nope."

Reed shook his head as he began grooming the horse again. "I think you'd be a lot better off if you lost your temper once in awhile. You know, work off the frustration. You're the most even tempered person I've ever known, Mitch. You don't drink, you don't fight, hell, you don't even chase women. Don't you have any bad habits?"

Looking up with a wicked grin, Mitch shook his head. "Nope."

CHAPTER TEN

The following morning, after trying to find the things on Victoria's list and giving up halfway through it, Mitch said goodbye to Reed and climbed aboard the stage for the return run to Paradise.

Looking up at the threatening sky, Reed smoothed one of the lines across the broad shiny back of the horse nearest the vehicle. "This sky doesn't look good, Mitch. You sure you want to strike out today? Why not wait until tomorrow when we can go back together?"

"Can't," was Mitch's curt reply as he took his foot off the brake and interlaced the six lines between his fingers. "Got to keep on schedule, remember? Don't worry, Reed. I'll be at Half-Way House long before this storm breaks."

He flashed Reed a confident grin, then slapped the reins against the rumps of the rear horses to set the vehicle in motion. Moments later, it rumbled away from the hotel on the return trip to Paradise.

At a top speed of eighteen miles an hour, the journey to Half-Way House took approximately six hours, but with the steep grades and crooked road, it was more like ten. Twenty miles away from the relay station, the storm broke.

The wind was bitterly cold as it whipped across the landscape, bringing with it a snowfall that rapidly reached blizzard proportions. Mitch stopped only long enough to slip into his slicker and pull his hat down over his face to protect his eyes from the blinding snow. In spots along the route the only way he knew they were still on the path was the trees that bordered the road. The snow was falling with such intensity at times he could barely make out the shapes of the lead team as they struggled up the last grade before the land leveled out on the approach to the station.

Half-Way House was the most welcome sight he'd seen in a long time. The wrangler hurried from his quarters in the barn to take charge of the team when Mitch stiffly climbed down and headed toward the house.

The door flew open as Deke greeted him. "What kind of hair-brained fool are you?" the old man shouted to be heard above the wind's roar. "Why didn't you stay in Elmwood? Didn't you know there was a storm brewing?"

Mitch moved past him into the cozy interior while Deke slammed the door shut behind them to keep the snow from blowing inside. He headed straight for the fireplace, removing his gloves and holding his hands near the roaring blaze until the circulation began returning.

"What are you yelling for? I made it, didn't I?" he asked Deke, grimacing at the pain coursing up his arms as his half-frozen hands began to thaw.

"Here, drink this."

Victoria's no nonsense tone left no room for objections as she handed him a cup half filled with Deke's corn whiskey. He took it gratefully, took a long pull from it, then allowed her to lead him to a rocking chair placed near the fire.

Without a word, she knelt at his feet and began to remove his boots. He was so cold, he didn't object, even when she began rubbing his feet to revive the circulation.

"There's no frost bite," she said thoughtfully as she gently massaged his ice cold feet. "You're lucky, all things considered. But you're soaking wet. You've got to get out of these clothes into dry ones."

"What about the horses?" he asked, with his head leaned against the chair back, his eyes closed.

"The horses are fine," Deke barked. "Tommy's got them all into the barn. They're probably in better shape than you are. You beat all. You think the world is gonna come to a end if you're a day off schedule? You could've got lost out there, frozen to death. Staying on schedule ain't worth that."

Victoria listened with wide eyes at the old man's heated words. She had never heard him raise his voice to anyone, least of all to Mitch. She sat on the floor at Mitch's feet, still gently massaging them while she stared at Deke in surprise.

"I'm all right, damn it."

"Yeah, this time. What about the next time? When are you gonna start thinking about that boy? You're all he's got, Mitch. You gotta stop taking these crazy chances and think about Danny."

"It's because of Danny that I'm doing this at all." Mitch opened his eyes, staring at Deke warily, gritting his teeth from the pain in his hands.

Victoria rose to her knees between his legs, taking his hands between both of hers, letting her warmth heat his skin. Her fingers traced the callous on the insides of his hands that even the leather gloves he wore could not prevent. The strength she felt was disconcerting. His wedding ring was cold and metallic beneath her touch.

"Who do you think's gonna look after that boy if you get your damned fool self killed?" Deke went on as though Mitch hadn't spoken. "I'm too old to raise him, and Reed's barely able to take care of himself. Damn it, Mitch, start using your head." "Don't tell me what to do!"

"Somebody sure as hell needs to!" Deke snapped and stomped across the living room to the bar. Pouring himself a liberal shot of whiskey, he tossed it back, glaring at Mitch over the rim of the cup.

"You need to get out of these wet clothes," Victoria repeated in an effort to break the tension. "And if you're going to argue, keep your voices down. Danny's asleep. The last thing he needs is to wake up and hear the two of you shouting at each other."

Mitch looked down at her then, as though just realizing she had been sitting there all along rubbing his hands. He met her unblinking gaze for an instant, then pulled away from her touch. He got to his feet, stepped around her, and rubbing his hands together, managed a slightly embarrassed nod.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he walked resolutely toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

Deke stared after his departing back and shook his head. "Damn fool! Even if he don't give a damn about his own life, you'd think he'd be more careful for the boy's sake, wouldn't you?" he said to no one in particular.

Victoria hurried into the kitchen to finish up supper, glancing from time to time at Deke leaning morosely against the bar while she wondered what exactly he'd meant by that last remark.

*************

Hours later, unable to sleep, Victoria put on her robe and wrapping up in a long shawl, went through the darkened house. Opening the front door, she stepped out onto the porch, noticing at once the wind had died down, leaving a silence so deep it seemed to envelope her as she moved closer to the edge of the porch.

It was still bitterly cold and snowing, but without the wind, there was a peacefulness that soothed her frazzled senses.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

The husky male voice startled her, making her jump and gasp as she whirled around. The form that evolved from the shadows materialized into Mitch's handsome features as he moved into her sight. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

She pulled the shawl closer around herself as she let out a long breath, then turned back to look out over the snow covered yard. "You don't sleep much, do you, Mr. Cole?" she asked, wondering why she sounded so irritated.

"No, I don't." He hooked his thumbs in his belt, leaning one shoulder against a porch column while he studied her. "And it's Mitch. First name basis, remember?"

She nodded briefly, then turned her attention to the falling snow. "It is beautiful. There's something so serene about snow. It's like God's way of making everything clean again."

Mitch nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the snow fall. "Too bad it doesn't stay that way."

"What is this going to do to your schedule?" she asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

He had changed clothes before supper and was now wearing a dark brown shirt beneath the black vest. She knew if she looked up, his eyes would be a perfect match to the shirt's color.

"Put us a few days behind. But it can't be helped, I guess."

"What about Reed?"

"He's going to have to baby-sit a gold shipment until I can get back to Elmwood."

"I'm not at all sure I'd trust him with a gold shipment."

Mitch looked at her with a slight smile. "The one thing I'm absolutely sure of, Victoria, is that I'd trust Reed with everything I own."

"Where did you meet him?" she asked curiously. He seemed inclined to want to talk. She was intrigued by the husky timbre of his voice, by the way his shoulders filled the brown shirt and vest to perfection.

"Reed and I grew up together."

"Where was that?"

"A little town in Illinois, someplace I'm sure you've never heard of. We've been friends since I can remember."

"You're very different from him."

His brows rose in surprise as he pinned his gaze on her. The blanket of snow illuminated everything, giving him a clear look at her. Without the glasses, with her long dark hair falling softly around her shoulders, she looked very young, almost vulnerable.

When she returned his stare without blinking, he cleared his throat to find his voice.

"How?"

Victoria shrugged but kept her gaze level with his, looking him straight in the eye when she answered. "You're sensible...dedicated.. strong...but gentle...devoted to your son."

She broke off, embarrassed, wishing she had stayed in bed and avoided this conversation.

"And Reed?" Mitch prompted curiously.

"Reed is like most men I've been around. He rarely has a serious thought...and when he does, they're all about him."

"He's also the bravest, most loyal friend a man ever had."

She stared at him silently for a moment, unwilling to contradict his opinion of Reed, suddenly wanting this conversation to last. "I imagine the same could be said about you," she said finally.

He shrugged, turning his head to look out over the yard buried under a foot of snow. She saw that the gash on his cheek had almost healed. The swelling was gone, the discoloration faded. The way his hair fell over his forehead into his eyes made her itch to brush it back, but she stifled the urge, knowing how foolish that would be.

"Maybe," Mitch remarked after a moment.

"Loyalty is a funny thing," Victoria said with a glance at the ring on his left hand. "Not many men would still be wearing their wedding ring seven years after their wife died."

Mitch automatically touched the ring with his right hand as he glanced at her. "Some things have to be remembered," he said as he straightened up and turned for the doorway. "So you don't make the same mistakes again," he added quietly as he entered the house, leaving her standing on the porch wondering what he'd meant.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The following morning Victoria had her hands full keeping Danny in the house long enough to eat breakfast. He was so excited about the snowfall that he couldn't wait to get outside to play in it.

When breakfast was over, Mitch rose from the table as he tousled the boy's hair. "Get your coat on, son. You can go with me to check on the stock."

Danny was off like a shot to grab his coat. Noticing the child had buttoned it wrong, Mitch paused at the door to kneel on one knee while he refastened the coat, then helped Danny on with his gloves. While Victoria watched anxiously, Mitch opened the door, walked out onto the porch, then swung Danny up onto his shoulders.

She hurried to close the door after them, smiling at the picture they made trudging through snow that was nearly thigh deep to Mitch. She stood at the front window to watch as they reached the barn, then disappeared inside.

It had finally stopped snowing. The wind was calm now, the landscape covered in pristine snow that was undisturbed except for Mitch's tracks. She took a long breath, then went back to cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

A half hour passed before she heard the sound of Danny's high pitched laughter signaling their return from the barn. Knowing they would be covered in snow, she took the broom from its spot by the stove and hurried to the front door to sweep them off before they could track snow all over the house.

When she stepped onto the porch, she saw Danny leaping toward the house like a rabbit, his dark head barely visible at times. The snow was almost as deep as he was tall. She thought that Mitch should have carried the child back to the house instead of letting him make his own way, getting covered in the powdery snowdrifts. As they neared the house, Danny paused to scoop up a big handful of snow and turning, threw it at his father, laughing merrily when it landed right on target.

Mitch shook himself, sending a snowy shower flying. Then running toward the house, he made himself a snowball and threw it at the boy as he dashed up the steps.

When Danny dodged, the snowball hit Victoria instead. Between Danny's howl of laughter and Mitch's surprised gasp, she shook herself off. Then, tossing the broom aside, she scooped up a snowball from one of the porch railings, throwing it at Mitch with all her strength.

She was as surprised as he when it hit him in the chest. While she stood staring at him with her hand at her mouth in laughter, he shook his finger at her across the yard while he reached down to make another snowball.

"You want to fight, huh?" he called to her as a wicked grin quickly came to his face.

He threw the snowball, but Victoria stepped behind the porch support. A moment later it hit the support right in front of her face, showering her with the silvery particles. For the next five minutes a furious snowball fight raged with Victoria and Danny on one side and Mitch on the other. All the while he was advancing on the porch where they worked frantically to make snowballs to return his fire.

By the time he was close enough to the porch to have a better chance of hitting them, the porch rails were barren. Victoria looked around for more ammunition, realizing the yard was her next option.

As she attempted to reach the steps without being pummeled by Mitch's snowballs, her feet went out from under her. With her arms flailing, she began falling. She landed squarely on her bottom on the top step, where she sat for a second in surprise. It was a moment before she realized her skirt was up around her thighs, leaving her bare bottom on the snow covered step.

Squealing at the icy cold, she jumped to her feet, yanked her skirt down, and ran toward the back of the porch where she began reaching down past the porch into the snow in the yard, making snowballs as fast as she could while Mitch continued to advance. He put his hands up to protect his face from the wildly thrown missiles as he moved closer, laughing at her attempts to find enough snow ammunition to keep him at a distance.

As he neared the porch, Danny leaped onto his back, squealing in delight when Mitch swung him around, then sat him back onto the porch. He was standing on the top porch step, covered in snow, when Victoria put up her hands in mock defeat.

"I surrender! I'm out of ammunition!" she shrieked, drawing back against the wall of the house.

When Mitch dropped his last snowball back into the yard, she abruptly leaped forward with one last snowball. Grabbing the front of his coat with one hand, she shoved the handful of snow down the front of his shirt.

The movement took Mitch off guard. He stepped back, forgetting he was on the top step. Losing his balance, he fell flat of his back at the foot of the steps. For a moment he lay still, staring up her in surprise while she and Danny laughed hysterically at the sight he made in the snow. Then he got up, dusting himself off as he started back up on the porch. He put out one hand for assistance and Victoria took it.

A moment later he yanked her off the porch face down in the snow at his feet. Laughing, he started up the steps.

Victoria scrambled to her knees, brushing snow from her face, looking very much like a snowman herself. Making a desperate lunge, she caught the back of his belt and yanked as hard as she could. Under normal conditions it wouldn't have made him lose his balance, but standing on the snow covered steps it was enough to make his feet slip from under him.

A second later he fell in the snow beside her. Laughing, she began throwing snow on him. It only took him a moment to react. He caught both her hands as he rolled over in the snow, dragging her under him.

Lying on her squirming body to protect himself, Mitch used his superior weight to keep her from getting away. His legs captured hers, holding her immobile. For a few moments they were both laughing, then slowly the amusement on Mitch's face changed into surprise.

While Victoria lay perfectly still beneath him, her long black hair fanned out in the snow after coming loose from the bun in the struggle, her glasses slightly askew, her lush lips barely a whisper from his own, Mitch became aware of a physical reaction so strong it made the breath freeze in his throat.

They lay in the icy cold staring at each other in awe. Victoria's eyes slowly became fiery violet pools as she melted into the curve of his body. The surprise she saw in his face told her he was as unprepared for the tidal wave roaring between them as she. The amazement in his eyes changed to liquid brown desire, so overwhelming and powerful, it shook her to the very marrow of her bones.

Mitch felt her body meld into the curve of his as her hands gripped his forearms. He knew his eyes were burning into hers. How could they not be when his body was on fire?

At that moment Danny launched himself off the porch onto Mitch's back, giggling with delight, breaking the hypnotic state. He rolled quickly off Victoria, scrambling to his feet with Danny wrapped around his neck.

He reached out one hand, and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet. He set Danny on the porch, then made himself very busy brushing the snow off the child.

Victoria climbed onto the porch, shaking the snow from her hair and clothes. She dared not look at him, knowing he would avoid her gaze if she did. He was probably more shocked by his physical response to their unexpected intimacy than she. The surprise that touched his eyes when his body hardened against her thighs had been evidence of that.

Funny, she thought as she hurried up the porch steps to grab the broom and start sweeping snow. She had told herself for months that she would never allow those dangerous sensual emotions to surface again. Then one moment in a playful setting in Mitch Cole's arms brought them crashing back to life. Risking a glance from the corner of her eye at him while he dusted off his son, she knew he had made that same vow to himself.

***********

For the remainder of the day Victoria kept as much distance between herself and

Mitch as she could, considering the confines of the house. She stayed busy cooking and cleaning, pausing only to watch out the window when later in the morning Mitch and Danny made another trek to the barn to feed the kittens, check on Tommy, whose room at the back of the barn kept him warm and snug on days like this, and make sure the stock was secure. On their way back to the house, they decided to build a snowman in the front yard.

Watching them laughing at the bizarre looking snowman they created, she felt a pang of regret that she wasn't out there in the cold with them, then quickly dismissed the idea. One mistake a day was all she allowed herself.

That evening when supper was over, while she washed up the dishes, Danny challenged his dad to a game of checkers. With Deke to referee, it was a spirited game that made her smile.

A short time later she settled in front of the roaring fire with some knitting in her lap. Knitting yarn and needles were two things she made sure were packed in the carpetbag before leaving Laramie. There was something soothing about making the repetitive stitches while the fire warmed the room, chasing away the shadows.

Danny crawled into Mitch's lap, stifling a yawn as he settled down in his father's arms for a Bible story before going to bed. While Mitch read to him from the worn, dog-eared Bible, she couldn't resist watching them beneath lowered lashes.

She let her imagination run wild for a moment, pretending they were a family. She and Mitch were the parents, Danny the child, and Deke the grandfather. As her gaze settled on Mitch's handsome face as he read to Danny about David's battle with the giant Goliath, she tried to imagine what being his wife would be like.

