boston renegade
by
unknown

Chapter One Boston April, 1872 Outside the run-down boardinghouse the
sun was desperately trying to peek through lowering gray clouds, while
inside, in one of the sparsely furnished rooms, Hanna Winters leaned
back in her overstuffed chair and closed her eyes.  Her hands were
still trembling slightly and her insides were taut and fluttery as she
rested the letter she'd been reading on her lap.  How had he found her
after all these years? How long had it been, ten?  No, eleven.  The
last she'd seen of Henry was when he walked out the front door of their
parents' home and said he'd be damned if he'd fight for a bunch of old
men who were sitting in Washington. If he was going to dodge bullets
he'd do it for himself.

No one had heard from him since, and now this.

Straightening apprehensively, she lifted the letter and looked at it
again, letting the words really sink in this time.

Dear Hanna, When you read this it will mean that I am dead.  I know
there was never any love lost between us, but you are my sister and the
only kin I have left.  I have known of our parents' deaths for some
years now and I am sorry Father left you penniless.  Perhaps I can make
up for that as well as the miliation you suffered when I ran off.  I
have done well over the years and what I have I leave to you with one
warning.  Never forget the days we spent as children in the east wing
of the old house.  If you remember this you will never have to worry
about money again, but beware for there are those who would take it all
from you.

I risked my life many times for what now belongs to you.  Do not throw
it away.

Your Brother, Henry G. Winters The letter had been accompanied by
formal papers from a lawyer.  Hanna glanced toward the table beside her
bed where the papers lay and frowned.  The papers stated that she'd
inherited a ten thousand acre ranch from Henry Girard Winters, who had
expired on the fifteenth day of the third month, in the year of our
Lord, eighteen hundred and seventy-two.

No note as to how Henry had died or anything.  Just the papers and the
name of the attorney to contact when she arrived in town.

She drew her eyes from the papers and looked once more at the letter.

It seemed strange hearing from Henry after all these years, and now
only after he was dead.

He said there was never any love lost between them.  Whose fault was
that? She wasn't the one who'd always picked the quarrels.  And she
wasn't the one who'd defied their parents every chance he had, stealing
from their father and running around with the wrong crowd.

Actually it had been no surprise when Henry'd walked out that day after
their father had refused to give him enough money to pay someone else
to go to war in his place.

The only thing that was a surprise was that he'd stolen the money
anyway. Still, he'd never returned, and Hanna was sure it had been her
brother's disappearance that had broken their mother's heart and
eventually caused her death.

Sighing wearily, she stood up, walked to the window and stared out.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Hanna?"  It was her landlady.

"yes?"

"Did you forget the rent?"

Hanna hesitated, then slipped the letter into the pocket of her bustled
skirt and headed for the door.

"I'm sorry, Mrs.  Brady," she said as she opened it.  "I'm afraid I've
been rather distracted this afternoon and forgot it was the first
Saturday of the month already."

Mrs.  Brady stepped into her tenant's room and watched Hanna hurry to
her handbag on the dresser and take something out.  She turned again
and handed Mrs.  Brady the eight dollars owed her for the next month's
rent.  Eight dollars that included all her meals as well as her room
and laundry.

The landlady frowned as she saw how Hanna's hands were trembling.

"Are you all right, dear?"  she asked.

Hanna hesitated.  She was never one to confide in others, but Mrs. 
Brady was more than just a landlady.

She was one of the few friends Hanna had.  "It's nothing, really.  It's
just that the letter I got in the mail today was rather a surprise."

"Not bad news, I hope."

"In a way, yes.  Yet I'm not sure."

"If there's anything I can do to help..."  Hanna had lived at Elizabeth
Brady's for eight years now, and during that time the two had slowly
become close, although the landlady had never nosed into Hanna's
private life unless asked.

"Maybe you could help a little," Hanna finally said, deciding she had
to talk to someone.

"Would you mind sitting down for a minute so we could talk?"  Elizabeth
slipped the eight dollars into the pocket of her red wool dress,
fluffed up the white ruffles of her fichu and walked to the overstuffed
chair Hanna had been sitting in only moments before.  Her dark eyes
studied Hanna curiously.

Hanna Winters was one of Elizabeth's best tenants.  Always on time with
the rent, never noisy, not a hint of scandal.  Not even any suitors,
but then that was understandable since Hanna just wasn't the sort of
woman men were attracted to.  At twenty-nine, her hair, which had been
coal black when she was younger, was prematurely white and she wore it
long, twisted and set in a knot atop the back of her head.

Even her eyes were a strange color.  Not blue, not gray, nor purple,
but a faded lavender, with gold and silver flecks running through them.
 Her dark eyebrows were striking because they hadn't turned white like
her hair, and they gave her a haunting, mysterious look.

However, there was nothing unusual about the rest of her face.  Her
nose was straight with a slight tilt at the end, and her lips, although
exceptionally pink, were full with just a slight over bite

Mrs.  Brady, who was twenty years older than her tenant, watched Hanna
closely as the younger woman strolled over to the window and stood
looking out for a minute, then turned to face her.

As a teacher at a private girls' school, Hanna fit in well; as a
seductive woman, she left much to be desired.

Her lavender eyes focused on Elizabeth and Hanna put her hand in the
pocket of her dark green skirt, pulling out the letter.  Once more her
hands were shaking.

"The letter I got was about my brother," she said, her voice anxious.

"I haven't seen or heard from him in eleven years and I just got the
news that he's dead."

"Oh, my, and I never even knew you had a brother."

"I might as well not have.  He was three years older than I, and I'm
afraid we never did get along.

However, it seems since I'm his only kin I've become his sole heir. 
"

"To what?"

"A cattle ranch somewhere near a place called Hangtown, Texas."

"A ranch?"

"That's why I'm so upset.  I'm a schoolteacher, Mrs.  Brady.  I don't
know anything about ranching, and besides, I've never been out of
Boston in my life.  I just- don't know what to do."

Elizabeth Brady frowned.

"What do you want to do?"

"That's just it, I don't know."

Elizabeth looked thoughtful.

"You could sell the place, I suppose."

"I suppose."  Hanna fingered the letter in her hands, remembering the
last sentence Henry had written telling her not to throw it all away.

"But then if I write back and tell the lawyer who wrote to me to sell
it for me, how do I know whether he'd be honest enough to send me what
the place might really be worth?"

"My, you do have a problem, don't you?"  Hanna reached up, fidgeting
with the pointed collar of her tailored blouse, its pale green color
contrasting with the darker green skirt she wore.

"What would you do if you were in my position?"  she asked, her other
hand tightening on the letter until it felt clammy in her hand.

Elizabeth Brady stared at her young tenant, then felt a twinge of
regret nudge her.

"What would I do?"  she mused, surprised that Hanna had asked.

"Oh, dear, I'm not really sure, but you know, I honestly think if I had
a chance to get out of Boston I'd jump at it."

"You would?"  Hanna was taken aback.

"Oh, my, yes.  Especially if I were young like you.  After all, what do
you have here?  A class full of pampered, spoiled young ladies who give
you nothing but trouble all the time, and a lonely room to come home
to."  ' "But a ranch?"

Elizabeth's eyes lit up.

"Why not a ranch?  You can learn about cattle just as well as anyone
else. You're not dumb, Hanna."

"No, but I'm not stupid enough to think I could run a ranch, either."

"Don't be ridiculous, dear."  Mrs.  Brady reached up, smoothing a
strand of salt-and-pepper hair.

"Running a ranch can't be much different from running a schoolroom. 
It's just that there are certain things that have to be done and you do
them."

"You make it sound easy."

"Well, I imagine it'd be a lot easier than riding herd on a bunch of
young girls.  After all, cattle can't talk back."

Hanna frowned.

"I just don't know."

"Think how exciting it'd be.  My, what an adventure.  I wish I had the
chanCe--I'd go."

"Would you?  Would you really?"

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What do you mean, would I really?"

"Just what you said."  Hanna's frown creased deeper.

"I could never go out there alone, but if I had someone with me..."

"Go with you?  You want me to go with you?"

"Why not?  You've always said you hated running the boardinghouse for
your dead husband's uncle.  Well, this is your chance.  And you
wouldn't have to spend any of your own money, either.  The lawyer sent
me a bank draft for enough to get me there, and with what I have saved
it should be enough for both of us."  "But just to leave..."

"That's what I'll be doing.  After all, you have nothing more to hold
you here than I do, and we've always gotten along so well together." 
Elizabeth's hand went to her mouth and she looked apprehensive.  Her
fingers tapped against her lips nervously.  Hanna was right.  She'd
always hated her life here at the boardinghouse, but when Daniel passed
away she'd been ill prepared to do anything else, and not being a young
woman anymore, it was the
only way she could take care of herself and not have to rely on other
people.  Besides, Daniel's uncle had needed someone to take care of the
house for him at the time and it only seemed logical for her to accept
his offer when he made it.  But oh, how she hated it.  Mostly because
Uncle Ambrose was such a crabby old miser.  But to do something so
drastic, and at her age.

She sighed.

"Oh, Hanna dear, you want an old lady like me with you?

Surely you don't mean that.  "

"Oh, but I do."  Hanna was sure now that the decision she'd just made
was the right one.  The solution was ideal.

"And you're not old, either.  Don't you see, it'll be a chance for both
of us.  Please, Mrs.  Brady.  I just can't go out there alone, and I
really don't think I want to stay here.  As you said, there's nothing
for me here."  ' Elizabeth was speechless.  She stared at Hanna for a
moment, then finally straightened in the overstuffed chair, finding her
voice.

"I don't know what to say," she said, her voice eager and breathless,
the light in her dark brown eyes filled with wonder.

"I never thought... I've always been so sure I'd die here in Boston
collecting rents from boarders."  Hanna smiled.

"Then you'll go?"

Mrs.  Brady shook her head and shrugged.

"Like you said, I guess I don't have any reason to stay here, either.

But oh, my dear Hanna, I never expected anything like this.  "

Hanna unfolded the letter in her hand and smoothed out the wrinkles.

"Then it's settled," she said emphatically.

"How long before you think you'll be able to leave?"

"Oh, my."  " Elizabeth looked thoughtful.

"I suppose Uncle Ambrose will have to find someone else.

And how about the school?  Won't they have to find someone to replace
you?  "

"Shall we give them a week?"

"Only a week?  That's not very long."

"Do you care?  Do you really care?"  Elizabeth's jaw set stubbornly and
she reached up, primping her hair.

"You know, I really don't," she answered, her voice sharp and
caustic.

"Oh, my!"  She clasped her hands, a smile softening her sharp
features.

"Isn't this exciting?"

"I hope so," Hanna said.  She looked at the letter again, then at Mrs. 
Brady.

"And I'm so glad you're coming with me," she went on, her lavender eyes
crinkling excitedly.

"Just think, Texas.  Who would have dreamed..."

Later that evening Hanna stood in front of the window in her room and
looked out across the front lawn of the boardinghouse.  The clouds had
won their battle with the sun just before dark, and now rain fell
steadily, making it hard to see as the wind that had risen whipped at
the trees lining the road.

Her years in Boston hadn't been all that bad, really, up until her
father's death.  It had only been then that life had started to
disintegrate into everyday survival.  If her father hadn't been so
deeply in debt she might have been able to retain a semblance of
respectability, but he'd owed everyone, and by the time the creditors
were paid off she'd had no other choice but to find employment.

Thank God she'd always paid attention to her studies.  However, she
never had been happy teaching.  Mrs.  Brady was right, she dreaded
every day spent at the Bryn Mawr Finishing School for Young Ladies.

But a Texas ranch?  Just the thought was frightening.  And she had
absolutely no idea where the town of Hangtown might be.  The letter
from the lawyer said it was some few hundred miles west of Fort Worth. 
She didn't even know where Fort Worth was.  It was undoubtedly a
military post somewhere, but she was sure she'd never heard of it
before.

She and Mrs.  Brady had spent most of the afternoon making plans, and
Hanna was glad now that she'd asked the landlady to join her.  She'd
always liked Mrs.  Brady.

Maybe because Hanna had never had any aunts and Mrs.  Brady seemed to
fill the void.  The landlady was always concerned but never
overbearing, and she seemed to have a zest for life lacking in all the
other women Hanna knew.

Of course the other women Hanna knew were all teachers like herself.

All except the librarian, who also boarded at Mrs.  Brady's.  But all
of them, including the librarian, seemed quite happy with their lot.

She reached up, pulled the window shade down, then began unbuttoning
the little pearl buttons on her green blouse.  She was going to need
some new clothes, that was for sure.

She hadn't bought anything new for years.  But then she'd had no reason
to.

By the time she slipped into her plain cotton nightdress, brushed out
her hair, then tucked it up into her lace nightcap, Hanna was already
making a mental note of everything she'd have to take with her.

A week and a half to the day after Hanna received the letter from her
brother's attorney, she and Mrs.  Brady were standing on the train
platform at the depot, ~waiting for their baggage to be loaded and the
train to pull out.

Ambrose Brady had been furious with his nephew's widow for leaving him
in the lurch, as he nastily put it, and the headmistress at Bryn Mawr
had told Hanna she'd be too hard to replace and tried to get her to
change her mind.

Hanna, however, had been emphatic.  Now, as she watched the last of
their luggage disappear into the baggage car and started to board the
train, she knew more assuredly than ever that her decision had been the
right one.  She was finally getting out of Boston.  Staid old Boston,
where you weren't anyone unless you had money, and even with money you
weren't anyone unless your background was the right one.

Well, her background had been the right one, but the loss of her
father's wealth had changed all that.  Too bad, she thought as she sat
down in her seat in the coach and made room for Mrs.  Brady beside her.
 There were other towns besides Boston, and she was determined to make
a place for herself in one of them.

Hanna watched with a fluttering stomach and new expectations as the
train belched smoke, shooting sparks high into the sky.  The city of
Boston was soon left behind.

They had bought tickets for as far as Chicago.  From there they'd
change trains, heading for St.  Louis, where they'd pick up the Kansas
Pacific Railroad for the next few hundred miles and get off in Abilene.
 According to the ticket agent in Boston, they'd have to make different
arrangements from Abilene south to Texas, since no railroads ran that
way as yet.  What arrangements he'd meant Hanna had no idea, although
she had heard about the stagecoach lines that were common all through
the west.

She had sent a letter to the attorney who'd written to her, telling
him when she was coming, and now as she sat back in the stuffy coach
and relaxed, watching the scenery go by, she tried to imagine what it
was going to be like in Texas.

It didn't work.  She knew absolutely nothing about the state except
what she'd read occasionally in newspapers or books.  Ah, well, she'd
learn soon enough what she had got them into, and settling her hands in
the lap of her dark blue traveling suit, she began to once more watch
the scenery go by.

Three days later, tired and weary, Hanna stood beside the train in the
dusty street of Abilene, Kansas, and turned to Mrs.  Brady.

"Are we really here?"  she asked, her gaze sweeping the length of the
train, then stopping to watch the men from the baggage car unloading
their luggage. Mrs.  Brady tried to smile, but she was just as fired as
Hanna.  They had slept on the train every night, and she felt as if all
the dirt and grit in the world had settled on her.

"Well, the conductor did say Abilene," she answered.

"We'd better get over there and make sure they have everything."

Both women had carried a carpetbag on the coach with them, and picking
them up, they headed toward the far end of the train, where the baggage
car was, to check that all their trunks had arrived with them.

Besides the bags they were carrying, each woman had two small trunks,
only now Hanna wasn't quite sure what they were going to do with them
because, unlike in Boston or even Chicago, there were no porters of any
kind, only myriad people scurrying about the recently arrived train.

There were four men handling the baggage, and Hanna walked over, set
down her carpetbag and tapped one on the arm.

"Excuse me, sir."

The man slid one of the trunks aside in the dusty street, then reached
in his pocket and grabbed a big blue kerchief, wiping his brow.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?"  he asked.  Hanna glanced at their
baggage.

"I'm afraid my friend and I are going to need some help with the trunks
you've just unloaded," she said, turning to look at the man, who was
quite big and brawny.

"I was wondering if you could perhaps direct us to a hotel where we
might stay, and to someone who could haul our trunks there for us."

The man finished wiping his brow, then straightened and looked off
across the wide street filled with horses, carriages and people, put
two fingers between his lips, and whistled so loudly that Hanna was
startled.

A young man sitting in front of a huge three-storied building across
the way jerked to attention, waved a hand and strolled over to where a
horse and wagon were parked.

Climbing into the driver's seat, he maneuvered the wagon across the
street and alongside the baggage car.  There wasn't even a platform for
the passengers to step out onto here in Abilene, so the wagon could
draw right up next to the train.

"This here's Leroy," the baggage handler announced as the young man
began to climb down.

"He can take you to a hotel, but I'll have to help him with the
trunks."

"Then please do," Hanna urged him.

After watching the men load the trunks onto the wagon, which Leroy
called a buckboard, Hanna and Mrs.  Brady let Leroy help them onto the
seat next to him, then the young man took the reins and turnexi to look
at Hanna.

"Which hotel, ma'am?"  he asked.

Hanna had no idea.  From where they were she couldn't get a good look
at the town.  She could hear cattle bawling somewhere nearby, and with
the bustle of people the place was frighteningly crude and noisy.

"Whichever's the best," she finally said.  As she straightened
stubbornly, the young man slapped the reins and the buckboard moved
forward.  Moments later Leroy was pulling the horses to a halt in front
of the building where he'd been relaxing.  It was painted yellow with
green trim, and there were venetian blinds at most of the windows.  The
place was huge, and Hanna could see that it had its own dining room.

"Here we are," he announced as he fastened the reins securely.

"This is the best, the Drover's Cottage."

Hanna had to admit the place looked far better than anything else in
town, but even at that it was awfully close to the stockyards they'd
seen earlier from the train.  It was probably just as plush inside as
the fancy hotels in Boston.  However, there were no porters or
bellboys.

Hanna let Leroy help her and Mrs.  Brady down, and while the two' women
went inside, the young man found a couple of men lounging around
outside to help him with their trunks and they followed the women in.

By the time the men had all four trunks in the lobby, the women already
had the keys to their rooms, only Hanna wasn't very happy.

"You're sure the stage south won't be in until Wednesday?"  she asked
again, wishing she could change the man's answer.