Underneath all that seriousness was a grand sense of humor. Underneath the cool, aloof exterior he projected most of the time was also a torrent of suppressed passion. Her body warmed just thinking about these moments in the snow when she lay beneath him, their eyes locked together, their lips almost touching.

She suspected that if Danny had not broken the spell he would have kissed her. Staring now at the sensual curve of his lips while he read to Danny, she wondered what that would be like.

She shook herself to dispel those futile thoughts. It was foolish to think about the touch of his mouth upon hers or about the feel of his body claiming hers in the heat of a summer night.

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck from the picture her mind was painting of such a union. Having seen enough of his body the day she stitched up the gash on his cheek, it took little imagination to complete the picture. The contact with his arousal against her thighs when she lay in his arms in the snow had convinced her that her suspicions about his manhood were right on target.

Stop it, Vicky, she told herself firmly as the knitting needles clicked furiously. It was a momentary physical reaction. Nothing more. Put it out of your mind.

While she was lecturing herself silently, Mitch closed the Bible and laid it aside. He stood up with the sleeping child on his shoulder and headed toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

"'Night, Mitch," Deke said, as he stood up and stretched. "Think I'll turn in too." You coming, Victoria?"

She stood up and smoothed Danny's hair as Mitch walked past her carrying the child. He paused for a moment, giving her time to plant a light kiss on the boy's cheek. When she raised her head, their eyes met and locked again for the briefest instant before Mitch cleared his throat, looking quickly away. But not before Victoria saw the heat that lit his eyes.

She stepped back to allow him to carry Danny down the hallway to bed, her knees suddenly weak and unsteady. She murmured a feeble goodnight as she went back to her chair, not daring to trust herself to look at him again for fear he'd be able to see the desire she knew was showing in her face.

"No, Deke, I'm going to stay up for awhile," she said finally in answer to his previous question.

He followed Mitch down the hallway. A moment later she heard both bedroom doors close. She flung the knitting aside and moved around the room turning out the lamps until the fireplace was the only available source of light. Then, flinging herself back into the rocking chair in front of the fireplace, she curled up with her feet beneath her, one elbow resting on her knees while she stared moodily into the fire.

She was still sitting in that exact position a few minutes later when she heard a door open down the hallway. A few seconds later she was surprised when Mitch suddenly reappeared.

While she stared up at him, he reached down to take the wire rimmed glasses off her nose and set them aside. She barely had time to gasp before he put both hands under her arms, and picked her up. He held her against him with one arm while the other hand reached behind her head to rip the pins from her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders like a silken cloud.

Then his mouth found hers in a fiery kiss. He pressed her tightly against him, his arms like steel bands that held her securely. His tongue lightly traced the outline of her lips while her arms moved up to encircle his neck.

Victoria answered his kiss with the same fire that had been burning in her ever since that morning in the snow. She felt his hands slide through her hair, felt his hot breath on her throat as he pulled her head back with a handful of her hair locked in his fingers.

Then his mouth was upon hers once more, strong and demanding, yet strangely gentle. She felt his tongue touch hers, felt the thunderbolt of pleasure that shot through her body. She felt his face against hers, rough from a day's growth of beard, felt his hands move down her back to cup her hips, then pull her closer into his embrace.

She went weak at the contact with his erection against her belly. She pressed tightly against him until she could feel his heart pounding against her breast.

She stared up at him, open mouthed, breathing hard, as he met her passionate gaze without blinking. Then his hands dropped to his sides. He turned quickly, disappearing down the hallway back to his room.

Victoria stood there for several long, confused minutes before her trembling legs could carry her back to the rocking chair. The whole incident had taken less than five minutes. And not one word had been spoken. She stared into the flames of the roaring fireplace in complete confusion. As the flames danced along the oak logs, red hot and volatile, she knew exactly how they felt.

CHAPTER TWELVE

While the snow storm kept Mitch a prisoner at Half-Way House for the next four days, he did his best to avoid Victoria. He rushed through his breakfast each morning, grabbed his hat and coat, then dashed out to the barn to help Tommy feed and water the stock.

In the afternoons he took Danny back to the barn to feed the kittens, then paused to play in the snow for awhile, often staying out in the cold until the child was half frozen before coming back into the house.

The evenings were spent in front of the fire playing checkers with Danny or reading to him from the Bible until bedtime. Those evenings were very pleasant for

Victoria even though he was so remote. While Deke dozed in his chair, she sat in the rocking chair knitting furiously. Occasionally she glanced at Mitch, wondering why he was so embarrassed about those passionate kisses in front of the fireplace.

She knew such a spontaneous action was out of character for him. Knew that his actions that night had probably surprised him even more than her, but while she was shocked at what he'd done, she was more intrigued with his subsequent determined efforts to avoid being in the same room with her.

The snow finally began melting as the temperatures rose. The night of the fifth day of confinement, Mitch looked at Deke as he closed the Bible after reading to Danny for an hour.

"I'll be heading out for Paradise first thing in the morning."

"You think the snow's melted enough for you to make it?" Deke asked, stifling a yawn.

"Only one way to find out," Mitch replied with a tight grin. "I've got to get the mail to Paradise and get back to Elmwood before Reed decides to spend that gold shipment."

"I doubt those mine owners would take too kindly to him using their payroll money for entertainment while he's waiting for the snow to melt."

"Just putting him up in the hotel and feeding him for a week will probably break us." Mitch grinned as he rose with the sleepy child in his arms. "Goodnight, then. See you in the morning."

Victoria murmured goodnight, then settled back in her chair as Deke followed him down the hallway to bed. She stared into the flames, her knitting idle in her lap. When Mitch left the next morning Half-Way House was going to be quiet and lonesome. Even though he didn't talk much, even less since the night he kissed her, knowing he was around gave her a sense of security somehow.

She would miss those cozy evenings in front of the fire while he read to Danny and she knitted. That family atmosphere would be lost. She would once again be only an employee. But, she thought, as she rose and began turning out the lamps, considering what she'd had when she came there, that was a lot to be thankful for.

**************

At six o'clock the following morning, she followed Mitch to the door as he slipped on his coat and gloves. "What about the rest of the supplies on the list I gave you?" she asked him.

Pinning his first direct gaze on her since he'd kissed her, Mitch reached for his hat. "There's no place in Paradise to get the stuff you want. And even if there was, I've got no idea what half of it is anyway. Curtain material and thread, that's woman's stuff. You'll have to pick it out yourself."

"And how do you propose I do that?"

"Why not take a ride into Elmwood with me when I make the return run? The trip would be good for Danny, and give you a chance to pick out the things you need."

Staring up at him in surprise, Victoria felt her face grow warm. His features were carefully nonchalant, except for a brief sparkle deep in his eyes. She wondered what he was really thinking, hoping at the same time that he couldn't read her thoughts either.

"That's a wonderful idea!" she exclaimed. "Are you sure you won't mind?"

Mitch pulled his hat down as he reached for the door latch. "If I minded, I wouldn't have suggested it," he said dryly. "Tell Danny goodbye for me, will you?"

She stood at the open door watching him climb aboard the stage and take up the lines. With a sharp whistle to the horses, he drove out of the yard. Moments later they disappeared around the first bend in the road.

Victoria closed the door, then hurried to the kitchen to start cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She could hardly wait for Danny to wake up so she could tell him about the exciting trip that was planned.

************

Two days later they set out for Elmwood. Victoria hurried through breakfast, trying to pack a lunch for later, and get Danny to eat something. He was so excited to be going with his father that he could barely sit still at the table.

Grateful to Deke for offering to do the dishes after they'd gone, she dashed down the hallway to her room to snatch up her carpetbag packed with her nightgown and a clean dress for the return trip. Also included was a change of clothes for Danny and a comb for that tousled mop of hair that never seemed to be under control.

"There's plenty of cold ham for your supper, Deke," she told the old man as she headed for the door.

"I know. Don't worry about me," he assured her. "Just have a good time."

"This isn't exactly a pleasure trip," she reminded him as she slipped into her cloak. "The only reason I'm going is to make sure Mitch and Reed don't find another excuse to avoid getting the supplies I asked for."

When she stepped outside into the bright morning sunshine, there was a definite sense of spring in the air. The snow had melted, the temperature had climbed, and the sky was a brilliant blue dotted with a few fluffy clouds.

"We're gonna ride up on top with papa, Bicky," Danny explained as Mitch took her bag and tossed it on top of the vehicle. "That way we won't miss anything."

"Wonderful! We sure don't want to miss anything, do we, Danny?"

Mitch swung the child into the box, then turned back to her. They stared at each other for a moment before he extended one hand to her. "Watch your step. It's higher than it looks," he said as she started the climb into the box.

Victoria settled herself on the far edge of the seat with Danny between them. Mitch climbed up and whistled to the horses. The heavy vehicle lumbered out of the yard, steadily picking up speed as they left Half-Way House in the distance.

"Thanks for letting us ride up here with you," she remarked after a few minutes. "This is much better than that stuffy old coach."

"I didn't figure you'd care much for riding a hundred miles with Mr. Bettenger for company," Mitch replied, flashing her a grin. "He can talk the ears off a donkey."

Victoria laughed, nodding in agreement of his assessment of their only passenger. "He's a nice man, but he does tend to go on."

"Papa's much better company, ain't he, Bicky?" Danny asked, looking first at his dad, then at her.

Their gaze met for an instant above his head, then Victoria nodded briefly. "Isn't," she corrected automatically, then added, "He can be, Danny, when he puts his mind to it."

The flush that crept up Mitch's neck told her he had taken her statement just the way she'd meant it. He looked quickly back to the road ahead, giving all his attention to the horses, ignoring both her happy laughter and the fire that made her violet eyes sparkle.

Danny kept the conversation going at a steady pace as they covered the miles. He pointed out a dozen variety of birds in the trees lining the roadway, then directed their attention to the family of white-tailed deer grazing in a clearing a little farther on.

When he finally ran out of steam, dozing against Victoria's side in the mid-day sun, she took advantage of the silence to admire Mitch's handling of the team.

He held the six lines between his fingers, three lines in each hand, exerting very little pressure to get the horses to follow his directions. He appeared very relaxed, making Victoria wonder if he was as casual as he seemed.

"Is it hard?" she asked finally.

His head snapped around at her question, his brows raised in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Driving the team. Is it hard?"

Unable to suppress a grin at his mistaken interpretation of her question, he shook his head. "Not after you get the hang of it. Just takes practice."

"You make it look easy."

"I've been doing this for years."

"Why do you do all the driving?" she prompted, studying him in the sunlight.

"Because Reed can't drive worth a damn. Sorry," he added, realizing his choice of words. "I've got to remember there's a lady present. I've gotten too used to having Reed for company."

"Can I try it?" she asked, suddenly inspired to give it a try. His reference to her as a lady made her feel warm. It was a relief to know he still viewed her in that manner after the way she'd responded to his kisses that night in front of the fire.

Mitch thought about it for a minute, then nodded. "I guess so. The road's pretty straight ahead for the next couple of miles. Come on over here. I'll show you how it's done."

Stifling back the remark that sprang immediately to her mind, Victoria eased herself from Danny's sleeping form and climbed over him to sit next to Mitch on the seat.

"What do I do first?"

"You'll have to get closer than that," he told her. Taking all six lines in his left hand, he reached to take her arm and settled her on the seat in front of him between his legs.

Putting his arms around her, he handed her the reins. "Interlace the lines between your fingers. That's right. Hold on firmly or the horses will jerk them out of your grip if they decide to act up. Don't pull back, let them do their job."

Victoria took the reins between her fingers the way he showed her. Surprise came to her face at the power she could feel coursing through the lines from the six horses at the other end. "This is harder than it looks," she admitted, turning her head to glance at him. "But it's fun."

"You wouldn't think so after a couple of hundred miles," he said dryly. He leaned back against the top of the stage, letting her take complete control of the team. Even leaning away from her, the fresh scent of her hair made his pulse race.

"Do you notice anything different about the horses?" he asked in an effort to keep his thoughts focused on something else.

Victoria examined each horse thoughtfully, then nodded. "Yes, they're all different sizes. I've never noticed that before. Is there a special reason for that?"

"The two nearest the coach are called wheelers. They weigh about twelve hundred pounds each. They're the strongest of the six, the most dependable. The next two are called swings. They weigh about eleven hundred pounds. The front two are called leaders, because that's what they do. They lead the others. They weigh about a thousand pounds each."

"And together they're called a six-up," Victoria said triumphantly. "Why are they different weights? Is that important?"

"The biggest, strongest horses are next to the coach because that's where the bulk of the weight is."

She nodded in understanding. "I see. You're very good with them, the horses, I mean."

"Have to be. Our company depends on keeping them healthy."

"No, it's more than that," she disagreed, looking back to flash him a smile. "You have a special touch...for children and horses."

"Thanks," Mitch replied dryly. "Getting tired yet?"

Victoria nodded. The strain on keeping the lines on all six horses straight and taut was starting to show. Her arms were beginning to ache. "A little. It's no wonder your hands are callused."

Mitch took the reins from her, taking control of the team, but she made no effort to move. She sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap, enjoying the security of his arms encasing her. Unconsciously, she leaned back against his chest while putting one hand on his knee for support when the coach rocked over a rut in the road.

"Why have you been avoiding me all week?" she asked after a few silent minutes had passed. "Ever since...since.."

"I don't want to talk about that."

His tone was sharp, but Victoria was not intimidated. "I do. Why are you so embarrassed about it?"

"It was a stupid thing to do," he grunted, wishing she would drop the subject.

"Mitch, I'm not a naïve little girl," she said quietly, turning her head to study the pulse hammering at the base of his throat. "I think you know that. I think you know that I lied about working in the bank in Laramie. I think you know what I was really doing."

"That's none of my business," he said curtly. "You said you had nothing to do with the bank robbery. I believe you. That's the end of it."

Sudden tears burned her eyes. Leaning against the warm security of his chest, looking up at his scowling features, she knew he was uncomfortable with this conversation.

"I just want you to know that I didn't…that I wasn't…all I did in the saloon was sell drinks and dance with the customers. That's all. I never did anything else…never."

"Why are you telling me this? Your life is your own business."

"I don't want you to think that I'm a…."

"You think that's why I kissed you that night? Because I thought you were easy? Is that what you think?" he asked, amazing himself by allowing the questions to pass his lips.

"Isn't it?" she returned quietly.

"Hell no! I've never thought that. I kissed you because...because...oh hell! I haven't kissed a woman...haven't touched a woman since my wife died. You made me feel something that I haven't felt in seven years."

"So it was like a test?" She was fascinated at the way he had begun blushing like a teenager. "You wanted to know if you still had the capability?"

"I told you it was a stupid thing to do. I'm sorry."

"That's all it was? An impersonal kiss with a stranger to see if you remembered how? It didn't seem impersonal to me, Mitch. It wasn't impersonal to me. You kissed me. You held me. You touched me. You're telling me that any female would have been acceptable? Is that what you're saying?"

"I didn't say that," he grunted.

Before she could respond, Danny awoke from his nap. He sat up rubbing his eyes, staring at them in surprise. "What are you doing, Bicky?" he asked curiously. "Why are you sitting in papa's lap?"

"Your papa was teaching me how to drive the team, Danny," Victoria explained as she hurriedly climbed back across the seat.

"Did you learn, Bicky?"

Risking a glance at Mitch's embarrassed face at the other end of the seat, she hugged the child gently. "I think so, Danny. Your papa was explaining a lot of things to me."

"Papa's smart, ain't he, Bicky?"

"Isn't," she corrected automatically. "Yes, Danny, your papa is a pretty smart man. After all, he hired me, didn't he?"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

They were only a few miles outside Elmwood when Mitch spotted the familiar ragged figure waiting on the roadside just ahead.

"Look, papa!" Danny exclaimed, pointing to the man.

Victoria grabbed for her carpetbag, digging in it for her pistol as Mitch began slowing the team.

"You won't need that hogleg, Victoria," he told her with a grin as he pulled back on the reins.

"But he's got a rifle!"

"It's just Crazy George. The rifle isn't loaded. Nothing to worry about."

By this time, he had pulled the horses to a complete halt. As the frightful figure approached the vehicle warily, the rifle laying across his arms, Mitch pushed his hat back. He put a comforting arm around Danny's shoulders when the boy slid across the seat to be closer to Mitch's side.

"Carrying any gold?" Crazy George asked, peering up them through the afternoon haze.

"Just the mail, George."

"Move on then."

The tattered figure stepped away from the coach, staring at Victoria curiously, as the stage began to roll. Moments later he was left behind in the dust.