"Sorry, ma'am."  The desk clerk was insistent.

"The stage goes through here only twice a week, Wednesdays and
Saturdays, like I said."

"Well, at least that'll give us a chance to clean up some."  Elizabeth
looked at Hanna, then at her own dirt-covered clothes before looking at
Hanna again.

"I think we both could use some soap and water and a change of clothes,
don't you?"

Hanna knew how Mrs.  Brady felt.  It was as if the grit and filth had
been ground right in.

"Yes, but I'd feel better if we didn't have to spend so much time
here." Hanna glanced out the front window.

"Two days in this godforsaken place.  Goodness, we could be halfway to
Fort Worth by then."

The desk clerk smiled.

"That where you ladies are headed?"

Hanna nodded, the flower on her fancy little hat bobbing
unceremoniously as she did.

"That's only our first destination," she said, her unusual Boston
accent out of place among the people in the lobby who were speaking in
slow lazy drawls.

"Eventually, we're headed for a place called Hangtown.  Perhaps you've
heard of it?"

"Nope, can't say that I have."  The desk clerk glanced at the register
where the women had signed, then looked at Hanna.

"You want to leave them there trunks in the storeroom until the stage
arrives?"  he asked.

"Ain't gonna be any too easy for anybody haulin' 'em up them stairs."

Hanna hefted the portmanteau she was carrying a little more securely in
her hand, then smiled.  Actually she had an extra change of clothes in
it, as did Mrs.  Brady in hers, but still they might need something
more.

"It'd be nice if we could," she said, then frowned.  "But what if we
might need something from one of them?"

"Don't see why we can't let you get anything you might want."

"Good, then," she answered, thanking him, and a short while later both
women were ensconced in their rooms enjoying nice warm baths.

The next two days went slowly and neither woman ventured far from the
hotel. The quick glimpse of the town they'd had gave them the
impression that it looked a little too raw and rough for them.  They
just weren't used to cattle towns, and finally, on Wednesday morning,
Hanna and Mrs.  Brady were once more ready to travel, waiting patiently
near the hotel for the stage to be loaded.

All clean and well-groomed again, Hanna was in a deep purple suit, the
bustle sporting bands of black velvet, the black velvet collared jacket
fitting her slim waist like a glove.  It was a decided contrast to her
pale hair, and the purple hat with its fancy little black feathers
gracing the brim matched the suit perfectly.  It was one of the new
outfits she'd bought just before leaving.

Mrs.  Brady had on a new traveling suit of deep rust- colored poplin,
the bustle higher in the back than usual, the neckline of the
formfitting jacket dipping into a lower V in front than what she
normally wore.  And with the small straw hat, its cascade of orange and
yellow flowers trailing down the back of her salt-and- pepper hair, she
felt far younger than her years.

They stood a few feet from the steps of the hotel, watching the stage
driver and some other men struggling desperately to get their trunks on
board and get them tied down.

Neither of them noticed a horse and rider heading their way from the
other end of town.  Blake Morgan slumped low in the saddle as he neared
the hotel, then let his gaze rest on the two women waiting beside the
stage.  His deep amber eyes narrowed as he whistled softly to the
Appaloosa he was riding, then rubbed the two days' growth of deep
chestnut beard on his chin.

"Well, looks like that's her," he whispered to the horse as he rode
along, his eyes never leaving the two women.

"Just like the orders said."  Just to make sure, he reined Diablo in to
a good spot from where he could watch, waited until the women had
boarded the stage, then rode on to the hotel where he checked to see if
Hanna Winters's name was on the register.  Satisfied she was the woman
he'd been waiting for, he went outside, mounted the Appaloosa again and
took off in the same direction the stage was traveling, but at a much
slower pace.

Fort Worth was even dingier than Abilene had been, and Hanna and Mrs. 
Brady were far more the worse for wear when they got off the stage than
they had been on leaving the train.

The stage route had taken them straight through Indian territory, and
although some of the tribes in this area were fairly peaceful, there
were
always others who wouldn't conform, and twice they had to outrun
raiding parties.

Even if there hadn't been any Indians, the stage was the most
uncomfortable conveyance Hanna had ever been in, and between the
constant dust and the jostling and bumping around, she'd never been so
glad to arrive anyplace than she was when she'd stepped off the stage
at Fort Worth.

Now, however, as she stood looking around her, there were tears close
to the surface.

"Oh, good heavens, what have I gotten us into, Mrs.  Brady?"  she said
as she watched the driver and some men unloading their trunks.  Fort
Worth wasn't really a fort.  It was more of a military camp set in the
midst of a conglomeration of ramshackle buildings that looked as though
they'd been very hastily erected.

Elizabeth smiled.

"You didn't think it was going to be easy, did you?"

"I didn't know what it'd be like."

"Well, don't fret, my dear."  Elizabeth Brady wasn't about to knuckle
under.

"The driver said we should be able to hire someone to take us to
Hangtown without too much trouble."

"I'm not really sure now I want to go."

"Don't be ridiculous.  You've come this far, haven't you?"

Hanna marveled at Mrs.  Brady's courage.  She sighed.

"I know you're right, only I just hadn't expected it to be like
this."

Mrs.  Brady glanced around her, taking in everything she could in one
quick look.

"What did you expect?"

Hanna shrugged, then reached up, tucking a stray hair back beneath her
little purple hat.

"I don't know.

I guess I thought the people out here would be more civilized.  "

"The people are civilized, my dear," Elizabeth offered, her dark brown
eyes sparkling warmly.

"It's the land that's not.  Now, shall we find out from the driver how
we locate someone to escort us the rest of the way, or are you going to
just stand here while you try to convince yourself you made the right
decision?"

Hanna looked at the older woman, now more than ever glad she'd brought
her along.  If she had her way right now, she'd probably turn tail and
run, and deep down inside she knew if she did she'd regret it for the
rest of her life.

"All right, let's go," she said and they both reached down, picked up
their. skirts and headed toward where the stage driver was busy helping
unload the last trunk.  Despite the presence of the soldiers, there
seemed to be the same rowdy element here that they had seen in Abilene,
so neither Hanna nor Mrs.  Brady were surprised at the stares they were
getting as they questioned the stage driver.

"See that trading post over there?"  the man said, pointing to a
building on the other side of the street from where the stage had
stopped.

"Well, everybody who comes into town, civilians and military alike,
ends up in there eventually.  The man who runs the place is Sam Baker,
and he can help if anybody can."

Hanna stared at the building.  It didn't look any too inviting.  The
horns of some animal hung over the door, and part of the front window
was covered with canvas where it was broken.  But if that was where she
had to go, that was where she had to go.

She looked at Mrs.  Brady.

"You stay here with the luggage and I'll be right back," she said as
the
driver headed toward the stage and climbed aboard.  Shouting to the
team, he slapped the reins vigorously.  As the stage took off down the
dusty road continuing on its route south toward San Antonio, Hanna
straightened her shoulders and started walking toward the trading
post.

The place was dim when she stepped inside, and she was glad because she
knew she was flushing profusely from the looks she'd received from some
men lounging on the porch out front.  Men in Boston had never looked at
her like that, nor had they made any of the remarks she couldn't help
hearing from some of them, either.  And Mrs.  Brady said they were
civilized, she thought.

Tilting her head up defiantly, she tried to forget their disrespect and
stood for a minute letting her eyes adjust.

When she could finally see, she walked briskly over to a man who looked
like he'd be the proprietor.

"Excuse me, sir," she said in her most polite manner.

"But the stage driver said you could help me."

Sam Baker had been putting some hardtack out on the counter when Hanna
had walked in, and he'd paid little attention, figuring she was some
elderly lady from the stage, but now that she was closer he could see
that he'd been wrong.  The woman standing before him was much younger
than the white hair led the casual observer to believe, and he'd never
before seen anyone with such strange, hypnotic eyes.

"Yes, ma'am?"  he said, studying her appreciatively.

"He said you'd know where I could find someone to take me and my friend
to a place called Hangtown."

"Hangtown?"

"You've never heard of it?"

"Oh, yeah, I know where it is, but it ain't gonna be that easy to find
someone to take you that far."

"May I ask why?"

"You've seen the land out there.  Indians, rattlers, outlaws, not to
mention the weather."

Hanna frowned.

"Then what do I do?  We have to get to Hangtown."

"Well, now, I didn't say it was impossible," Sam said.

"I'll have to ask around some, that's all."

"And how long will that take?"

He shrugged.

"Who knows?  An hour, a day, a week.  All depends on who shows up."

"Oh, fine.  And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, lady, you could talk to me," Blake said as he stepped
out from the shadows where he'd been standing watching Hanna ever since
she entered the trading post.

Hanna whirled abruptly and found herself staring into a pair of
intense, amber-colored eyes in a clean shaven face that looked like it
had been chiseled from granite.  The man wasn't handsome by most
standards, but there was something intriguingly rugged about him that
caught Hanna by surprise.

"I beg your pardon?"  she challenged.

"I said you could talk to me.  I'd be willing to take you to
Hangtown."

"Oh?  You're headed that way?"

"Not really.  I'm not headed any place in particular, but if the
money's right..."  ~ "Well, at least you're honest."

"A fault I rarely own up to."

Sam Baker hadn't seen the stranger come in, and now he studied him
curiously.