"Who was that, papa?" Danny asked with large round eyes.

"Like I said, that's Crazy George," Mitch said as he glanced at the child. "He's a strange old coot but he's harmless. He stops us at least once a run to see if we're carrying gold."

"Do you always tell him no?" Victoria was busying putting the carpetbag behind her on top of the vehicle as she asked the question.

"Of course."

"What would happen if you told him you were carrying a gold shipment?"

Mitch thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know. Never occurred to me."

"Does he live around here?"

Mitch shrugged again. "I don't know. I suppose so. He shows up at all different places along the route."

"He was scary, papa," Danny said, still pressing against Mitch's side.

Mitch flashed him a confident smile before turning his attention back to the horses. "He's just a lost soul, Danny. Trying to find his way through this world."

Staring at him thoughtfully while he assured the child, Victoria thought the statement was appropriate for more lost souls than just Crazy George.

**********

Reed was waiting on the boardwalk in front of the hotel when Mitch wheeled the stage into Elmwood an hour before dusk. Sharing an affectionate handshake after Mitch leaped down from the box, Reed glanced up at Victoria.

"Your telegram didn't mention that you were bringing company," he said to Mitch.

Mitch paused to take Victoria's hand to assist her in climbing down. "I didn't realize I had to tell you every move I make," he said to Reed with a grin.

"Oh, you don't," Reed assured him. He held his arms open. "Jump, Danny." The child leaped off the box into his arms with a shriek of delight. "How are you, Squirt?"

"This was fun, Uncle Reed. We're gonna stay in the hotel and eat at a real restaurant. Papa said so."

"Is that right?" Reed asked as he set the boy on the ground and ruffled his hair.

"That is, if your Uncle Reed left any food in town for us to eat. How much has this snowstorm cost us in room and board?"

Mitch was walking toward the back of the coach as he spoke. He deftly untied the leather covering over the luggage boot. He handed Mr. Bettenger's bag to him and shook the cattle buyer's hand.

"Oh, not too much. I had to do something to stay busy, Mitch. The shipment came in the day after you left. It's safe and sound in the bank vault. So I had a lot of time on my hands."

Mitch tied the leather cover back into place. "You didn't answer my question."

Reed looked chagrined as he shrugged. "In the neighborhood of twenty dollars."

"That's a big neighborhood."

"Well, you didn't want me starving to death, did you?"

"Not much chance of that," Mitch retorted, but his grin offset the sarcasm in his voice. He turned to Victoria who was standing on the boardwalk looking around at the town. "If Reed got those rooms like he was supposed to, Victoria, why don't you and Danny go on up? We'll be along as soon as we put the horses away."

"Then can we eat, papa?" Danny asked excitedly.

"Then we can eat," Mitch said with a grin

"Of course. Shall we wait for you upstairs or in the lobby?"

"We'll stop by your room on our way to supper. That'll give you a chance to rest for awhile."

"I'm not at all tired actually. You did all the work. I only drove for a couple of miles."

As Victoria and Danny walked into the hotel lobby, Reed turned to Mitch curiously. "You let her drive?"

"Just for a little ways."

Mitch took the lead team's bridle, leading the team down the street to the livery.

"How come?"

"She wanted to."

"So? Do you do everything she wants to do?" Reed asked suspiciously as he fell into step beside Mitch.

"Nope."

"Why'd you bring her anyway?"

"Because she wouldn't leave me alone about those damned curtains. I figured the best way to shut her up was let her get what she wanted."

"What did you do out there for a week, trapped in the house with her and Deke?" Reed inquired as they walked along.

Mitch nodded in greeting to a businessman on the boardwalk before answering. "Played checkers."

"With Danny?"

"Yes."

"What else?"

"Played in the snow."

"With Danny?"

Mitch nodded again.

"Did she play too?"

"Once."

"Just once? What happened?" Reed quizzed as a grin began creeping into his face.

"Nothing happened."

"Come on, Mitch. Something must've happened or she'd been out there playing everyday."

"Nothing happened, damn it! What're you trying to get me to say?"

Reed shrugged innocently, gleefully watching the flush creep up Mitch's neck. "I know you, Mitch, remember? You're blushing like a teenager with his first hard-on. Something happened. Say, you and Miss Randell haven't…how shall I put this delicately...been warming the sheets, have you?"

The glare Mitch shot him as he yanked the livery door open failed to stifle Reed's curiosity. If anything, it only increased his enthusiasm.

"Where did you get a hair-brained idea like that?" Mitch growled, leading the horses inside.

"Because you're blushing. Well, did you?"

"Hell no!" Mitch barked as he began unhitching the rear horses from the coach.

"But you've been thinking about it, haven't you?" Reed persisted when Mitch would not elaborate.

Pausing as he stripped the harness off the rear horses to shoot Reed an embarrassed glance, Mitch could feel the blood rushing into his face.

Reed halted on his way to hang up the wet harness, staring at Mitch incredulously. "Damn! You have been thinking about it! I can see it written all over you, Mitch!" He hung up the harness, then leaned against the stall rail, still staring at Mitch. "You know what? I think that for the first time in years, there may be hope for you."

"Don't get so excited!" Mitch told him grimly. "The thought crossed my mind a time or two, that's all."

"Well, then you've got to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Like jump her after supper," Reed suggested, grinning from ear to ear.

"That's the way you do it, remember? Not me. Forget it, Reed."

"Forget it? Why, for Christ's sake? You're not going to let this opportunity pass by!"

"Just because the thought crossed my mind doesn't mean it's crossed hers," Mitch reminded him gruffly. "Besides, it would be a big mistake."

"Why? Come on, Mitch, and don't give me this "she's an employee" stuff."

Mitch's eyes began to snap with quick anger. He didn't like having his personal feelings examined, least of all by Reed who had never shared his thoughts on commitment. "What do you want me to do, Reed? Take advantage of her situation? You heard what Deke said about her crying herself to sleep at night. She's too damned vulnerable, too damned young too," he said scornfully.

"I'm not talking about marrying her, Mitch! I'm talking about getting laid! God knows you need to get laid. You haven't been with a woman since…"

"Drop it, Reed! I'm not going to hump the housekeeper. That's final!"

Reed returned his angry stare thoughtfully. "How long are you going to keep punishing yourself for Claire, Mitch? It wasn't your fault, damn it!"

"It was my fault, and you damn well know it! She's dead, and I'm to blame!"

"So you're going to spend the rest of your life alone, doing without what every man needs, to chastise yourself? It won't bring her back, Mitch! It won't change a damn thing!"

"Maybe not, but it won't happen again either, will it?" Mitch snapped as he flung the last of the harness onto the pegs in the wall.

Reed bent to pick up a wet saddle blanket, then looked back at Mitch. "So you're not going to bed Victoria?"

"Nope."

"Is it okay if I do?" Reed asked innocently. The startled expression that flashed to Mitch's face made Reed laugh out loud.

"I think the lady may have something to say about that," he reminded Reed with a grin taking the place of his previous anger.

Reed reached down, picked up a dry horse dropping and threw it across the stall at Mitch, then ran for the open door before Mitch could retaliate.

*************

An hour later after washing up, the four of them sat down to supper at Gunderson's Café across the street from the hotel. It was dark now but the lamps set on each table in the cozy little restaurant beat back the gloom. It was a clean, quiet place with red and white gingham tablecloths and the aroma of home cooking pervading the room.

Looking around at the other ten or twelve tables occupied with hungry customers, Victoria felt very special to be sharing supper with three such handsome men. She had noticed the way other women's heads turned to observe them when they entered the restaurant.

From the flirtatious smiles she saw among the younger women, it was obvious that Reed had made good use of his time in Elmwood. While they took seats at a table, Reed stopped at more than one table to say hello to a pretty young thing and flash them that charming boyish grin.

The meal was enjoyable, the atmosphere relaxed, but Victoria could not relax. She was still angry and confused about Mitch's explanation of why he'd kissed her. He was still avoiding her gaze, still embarrassed.

Thank goodness Danny's constant chatter kept the conversation going. But if the child didn't notice the tension in the air, Reed did. Victoria was certain that he was aware that she and Mitch had disagreed. She was not certain if he knew what the disagreement was about.

The one thing she was totally clear about during that meal was that any further contact with Mitch Cole was much too dangerous to contemplate. Her heated response to his kisses unnerved her. Realizing that he produced such strong emotions she had tried valiantly to bury forever, was terrifying. She had to maintain control of the situation. She had to stay away from him.

When their gaze met over their coffee cups at the end of the meal, she was startled to see those same conflicting emotions running through him. If anything, he was more afraid of her than she was of him.

While she was pondering this new revelation, a visitor approached their table. Looking up, she saw a big man swagger up to the table with his thumbs hooked in his gunbelt.

"Well, well, I see you boys are back in town. I thought maybe that freak snowstorm took care of you."

"As you can see, Hawkins, you thought wrong." Reed replied.

"Yeah, I can see that," Hawkins agreed with a smile that did not reach his eyes. His cold gaze moved around the table until it fell on Victoria. "And who is this?"

"Victoria Randell. She works for us," Reed answered as he put his coffee cup down in its saucer.

"You look mighty familiar, Miss," Hawkins said as he stared at her. "Have we met somewhere?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Hawkins," Victoria answered. "I'm new in this part of the country."

Hawkins scratched his nose thoughtfully. "I could swear we've met somewhere. I never forget a face. It'll come to me eventually."

The uneasiness that flashed into Victoria's eyes caused Mitch to push his chair back from the table as he rose to his feet.

"The lady said she doesn't know you, Hawkins. Is there something else you want? Because if there isn't, you're interrupting our supper."

The hate in Hawkins' eyes when his gaze swung to Mitch was strong enough to make Victoria gasp. "I'm just making conversation with the lady, Cole. If she don't want to talk to me, she can say so."

"I don't want to talk to you," Victoria said coldly, as she rose and took Danny's hand. "Come along, Danny. We'll wait for your papa and Uncle Reed in the hotel lobby."

She walked around the table, having to pass right by Hawkins because of the adjoining table being pushed up so close. As she moved past him, Hawkins caught her upper arm, yanking her around to face him.

"I'll remember where it is I know you from sooner or later," he said with a smirk. "Has Mitch told you yet about how he caused his wife to…"

Before he could get out the rest of the sentence, Mitch grasped his shirt collar in both hands and shoved him up against the wall. "If you ever mention my wife again, Hawkins, I'll kill you!" he said in a very low, menacing tone.

The fury she saw in his face at that moment sent a chill through Victoria. There was no doubt that Mitch meant exactly what he said. Obviously Hawkins recognized that too. He coughed, rubbing at his throat while Mitch held him immobile.

"And never, ever put your hands on one of my employees again. Do you understand?" he added in that same tone.

Mitch let go of his collar then and stepped back. Hawkins moved quickly beyond reach, straightening his jacket while he glared at Mitch. Then he flashed a belligerent glance at Victoria as he slunk toward the door.

"Working for those two can be real dangerous to your health. I'd be careful if I were you."

Victoria put one hand on Mitch's shoulder when he started toward Hawkins. Turning to Hawkins then with a thin smile on her face, she moved closer to him, straightening his collar. Then without warning, she put all her strength into a well aimed knee into his crotch.

When he went white, doubling up in pain as he stumbled backwards, she said, "I think it's you that needs to be careful, Mr. Hawkins. I can take care of myself."

Without a backward glance, she took Danny's hand and led him out the door and across the street.

Reed threw the money for their supper on the table, then joined Mitch at the door. Stepping around Hawkins on the floor gasping for breath while holding his crotch, he slapped Mitch on the back.

"Damn! You're pretty testy where she's concerned, Mitch. Sure you don't want to reconsider your decision?"

Mitch exhaled deeply. Squaring his shoulders as they crossed the street, he forced a tight smile. "You saw what she did to Hawkins, Reed. I'd keep that in mind if I were you."

"I bet that hurt, didn't it?"

"Remember that."

"Yeah, but she blind-sided him. He wasn't expecting it. I'll be more careful."

"You better be."

"That is one tough little girl," Reed said with a grin as they stepped onto the boardwalk in front of the hotel.

"Just on the surface, Reed."

"You know that for a fact?"

"Yeah. I know that for a fact." Mitch replied as they entered the hotel lobby to find Victoria and Danny waiting for them inside.

"You okay?" Reed asked her as they turned toward the staircase leading to the rooms upstairs.

"Of course," she replied snippily.

Mitch saw the tremor in her hand when she put it on the banister as they climbed the stairs. In spite of her bravado, she was shaken. He had the urge to put his arms around her, tell her everything was all right, then discarded the thought as quickly as it came. He'd done that once. He didn't dare risk it again.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Victoria entered her room feeling strangely both distraught and exhilarated. The expression on Hawkins' face when she kneed him gave her a sense of satisfaction. The man was a bastard. It was obvious that he and Mitch and Reed had a history of ill feeling.

His reference to Mitch's wife intrigued her. She wondered what he was about to say when Mitch slammed him into the wall. She shook her head as she closed the door behind her. She had never seen Mitch that angry. It left a disquieting feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She turned from the doorway, intending to cross the room and light the lamp sitting on the bedside table. Suddenly, she was caught from behind by an arm around her throat and yanked back against a hard male body. A hand over her mouth cut off the scream that formed in her mind.

"Vicky, Vicky," an amused voice said softly in her ear. "What have you been up to, girl?"

She clawed at the hand clamped over her mouth but its owner merely chuckled. "You're not gonna scream and cause a fuss, are you? You wouldn't want your friends across the hall to come running in here, now would you? How would you explain that?"

The implications took all the fight out of her. She went limp, her hands falling helplessly to her sides, as she fought back the panic rising in her throat. The hand covering her mouth slid down her body, caressing her breasts while he nuzzled her earlobes intimately.

"What's with the old maid hair-do?" he asked while he used his other hand to pull her hair free of the pins holding it in place at the nape of her neck. "I like it so much better like this…loose and flowing."

"W..what do you want?" she gasped, finally finding her voice.

"You've been a bad girl, Vicky. Running off like that. Worrying me half to death. I've had men combing half of Wyoming looking for you. And here you are...all dressed up like an old maid school teacher…eating supper with Mitch Cole and Reed Driscoll...looking like a real genteel lady."

She stood perfectly still in his embrace. Tears burned her eyes, but she knew tears were no defense against him. Nothing was.

"That was real touching how Mitch Cole jumped to your defense. I was impressed, Vicky. Is he the one you're sleeping with? Or is it Driscoll?" He gave a mirthless cold chuckle as he fondled her breasts. "Or maybe it's both of them. Is that it, Vicky? You're screwing both of them?"

"I'm doing nothing of the kind," she managed to whisper.

"That's too bad." He let go of her, walking around her to sit down on the edge of the bed. He lit the lamp beside the bed, turning it up until he could see her clearly. Her pale frightened face brought a smile to his lips. "Maybe it's time you started."

"W..what do you mean?" she stammered, staring at him blankly.

"They own the C & D stage line, don't they? They beat out Butterfield for the Army payroll contract. And here you are, working for them, eating supper with them. Looks to me like you've made yourself indispensable to them. I like that."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play dumb with me, Vicky. You're close enough to learn all kinds of interesting things. Like...when they're carrying a load of gold for those mine owners up near Paradise."

"They don't tell me those things," she protested, feeling panic crowd her throat as she stared at him sprawled across the bed with that malevolent smirk she knew so well. "I cook and clean, that's all."

"Then you better start learning when they carry the gold shipments, Vicky." His voice lost that soft quality, becoming cold and frightening. "You start getting close enough to one of them to find out. Understand?"

"No!"

"I'd say Mitch Cole is the one you've got your eye on. Or maybe I should say, he's got his eye on you. He'll do."

"I won't do it!"

"You'll do what I tell you, Vicky. Just like always," he said confidently.

"No! I won't help you rob them."

"You do what I say, Vicky, and nobody'll get hurt. Otherwise…"

"They'll never let you take anything from them. They've never lost a shipment," she said stubbornly.

"There's always a first time. I intend to get that gold, Vicky, one way or the other." He smiled then, a charming smile that made her heart freeze. "Come on, Vicks, you find out what I want to know, I'll take the gold, and I'll go so far away you'll never hear from me again. I promise."

"You've made that promise before. You've never kept it."

"What's the matter, Vicks? This Cole fella mean that much to you?" Seeing the panicked expression that flashed across her face, he chuckled again. "Damn, he does, don't he? That'll make it that much easier to find out about the gold shipment. I'm not asking you to sleep with somebody you don't like, for God's sake. It oughta be easy, you feeling the way you do about him."

"He's a good, decent man, Billy Joe. Please don't ask me to do this," she said with a plea forming in her voice.

"I'm not asking, Vicks. I'm telling you. You cozy up to Mitch Cole, find out what I need to know."

"And if I don't?" she asked defiantly.

"Then you'll force me to make sure he finds out a very nasty little secret that you're keeping. You know the one, Vicks. How do you think he'd react if he knew? You said it yourself; he's a decent man. What will he think when he finds out?"

Victoria bit her lip to quell its trembling as she stared at him in the lamplight. "How could I have ever thought I loved you?" she whispered. "You're despicable!"

He got up and walked toward her. Cupping her chin in one hand, he smiled again. "Get the information, Vicky, any way you have to. Don't let me down. You know what'll happen if you do."

He leaned down to kiss her stiff lips, smiling coldly at the fright in her eyes. Then he opened the door and was gone.

She stood frozen for a moment after his departure. Then, she whirled around to close the door, leaning against it for support.

"Oh God, oh, God!" she whispered to herself in the empty room. The nightmare she'd thought had ended had come crashing back into her life without warning. Instead of escaping his snare, she'd only made a bigger trap for herself. Except now, she wasn't the only one caught in it.

***********

For hours Victoria paced the room, alternately praying and crying, until at last worn out, she fell across the bed in a fitful sleep. The nightmare began then, the same one that had plagued her sleep for so long, she couldn't remember ever being free of it. Tossing and turning restlessly, she was swept into the horror again, finally jerking upright in bed with a shriek that not only woke her, but Mitch as well.

Within seconds he was at her door. He tried the knob but the door was locked tight. Victoria screamed again, unable to help herself, afraid it was Billy Joe on the other side of the door.

The door splintered from the impact with Mitch's shoulder. A second later Victoria was swept into his embrace. Her frightened mind visualized Billy Joe, not realizing through her fear what was real and what was a nightmare.

She struggled to free herself, beating on his chest with both fists, still crying hysterically. "No, no," she cried. "Please...no.."

"Victoria, it's all right," he said as he caught her wrists. He pressed her head against his chest, holding her tight. "It's Mitch, honey. It's all right now. You're just having a bad dream."

Slowly, she recognized the gentle tone of his voice as the same one he used with Danny when the child was frightened. She lifted her tear streaked face to look up at him, then touched his face with both trembling hands. Realizing that she was safe, she flung herself into his embrace with a muffled cry.

He held her close while she cried, smoothing her tumbled hair, murmuring inaudible words of comfort in her ear, until at last her sobs receded. When she began to hiccup softly, he held her away from him so he could see her face.

Even in the darkened room, he could see the fear that lit her eyes. Her body was still trembling violently. "You're were having a nightmare, Victoria. Want to tell me about it?"

Her tumbled head moved in a quick negative motion while she wiped at her eyes. "No, I don't...I can't.."

"It's okay," he assured her as he used one hand to press her face into the hollow of his shoulder. "Nothing is going to hurt you. You're safe."

Victoria's hands moved across the warm velvet of his bare back, up to his face. She felt the roughness of a day's growth of beard against her palms, felt the power in his arms as he held her close.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You're all wet," she added as she put one trembling hand on his chest.

"I'll dry," he said gently.

With her face pressed against his chest, she slowly realized the sound she heard was his heart pounding. The pulse at the base of his throat was throbbing in rhythm to her own heartbeat.

Mitch seemed to realize the change in her emotions. He gently disentangled himself from her arms, trying to get up. "Well," he said uneasily. "It's late. I better go."

"Don't."

His brows raised in surprise at her plea. The fear in her eyes had been replaced by a slow burning heat that made his breath freeze in his throat.

"I…I…don't think.."

Victoria's insistent tug on his arm caused him to sit back down on the bed. She had kicked off the covers during the nightmare so that now it was easy for her to climb into his arms again.

"Stay…Mitch, stay with me," she whispered in the darkness as her hands moved across the wide hairy expanse of his chest. "Do you want to stay with me?"

"Yes," he said gruffly, burying his face in the warm silk of her hair. "Hell, yes, I want to stay."

She sat up on her knees, watching his eyes grow hot with desire as she slipped the thin nightgown down over her shoulders. "Then do it. Don't think about it. Just do it."

With a muffled groan, he crushed her lips to his while he tugged the nightgown off her body. She clawed at his belt buckle, kissing him with all the passion that swelled up inside her. He kicked his trousers off and drew her body into the curve of his as he rolled onto the bed, drawing her beneath him.

Victoria felt his knee part her legs, felt the sweet pressure of his erection finding the burning need deep inside her. Moments later, they both found the shattering liberation they had sought since that morning in the snow.

Lying in his arms, her face pressed into the damp hair on his heaving chest, Victoria gave a satisfied sigh. She touched his cheek, then kissed him softly. Snuggling down in the circle of his arms, she fell asleep. For the moment, the nightmare was gone.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was almost dawn when Victoria awoke. When she sat up in bed, Mitch was pulling on his trousers. She stared him, overwhelmed with the enormity of what had happened. The expression on his face clearly told her he felt the same.

He finished buckling his belt into place, then raked his hair back from his eyes before finally looking at her. "It's almost morning. I've got to get back before Danny wakes up," he said quietly.

He moved toward the door, then hesitated and turned back to look at her again. She sat upright in bed, her hair tousled, her lips lush and inviting. She looked uncertain, almost frightened.

"Victoria, this was a mistake. I'm sorry."

Pain shot through her chest at the resolve in his face. She didn't know what she'd expected, but his guilt-ridden expression was not it. "It was my fault," she said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

"You were frightened, and I was...here. That's all. It just got out of hand. I should have…"

"Don't worry about it," she said stoutly, determined that he not see how much his rejection hurt. "It was just a crazy impulse. I needed you to hold me, and you did. There's no need for you to feel guilty about it."

His brows raised in surprise. Was it that obvious?

"Do you feel like you've cheated on your wife?" she asked insightfully.

Mitch exhaled deeply, not even realizing he'd been holding his breath until now. Then he nodded. "Yeah, something like that. I guess that sounds silly to you."

Victoria shook her head, still watching him wistfully. "You must have loved her very much."

He nodded again, looking away from her probing gaze. "But that's only part of it."

"What's the rest?"

He gestured to her, then shrugged. "I had no right to make love to you. You were scared and I took advantage of that. It wasn't fair."

"I asked you to stay, remember?" Tears burned her eyes, but she ignored them. "I used you to make myself feel safe. That wasn't fair either."

"Then we'll just forget it ever happened."

It was a statement, not a question. For a moment they stared at each other across the dimly lit room. Then Victoria nodded. "Yes. It never happened."

He left the room so quietly he might have been a shadow. She sat staring at the closed door as tears seeped down her cheeks. "Liar!" she exclaimed to the empty room, not certain if she meant Mitch or herself. They were both liars. Mitch for pretending it meant nothing, and herself for agreeing with him.

She slumped back down onto the pillows, angrily wiping her eyes. Then she gave a bitter laugh. "Looks like the joke's on you, Billy Joe. I can't get close enough to Mitch to find out what you want, even if I wanted to," she said aloud.

Knowing that his warning had nothing to do with spending the night in Mitch's arms was small comfort, however. The problem now was what was she going to do? She was trapped in a web of her own making and there was no way out.

***********

A few miles on the road to Half-Way House, Reed shifted the Winchester from one hand to the other while he fixed a curious stare at Mitch.

"You want to tell me just what the hell is going on?" he asked. "Or maybe I already know."

Mitch shot him a disgruntled glance, then returned his attention to the horses as they sped along the muddy road. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Reed pushed his hat back, grinning at the determined way Mitch avoided meeting his gaze. "You've been as quiet as a tomb all morning. You didn't say two words all through breakfast."

"Maybe I don't feel like talking."

"Maybe," Reed agreed mildly. "You look like you've lost your best friend, and since I'm sitting right here, that can't be what's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me."

Reed dismissed the denial with a grin. "I couldn't figure out what's eating at you, then when you sent me to pay the hotel bill for last night, the manager gave me this."

He produced a piece of paper from his vest pocket, waving it at Mitch, who ignored it.

"What's that?" Mitch asked without looking at the paper Reed was holding toward him.

"It's a bill for repairing a busted door. Victoria's door. Care to explain how her door got busted last night?"

Mitch realized Reed was not going to let it go without some kind of explanation. "She had a nightmare. She woke me up screaming. You'd have heard it too if you weren't snoring loud enough to wake the dead. I went to see what was wrong and the door was locked."

"So you busted it to get in?"

Mitch nodded, still refusing to look at him. "Yeah."

Reed stared at him expectantly, but Mitch offered no further explanation.

"Damn it, Mitch! Tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened. I made sure she was all right, that's all."

"If that was all, you wouldn't be acting like this." Reed scratched his head thoughtfully for a moment. "Let me get this straight. She was scared and you went to see what was wrong. I'll bet she was wearing nothing but a smile, right?"

"Wrong. Drop it, Reed."

His refusal to discuss it only aroused Reed's curiosity more. "Okay, so she wasn't naked. But she needed comforting, so you comforted her. You put your arms around her, and one thing led to another, and you ended up in the sack with her."

The flush creeping up Mitch's neck confirmed Reed's suspicions. He gave a hearty chuckle as he leaned across the seat to slap Mitch on the back. "I'll be damned! You did, didn't you? So why the long face this morning? What's the problem?"

"Reed," Mitch said, finally pinning a direct glare at him. "Shut the hell up!"

Reed grinned widely as he met Mitch's angry gaze. "I don't understand you, partner. You get laid for the first time in God knows when, and you act like you've committed some kind of crime."

Mitch turned his attention to getting the team around a sharp bend in the road without responding.

"You feel guilty, don't you? Guilty about what, Mitch? Claire? She's gone, man.

You're still alive and it's about damn time you started acting like it."

"It's more than that. I took advantage of a scared girl, Reed. Wouldn't that bother you?"

"Hell no!" Reed replied with a grin. "Scared, drunk, unconscious, it makes no difference to me."

"You beat all, Reed," Mitch snorted.

Reed laughed as he shifted his weight on the hard wooden bench. "How did you leave it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, did you make plans for the next time, or what?"

"There isn't going to be a next time."

"Why the hell not? You didn't promise to marry her, did you?"

"Of course not!" Mitch grunted.

"Well then, it was a simple roll in the sack. Wasn't it?"

When Mitch didn't answer, Reed's brows raised curiously. "Wasn't it?"

"There wasn't anything simple about it," Mitch said finally. "She's got enough problems without me adding to them."

"What kind of problems?"

"I don't know exactly. All I know is that something scared the shit out of her last night."

"I bet she wasn't so scared after you got through…"

"Reed, I said drop it. I mean it."

Reed's cerulean blue eyes sparkled with insight. "You're the one who got the shit scared out of him. You never expected to have those feelings again and when you did, you pretend it didn't mean anything. Why, I bet you even told her to forget it ever happened."

The flush in Mitch's face confirmed his suspicions. "I don't get it, man. You finally admit you've still got blood in your veins and you want to pretend it never happened."

"She's a nice girl, Reed," Mitch said curtly. "She's not the kind of girl a man can take liberties with. And since I'm not in the market for anything else, it's wrong to pursue it."

"You like her, don't you?"

Mitch nodded. "Yeah, I like her, Reed. Unlike you, I don't make a habit of going to bed with a woman I don't like," he said sarcastically. "Can we drop it now?"

"Sure," Reed agreed with a grin. "But let me remind you that Danny needs a mother. And Victoria is good for him…good for you too. Maybe you ought to think about that before you decide to pretend there's nothing going on between the two of you."

"Reed, do you want to walk the rest of the way to Half-Way House?" Mitch asked him with a sideways glare. When Reed shook his head, he added, "Then keep your advice to yourself." Reed's good natured laugh made his teeth grind.

"Okay, but I can't believe what a coward you are. One roll in the sack with a pretty girl, who obviously has feelings for you, and you turn into one big chicken."

"Reed!"

Reed put his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, don't get your nose out of joint. Just think about it, will you? This girl is something special. She has to be or you wouldn't have comforted her. All I'm saying is don't shut her out without thinking about it. You just might discover that you've got more feelings left in you than you think."

"My feelings are none of your business!" Mitch snapped.

"Gee! What a grouch!" Reed said with a grin as he pulled his hat down. "Getting laid is supposed to make you feel better, and after all these years, I'd think you'd really feel good. "

"Reed, I'm not telling you again," Mitch warned him with a meaningful glare.

Reed shrugged as he shifted the Winchester again. He began whistling a cherry tune that grated on Mitch's nerves for the next ten miles, but he preferred the whistling to Reed's painfully insightful remarks.

He did not want to think about his feelings about making love to Victoria. Those

feelings had proven disastrous once in his life. He wasn't willing to risk that again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"You missed a spot."

Both Reed and Mitch glanced up as Victoria passed them on her way to the well. They had pulled the stagecoach close to the house and had spent the better part of the afternoon washing the caked-on mud off it. Following the freak snowstorm, the spring rains had turned the road between Paradise and Elmwood into little more than axle deep ruts.

It was the middle of April. Spring had blossomed over the land, warming the temperatures and bringing a rush of green as the trees leafed out and grass made its appearance. The passing of winter had brought a revitalization to the livestock as well.

As Victoria set the bucket beneath the pump, she smiled at the horses frolicking in the corral near the barn. They neighed as they raced around the inside of the enclosure, their tails held high and their eyes bright with energy.

She had been at Half-Way House a month. In that time she had changed the drab, rough appearance of the place into a warm, cozy home. The chintz curtains she'd made hung at the windows, swaying in the gentle breeze. The attractive braided rug she purchased was the focal point of the living room. The freshly white-washed walls gave the rough lumber a new lease on life.

As he watched her fill the bucket from the pump, Reed nudged Mitch's shoulder, nodding toward her. "Wonder what she's going to scrub now?" he asked sarcastically. "God knows that woman has scrubbed everything in sight a half dozen times in the past couple of weeks. Nothing gets that dirty."

Mitch flashed a grin at the disgruntled expression on Reed's face before going back to the task of cleaning the mud off the yellow wheels. "The only thing she hasn't scrubbed is you, and you know what, Reed? She's been eyeing you pretty good too. I'd stay away from her, if I were you," he said pleasantly.

"Like you've been doing?"

The smile vanished from Mitch's face at Reed's question. He dropped to his heels to scrub vigorously at the wheel. "Don't start with me, Reed. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Obviously," Reed agreed as he squeezed out a rag in the soapy water from the bucket they were sharing. "You haven't spoken more than ten words to her since that night in Elmwood. Or stayed in the same room with her either."

"Reed, I'm warning you. Let it drop."

The tone of Mitch's voice was the coldest he'd ever used with Reed, but it had little effect. Instead of putting the matter to rest, Reed pitched his rag into the bucket, stuck both hands under his armpits and started making clucking sounds like a chicken.

The next instant he was struck in the face with Mitch's soapy rag. With a startled yell, Reed went after him. Moments later they were rolling on the ground, wrestling like two children, laughing while they played.

When Danny heard the commotion, he came running to jump into the middle of the game. His childish shrieks while they tumbled over and over in the grass caused Victoria to shake her head at their antics.

As she carried the bucket of water back toward the house, she paused to observe them for a moment. "Boys, if you have that much energy, you can help me break up that spot behind the barn for a garden. You promised a week ago to do it," she chided them with a smile.

Looking sheepish, they broke off the horseplay. Getting to their feet with embarrassed grins, they looked at each other. "I'll get a couple of the horses and get started on that, Victoria," Reed told her. He reached back into the bucket and tossed the dripping rag at Mitch. "You can finish up here."

Victoria glanced at Mitch, her face sobering when their eyes met. He was rolling up his shirt sleeves, then tucking the shirt tail back into his trousers and balancing Danny on his hip all at the same time. She longed to brush his hair from his eyes but clamped her hands into fists to quell the urge.

"Thank you, Reed. I'd appreciate that. I'll show you the spot I had in mind."

She sat the bucket down, wiped her hands on her apron, and hurried off toward the barn. Danny jumped down from Mitch's arms to follow her. "Wait, Bicky. Wait for me," he called, giggling when she turned to pick him up and twirl him around in a wide arc before setting him back on the ground.

"You'd do anything to get out of helping me clean the coach, wouldn't you?" Mitch teased, glad the tension had eased.