"You ain't from around these parts, are you, mister?"  he asked.

Blake grinned.

"I know my way around if that's what you're worried about."

Sam's scowl was deep enough to let anyone know he wasn't sure he
believed the stranger.

"You got a name?"

"Morgan, Blake Morgan."

Hanna was looking at Blake Morgan so she missed seeing the look of
recognition in Sam Baker's eyes, although Sam said nothing.

"Well, Mr.  Morgan," Hanna said.

"Just what would you consider the right price?"

"All depends."  Blake glanced over at Sam.

"You wouldn't happen to have a beer, would you?"  he asked.

Sam moved to a keg behind the counter and drew off a mug of beer, then
handed it to Blake, who tossed him a coin.  The beer was frothy and
warm, but Blake didn't seem to mind.

He took a big gulp, licked his lips, then looked at Hanna.

"First of all, I have to know what's involved," he finally said.

Hanna clasped her hands, trying not to appear too nervous.

"There are two of us, Mrs.  Brady and myself,"

she answered, hoping to keep her voice steady.  For some reason Blake
Morgan made her all too aware of her inadequacies when it came to men. 
" " We each have two trunks apiece as well as the portmanteaus we've
carried with us.  " " That's-all?  "

"I should think that would be enough."  She inhaled, then straightened
more confidently.

"So, how much will you charge?"

"Well, let's see.  We'll need a wagon and a team of horses."

"Good land, that'll cost a fortune!"  Hanna was astounded.

"It never dawned on me we'd need all that."

Blake eyed her apprehensively.

"I hope you didn't expect to haul four trunks on the back of a
horse."

She shook her head.

"I guess I just didn't think about it."

Blake looked at Sam.

"You know anybody's got a team and wagon for sale?"

Hanna looked flustered.

"You mean I have to buy them?"

"Don't worry, you can sell them again when we reach Hangtown."

"I certainly hope so."

Blake addressed Sam again.

"Well," he asked, "do you?"

Sam thought for a minute.

"Only place I know of is the livery stables.  Zeke's always got
something' around he's tryin' to sell."

Blake 'downed the rest of his beer.

"Shall we?"  he asked, looking at Hanna while he handed the empty mug
to Sam.

"But you didn't tell me how much you'll charge."

"And you didn't tell me your name, either," he shot back.

"Hanna, Miss Hanna Winters," she answered somewhat hesitantly.

"All right, Miss Winters, you buy the horses, wagon and supplies, and
I'll charge you fifteen bucks on top of it, how's that?"

Hanna stared at him for a few minutes while she argued silently with
herself. She probably shouldn't trust him, but she had to get to
Hangtown, and she
hated the thought of waiting around here like they had in Abilene. 
Besides, the accommodations here would probably be far worse than they
had been at Abilene.

She hadn't seen anything that even remotely resembled a hotel.

"Done,"

she finally said, her lavender eyes deepening to a cool amethyst.

A few minutes later she and Blake Morgan left the trading post.  She
waved to Mrs.  Brady, who was still guarding their luggage, while she
and the man she'd just hired to take them to Hangtown headed toward the
livery stables down the street.

Hanna had no idea so many supplies would be needed.  However she tried
not to complain as Blake Morgan had her buy potatoes, coffee, flour,
hardtack and a number of other staples.

According to Morgan, Hangtown was approximately two hundred miles west
of Fort Worth, not far from the Salt Fork River.

"I've been there a couple of times in my wanderings," he said as they
loaded the things onto the old buckboard they'd bought from the
liveryman.  Blake had even bought an old water barrel and as Hanna
watched him and one of the other men heft it onto the buckboard and
fill it to the brim, she began to question just what she'd really
gotten herself into.  Mrs.  Brady wasn't helping matters.

"Are you sure you can trust him?"  she asked from where she stood next
to Hanna.

"After all, what do you know about him?"  Her dark eyes studied the man
intensely.

"He doesn't look any too honest to me.  Really, Hanna, don't you think
you should have asked around a.little more before hiring the first
person who came along?"

"And taken the chance on having to stay here for days on end?  I told
you what the man in the trading post said."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she continued to stare at Blake Morgan.

"I just hope he doesn't get us out there in the wilderness somewhere,
rob us and then leave us to die."

"Mrs.  Brady!"

"It's happened before to innocent travelers."  "Not to us, it won't."

Hanna was very emphatic.

"I

made sure to warn him that we won't stand for any funny business, and
he assured me he'd get us there safe and sound.  "

"Oh, I see."  Elizabeth sighed.

"I'm so glad you told him."  Hanna was so naive.

"But I think I'll go see if I can buy some more positive assurance,"
and she started to walk away.

Hanna caught her arm.

"What do you mean, more positive assurance?"

'~Nothing for you to worry about, dear," Elizabeth answered as she
patted Hanna's hand where it rested on her sleeve.

"I'm just going to go see if I can buy us a gun."

"A gun!"  ~ "Shh.  Do you want him to hear you?"

"But a gun?"

"It's the best assurance I know of," Elizabeth answered as she lifted
Hanna's hand from her arm.

"Now, go back to what you were doing, and I'll be with you as soon as I
can." And she strolled away, heading toward the trading post.

A scowl was deeply etched in Hanna's face as she watched Mrs.  Brady
walk away.  A gun.  Oh, dear, she 'thought, now I really wonder what
I've gotten us into.  But before she could decide to change her mind
and try to get someone else to take them, someone perhaps recommended
by the post commander
or even Sam Baker, Blake Morgan called her to give him a hand.  While
she helped him sort through their staples, checking to make sure they
had everything, she didn't have time to worry about Mrs.  Brady and her
gun.

The stage had arrived at Fort Worth a little after ten that morning,
and by three in the afternoon the old weathered buckboard with Blake. 
Morgan driving and Hanna and Mrs.  Brady on board ambled down the
street past the military encampment and headed west.  The seat of the
buckboard was only big enough for two to be comfortable on, so Blake
had confiscated an old chair from Sam Baker and nailed it to the bed of
the wagon for Mrs.  Brady.  He'd also insisted that the ladies
extricate their parasols from their trunks, and now as they rode along,
Mrs.  Brady rested the handle of hers on her shoulder while she sat on
the chair and listened to the conversation that was going on behind her
while she kept her eye on Morgan's Appaloosa, tied to the back of the
buckboard, and watched the scenery go by.

"Just what kind of work do you do, Mr.  Morgan?"  Hanna asked as she
held the parasol in front of her to keep off the hot afternoon sun. 
Mr.  Morgan had been right, she'd have been burned to a crisp already
without its shade.

He clicked to the horses plodding leisurely along.  "Most anything
comes along," he answered.

"And you?"

"I'm a teacher.  At least I was a teacher before coming out here."

"Where'd you teach?"

"At the Bryn Mawr Finishing School for Young Ladies in Boston."

"Ah, Boston.  You're a long way from home then."

"I'm afraid it's not home anymore."

"What did you teach?"

"Etiquette and manners."

Elizabeth was sure she heard the man choke on that one.

"Etiquette?"

"That's right, etiquette."

"You mean they actually teach people things like that?  I thought good
manners just came naturally."

Hanna glanced at him.

"It all depends on what you consider manners.

I'm not just talking about greeting people, Mr.  Morgan.  In Boston one
must know the proper way to hold eating utensils, the proper way to
excuse oneself from the table, the correct way to address mail.  "

"You mean like holding your little pinky out when drinking tea like
I've seen some ladies do?"

"Precisely."  Hanna was pleased she'd found someone out here in this
godforsaken country who understood.

"But that's a bunch of nonsense," he said, suddenly deflating her.

"Who cares how the hell someone holds a teacup, or addresses mail for
that matter, as long as it gets to where it's going?"

Blake saw her jaw clench angrily and knew he probably shouldn't have
said it, but that didn't change the fact that he had.

Suddenly her eyes began to dance angrily.  However, unlike most women
who would have lashed out at him with a verbal attack meant to wilt the
brawniest of men, she merely drew her eyes from him and stared straight
ahead down the road.

"I guess I can't really expect you to understand," she said, her voice
ringing loud and clear in the hot after32 noon.

"After all, from what I've seen of the populace out here so far, I
doubt anyone within miles of here has ever even been taught about the
finer things in life."

"That's what you think?"

"That's what I know."

"Well, I'll tell you, Miss Winters," Blake answered, his voice rough
and unsympathetic.

"I think you're going to find out that the populace out here are too
busy trying to survive to worry about whether they've got their pinkies
balanced just right on their teacups or not.

Besides, we're coffee drinkers, and the stronger, the better.  "

"Fine, then I'll know what to expect, won't I?"  and for the rest of
the afternoon Elizabeth listened to them bantering back and forth about
the differences between civilized and uncivilized humanity, and how it
all could be improved, although she had to admit Hanna did most of the
talking.

By the time Blake maneuvered the buckboard off the road toward a small
oasis of trees where he announced they'd spend the night, they'd left a
little over eight miles of hot, dusty road behind them and only had
about a hundred and ninety some to go.

He fastened the reins, climbed down, then started to walk back to take
care of his horse.

Hanna sat primly on the seat and cleared her throat.  "Excuse me," she
said quite loudly to make sure he'd hear.