"Good Lord, if we don't break up that garden spot for her, there's no telling what else she'll come up with.," Reed complained as he retrieved his hat from the brake handle of the stage. "She's got the house looking like a damned hotel already."

"Yeah, but you know as well as I do that the passengers like what she's done with the place," Mitch reminded him. "How many compliments have we heard already?"

Mitch returned to the cleaning project, kneeling at the rear wheel and applying the soapy rag to the spokes.

"Mitch, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

When Mitch looked up, the seriousness in Reed's face surprised him. "What is it?" he asked without pausing in the task.

"I did some checking when we were in Laramie to pick up the Army payroll this month."

"Checking on what?"

"On Victoria's story." When Mitch did not comment further, Reed added, "She told us she knew that joker on the coach because she worked at the bank he helped rob, remember? The bank manager told me himself that nobody named Victoria Randell has ever worked there."

"I know that."

It was Reed's turn to be surprised. He stared at the back of Mitch's head for a moment, then decided to tell the rest of what he'd learned. "I also found out that there was a girl called Miss Vicky who worked at the saloon. I figure without the glasses and that old maid hair-do, she'd look a lot like Victoria."

"I know that too."

"How?"

"She told me." Mitch paused from scrubbing at the mud on the wheel to look up at Reed. "Is that it?"

Reed nodded. "Isn't that enough?"

Mitch rose to his feet. He dropped the dirty rag into the bucket at his feet as he met Reed's gaze. "What she did in Laramie has nothing to do with what she's doing for us here. Her past is none of our business."

"Do you still say she's a nice girl?"

"Yes, I do. I have no reason to think otherwise."

Reed shook his head, then grinned. "You ought to know if anybody does. All right, partner, that's good enough for me. Now, I'm going to hitch up a team and break up that garden for her. You coming?"

"You go ahead. I'll finish up here and be along in a while." Mitch told him

As Reed turned away, two riders galloped into the yard. The sight of them caused Reed to step to the porch and pick up his Winchester.

"Afternoon, boys," the man in the yellow linen duster and flat brimmed hat said as he halted his horse.

"You're a long way from home, Mr. Butterfield," Mitch said as he moved away from the coach to greet the visitors.

John Butterfield pushed his hat back, then pointed to the coach. "Nice vehicle, Mitch. Looks like you boys are doing well."

"We're doing okay," Mitch replied. "But I doubt you rode all the way out here to make small talk. What can we do for you?"

Butterfield smiled pleasantly. "That's what I've always liked about you, Mitch. You come right to the point. All right, so will I. I came to make you an offer for your company."

Mitch and Reed exchanged glances as Reed came back to Mitch's side, still cradling the rifle across his arms while he directed his attention to the second man who had ridden in with Butterfield.

Emmett Hawkins returned the icy stare for a moment, then forgot all about Reed when Victoria and Danny emerged from the barn. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her. He licked at his lips as she crossed the yard holding the boy's hand.

Victoria climbed onto the porch, then turned to send Hawkins a contemptuous glance before taking Danny inside. She sent the child to the kitchen for a glass of water, but halted just inside the front door so she could hear the conversation in the yard.

"The company's not for sale." Mitch's voice was polite but firm when he responded to Butterfield's offer.

"You haven't heard Mr. Butterfield's offer," Hawkins pointed out coldly.

Mitch barely glanced at him before returning his attention to Butterfield. "It doesn't matter. The company's not for sale."

"Twenty thousand dollars, Mitch. For the horses, equipment, and the route."

"And the Army contract?" Reed inquired pleasantly.

"Yes, the offer includes the Army contract. And of course, I'd want both of you to stay on and work for me."

"No thanks," Mitch said.

"Twenty five thousand," Butterfield offered.

"Mr. Butterfield, C & D isn't for sale at any price." With a scornful glance at Hawkins, Mitch added, "There isn't enough money in Wyoming to get us to work for him again."

"Once was plenty, thank you," Reed agreed with a cold stare at Hawkins.

Butterfield pulled his hat down with a nod. "All right. But if you change your minds, you know where to find me. I'll be willing to discuss it. Nice seeing you boys."

He turned his horse and galloped from the yard. Hawkins hesitated a moment longer. His hand went to the butt of his pistol, but the instantaneous way Reed's rifle stared him in the face caused him to remove it.

"This ain't over with yet," he snarled, looking from one to the other. He pointed toward the house. "I ain't through with the two of you, or that sneaky little bitch in the house either. I got a score to settle."

"You've got ten seconds to get off C & D property, Hawkins, or I'll drop you where you sit." Reed's voice was cold as he lifted the Winchester meaningfully.

Hawkins' face flooded with color as he yanked his horse around. Setting his spurs to the animal, he dashed after Butterfield.

Reed lowered the rifle as Hawkins disappeared into the distance.

"What do you make of that?" he asked Mitch.

"I'd say the rumors we've been hearing about Butterfield Overland Mail being in trouble are true. Why else would he be trying to buy us out? He needs the Army contract to stay solvent."

"What about Hawkins?" Victoria asked from the top step of the porch.

Turning to look at her, Mitch saw the anger that made her eyes gleam in the afternoon sun. Wearing a blue and white gingham dress beneath her apron, she looked very proper, but the image of her hair hanging loose and soft around her naked shoulders flashed through his mind. He cleared his throat, trying to focus on her question, angry with himself for allowing that memory to rise to the surface.

"I'd say we haven't seen the last of him," he said at last.

"He better not come around trying to cause trouble," Danny announced at Victoria's side. "If he does, Bicky'll beat him up again."

His childish confidence brought a chuckle from both men as they walked toward the corral to hitch up a team. Mitch picked him up as he ran alongside them and set him on his shoulders. "I think he's probably learned his lesson about tangling with Victoria," he said dryly with a glance at her.

The heat that flashed from his eyes made Victoria's knees weak. She wet her lips as she fell into step beside him. She was tempted to put her arm through his, then thought better of it. He'd said forget anything had ever happened between them. How could she do that when it was obvious that he hadn't?

*********

Later that evening after Danny was asleep, Victoria went down to the corrals to get away from the house. Being in the same room with Mitch was making her a nervous wreck. Although he pretended to ignore her, she could feel his gaze touch her when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

She was certain he felt the same way she did, but it seemed nothing could make him admit it. Leaning against the top rail of the corral to watch the horses mill around, she remembered Billy Joe's warning. Time was short. She knew he was out there somewhere, waiting, watching her. Soon he would show up again expecting her to have the information he wanted. At the moment, she had no idea what she was going to do. Running from him had proven futile. He'd found her before, he would find her again. Pleading with him was likewise hopeless.

The crunch of boots on the gravel broke into her thoughts. Looking around, she saw Reed's lanky form materialize from the shadows. He approached the corral and placed his elbows on the top rail, cradling his chin in his hands.

"Nice night, huh?" he asked pleasantly, watching her closely.

"Yes, it is."

"You want to tell me what's bothering you?"

She flashed him a surprised glance, then looked away. "Nothing's bothering me. The house was just stuffy, that's all. I needed some fresh air."

"Being in the same room with Mitch bothers the hell out of you, doesn't it?" he asked insightfully, grinning when her head snapped up to flash him a startled expression.

"It bothers the hell out of him too," Reed went on.

"I..I don't know what you mean," Victoria stammered, feeling a blush creeping up her neck.

"Sure you do. You've got a thing for him...and if he'd admit it, the feeling's mutual. But he has a lot of trouble with that, admitting it, I mean. Cause if he did, then he'd have to do something about it. That's just the way Mitch is. He's a decent man. Maybe honorable is a better description. But then, you know that already."

"Why are you telling me this?" Victoria asked, still avoiding his gaze.

"I just want you to understand what makes Mitch the way he is. He got hurt real bad a few years ago and he's never been able to let go of it."

Victoria took a long breath as she turned to face him in the moonlight. "I know that he loved his wife very much. He hasn't gotten over her death," she said quietly.

"He loved her all right. More than anything," Reed explained slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. "But it's not so much that she died that he can't let go of, it's the way she died."

He paused to put his thoughts in order. He lifted one foot to the bottom rail of the corral, staring at the horses. "They were both just kids when they got married. He was twenty-two, she was twenty. They grew up together. Mitch was always her hero; mine too." He glanced at Victoria with a tight smile. "They weren't married very long before the war began. Mitch and me enlisted right away. We spent four very long years away from home except for brief furloughs once in a while.

"Not long before the war ended, Mitch got a letter from her saying that a friend of hers had died after having a baby. She had taken the child and was trying to raise it. Mitch didn't think much of it. She'd always wanted a family, and taking in somebody's orphan baby was the kind of thing she'd do.

"So we got home from the army and everything was fine for awhile. Mitch took to this kid right off. They became a real family. Then he started hearing all the rumors. It was impossible not to hear them in a town that small. He tried to ignore them because he loved her, but finally he had to know so he confronted her."

He paused to take a long breath. Victoria's eyes were glued to his face as her heart raced. She had never heard Reed talk seriously about anything. It was unnerving.

"She broke down, told Mitch the truth. While he was away fighting for his country, she got involved with another man. Guess she couldn't stand being alone that long. There wasn't any friend who died, leaving her the child. It was her child. Hers and her lover's."

Victoria gasped. One hand went to her heart in pain. Tears burned her eyes at the pain she knew Mitch must have suffered. "You mean Danny...Danny isn't Mitch's child?"

"Oh, he's Mitch's child all right, in all the ways that matter. The fact that he wasn't there when Danny was conceived is immaterial to Mitch," Reed replied with a tight smile. "After she told Mitch the truth, they had the most God-awful fight you can imagine. A lot of things were said. He said things he shouldn't have, things he couldn't take back. She ran from the house in tears. He went to the saloon and tried to get drunk.

"Later, when he went back home, he found her…dead." Reed's voice contained a tremor that Victoria had never heard before. He took a long breath and rubbed one hand over his eyes. "She didn't just die, Victoria. She killed herself. Mitch found her in their bedroom...she'd hung herself from a rafter. She'd left him a note asking him to take care of Danny, telling him how sorry she was for what had happened.

"It damned near killed him too. He blamed himself, still does."

"Did you know her well?" Victoria asked after a brief silence.

Reed nodded as he turned to look at her directly. "Yes, I knew her all her life. Claire was my sister." He heard Victoria's gasp, and a moment later felt her hand on his arm.

"I'm so sorry," she said in a hushed whisper.

Reed cleared his throat and rubbed his face against one shirt sleeve. "I can't fully describe what it did to him, Victoria. Not just her death, but her betrayal. He stopped believing in anything, stopped trusting anyone. He loved her and she lied to him, cheated on him, and didn't even have the guts to face up to what she'd done. She took the easy way out, but he's had to live with it everyday of his life for the past seven years. We all have."

"That's why he still wears his wedding ring," Victoria said thoughtfully.

Reed nodded. "That's right. He wears it to remind himself that trusting a woman nearly destroyed him. He doesn't intend to let that happen again."

He stood upright and forced a smile. "Just thought you needed to know why he refuses to allow himself the same emotions as other men. He thinks he's being strong by keeping his distance from you, but what he's really doing is cutting himself off from the chance of being happy.

"Mitch is the finest, most decent man I've ever known," he added. "But he's got a stubborn streak a mile wide. Winning his trust won't be easy for any woman. But," he added with a spark of his old mischievous self, "You're not just any woman, are you, Victoria?"

He murmured goodnight as he stepped back into the shadows. Left alone to mull over Reed's startling revelations, Victoria wiped at her eyes resolutely. "No, I'm not just any woman. If I were, I wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't be entangled with Billy Joe, and I wouldn't be falling in love with Mitch Cole when I know we'll never have a future together."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

When they came into the kitchen for breakfast the following morning, Mitch and Reed found a new Victoria. Gone were the wire rimmed glasses and austere bun. Instead of the old maid persona they were accustomed to, was a radiant, beautiful young woman with long jet black hair hanging around her shoulders and deep violet eyes unencumbered by the glasses.

Her appearance stunned Reed, who had no idea how beautiful she was. He immediately looked at Mitch to see his reaction, then remembered that Mitch had seen her like this before. Still, the admiration he saw on Mitch's face made him smile to himself.

"Look at Bicky, Papa," Danny pointed out with a giggle as Victoria placed a plate of flapjacks and bacon before him at the table. "Ain't she pretty?"

"Isn't," Victoria automatically corrected while she looked up to see their reactions to her new appearance.

"She sure as hell is," Reed said with an amazed expression as he walked slowly around her, familiarizing himself with the beauty that had replaced the prim and proper girl he'd known. "Damn, Victoria, if you aren't something to behold!"

Victoria flashed him a quick smile, but her gaze remained locked with Mitch's across the room. The surprise that sprang to his features when he first saw her had faded into something much warmer. She felt a flush creeping up her neck at the undisguised heat in his eyes. Then she saw him almost visibly shake himself into movement as he cleared his throat, then walk past her to take his seat at the table.

"I decided it was silly to keep wearing the glasses and…" She hesitated for a moment before finding the courage to finish the thought. "Since you both know...well...that I'm not quite what I tried to appear." She shrugged with a thin smile at the amazement still obvious on Reed's face. "So, this is the real me. What do you think?" she added with a spark of her old feistiness.

"You're just as pretty as a newborn colt," Deke said as he shuffled into his chair. "Course, I knew it all the time."

Victoria paused with the coffee pot in her hand to plant an affectionate kiss on the old man's bald spot before resuming her task. When she moved around the table filling their cups as she went, she rumpled Danny's hair, then placed a hand on Mitch's shoulder as she leaned around him fill his cup.

She saw the flush that crept up his neck, felt the muscles beneath her hand tense. Lord, he smelled good. She longed to bury her face in his hair and kiss his earlobe. She almost giggled out loud, wondering what he'd do if she did just that.

After making sure that everyone's breakfast was served and their coffee cups filled, she took her own seat and began to nibble at her breakfast. She had no appetite but forced a few bites down to quell the butterflies in her stomach.

"You sure had me fooled," Reed said as he attacked his flapjacks.

"That wasn't too hard," Deke pointed out with a chuckle.

"Well, everything's out in the open now," she said emphatically.

"Everything except how you really knew that joker on the stage was one of the Ballentine gang," Reed reminded her with a curious gaze.

"Several of them had been hanging around the Birdcage for a couple of days before they held up the bank," she answered, looking him straight in the eye. "It didn't take a genius to figure out why he was on the stage."

"You have a birdcage, Bicky?" Danny asked eagerly.

"Not anymore, Danny," she replied. "That's all in the past."

The child looked disappointed for a moment, then his face brightened up. Looking up at his father, he asked, "Papa, when can we ride on the stagecoach again? That was fun!"

"Soon, son," Mitch replied with a grin at the anticipation in his face. "One day when we're not carrying something somebody might try to take away from us."

Seeing the boy was having trouble cutting his flapjacks into small pieces, Mitch put down his fork to assist him. Watching them, Victoria felt her eyes burn unexpectedly. Mitch's love for a little boy who was not his own child caused her heart to swell with affection. She had an idea of what he'd been through trying to raise Danny alone.

They'd obviously left their hometown after Claire's suicide. Staying there would have been impossible if Mitch intended that Danny never know the truth about his mother. Protecting the boy had been Mitch's first priority, but putting miles between himself and the memory of the wife who'd betrayed him hadn't proven very successful. At least now she knew why he refused to acknowledge the feelings that had started to grow between them.

Perhaps that was best, she told herself as she sipped at her coffee. Her own emotions were much to volatile to be trusted. Her heart leaped in her chest when Mitch looked up to see her watching them. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling the urge to burst into tears swell up in her. She wanted to tell him everything, tell him what danger they were all in, but she couldn't do that, she reminded herself sternly. He'd stuck his neck out already by giving her this job and by accepting her denial of any participation in the Laramie bank robbery. How could she ever expect him to understand this situation?

There had to be another way. She only wished she knew what it was.

***********

It was uncommon for Mitch and Reed to take an extra day at Half-Way House but with the onset of spring, there were repairs that needed to be made to the coach. Half-Way House was a comfortable place to do them.

They worked on the coach all afternoon. An inch by inch inspection of all the lines and harness was conducted, then all the thorough-braces underneath the vehicle were checked for signs of wear. The sand boxes attached to the brake pads were refilled and adjusted.

Standing at the open front door, Victoria watched them standing side by side, their heads bent together over the tedious job of examining all the lines for signs of stress. Occasionally she heard one of them laugh at the other's joke. She understood now the closeness between them. They'd been through hell together. Like steel forged by fire, their friendship had been forged with blood and personal tragedy.

She closed the door with a sigh, turning back to the task of starting supper. The thought that been playing in her mind for the past two weeks came bursting back into her consciousness. As much as she hated the thought of it, leaving Half-Way House was the only way to protect them. Who am I kidding? she asked herself sternly as she began banging pots and pans around. My leaving here won't stop Billy Joe from trying to rob them. It will only keep me out of it. I'll only be protecting myself.

She shook her head angrily, pausing to stare out the window at them again when Danny's high pitched laugher drew her attention. I'll write Mitch when I'm far away. I'll explain everything to him then. Then I won't have to see the expression on his face when he learns the truth about me.

Nodding firmly at the resolution she'd made, she wiped at her burning eyes with the back of her hand. It was the only way, but it would break her heart to leave Danny. In the short time she'd been here, he'd become like a part of her. But she couldn't think about that now. Too much depended on her escape.

She was very quiet during supper. She ate nothing, smiling thinly when Reed complimented her cooking at least a dozen times during the meal. Her stomach churned with the thought of what she must do.

When they finished eating, Reed and Deke pushed their chairs under the table and drifted toward the living room for a drink. Victoria lingered behind, waiting until Mitch rose from the table to approach him.

"Mitch, I need to talk to you privately," she said urgently, letting the words spill out before she changed her mind.

His brows raised in surprise when he saw the determination in her face. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said quietly as he attempted to move past her.

"I don't care whether you think it's a good idea or not!" she snapped, as she stepped in front of his escape. "The barn! Five minutes!"

She whirled around, letting him get past her. She yanked off her apron, then snatched up the cat's food as she strode determinedly toward the front door. She had no idea if he could show up. If he didn't, she have to do it in front of Reed and Deke. She didn't relish that idea. She suspected Mitch wouldn't either.

Mitch paced the living room twice, debating what to do. Ignoring the smirk on Reed's face, he finally turned for the front door. "Why don't you play checkers with Danny, Reed?" he suggested as he stepped onto the porch, then closed the door behind him.

Reed rumpled Danny's hair with a grin. "Get the checker board, Danny. Let's see if you can beat your old uncle," he said, taking Mitch's hint to keep the child in the house.

Watching Mitch walk toward the barn in the warm dusk, Victoria took a deep breath to gather her courage. She waited just inside the front opening, biting her lip, hoping she was doing the right thing.

"What is it, Victoria?" Mitch asked gruffly as he stepped into the darkening building. "I don't think there's anything for us to talk about."

She looked up at his handsome, uneasy face, feeling a surge of something she didn't want to put a name to flood through her. "Yes, there is. I'm quitting. I wanted to tell you first. That's all. I'll be taking the stage with you back to Elmwood on your next run."

She said it in a rush, afraid if she didn't spit it out quickly, she'd lose her nerve. She saw the surprise flashed into his face, followed closely by something else. She didn't want to put a name to that either.

Mitch hooked his thumbs in his belt while he returned her determined gaze. "You're what?"

"You heard me. I'm leaving."

"Why?"

"That should be obvious," she countered, leading his conclusion in a direction he'd believe.

"Now wait a minute," he said when she attempted to move past him. "That's not necessary, Victoria."

"Isn't it?" she said furiously as tears burned her eyes. "You haven't said a dozen words to me in the past two weeks except for "pass the biscuits" or "is the coffee ready?"

When we agreed to forget what happened between us, I didn't realize it meant I had to become invisible. You're making feel like I've committed a crime, Mitch. All we did was make love. Last time I checked, that wasn't against the law.

"Oh, I forgot,' she added angrily. "It is against your law, isn't it? Admitting that you've got honest to God feelings is a crime, isn't it? Excuse me, I won't make that mistake again!"

She pushed past him, anxious to get away before he saw the tears that had started streaming down her face. Letting out a relieved breath as she stepped into the warm night beyond the barn door, she thought she was safe, when suddenly she was caught in his strong hands and turned back to face him.

"Damn it, Victoria," he snapped as he held her immobile in front of him while he stared down her. "You can't leave like this!"

"Why should I stay?" she asked in a quivering voice that threatened to give away the depth of her anguish. "I told you I wasn't a whore, but that's how you make me feel when you pretend I don't exist. You make me feel cheap, Mitch. Like what we did was so dirty that you have to pretend it never happened at all. Well, let me tell you, mister, it wasn't like that! It was warm and sweet and...and wonderful! And I'm not going to let you punish me for it any longer!"

"I never meant to make you feel that way," he said when she paused to take a breath. "Its just that…that.."

"What, Mitch?" she demanded. "The idea that you might still have feelings in that big empty place in your chest scares you to death, doesn't it? Because you don't want to be hurt again. Well, neither do I! You think you're the only one who's ever been hurt? Well, you're not! But it doesn't keep me from caring...from wanting to…"

Her voice trailed off into silence as her throat closed up with emotion. She jerked herself free of his grasp as she moved once more toward the barn door and freedom.

"I don't expect you to understand, Victoria," he said behind her. She froze in her tracks to hear him out. "There's nothing left, in me, I mean. I've got nothing to give you."

"How do you know that? You haven't tried!" she cried. "You're so busy trying to protect yourself that you don't know what you're capable of. So I'm leaving. When you make the Elmwood run day after tomorrow. I'm leaving."

"I don't want you to go," he said, amazing himself as soon as the words popped out of his mouth.

She turned to stare at him in the growing darkness, her eyes softening at the painful sincerity in his face. "Then don't let me," she said quietly. "Give me a reason to stay."

"I can't," he said curtly as he brushed past her. He walked quickly back to the house without looking back.

Tears streamed down her face as she turned back into the dark sanctuary of the barn. Flinging herself face down in a pile of sweet smelling hay, she realized that she'd managed to tell him exactly how she felt while at the same time making him believe that was why she was leaving. I should feel good about that, she told herself as she lay in the hay, fighting back the sobs burning her throat. I'm doing it for you, Mitch. For you, and Reed, and Deke, and for Danny. I will not have a part in seeing any of you get hurt. I won't help Billy Joe. Leaving is the only way.

**********

Victoria did not know how long she laid in the hay, spilling her distress in broken sobs that seemed to go on forever. Finally, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse and turned over to stare up at the loft area while she debated about what to do next.

Marmalade and the kittens came to curl up next to her in the hay, purring contentedly as if trying to comfort her somehow. As she lay there staring up at the loft, she gradually became aware of a strange odor becoming stronger and stronger. A flicker in the deep recesses of the barn caught her eye as she sat up, sniffing the air, trying to locate the strange smell.

She saw the fire then, small and bright, but rapidly growing as it inched toward the stalls. The horses! Mitch had brought three of the horses into the barn earlier that afternoon in preparation for shoeing them early the next morning.

She leaped to her feet, racing toward the barn door. The horses had seen the fire. They began snorting and rearing in their stalls as she approached the door. An instant before she reached it, a figure stepped out of the shadows to confront her.

Her heart froze in her chest at the sight of him. She came to a sliding halt in the loose hay on the floor, looking around wildly for another exit. There wasn't one.

"Mitch!" she screamed as the man moved toward her with that sinister smile in place on his face. "Mitch! Fire!"

His closed fist in her face silenced any further warnings. The force of the blow knocked her off her feet. She landed with a dull thud on the barn floor. Just before she lapsed into unconsciousness, she saw him lean over her, leering as he watched her face begin to swell from the blow.

"Now we're even, bitch!" she heard him snarl just before she passed out. She never heard him leave.

Dimly, she became aware of her surroundings again. Struggling to a sitting position, she lifted one trembling hand to her face, then stared stupidly at the blood on her fingers when she brought it down again.

As she scrambled to her knees, she saw the men running from the house. A moment later Mitch snatched her up in his arms and carried her toward the yard. "The horses!" she managed to croak, struggling to break free.

"We'll get the horses," Mitch shouted at her as he sat her down outside the barn. "Stay put!"

He ran back into the barn to help Reed rescue the horses. Victoria gave a sigh of relief when all three animals were led to safety moments later. Once the horses were safe, the men turned their attention to putting out the fire.

"Victoria, get some buckets!" Reed shouted.

She ran to the house, snatched up all the buckets she could carry and dashed outside to the well. When the men got there, she was already pumping furiously to fill them.

The next few minutes became a blur of frenzied activity as they fought the fire. Victoria pumped water until she thought her arms would fall off while the men grabbed up the buckets as she filled them.

After what seemed hours, they put the fire out. When it became obvious that they'd saved the barn, all three men dropped to the ground to catch their breath. While Victoria leaned heavily against the pump, Mitch and Reed laid on their backs in the dew-covered grass.

"I can't believe we put it out," Mitch said, between gasping breaths. His chest heaved with exertion. Both their faces were covered with smoke.

"Me neither. If Victoria hadn't warned us, we'd lost it for sure," Reed agreed as he rolled onto his stomach in the wet grass to look at her. What he saw made him struggle to his knees as he nudged Mitch's shoulder. "Mitch! Look at her."

She was weaving on her feet. If Mitch hadn't reached her in time, she would've hit the ground at their feet. He swept her up in his arms as he headed toward the house. It was the first time he'd noticed her face. What he saw made his blood roar through his ears.

"Victoria, my God! Vicky, are you all right?" he asked hoarsely as he leaped up the porch steps.

"Hell no, she's not all right!" Reed snapped, right behind them. "Look at her face! Somebody knocked the hell out of her."

"Vicky, who was it?" Mitch demanded as he kicked the front door open. "Did you see him?"

Victoria managed to nod weakly as he swept her into the house. She lifted one hand to touch his face, but he was becoming a blur as her head swam. "It was…it was Hawkins," she squeaked an instant before she passed out again.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Victoria fought her way back to consciousness. Gradually she realized she was in her own bed, in her nightgown, with the covers tucked securely under her throat. When she opened her eyes, only one of them functioned. The left one was swollen shut from the impact with Emmett Hawkins meaty fist.

Her head pounded. Every muscle in her body felt strained. She turned her head on the pillow to locate the voices she heard. The room was empty, she realized slowly. The voices were coming from the hallway just outside her open door.

"That son-of-a-bitch!" she heard Mitch exclaim. The fury she heard in his voice startled her. "When I catch up with him, he's going to pay for this!"

Victoria wasn't sure if he meant burning the barn or hitting her. She strained to hear Reed's reply.

"Do you think Butterfield is behind this?"

Mitch shook his head. "I can't believe John Butterfield would resort to murder," he answered wearily.

It seemed to Victoria that the fight had gone out of his voice. He sounded tired and drained. But who had been killed, she wondered frantically.

"Mitch!" she called, desperately trying to sit up. Another wave of dizziness washed over her as he bolted back into the room.

He laid her back on the pillows gently, then sat down on the bedside to smooth her hair back. "It's all right, Victoria. Take it easy."

"Where's Danny?" she asked frantically, clutching at his forearm. "Is Danny all right?"

"Danny's fine," Mitch assured her as he took the wet towel Reed handed him and placed it over her eye. "I finally got him to bed a little while ago."

"I..I heard you say someone was dead. Who…"

"Tommy," Mitch told her gruffly. "The son-of-a-bitch killed Tommy before he started the fire."

"You're damned lucky he didn't finish you too," Reed pointed out.

Victoria searched the room for his face, then gave a brief sigh of relief when he stepped into her line of vision at the foot of her bed. "He didn't have time. When I started screaming he had to get out fast before you got there," she said stoutly.

"I'd say you messed up his plans good," Reed went on. "He meant to burn the barn down, figuring when we discovered Tommy's body, we'd think he died in the fire. Then you showed up and saw the fire before it got going big enough that we couldn't put it out."

"Gee, I feel really lucky," she said as sarcastically as possible, wincing when her smile made a sharp pain shoot through her face. "Think how good I'd feel if he hadn't been in a hurry."

"I doubt he'd been satisfied with beating the crap outa you," Reed said meaningfully as he exchanged glances with Mitch. "He'd probably have raped you first."

"That's a pleasant thought, Reed. Thank you for pointing that out. I'll sleep much better now."

Her determined spunk made them both smile. She pinned her one good eye on each one in turn as she asked, "Which one of you undressed me?"

"Oh, Mitch did," Reed assured her with a grin as he moved toward the door. "I figured he needed the practice."

The flush that leaped to Mitch's face made Reed chuckle as he passed through the door, closing it behind him.

While Mitch dipped the towel in the basin of water, then squeezed it out, and reapplied it to her face, Victoria stared at him thoughtfully. He was still smudged with smoke. His clothes reeked of it. She saw the singed hair above his forehead, realizing how much danger he'd been in trying to get the horses out safely and put out the fire.

She reached up to touch his face, to make sure he was unhurt. The surprise that leaped into his face at her gesture would have made her smile if she hadn't been so grateful that he was okay.

She halfway expected him to pull away from her touch, but he didn't. He sat very still for a moment, then took her hand in one of his, turned it over, and pressed it to his lips. Then he tucked it beneath the covers with a tight smile.

"Get some rest, Victoria. It's been a long night," he said gently as he rose from the bed.

"This doesn't change anything, Mitch," she said bravely as he moved toward the door. "I'm still leaving."

Mitch halted with his hand on the doorknob, but he didn't turn around at her statement.

"I know," she heard him say quietly just before he passed through the door and closed it firmly behind him.

**********

When the stage pulled out of Half-Way House two days later, it was still dark. Mitch purposely was leaving before Danny woke up to find Victoria gone. With no strongbox or passengers to protect, Reed was staying at Half-Way House to help calm the child when he awoke and realized she had left.

He stowed Victoria's carpetbag in the luggage boot, secured it, and then went to the front of the coach where Mitch was checking the lines before they pulled out.

"You and me have been friends since grammar school, Mitch," he said curtly. "But you're an idiot if you let her go. Now before you get your nose outa joint, hear me out."

"If I do, will you finally shut up about it?"

Reed nodded shortly, ignoring the sarcasm in Mitch's voice. "Danny's crazy about her, and so are you. You're just too damned stupid to admit it. Stop thinking with your head for once in your life and listen to this." He tapped Mitch's chest for emphasis. "If you let her go, you'll regret it the rest of your life."

"That's nothing new, is it?" Mitch snapped as he pushed Reed's hand away. "You look after Danny. I'll take care of me."

"Yeah, you're doing a real bang-up job of it so far," Reed said scornfully, stepping back to let Mitch climb up on the box. Then shaking his head, he returned to the porch where Victoria was saying goodbye to Deke.

She hugged the old man affectionately, swallowing the pain welling up in her throat. "You take care of them, Deke," she said softly as she stepped back from his embrace.

"You bet I will, even if one of them is an fool," he said with a meaningful glance at Mitch's back.

Victoria managed a weak smile as she walked down the steps where Reed waited. He took off his hat, looking embarrassed, not sure how to say goodbye to her.

"I better go. We don't want to keep Mitch waiting," she said with forced cheerfulness.

"To hell with him," Reed grunted. He gave her a brief hug before stepping back to survey her quivering chin and watery eyes.

The black eye was healing nicely. The swelling had gone down enough that she could see through it now but it was still discolored.

"Take good care of him, Reed," she whispered.

"If I thought beating the crap outa him would do any good, I'd give it a shot," he said, then grinned as he added, "Course I don't know if I could. Last time I tried that, I was ten years old and he blacked both my eyes."

She smiled bravely, then lifted her head as she strode to the coach. Reed held the door open for her and she climbed inside. The genuine sadness she saw in his cerulean blue eyes touched her. Then he stepped away from the coach.

"All right, Mitch. Take it out," he said resignedly.

Mitch whistled to the horses and the coach began to roll. As it picked up speed, Victoria leaned back against the wall, letting the tears flow freely. With the last glimpse of Half-Way House fading into the distance, she felt as though her heart had been ripped out of her chest. "Goodbye, Danny," she whispered through her tears. "I'll never forget you."

She prayed that her leaving would persuade Billy Joe to give up his plans to rob them. With her gone, surely he would reconsider, knowing the odds of taking a shipment from Mitch and Reed were slim at best. But that was small comfort as the miles piled up. At the end of this journey she'd have to say goodbye to Mitch forever. The fact that she was doing it to protect him did not ease the crushing pain in her heart.

************

Seventy miles from Half-Way House Victoria realized the vehicle was slowing to a complete stop. She pushed aside the leather curtain to look out, seeing they had stopped on a long straight stretch. Then she heard the top of the coach creak from Mitch's weight as he climbed down. A moment later he opened the door next to her.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously.