Blake looked at Mrs.  Brady.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I believe she wants you to help her down," Elizabeth answered, and
Blake's eyebrows rose.

"Really?  I didn't know she was helpless."  His eyes were crinkling
slightly in the corners as he started to33 ward the front of the wagon
and he reached up to help Hanna down.

"So sorry, Miss Winters," he said, apologizing.

"I

completely forgot about your lecture on manners and I certainly don't
want to give you the wrong impression about mine.  "

Hanna was sure Blake had ignored her on purpose just to be ornery, but
still she had to have help getting down.  Her suit~ skirt was too
cumbersome, and she wasn't used to such strange conveyances.

She took his hand, leto him help her, then she stood looking about.

"We'll have to sleep here?"  she asked, her voice showing her
consternation.

"Don't worry, I'll let you ladies sleep in the wagon," Blake assured
her as he started walking back to help Mrs.  Brady down.

"I'm used to the ground."

"You mean there are no towns with hotels or inns on the way and we have
to spend every night out in the open like this?"

Blake couldn't resist.

"That's why we call it the wild we~t," he said as he lifted Elizabeth
from the back and set her on her feet.

Elizabeth could see the mischievous gleam in his eyes and was suddenly
certain she wouldn't need the extra assurance she'd bought at Fort
Worth and stuffed into her handbag.

Blake Morgan might look like a hardened drifter, but the warmth that
crept into his eyes now and then gave him away.

The spot Blake had chosen for them to spend the night was off the road
quite a distance and screened by bushes.  After untying his horse and
setting him to graze a short distance from the wagon, Blake turned his
attention to the ladies, who didn't seem to be doing much of anything
except gazing about.

"We're going to need some firewood, ladies," he said as he approached
the wagon again.

"Now, if you two head off over there" -- he pointed toward some
cottonwood trees and underbrush beyond the horse "--I think maybe
you'll find some."

"And what of you?"  Hanna looked displeased.  "Aren't you going to
help?"

He leaned an arm against the side of the wagon and stared at her.

"Well, I figure it this way, Miss Winters.

Since I'm sure you and Mrs.  Brady don't know the first thing about
unharnessing a team of horses that should be my job.  But then if you
want to try a hand at it yourself"-- Hanna was aghast.

"Good heavens, no!  I just thought..."

"I know what you thought.  You thought I was going to sit back and
watch the two of you do all the work, but don't worry, I'll earn my
keep.  Only I can't see where it'll hurt any for you ladies to help now
and then instead of just sitting back on your duffs and letting me do
everything.  Can you?"  He straightened and headed for the front of the
wagon so he could get the team out of their harnesses for the night.

As Hanna watched him walk away she felt like a fool.  They'd been
talking all afternoon about the sorry state of affairs out here in the
west and Hanna had decided it was because most people came out here
expecting good fortune to just drop in their laps.  They weren't
willing to work for what they wanted. Then she had to act like one of
the pampered little schoolgirls she'd left back in Boston.

Well, she'd show him.  Manners were one thing, hard work another.

Turning to gaze at the Appaloosa who was grazing contentedly, she
picked up her skirts and 35 marched toward the animal, heading for the
underbrush at the edge of the grassy clearing.  Elizabeth watched Hanna
stalk off and a smile tilted the corners of her mouth.  She knew Hanna
was fuming, and yet she also knew Blake was right.  It wouldn't be fair
to let him do it all, only that's just what Hanna'd been used to doing
all her life.  Letting other people do things for her.

Her meals were cooked for her, her clothes laundered for her.  She'd
never had to hitch up a buggy.

About the only thing she ever did for herself was take care of her
toilet and dress herself, and before her father had lost all his money
she'd had maids to do even that for her.

Her world in Boston had consisted of Bryn Mawr, the boardinghouse and
an occasional excursion to the museum or some other equally dull place
with one of her fellow teachers.  But work as most folks knew it was a
rarity in her life.

This'll be good for Hanna, Elizabeth thought as she lifted her skirts
and followed after her.  One thing for certain, the trip was really
starting to prove interesting.

It was almost dark by the time Blake dragged a couple of boxes from the
wagon for the two women to sit on and they congregated around the fire
to eat the meal Hanna had helped Mrs.  Brady prepare.

Running a boardinghouse for a man as stingy as Ambrose had been meant
that besides collecting the rents, Elizabeth Brady had cooked all the
meals.  She did all the cleaning and laundry as well, so when Blake had
started dragging out the supplies he'd bought it had only been natural
for her to take over.

Now, as they sat eating potato soup seasoned with salt pork and some
hardtack washed down with black coffee, Hanna was again glad she'd
asked her landlady to come along.

The soup was delicious.  Far different from the horrible-sounding
concoction Mr.  Morgan had been ready to prepare for them.

Blake stared across the fire to where the two women sat balancing
themselves on the boxes, their food on another box between them.  For
himself he preferred the ground.

His golden brown eyes studied Hanna more appreciatively now than when
they'd started out.  Hanna Winters was far different from what he'd
expected.  After her long lecture most of the way on the finer things
in life and how important it was not to forget social amenities and the
common mores society dictated, it seemed strange to see her sitting
with her hair all disheveled and messy and minus the perky little hat,
her purple traveling suit dirty and stained from hauling wood and
helping Mrs.  Brady.

Even under these circumstances, however, she had a white handkerchief
covering her lap in place of a napkin and was sipping her coffee
daintily from the tin cup.  The hardtack was also being nibbled at as
if it were what he'd heard genteel ladies call hors d'oeuvres.  He
studied her surreptitiously in the firelight as the night shadows
deepened around them. Hanna wasn't a pretty woman, really.  Not in the
sense that men gawked at her beauty or anything like that, but there
was a sensual quality about her that had surprised him when he'd first
seen her up close in the trading posL A hauntingly lovely look that had
suddenly made him glad he'd taken on this assignment, although he
wished 37 the circumstances of their meeting could have been
different.

He watched her put the last bit of hardtack in her mouth, finish the
last of her coffee, set the mug down, lift the white handkerchief and
daintily wipe her lips, then slide sideways and start to get up from
the box.

Suddenly she hesitated and at the same time he saw the flames licking
up the side of her skirt.  She'd stepped too close to the fire.

"Look out!"  he shouted, hoping to warn her as he bolted into action.

Dropping his coffee cup, he jumped to his feet, leaped across the fire,
grabbed Hanna by the shoulders and before she realized what he was
doing he'd shoved her to the ground and began frantically rolling her
back and forth, trying to put out the fire while she fought
hysterically.

"What are you doing?"  she screamed as she beat against his chest, then
suddenly she realized what was happening and her eyes widened in
horror.

"Oh, my God!  I'm on fire!"

"Not anymore, you're not?"  he yelled, as he quit rolling her, letting
her come to rest on her back while he knelt beside her in the grass,
panting breathlessly.  His eyes searched her face.

"If you'll take time to check you'll discover the fire's out," he went
on more calmly.

"I

didn't mean to scare you, but there wasn't time and it was the only
thing I could think of to do.  " Hanna inhaled as she stared up at
him', the hard ground uncomfortable against her back, and she didn't
know what to say.  The smell of burning cloth was strong in her
nostrils, and she could still feel the heat against her legs where the
fire had been.

"I owe you an apology," she said as she started to move to get up, and
he held out a hand to help her.

"I've never had anything like that happen before in my life."

Elizabeth was beside her, and she knelt down, also giving her a hand.

Hanna let them pull her to her feet, then stood looking at the burned
skirt, still smoldering ominously here and there.  Just to make sure it
was out all the way, Elizabeth began to pat at it hurriedly.  "I was
going to suggest both you ladies change anyway," Blake said as he saw
Hanna staring at the ruined skirt.  He knew how she must be feeling.

"We've a long way to go yet.  I know it's only April, but the weather
here's nothing like it is back east and you'll be far more comfortable
in something a little more simple."  He looked at Mrs.  Brady.

"I don't suppose either Of you has a riding skirt or anything," he
suggested.

"Neither of us," Elizabeth answered.

"However, I'm sure Hanna and I'll be able to come up with something
more suitable in the morning.  Come along, dear," she said, taking
Hanna's arm.

"Let's see just how much damage has been done," and she led Hanna
toward the fire so she could get a better look.

The whole left side of Hanna's skirt from her thigh down was a charred
ruin, and her petticoats were scorched and burned.

"Well, it could be worse," Elizabeth said.

"Your leg could have been burned, too.  But don't worry, in the morning
we'll find something appropriate from the trunks.  For tonight it won't
hurt to sleep in it, if you can stand the burned smell, that is."

Hanna sighed.

"It can't be much worse than any of the other smells out here," she
mused and glanced toward where the horses were tied for the night.

Blake saw the look on her face and frowned.

"Since you don't seem to like things out here, just why are you going
to Hangtown, Miss Winters?"  he asked as he started picking up the tin
dishes that had been scattered in the confusion.

"Come to think of it, I didn't tell you, did I?"  she said as she
started to help him.  She handed the things she'd picked up to Mrs. 
Brady as she went on.

"I've inherited a ranch from my brother," she said.

"Have you ever heard of the White Wind?"

"Can't say as I have," he lied convincingly.  "Well, it's supposed to
be somewhere near Hangtown according to the lawyer who wrote to me."

"Then you're the new owner?"