"Nothing to worry about. It's just Crazy George. Looks like he's sick, or hurt, or something. I'm going to take a look. Stay here. I'll be back in a minute."

When he walked away toward the front of the teams, she scrambled out of the coach. She glanced in the direction he was headed, seeing the crumpled figure on the roadside a hundred yards ahead. Then she raced to the front of the coach, struggling to climb up the side, reaching for Reed's Winchester laying on the seat. They weren't carrying anything of value but without Reed's protection, she'd just feel better if she had the gun in her hands.

Mitch approached the crumpled figure warily. The tattered man lay with his back to the direction Mitch was coming from, his knees drawn up to his chest as if in pain.

"George," Mitch called as he got closer. "Hey, George, what's the matter? Are you sick?"

He halted behind the body, pushed his hat back as he hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt, then nudged George with the toe of his boot. George moaned, but did not move. Mitch leaned over with one hand on George's shoulder to turn him face up so he could see what was wrong with him.

When the body twisted beneath his hand, it took Mitch only a split second to realize that it wasn't Crazy George at all. But that split second was all it took for the pistol in Emmett Hawkins' hand to spit flame and lead.

The bullet caught Mitch high in the right side, spinning him around. He went to his knees in the road, reaching for his gun, but Hawkins' bullet had done too much damage. His right hand was useless. He knew pulling the gun in time to stop Hawkins from shooting again was impossible.

Sparks flickered behind his eyes. He shook his head to clear his vision as Hawkins got to his feet, thumbing the hammer on the Colt.

Grinning widely, Hawkins took his time. "Well, well, Cole, you don't look so smug now, you bastard! I could kill you quick, make it easy, but I want to enjoy it. I want to see you crawl before I put you out of your misery."

"You better do it quick, Hawkins," Mitch said through clenched teeth. "I'm not that easy to kill."

Hawkins made another circle around him, waving the gun in his face. "There's nobody to save you, Cole. Driscoll didn't make this run. There's nobody on that coach but the girl." He paused to give a sinister laugh. "When I finish you off, I'm going to have some fun with her. I'll teach the two of you to make a fool of me."

Mitch saw him pull back the hammer through a black haze, afraid he was going to pass out. He struggled to retain consciousness as Hawkins moved a step closer. He stared down the barrel of the Colt, knowing he was going to die, but that wasn't even the worse of it. He thought about Danny, about what would become of him if he died on this bleak stretch of road in the middle of nowhere.

He thought about Victoria being at Hawkins' mercy, knowing what Hawkins had in mind for her. That thought sent a spurt of adrenaline through his veins, but although he ordered his right hand to reach for his gun, his body was unable to react. Only his fingers twitched. It was as if the message had been interrupted before it could make his hand respond.

Mitch heard Hawkins give an evil chuckle while he pointed the Colt. Then he vaguely heard the crack of a rifle in the distance. An instant later the sinister expression on Hawkins' face changed to disbelief. The gun fell from his fingers as he crumbled to the ground. He was dead before the echo of the Winchester died away on the spring breeze.

Victoria tossed the rifle down on the seat and scrambled down, running up the road to reach Mitch. He was still on his knees, weaving unsteadily when she arrived at his side. When she knelt beside him, she quickly saw that his right side from the shoulder down was drenched in blood.

He leaned his head against her, struggling to stay conscious while she unbuttoned his shirt to see the wound. "He didn't think I had a shotgun guard," he managed to say with a weak smile while she tore off pieces of her petticoats to stuff inside his shirt. "Stupid bastard didn't know you very well, did he?"

"No, he didn't," Victoria agreed anxiously as she tried to stem the flow of blood.

"This is the second time you've saved my life," he said with his face pressed into her shoulder.

"I'm aware of that. You're not paying me enough. I deserve a raise, don't you think?"

"Victoria?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to pass out now."

"Don't you dare!" she ordered fiercely. "How will I get you back to the stage if you pass out? You hang on, Mitchell Cole! Do you hear me? You will not pass out until we get back on that stage!"

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled as another cloud of dizziness assaulted him.

Satisfied that she had patched up the wound the best she could for the moment, Victoria got to her feet. Putting both hands on his left forearm, she gave a mighty heave. "Mitch, you've got to stand up," she told him when he failed to get up. "When I pull, you get your feet under you. Do you understand?"

Mitch nodded. "Victoria, bring the horses up. Just grab the lead team's bridles and lead them. They'll do what you want. Just talk to them."

She realized he was right. She eased him down in the roadway, then raced back to the coach. She caught the right front horse's bridle and pulled. "Come on, Baby," she said to the horse in a gentle voice. "Don't play dumb with me. Just put your big feet one in front of the other. That's a good girl."

It seemed to take forever. The horses were in no hurry to obey her and slung their heads nervously at her frantic attempt to move them along. She felt sweat drip down her back and trickle between her breasts as she tugged on the bridles. She could have sworn she heard the lead horse sigh finally and then felt the power surge inside the harness as the coach began to move.

A few moments later she had the stage halted next to Mitch in the road. She took his left hand and pulled. Mitch struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on her as she supported the bulk of his weight.

When he realized that she meant for him to get inside, he leaned against the coach for support and shook his head. "On top, Vicky. I have to get on top."

"It's a fine time to think of that," she quipped as she gasped for breath. "We can discuss positions later. Right now we have more pressing matters."

In spite of himself, Mitch grinned at her determined cheerfulness. "Just help me get up there."

"Why? You can't drive anyway."

"I know that, but you'll need my help."

"Really? I think I've done pretty well so far without your advice."

"Don't argue with me. Just help me get up there," Mitch said wearily as he reached for the edge of the box with his left hand.

Using every last ounce of his strength, he pulled himself upward while Victoria pushed against him from below. After the second try, he fell into the box with a muffled groan. By the time Victoria dashed around the coach and climbed up on the opposite side, he had passed out and was lying in the boot at her feet.

She managed to get him upright after several valiant tries. Knowing he could never sit on the seat, she pulled him around until his back was resting against the edge of the box with his legs extended toward the driver's seat.

She checked the bandage inside his shirt, gasping at the amount of blood he'd lost in such a short time. Flinging her skirt up, she quickly tore off another large piece of her petticoat to stuff over the wound. She touched his face, frightened at how cold and clammy he felt. Grabbing up his wrist, she quickly felt for a pulse, then gave a sigh of relief when she found it, fast but weak.

"You're going into shock," she said to him. "I've got to get you warm and get the bleeding stopped." She refused to let the alternative cross her mind.

She stood up in the box, looking around frantically. From her vantage point, she could see nothing but the narrow winding road leading to the horizon. Farther ahead were trees and rougher country.

"Mitch," she said to him urgently. "Mitch, wake up!"

He groaned, then his eyes fluttered open. He looked surprised almost until he remembered what had happened. He tried to get up, but her hands firmly in his chest convinced him otherwise.

"Stay still. Don't try to move," she commanded in a voice so calm she barely recognized it. "Where are we?"

"About seventy miles from Half-Way House." Keeping his eyes open was a chore. He tried to focus on her face but it was becoming a blur.

"That makes it roughly thirty more miles to Elmwood. You're losing too much blood to make it. Is there any place closer where we can hold up until I get the bleeding stopped?" she asked.

Mitch tried to think but his mind was so fuzzy it was several moments before he could focus on her question. "Up ahead, about four or five miles…"

His eyes started rolling back as unconsciousness hovered closer, but Victoria's insistent slapping on his face fought back the fog.

"What's ahead four or five miles?" she demanded. "Come on, Mitch, stay awake. Just another minute. What's ahead?"

"A side road, to the right. A relay station...Butterfield's old relay station….abandoned for years."

She let go of him then and sat down in the driver's seat on the bench. She quickly unwrapped the lines from around the brake and interlaced them through her fingers the way he'd shown her before. She slapped the reins against the rear team's broad shiny backs but the only response she got was their disgruntled snorts. She tried again but still the horses did not move.

"Oh my God," she said half aloud. "What do I do?"

While she pondered the dilemma, Mitch moved again. He lifted the fingers of his left hand to his mouth and whistled sharply, before lapsing back into unconsciousness.

Immediately the horses lunged into the harness and the vehicle began to move. As they picked up speed, Victoria had to grasp the lines tightly to keep the animals from yanking them out of her grip. It was a struggle to hang onto the reins as the horses broke into a spirited gallop. In only minutes her hands were going numb and her shoulders felt like they were being pulled from their sockets.

She glanced at Mitch's bloody, limp body lying in the boot at her feet, feeling an even greater respect growing inside her. "You're one hell of a man, Mitch Cole," she said aloud with a tight smile. "Stupid.. stubborn...proud...but any man who can do this day in and day out has to be something special."

She saw the road he'd mentioned leading off the right about two hundred yards ahead. Pulling back on the reins had little effect on the horses. "Whoa!" she shouted to them as she sat back on the reins with all her strength. "I said whoa, you stupid beasts!"

"The brake, Victoria. Use the brake."

She glanced down at him, relieved to see his eyes were open and that he seemed lucid for the moment at least.

She shoved her left foot against the brake as she continued pulling back on the reins until finally she felt the horses respond. They came to a complete halt in the middle of the road alongside the trail that turned off leading to the abandoned relay station. While they snorted and stamped at her amateur attempts to turn them onto the narrow lane, Victoria felt tears burn her eyes.

"Now what?" she asked Mitch, thankful that he seemed more alert. "How do I make them turn?"

"Your right hand, Victoria. The reins...you have to turn each team separately so they don't get tangled up and turn us over."

"How in God's name do I do that?" she asked as her voice rose in pitch and desperation.

"Turn the lead team first. Just pull the leaders reins to the right. When they make the turn, pull the swings reins to the right, then the wheelers. Just stay calm. They know what to do, even if you don't. Just don't yank the reins and confuse them," Mitch explained slowly. "You're doing fine, Victoria. Just don't panic and rattle the horses."

She took a deep breath, then exhaled. She tried to pull on the lead team's reins separately but nothing happened. Finally, she took the other two sets of reins in her left hand, leaving only the leader's reins in the right. Pulling firmly to the right, she was surprised when the horses made an abrupt turn toward the lane. She quickly changed the swing team's reins to her right hand, pulling on it firmly until they made the turn as well. She was almost laughing when she switched hands with the last set of reins and the rear team followed the others, pulling the stage onto the rough, overgrown lane.

"Nothing to it!" she said with a relieved smile to Mitch.

"The station is about a half mile up this lane. I don't know what kind of shape it's in. It's been years since it was used."

"As long as it's got a roof and four walls, it'll be fine," she said confidently as the vehicle rumbled along the trail.

The right front wheel hit a pothole that made the whole coach rock and brought a pained gasp from Mitch's stiff lips. "Damn, Victoria, you drive just like Reed."

"How's that?" she asked, as she struggled with the lines.

"There's not a hole in the road between Elmwood and Paradise that he's ever missed."

"Is that you never let him drive?" she asked, relieved that he was talking.

"No, he doesn't drive because every time he tried it, he turned the stage over, with us on it," Mitch answered weakly. "Once when it was full of passengers."

In spite of the pain in her arms and the fear that clutched at her every time she glanced at the blood oozing from his wound, Victoria laughed. She could picture Reed's reaction to dumping a load of passengers out onto the road. He probably thought it was funny and laughed his guts out.

A few minutes later the relay station sprang into view around a bend in the trail The horses slowed to a halt in front of it, then stamped and snorted as Victoria wound the lines around the brake handle.

She stood up to dismount, pausing to throw Mitch a quick glance. "We're here. I'm going to see what kind of shape it's in. I'll be back in a minute."

"Wait a minute."

When she turned back to look at him, he was trying to pull his pistol from the holster with his left hand. Cursing under his breath when he couldn't get the gun out, he looked up at her weakly.

"My gun, Victoria, take my gun...just in case."

Nodding, she leaned over him to pull the pistol from the holster while his hand fell back at his side. "One of us has already been a fool today. Let's not take anymore chances," he said ruefully as she used her skirt to wipe his blood off the pistol grips.

Victoria leaped down from the box and hurried toward the dilapidated structure. It was overgrown with weeds and the porch steps had rotted away, but the interior was still in good shape and the roof intact. Thunder rumbled in the distance, making her look up anxiously. A storm was brewing in the north. She had to hurry.

When she finished her inspection, she raced back to the coach. "It'll have to do," she said as she scrambled onto the seat. "Can you walk?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked curtly, as he struggled to get up. "I don't think you can carry me."

She met his gaze with a flash of defiance. "Not unless you lose about a hundred pounds in the next five minutes. You just get down. I'll get you inside if I have to drag you."

"That's what I like about you, Victoria," he said with tight smile as he swung his legs over the edge of the box. "You've got spunk."

"I didn't think you liked anything about me," she countered as she raced around the vehicle to help him get down.

"Well, you're wrong. You've got guts. You don't burst into tears every time something goes wrong. Besides, you can outshoot any man I've ever seen, expect maybe Reed. I admire that in a woman."

"Lucky thing for you," she reminded him as he put his foot on the wheel, then tentatively put his weight on it. She saw the pain in his face, knew he was exerting every ounce of strength.

"Yeah," he gasped, wincing at the pain stabbing through his chest as he twisted to catch the edge of the box with his left hand. "I'd have gotten my damn fool self killed today if you hadn't been here."

"Wonder what happened to the real Crazy George?" she asked as he got both feet on the ground. She slipped beneath his arm to support his weight as they moved slowly toward the house. "Think Hawkins killed him?"

"No doubt," Mitch answered weakly as she maneuvered him into the abandoned house.

Victoria leaned him against the front door jam while she hurried across the room to make a place for him to lay down in front of a stone fireplace. When Butterfield abandoned the station, everything had been left behind so that she was able to locate several dusty blankets. She quickly spread them out in front of the fireplace, then hurried back to Mitch.

He was leaning heavily against the door frame, weaving unsteadily. As she reached him, she saw his eyes roll back as he let out a groan. A moment later he fell into her arms in a dead faint.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Victoria spent the next half hour trying to make Mitch comfortable. She knew she had to keep him warm and get the bleeding stopped if she was to prevent him from going into shock so deeply he might not come out of it. The clammy texture of his skin spurred her into greater action.

She covered him up with the dusty blankets she'd found tossed about the room. Next she hurried outside to gather up enough dry wood from the rotted steps to build a fire in the fireplace. She didn't have any matches but luckily found a box on the mantle. Soon a fire was blazing, warming the afternoon chill and beating back the shadows that began forming as the thunderstorm moved closer.

The thunder was growing louder as she recovered her carpetbag from the luggage boot. Lightning streaked across the darkening sky. She set her carpetbag and the lunch basket she had packed before leaving Half-Way House early that morning on the porch. So much had happened in those few hours. It seemed like another lifetime.

The horses' impatient stamping drew her attention. She looked toward the yawning barn door a hundred yards across the yard from the house. With Mitch's pistol securely in her grasp, she hurried to see if the structure was safe for the team.

The barn was in worse shape than the house with patches of light showing through the roof where the shingles had been blown off. But it was better than standing outside in a thunderstorm, she decided.

She raced back to the coach to begin uncoupling the teams from the vehicle. Then she led them to the barn, where she put them in stalls with the harness still in place. "Sorry fellas," she said to them as she ushered the last team into a stall. "I can't unharness you. I don't know how to put it back properly and Mitch won't be in any condition to. You'll just have to make the best of it tonight."

Satisfied that they would be safe from the approaching storm, she rushed back to the house just as the first raindrops began pelting down.

By now nightfall had come, closing in around the abandoned relay station like a heavy blanket. She had located some candles earlier and lit a couple of them now to drive back the gloom.

Sitting down beside Mitch on the floor, she was relieved to find his pulse was stronger now, his skin warmer too. She added another piece of wood to the fireplace, then began the task of removing his blood-soaked clothes. Both his vest and shirt were stiff where the blood had begun to dry.

When she had gotten the vest and shirt off, she gasped at the sight of the bullet wound. It was several inches above his belt in his right side, oozing blood in a steady scarlet stream. She whipped open her bag, tore several bandages from her packed underclothes, then pressed firmly against the wound to stop the bleeding.

Mitch flinched, groaning at the pressure she was exerting. His eyes fluttered open after a time, watching her pursed lips and narrowed eyes as she concentrated on stopping the flow of blood. Her long black hair fell around her shoulders like a soft veil. Her face, despite the discolored eye, was beautiful. Her eyes, when she glanced down to find him watching her, were breathtaking.

She lifted one blood covered hand to brush back a lock of unruly hair, while she returned his gaze. "What are you looking at?" she asked as she returned to applying pressure on the bandage.