"I guess you could say that."

He chuckled and she looked indignant.

"What are you laughing about?"

"You'll have to forgive me," he said as he also handed the things he'd
picked up to Mrs.  Brady, who headed toward a bucket of water with
them.

"You just don't seem like the type to be running a ranch, that's
all."

"Oh?  May I ask why?"

"Because you don't know a damn thing about it, that's why."  He looked
skeptical.

"Are you sure you know just what the hell you're getting yourself into,
Hanna Winters?"

he asked.

"Running a ranch isn't anything like teaching etiquette, you know."

"Well, it can't be that hard or so many people wouldn't be doing it,"
she answered, trying to convince herself that he was just trying to be
hard to get along with.

"After all, if my brother did it, so can I," and she lifted her head
haughtily and started following Mrs.  Brady.

Suddenly a shot rang out from somewhere in the darkness around them,
and Hanna felt a sharp stinging sensation in her upper arm.  Once more,
Blake's hands were quickly sinking into her shoulders and he spun her
around, pulling her to the ground with him.  "What on earth... I" she
yelled as she lay beside him on the ground, staring into his dark topaz
eyes.

"Mr.  Morgan, what in the world do you think you're doing now?  I'm not
on fire anymore."

"I know that," he said, his eyes boring into hers.  "But take a look at
your arm."

Hanna stared at him hard for a minute, then glanced down to the spot on
her arm that was now suddenly very painful.  Her eyes widened in
horror.  "Oh, my gracious," she blurted, not wanting to belie we what
she was seeing.

"I've been shot, haven't I?"  And not giving him time to answer, Hanna
Winters fainted dead away.

Chapter Two Hanna was confused as she started to come to, but as soon
as she opened her eyes and focused them on Blake everything came
flooding back to her.  "Are you all right?"  he asked when her eyes
began to flutter open.

She inhaled sharply, then tried to raise her left arm.  It hurt like
the devil.

"Don't," he cautioned.

"Mrs.  Brady went to get something to clean it up with."

"But why?"  she asked, finally finding her voice.  "Why would anyone
want to take potshots at me?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Blake reached out, helping her to sit up, and they both began examining
her arm where blood was still spreading across a jagged hole in the
material of her purple jacket.

Blake reached out and began tearing the hole in her sleeve.

"Hey!"

"Let's face it, Miss Winters, between the fire and this you might as
well kiss your pretty purple suit goodbye."

Hanna watched his fingers separating the cloth from the wound, wincing
as she saw that the bullet had ripped a sizable chunk of skin and flesh
off just above her elbow.

Although it hurt, she was amazed that it didn't hurt more.  Whenever
she'd thought of anyone getting shot it always seemed like the worst
thing that could happen to them.  But then she had to remember this was
probably what they'd call a flesh wound.  Still, it was bad enough.

"Here, this is all I could find," Elizabeth said as she started to hand
Blake a part of water, a cloth and what looked like the remains of a
petticoat she'd ripped up for bandages.

"No, you do it," Blake said as he straightened and stood up, his right
hand drawing the Colt strapped to his hips.  I'll.  go check to see if
our target shooter's still around," and he headed off into the
darkness.

Hanna stared after Blake for a few minutes, then brought her attention
to Mrs.  Brady, who had already dropped to her knees beside her so she
could tend the wound.

"Here, let me look at that."  Elizabeth reached toward Hanna's arm, and
as Hanna turned toward the firelight so Mrs.  Brody could see it
better, both women grimaced at the sight.

"My Lord, what's this world coming to?"  Elizabeth went on as she
dipped the cloth in the part of water and began to wash away the
blood.

"Ow."  Hanna flinched.

"It hurts!  Be careful."  Elizabeth's mouth pursed disgustedly.

"I never heard of such a thing.  Shooting a woman.  What sort of animal
would do this?"

"You're the one who told me it was only the land that wasn't
civilized."

"Don't remind me."  Elizabeth's eyes were fixed steadily on Hanna's
arm.

"I guess I just hadn't been here long enough to make a proper
assessment, that's all," she said and she continued to clean the wound,
then frowned, her fingers tightening on the wet cloth as she looked
around thoughtfully.

"I wish we had something to put on it."

"Like what?"

"Disinfectant, witch hazel, anything to keep it from getting infected."
 Her fingers were gentle as she concentrated once more on the wound and
finished making sure it was as clean as she could get it.  She was just
about to start bandaging it when Blake emerged again from out of the
darkness, holstering his gun as he came.

"Looks like whoever was out there's gone now," he said and walked over
and stood looking down at Hanna.

"How's it going?"

"It'd go a lot better if I had something to put on it."  Elizabeth
shook her head.

"I'm worried that it might get infected."

"It should be all right till morning."  He looked at Hanna, realizing
she was taking the whole thing much better than he thought she would. 
Especially after having fainted.

"Bandage it up for tonight, and maybe in the morning I can find
something." "Like what?"  Hanna asked.

He watched Mrs.  Brady start to wrap the strips of white cloth around
Hanna's arm.

"Who knows?  There's nothing in what we've brought with us, but the
Indians have always been good at finding remedies for anything that
might come along. I'll just do what they always do."

"What's that?"

"Improvise.  There're all sorts of plants that could make a good
antiseptic, only I don't intend to try to find one in the dark."

He watched Mrs.  Brady tie the end of the bandage off, then he reached
out and helped her to her feet.

Once she was standing, they both helped Hanna up and as they did she
glanced about fearfully.

"Don't worry, like I said, whoever it was is long gone."  Blake held
her hand a little longer than normal to make sum she was steady on her
feet, then he studied her face closely.

"You sum you have no idea why someone would shoot at you?"  he asked.

Hanna shook her head.

"None."

"How about your brother?  Maybe it has something to do with him."

"If it does, I don't know what it could be.  It's been eleven years
since I last saw Henry and he never even wrote in all that time."

Blake wondered if she was telling the truth.  After all, Henry Winters
could've been sending money back east to her all these years without
anyone ever knowing.  Still, it didn't seem logical.  From what he'd
learned of the man since his investigation started, Henry, or Hank, as
most people called him, wasn't much on sentiment.

Besides, Blake wanted to believe her.  He watched her reach for a few
strands of hair that were brushing her face and push them away.  In the
firelight her hair looked more golden than white, and again he wished
he'd met her under different circumstances.  "Well, there's nothing
more we can do about it tonight,"

he said.

"In the morning I'll take a look and see if our visitor left anything
behind. And I'll also see 45 if I can locate something to use on that
wound."  He glanced briefly at the bandage on her arm.

"For now, if you want I'll help the two of you set up some sort of bed
in the wagon."

While Mrs.  Brady finished cleaning up the rest of their eating
utensils and took care of the things she'd used to bandage Hanna's arm,
Hanna and Blake climbed into the back of the wagon and proceeded to
make up a couple of beds between the boxes and trunks, using some old
blankets Blake had insisted they bring along.

When they were finished, Blake jumped off the wagon, then reached up to
help Hanna down.  i His hands circled her slim waist and he felt her
stiffen. "Relax, I won't drop you," he said.

Her hands covered his as if she were about to rip them from her, then
instead she moved her hands over his, feeling the weathered flesh
beneath them. Blake's hands were as sinewy as the rest of him, the
muscles hard, like rocks, and she knew she wouldn't be able to unclasp
them from about her waist even if she tried, so she did as he said and
relaxed, letting him lift her down and set her on the ground.

When he'd helped her down from the seat earlier, he'd only taken her
hand. But now, as she stood level with his chest, then looked up into
his face, she was very aware of the virile masculinity the man
virtually exuded.

"Thank you," she half whispered.

He smiled then said,

"All thanks kindly appreciated."  But he still kept his hands on her
waist.

"Where will you sleep?"  she asked.

He nodded toward the fire.

"Over them.  But don't worry, I'll sleep with one eye open."

"You think that's necessary?"

"Maybe not, but we can't take any chances."  Again she thanked him, and
this time he did release her waist, although reluctantly.

Hanna Winters was an enigma to Blake.  Prim and proper, she was also
provocatively sensual in a strange sort of way.  If she'd been born and
bred in Texas he imagined she'd never have seen the inside of a girls'
finishing school and probably would have ended up in a saloon
somewhere, or married with half a dozen kids by now.  Funny how things
like where people were born and raised could affect their personality. 
But then, maybe he was wrong. Maybe if she'd been born and bred in
Texas, she'd have ended up in a convent. It was hard to tell whether
her prim and proper attitude was strictly surface or built right in. 
He was inclined to think it was the former.  Or maybe that was only
wishful thinking on his part.

As he looked deep into her eyes, he suddenly saw a spark of something
that made him wish he could tell her the truth about why he'd
volunteered to take her to Hangtown.  Yet he knew he couldn't.  First
he had to find out just how deeply she was involved, and that was going
to take time.

"Shall we see if Mrs.  Brady's ready to turn in?"  he asked as he took
her arm.  Before she could answer he was escorting her to one of the
boxes where Elizabeth had set up a pan to rinse off their dishes.

"So, how's the arm?"  the older woman asked, glancing at the makeshift
bandage.

Hanna looked at it, too.

"It' could be worse, I guess.  Although it's really hurting now."

Elizabeth looked at Blake.