"You're beautiful," he said weakly. "Anybody ever told you that?"

She nodded without looking at him. "Once or twice, but I like the way you say it better."

He fell silent again. When she lifted her gaze from the wound to look at him, she was stirred by the raw masculinity in his strong body. His shoulders were wide and powerful, his upper arms heavily muscled. After driving the stage for a mere five miles, she understood how those muscles were developed. Her back and arms still ached mercilessly from struggling to retain control of the horses.

She laid one trembling hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall rhythmically beneath her fingers. It was covered in soft black hair from his collarbone to his stomach, disappearing beneath his belt in a heavy vee. Except for the ugly bullet hole in his side, he was just about perfect, she thought.

"You'll never know, Mitch, what you mean to me," she said softly, knowing he couldn't hear her. "Leaving you and Danny is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I have no choice. If I go away, he'll reconsider trying to take the gold. He's not the bravest man I've ever known." Her eyes misted as she stared at his brown throat, watching the pulse hammering there. "I wish I could explain, tell you everything, but I can't. I could never make you understand. Leaving is the only way to save you...and Reed, and Danny…and myself. See, I'm not very brave either. So as bad as it hurts to leave you, it won't hurt as bad as having you look at me the way I know you would if you knew…. I couldn't bear that…."

She fell silent when he stirred again. When his eyes opened, she forced a smile, pushing those painful thoughts to the back of her mind to be taken out and examined later. "How do you feel" she asked him as she tucked the blanket around his throat.

"Like somebody shot me," he grunted.

"Have you been shot before?"

His dark head moved in a brief affirmative motion. "The first year I drove for Butterfield. I caught a bullet in the thigh during a hold-up attempt. It was bloody, but it never hurt like this."

"I've got some food here. You need to eat something to keep your strength up," she told him briskly. "I've managed to catch some rain water too. I'll get you some."

She climbed stiffly to her feet, rubbing at her aching back as she walked across the dimly lit room to retrieve the lunch basket and water she'd caught in an enamel cup she'd found in the house.

"He meant to rape you after he killed me. The son-of-a-bitch would've done it too, if you hadn't killed him. And there wouldn't have been a damned thing I could've done to stop him."

Victoria's eyes narrowed with contempt for Emmett Hawkins. "That might've proven harder to do than he thought," she said as she sank back to the floor at Mitch's side. "That's been tried before."

Mitch's brows lifted in surprise at the ice in her voice as she unwrapped the sandwiches. "By whom?" he asked, surprised at the flood of anger that rushed through him at the thought of anyone trying to harm her.

"By my stepfather when I was fifteen."

She let out a shuddering breath as she looked back at him directly. It had been years since she'd told anyone, but telling Mitch now seemed like the natural thing to do. "My father died when I was very young and my mother married again the summer I was fourteen. He was a preacher, one of those hell fire and brimstone kind. He preached every Sunday about going to hell for having impure thoughts and every Sunday afternoon while my mother went on her church visitations, he tried to force himself on me."

She paused to catch her breath, seeing the anger flare in his eyes. It warmed her to know he was outraged about something that had happened so long ago. "I always managed to escape though. You learn to be fast when you're being chased through the house by a half naked man twice your age shouting that you're going to hell for being disobedient to your father."

She flashed Mitch a tight smile while lifting his head to allow him a drink from the battered cup. Watching his smooth brown throat work as he swallowed, she tried to ignore the surge of heat flooding through her.

"What happened?"

"The summer I turned fifteen I met someone. My mother and the preacher were outraged, forbid me to ever see him again. I ran away with him and never went back."

"Were you in love with him, this boy?" Mitch asked, eyeing her thoughtfully over the rim of the cup.

"I thought I was," she replied reluctantly. "By the time I decided I wasn't, he'd dumped me in a dirty little border town with no money and nowhere to turn. I've been on my own ever since."

She felt his left hand reach up to touch her face, letting his thumb erase the tear that had escaped from her eyes. "Not a pretty story, is it?" she asked him in a trembling voice.

"True stories rarely are," he said, letting his hand fall back to the blanket.

"You're not shocked? Or appalled?"

"No."

She forced herself to return his steady gaze while she toyed with the picnic bag. "I did a lot of things, Mitch, to survive, but I never sold myself for money. I want you to believe that."

"I believe it," he said gently as she rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand.

"I'll make you a deal, Mitch," she told him with a spark of her old spirit. "For tonight, for what time we'll be together before we get to Elmwood, I won't relive the past...if you won't."

He stared at her for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "Deal."

She put the untouched food and water away, then lifted the blanket to check on his wound. "Looks like the bleeding has stopped. You're going to be okay once the bullet comes out."

He watched her get up and add wood to the fire. The rain pelting down on the tin roof filled the room with a quiet peace that soothed both his aching body and frazzled senses. While he stared at her, Victoria slowly unbuttoned her dress, all the while keeping his gaze locked with hers by sheer willpower. When the dress floated to the floor, she saw the heat that lit his eyes. By the time she had slipped out of her undergarments, the fire in his eyes was as hot as the one burning in the fireplace behind her.

He lifted the blanket in a silent invitation. She slipped beneath it into his waiting arms with a smile.

"I'll be gentle with you," she murmured against his mouth. "Do you still want to get on top?"

His husky chuckle made her pulse race out of control as she snuggled into the curve of his body. "I'm not sure I can."

She cupped his face with her hands, staring into his eyes with a ferocity that equaled his own. "You can do anything you put your mind to, Mitchell Cole. Just for tonight…do it. Don't think about tomorrow. Don't think about the past or anyone in it. Just for tonight," she whispered softly as her hands moved from his face down across his chest, trailing light circles in the silky hair.

His mouth crushed hers in a powerful kiss that swept all questions away. His arms encircled her body, pressing her tightly against him. The pain in his side became a vague memory as she quickly loosened his belt and slipped her hand inside his trousers. He gasped as her fingers encircled him, but it was lost in the kiss that melded them together.

Victoria eased his trousers off as he kicked off his boots. With her lips still claiming his, her tongue seeking until it found his, she moved astride him, slipping him deep inside her. His eyes flashed open, almost scorching her with their heat, but she knew he could see the same fire in hers. Then with a slow, tantalizing rhythm, she brought them both to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

She felt his body shudder beneath her, felt every muscle in him constrict as he let out a muffled gasp, with his mouth pressed against her throat. Immediately her own body similarly responded.

She slid off his sweat drenched body, curling up in his arms with her head in the hollow of his shoulder. "For a man who's lost a gallon of blood, you're pretty strong," she said softly while her forefinger traced the nipple on the left side of his chest.

"Maybe I'm getting better with practice," Mitch said, burying his face in the warm veil of her hair.

Victoria smiled as she snuggled deeper into his embrace, enjoying the feel of their naked bodies melded together beneath the blanket. "Morning is a long way off," she said suggestively. "You still have a lot of time to practice."

Mitch's mouth covered hers again in a kiss that was warm and sweet. "Remember I'm a wounded man," he said against her lips. "It may take me a while."

"That's okay," Victoria assured him as her hands moved down his body again to encounter the erection already emerging. "I'm a very patient woman."

CHAPTER TWENTY

When morning came, Mitch was still pale and weak from the blood loss, but there were no signs of infection. As Victoria examined the wound, she knew it was only a matter of time until infection set in, however. The bullet had to come out soon. She packed the wound again with the last of her undergarments while he lay watching her thoughtfully.

"The C & D Stage Line owes me for a bag full of unmentionables," she said with a forced smile as she took his hand. He gritted his teeth against the pain as she pulled him to a sitting position. "The only ones I own are the ones I'm wearing. You've bled all over everything else."

"I'll add that to your severance pay," Mitch said with a grim smile. He glanced up at her standing over him to assist in putting his shirt back on. "That is, if you still intend to leave."

Victoria nodded as she knelt in front of him to button his shirt. His right arm was unusable from the trauma the bullet had inflicted so he was unable to even button his own shirt.

"I'm still leaving."

She got quickly to her feet. Picking up his pistol from the hearth, she stuck it in the waistband of her skirt as she moved toward the door. "I'll bring out the horses," she said briskly to cut off any further discussion on the subject.

Behind her departing back, Mitch watched the door close behind her. "Damn!" he said aloud, feeling a rush of pain, knowing it had nothing to do with the bullet in his side.

Victoria led the horses to the stage one team at a time, trying to ignore their disparaging expressions. "I know you're hungry and thirsty, and I know spending the night in that drafty old barn with your harness on wasn't very pleasant, but it couldn't be helped," she told the huge rear team as they approached the coach.

"I promise I'll make it up to you when we get to Elmwood," she added as she backed them into position. It only took a few minutes to get them all hitched up. While they snorted and slung their heads impatiently, she went back into the house.

Mitch met her at the door, surprising her that he was on his feet at all. She avoided his gaze as she took the remainder of yesterdays picnic lunch and one of the blankets back toward the door.

"Everything's ready," she said hastily, glancing at him leaning against the door frame for support. "Can you make it to the stage?"

Mitch nodded as he let her slip beneath his arm. "You've got the teams hitched?"

"Of course. I just did the reverse of what I did yesterday when I unhitched them. Nothing to it."

"Did you check the lines to make sure they're not tangled?" he asked as they moved slowly toward the vehicle.

"No, I'll do that as soon as you're aboard. Anything else I should look for?"

Mitch shook his head as he gritted his teeth. "No, everything else should be okay. We've only got another thirty miles to cover."

Thirty more miles and then I'll never see you again, Victoria thought unhappily as they approached the stage. She shook herself to push those thoughts away. She'd take out her heartache and examine it later when they reached Elmwood and Mitch was safely under a doctor's care. Right now, she had to get him there as soon as possible.

"I suppose you intend to ride on top," she said. After his curt nod, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. That way I'll be able to keep an eye on you."

His gaze touched her for a moment when they reached the vehicle. "I'm fine, Victoria," he grunted.

"Sure you are," she jeered, dropping the blanket on the ground. "You're white as a sheet and so weak from losing all that blood you can hardly stand. Your legs are only holding you up by sheer willpower. And you're in a lot of pain. You're just fine, all right."

Mitch's eyes widened at the sharp tone of her voice. She was obviously upset but he wasn't sure why. "Don't snap my head off," he growled, reaching for the edge of the box with his left hand while the pain in his side made him gasp.

"I didn't!" she snapped back as she watched him heave his wounded body into the box.

"What the hell is the matter with you this morning?" Mitch sank down in the boot, putting his back against the edge of the box so he could sit up. "It was your idea to forget everything for one night. You knew as well as I did that it wouldn't change anything."

She climbed up the side of the vehicle with the blanket. Flinging it at him, she started back down to check the lines. "Wrap up in that. You've got to stay warm. You could still go into shock, especially if you start bleeding again."

"Victoria, wait."

She paused to glance at him as she swung her legs over the edge of the box. The concern in his eyes did nothing to ease the lump in her throat. The last thing she needed from him now was concern.

"What is it?"

"About last night…"

"We had a deal, remember?" she reminded him coolly. "It only lasted through the night. Now the deal's off."

Without giving him a chance to respond, she leaped to the ground. She hurried to the front team to check the lines. She fiddled with them, hardly able to see them because of the tears in her eyes. Last night had been wonderful, but it was over. Sunrise brought back the painful reality that she had to leave him and she wasn't going to let him make it any harder than it was already.

Satisfied the lines were straightened out, she wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand, then climbed back up into the box. She took up the reins from the brake handle and threaded them through her fingers. Slapping them against the horses' back, she let out a piercing whistle, smiling grimly when they lunged into the harness and the stage began moving.

Finally risking a glance at Mitch, she was relieved to see that he was asleep. Staring for a moment at his dark head leaned back against the edge of the box, she felt the tears start again, but she quickly wiped them away on the shoulder of her blouse. There was no time for tears. Not now. She had to get Mitch to a doctor. Nothing else mattered.

*************

By the time they had gone ten miles Victoria thought her arms were going to pop out of the sockets. The constant strain of keeping the lines taut enough to maintain control was taking a toll on her strength. The power coursing through those reins was more than a little intimidating as she struggled to stay calm. She ached to stop the vehicle for even a minute to catch her breath and let the circulation in both arms return but one glance at Mitch's ashen face convince her that was unwise.

They came to a stream crossing the road. What was normally a peaceful brook was now an overflowing river from last night's rainstorm. The horses stopped on their own, snorting and tossing their heads as they eyed the rushing water. While Victoria sat staring frantically at the river, unsure of what to do, Mitch stirred, then opened his eyes.

One glance at the expression on her face made him struggle to sit more upright in order to see what had alarmed her. "What is it, Victoria?" he asked through gritted teeth as he stared at her.

"The stream," she croaked, pointing ahead to the water. "The rain…it's overflowing. The horses won't go any further."

Mitch used his left hand to pull himself upon the seat so he could see what she meant. "Damn!" he said when he saw the water rushing by.

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to cross."

"How?" Victoria asked in amazement.

"You're going to drive them across."

"Mitch, I don't think…"

. "Victoria, listen to me," he said, speaking to her in the same gentle comforting tone he used with Danny when the child was frightened or upset. "You've come this far. You can do it. The horses will only hit the water if they have confidence in you. Now, take up the lines and hold on. Keep them taut, don't give them any slack. Understand?"

She nodded, staring at him open-mouthed. Looking into his eyes, she felt her fear begin to fade. "Okay, what else?"

"Nothing, the horses will do the work. You just hold on and stay calm."

With that, he whistled sharply at the team. The lead team slung their heads and snorted, but then began wading into the water. Soon they were up to their necks in the fast flowing stream.

"Keep the lines taut, Victoria," Mitch told her as he braced his legs against the front of the box when the vehicle rocked frightfully.

"Mitch, I can't do it. I'm scared!"

"You can do it, Victoria. You've done one hell of a job so far. Hang on, we're halfway across. Stay calm and the horses will too. Panic now and they're likely to dump us in the river."

"I can't swim," she told him, hanging onto the reins fiercely as the lead team reached the opposite bank.

"Best reason I know not to end up in the water," he said calmly.

Victoria looked at him, alarmed at the ashen quality of his skin, but the confident glance he threw her brought a tiny smile to her lips.

"Can you swim?" she asked.

"Not with one arm," he replied with a brief grin.

"I don't know why not," she said with a sideways glance at him. "You manage to do everything else pretty well with one arm."

The flush that crept up his neck made her smile. "You're amazing. Last night you weren't embarrassed in the least, but now you're blushing like a kid. Why is that?"

"Damned if I know," Mitch muttered as he returned her curious stare. A moment later the wheels hit the opposite bank as they emerged from the water.

When the vehicle was safely on dry land, the horses came to a complete halt, blowing water and stamping while they caught their breath. Victoria let out a long relieved breath.

"We made it!"

"Did you doubt we would?" Mitch asked her as he sank back down into the boot and leaned his head back against the edge of the box.

Victoria saw the beads of sweat that had popped up on his throat. She slid across the seat to put the back of her hand against his face, alarmed at how hot he was. "Fever," she said softly. "Mitch, are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

He nodded briefly, opening his eyes just long enough to look at her, then closed them again. "I'm fine, let's just keep moving, Victoria. We're only about twenty miles from Elmwood. We'll make it by noon if we don't run into anymore trouble."

"We're not going to have anymore trouble," she said confidently as she returned her attention to the horses. "You're burning up with fever. That bullet has to come out soon. If it doesn't…" she would not allow herself to finish the thought.

"If it doesn't, I'll die from the infection."

Flashing a startled glance at him, she saw his dark eyes pinned on her as the stage began moving forward again.

"That's not going to happen," she said stoutly. "I won't let it."

************

Despite aching muscles and a steadily growing fear in the pit of her stomach, Victoria got the stage into Elmwood shortly after noon. She leaped down from the box in front of the hotel and raced inside to find help.

"I need a doctor," she gasped to the ticket agent as she hurried to the counter. "Mitch has been shot! He needs help!"

Chops wasted no time in following her to the hotel door. Word of trouble on the stagecoach from Paradise had spread amazingly fast. The sight of a girl driving the coach into town with no sign of either Mitch or Reed had raised speculation about the cause almost before she got the vehicle stopped in front of the hotel. The sheriff came galloping up the boardwalk with two deputies on his heels as Victoria scrambled back up into the box to check on Mitch.

"What happened?" the sheriff bellowed from the street.

Victoria turned to shoot him a glance while she leaned down to pull the blanket back. "We were attacked about thirty miles outside town. Mitch was shot. W