"Are you sure you'll be able to find something to put on it in the
morning?"

she asked.

"Positive."  Blake picked up his blankets from where he'd tossed them
when they'd first arrived and began spreading them out on the other
side of the fire.

"But now, I think since you've got the last of the dishes done up for
the night, we'd better turn in.  You ladies have had a long day and
we've got a longer one ahead of us."  With that he straightened up,
walked to the pile of wood Hanna and Mrs.  Brady had gathered earlier,
picked up a few pieces and plopped them onto the fire.  Hanna watched
him curiously.  One thing she had to admit, when Blake Morgan took on a
job, he took on the whole thing.

You'd think he'd hired her and Mrs.  Brady the way he ran things.  Or
should she say, tried to run things?

But then, he was right.  It had been a long day.  A little too long.

Hanna looked at her burned skirt, then at her arm, before looking at
Mrs. Brady.

"Are you ready?"  she asked.

Elizabeth nodded.

"As soon as I put these things away."  So while Mrs.  Brady set the
dishes in the boxes for them to use in the morning, Blake waited,
walked back over with them, helped both women up onto the wagon, then
stood for a minute looking at them.  "Well, ladies, let's see if the
beds are comfortable enough," he said, and as he watched, they began to
settle down in their makeshift beds.  After assurances from both women
that the beds would do fine, he called out,

"Sweet dreams," and returned to the fire.

Hanna wriggled, trying to get more comfortable he- neath the brown
blanket,
her head on another blanket she'd rolled up to use as a pillow. 
Finally she lay quietly listening to see if Mrs.  Brady was moving
around.  She wasn't.

Slowly everything around Hanna grew quiet except for the various night
sounds that made her all too aware of how wild the land was they were
traveling through.  She could hear a cricket chirping from somewhere
beneath the wagon, and in a few minutes it was joined by a whole chorus
of them, then an owl hooted nearby.

Although it had been hot during the day, the night was starting to cool
down, and she reached out, pulling the blanket up a little higher over
her shoulder against the chill.

The blanket smelled musty and she wasn't sure which was worse, the
smell or the cold.  Deciding she could put up with the smell better
than she could put up with goose bumps all night, she finally closed
her eyes and tried to sleep.

She was just starting to drift off when suddenly the still night was
shattered by a horrifying scream.  She bolted upright, and her hair
stood on end.  Even Mrs.  Brady was petrified.

"Mr.  Morgan!"  Hanna shrieked, her voice quivering.

"Don't worry, it's only a bobcat off somewhere in the woods," Blake
yelled from where he lay next to the fire.

"It's mating season and the cats like to prowl all night, that's all. 
He won't bother us."

"Oh, fine," Hanna mumbled and exhaled.  She'd been holding her breath
in fear of what might happen.

"You're sure?"  she called back.

"Positive!"  he answered.

"Now, good night."  Her good-night was lost on the breeze as one of the
horses nickered, then grew quiet.  Once more Hanna began to relax and
settle down as did Mrs.  Brady, but it was a long time before she
finally fell asleep.  It wasn't just the bobcat or her wound, it was
everything, and once again, Hanna wondered if maybe she should have
stayed in Boston.

But then, as the soft chirp of the crickets and quiet of the night
began to envelop her, she told herself that in spite of everything,
things would work out.  She finally dozed off.

Dawn was just beginning to creep into the sky in the east as Hanna
stirred, then lay quietly listening to the whistling.  She opened her
eyes and stared at the trunk next to her, then closed them again
wishing it was all a mistake. It was still awfully dark out yet, and
that had to be Blake whistling.  How he could sound so cheerful at this
hour of the morning she'd never know. Pushing the blanket off her
shoulders, she rolled over onto her back, looked up at the sky that was
just beginning to get light, then stretched and sat up.  My God, she
was stiff and sore.  It took a few minutes to get the kinks out, then
she glanced over to where Mrs.  Brady was sleeping, only no one was
there.  She might've known.  The landlady was used to getting up with
the birds, too.

Hanna quickly tossed the blanket aside, raised up the rest of the way,
then straightened and stood next to her trunk, gazing about.  The fire
was kindled high and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was already
beginning to replace all the unfamiliar smells that filled the morning
air.

The sun wasn't up yet, but it was light enough so she could see Mrs. 
Brady and Blake fussing about the fire fixing breakfast.

Suddenly Blake glanced her way, and she stiff cried as she saw him
start toward her.

"Well, good morning," he said as he reached the back of the wagon.

"Sleep well?"

She rubbed some sleep from her right eye, then stifled a yawn as he
helped her down.

"You always get up this early?"  she asked.  He pretended to look
shocked.

"Early?  When did you get up in Boston, noon?"

"At least we waited for the sun."

"By the time it gets here we'll be on our way."  After a breakfast of
dry biscuits, coffee and some fresh eggs Blake had insisted they stop
and buy at a small ranch the afternoon before, Hanna and Mrs.  Brady
rummaged through the trunks for something more appropriate to wear.  By
the time the sun was just breaking through the trees overhead, they
were settling down in the wagon for the long day's ride.

Hanna set the parasol down next to her feet as they got ready to start
out, determined she wasn't going to use it until she had to.  She was
bareheaded this morning since all the hats she had were for show rather
than to keep off the sun, but after the cooling night, the warmth of
the sun felt good on her head.

The two women had changed clothes behind the wagon right after
breakfast, while Blake found some leaves from a wild plant to brew so
they'd have something to clean her wound with.  Then, just before
starting out, while Blake was putting the boxes back on the wagon ready
to leave, Mrs.  Brady rebandaged Hanna's arm, rinsing it thoroughly
with the concoction Blake had cooked up.

Now, as Blake slapped the reins, moving the wagon from underneath the
cottonwood trees and out toward the road again, Hanna looked at her
left arm above the elbow where the bandage was hidden beneath the full
51 sleeve of her white blouse.  All morning she'd been racking her
brain trying to make sense of the whole thing.  She had no idea why
anyone would want to shoot her.

For a while she'd thought maybe it was just a mistake, that the bullet
had been meant for Blake, but after thinking it over she realized that
wasn't logical.  If the bullet had been meant for Blake whoever was
shooting surely wouldn't have been that far off target.  She'd been too
far from Blake when the bullet hit.

She glanced at Blake, wondering what he must be thinking.  Well, it was
no business of his.  After all, all she did was hire him to take them
to Hangtown, she didn't hire him to fight her battles for her. 
Somehow, she'd find out what it was all about, but for now she was just
glad whoever pulled the trigger had been a poor shot.

She was wearing a dark brown poplin skirt.  The bustle was
uncomfortable against the back of the wagon seat and she reached over
and grabbed the side of the seat as the wagon hit a big bump and they
bounced onto the road again.

"Are you all right, Mrs.  Brady?"  she called over her shoulder.

Elizabeth smiled as she leaned back again in her chair, her gaze on the
road behind them.

"I'm just fine, Hanna," she answered, opening her parasol and holding
it up to keep the morning sun from her face.

Blake had been right the night before when he said they had a long day
ahead of them and Hanna sighed disgustedly as the day wore on.  At the
pace the horses were moving they were making only three to four miles
in an hour's time and she felt as if they'd never get there.

"Can't you make them go any faster?"  she asked Blake as she watched
the animals plodding along.

He stared straight ahead.

"Oh, yeah, I can make them go faster," he answered.

"Only they won't get you where you're going if I do."  He glanced at
her. "You can't run a horse into the ground and still expect him to do
a good job. We don't have any relay stations like the stages do."

"Oh."  Hanna realized how stupid her question had been, but that didn't
make her not wish they couldn't go faster.

Shortly before the sun ~began to sink below the horizon they reached
the Brazos River, and Blake was glad they were having a dry spring so
the water level was lower than usual.  Even with that, though, the
crossing wasn't easy.  The wheels kept slipi~ing_on the stones and
sinking into the muddy river bottom, and the horses had to fight
against the strong current all the way.  But they finally made it
without any mishaps, and once on the other side, Blake reined the wagon
off the narrow road toward a small grove of trees and they made camp.

As they had the night before the women sat on their boxes to eat while
Blake used the ground, then, after cleaning things up, they settled
down, again using the same sleeping arrangements.

The next morning they were once more on the road before sunup, hoping
to put as many miles behind them as they could.

It had been six days since they'd left Fort Worth.  Six days of tedious
monotony as they made their way through the inhospitable Texas
countryside with its stark contrasts.

The dust from the windswept plains 5!

would swirl up so thick at times they had to cover their: faces with
handkerchiefs, and ragged cliffs over looked dry arroyos that lay
desolate in the sun.  The~ occasionally the landscape would change
abruptly am spring wildflowers would dot the sloping hills, splashing
them with color, while groves of trees would her aid a small stream or
lake.  Ranches and towns were few and far between, and Hanna was
discouraged at seeing so little civilization.

They were making somewhere between twenty to thirty miles a day
depending on how fast Blake urged the horses and the condition of the
roads, which al times were nothing more than worn rutted tracks.

Now it was evening of the sixth day and they were getting ready to call
it a night.  Hanna finished helping Mrs, Brady get' things ready for
morning, then started toward the wagon where she'd already made up heJ
bed.  It was pitch dark and the thought of sleep was inviting She
turned suddenly at the sound of footstep.  , behind her, then she
relaxed.  It was only Blake.  "How much longer do you think it'll take
us?"  she asked as he joined her.  It was something she'd been wanting
to ask all day.

"About three, maybe four days, barring any trouble."

"Trouble?"

"Let's face it," he said.

"Just because no one's tried to take a potshot at you again doesn't
mean they aren't still out there waiting for another chance."  He
glanced at her arm.

Mrs.  Brody had been taking care of it for her.

"By the way, how's the arm?"

"Coming along nicely.  Whatever that was you brewed up worked like a
charm. It's even scabbed up already."

"The Indians call it yellow root.  They use it for just about
everything you can think of."

They reached the wagon and by the time Blake had helped her up into it,
Mrs. Brady had joined them.

It was late already, so Blake helped Mrs.  Brady up too, bid the ladies
good-night, cheeked the fire to make sure it was high enough to keep
the animals away, then climbed into his blankets.

Hanna was weary as she said good-night to Mrs.  Brady and settled down
into the makeshift bed, bunching the pillow blanket up beneath her
head.  She felt dirty as well as tired, but that was understandable.

She'd had quick wash ups every morning before starting out.  But her
body hadn't been fully submerged in water since she and Mrs.  Brady had
left the Drover's Cottage in Abilene.

She was looking forward to tomorrow, because Blake said they'd probably
be near enough to one of the towns they had to go through to spend the
night, and if they did she was going to make sure she got a good hot
bath.

Just the thought brought on a feeling of euphoria as she remembered
what it was like to be submerged in warm, soapy liquid, and it wasn't
long before Hanna was sound asleep.

Hours had gone by and it was well past midnight.  Hanna had no idea
what might have awakened her, but suddenly she lay tense, eyes open,
frowning because she was so wide-awake.

She had learned quickly over the days to distinguish one sound from
another once she was settled down for the night, so whatever had
awakened her had to be something she wasn't used to.

She lay still, not moving, hardly even breathing, and strained her ears
in the darkness.  The full moon was high above the trees already,
spreading a silvery glow over everything, and she stared at the trunk
next to her, the metal clasps on it shining in the moonlight.  She was
on her side, curled up, with the blanket beneath her chin, and she
shivered slightly as she felt gooseflesh beginning to rise on her
arms.

Then she heard it.  Just a creak and a slight scraping and rustling,
only the sounds weren't coming from where Mrs.  Brady lay.  They were
coming from the rear of the wagon, as if someone had just climbed
aboard.

Holding her breath, Hanna waited.  Everything was quiet, then she heard
the noise again and the hair at the nape of her neck stood on end. 
Someone or something was in the buckboard with them.  She could even
hear heavy breathing as whoever it was took a step so they were
standing between her and Mrs.  Brady.

As she stared hard toward the trunk she knew it was a man and not an
animal because she could see the tall shadow where it fell across the
top of the trunk, and her heart began to pound unmercifully.

Blake?  No, it wouldn't be Blake.  He'd have no reason.  Besides, she
could smell the distinct odor of strong tobacco, and Blake didn't
smoke.

My God!  What was she going to do?  Evidently, whoever it was couldn't
see her face and didn't know her eyes were open as he stood above her. 
Well, she had to do something, that's for sure.

Making a quick decision she began turning over so she could see who it
was, only just as she did, the man raised his arm and Hanna caught
sight of moonlight glittering off the knife just as it started to
descend.

Having only a split second in which to react, she let out a piercing
scream and rolled sideways just as the knife sliced by her ribs and
stuck into the bed of the wagon.

The man wielding the knife tried to pull it out, but he'd slashed at
her with such force that the knife was caught.

"Damn!"  he cursed in a rough low voice.  Hanna reacted without
thinking. Drawing her arm back, she belted her assailant as hard as she
could, catching him by surprise, and he cursed again, fighting for
balance.  As Blake's voice filled the quiet night, yelling for him to
stay put, the man, apparently realizing he wouldn't have time to
retrieve his knife, leaped onto the trunk next to Hanna, jumped to the
ground, half rolling, gained his feet again, and took off into the
darkness while Blake fired some shots after him.  A few seconds later
the sound of hoofbeats could be heard off through the trees, then they
faded away in the disrance.

Inside the wagon, Hanna was breathing heavily as she relaxed onto her
makeshift bed and lay there trembling.

That was close.  So close she could still feel the cold steel of the
man's knife against her rib cage.  My God!  An inch or two more to the
right and it would have gone clear through her.

She heard Blake's booted feet hit the floorboards of the wagon and the
next thing she knew he was on his knees beside her.

"Hanna!"

"I'm all right."  She groaned, struggling as she tried to pull out the
knife.

"But this stupid knife won't budge.  It's got me pinned to the
floor."

Blake holstered his gun, then reached out, pulling as hard as he could.
 The knife finally came loose.

"You're sure you weren't hurt?"  he asked, his gaze studying the knife
in the moonlight.

"Well, it did scratch the skin, I think, but not enough to hardly
feel."

"What is it?  What's happening?"  Elizabeth asked from behind Blake.

She was still a little dazed, having been jolted out of a sound
sleep.

"What's going on?"  "Somebody tried to use a knife on Miss Winters.

Only they missed.  "

Hanna was still flat on her back and she stared at Blake, watching as
he studied the knife in his hands.  A few minutes ago he'd called her
Hanna, now it was back to Miss Winters again.

"Are you all right?"  Elizabeth, too, was staring at the knife.

"My.

goodness, but that's a wicked looking thing.  "

"It's a bowie, a hunting knife."

Hanna shivered.

"And he was hunting me."  "You sure you didn't hit him, Mr.  Morgan?"

Elizabeth asked.

"I heard you get off a couple of shots."

"Afraid I missed.  At least whoever it was kept right on going."  He
frowned, then sat back on his heels pondering thoughtfully as he looked
at Hanna.

"You have no idea who it was?"

"Me?  I didn't even know he was there until I looked up in time to see
the knife.  And that's all I saw was the knife, really, except for his
shadow." "That's what I was afraid of."

Blake hefted the knife in his hand, then tucked it into the waistband
of his pants before looking at Hanna.

"Do you think you're going to be all right now?"  he asked.

Hanna swallowed hard as she stared at him.  "There's no way you can
sleep in the wagon, too?"

He knew what she meant.  It had taken him too long to get from the fire
to the wagon.  The next time, if there was a next time, he might not
make it at all.  He glanced toward the back of the wagon.

"You win," he said.

"At least for tonight.  I'll stretch out across the back, only I'll
have to go get my blankets."

Blake straightened, then stood up and left the wagon, heading toward
the fire.

"Hanna, are you sure there wasn't something in' those papers the lawyer
sent that could be a reason for someone trying to kill you?"  Elizabeth
asked when Blake was out of earshot.

Hanna shook her head.

"No, nothing."  She pulled the cover up, then let her fingers slip
through the slits the knife had made just to prove she hadn't been
dreaming.

"I've thought and thought.  Why, I even got the papers out of my
handbag the other evening and went through them, and found nothing."

Elizabeth didn't like it.  Not at all.  People didn't kill other people
without reason, and especially people they didn't know, and it was
certain Hanna didn't know her assailant.

"Well, there has to be a reason somewhere, my dear," she said.

"Maybe we'll find out when we reach your brother's ranch."

"Maybe."  Hanna sighed.

"Now, though, since I survived again, I think maybe we'd better settle
down and try to get through the rest of the night, don't you?"

Mrs.  Brady nodded and moved back to her own makeshift bed a few feet
away. Blake hefted himself onto the wagon, spread his blankets out
across the back, then lay down after first making sure one more time
that Hanna was all right.

Once he was settled in his blankets, he called out another good-night,
and within minutes the camp was quiet again, only unlike earlier in the
evening, Hanna was a long time in dropping off to sleep again.

It was morning.  Hanna stirred, opened her eyes, then frowned as she
felt the sun in her face.  The sun?

Her frown deepened and she rolled over, lifting herself onto her elbows
as she looked to where Mrs.  Brody usually slept.  Her bed was empty. 
That was logical, though, because Mrs.  Brody always got up before she
did, but they'd always been up before the sun ever since starting their
journey.

Tossing back the covers, Hanna got up just as Mrs.  Brady appeared at
the back of the buckboard.

"Good, I was just coming to wake you," Elizabeth said as she saw
Hanna.

Hanna stared at her curiously.

"But it's so late.  Why'd you let me sleep so long?"

"Blake figured you needed the rest after last night."  Hanna folded her
blanket up as she talked.

"Oh, now it's Blake instead of Mr.  Morgan, is it?"

"Well, like he said, it does seem ridiculous to keep calling him Mr. 
Morgan under the circumstances."  Hanna set the blanket aside with the
one she used for a pillow, then joined Mrs.  Brady at the back of the
wagon.

"What circumstances is that?"  she asked.

"You know very well what he meant," Elizabeth answered.

"In fact, it might be nice if you started calling me Elizabeth, too,
instead of Mrs.  Brady all the time.  After all, I'm not your landlady
anymore now, Hanna."

Hanna stared at her curiously, then shook her head.  "Oh, I couldn't do
that. It just wouldn't seem right.

Besides, you'll always be Mrs.  Brady to-me.  It has nothing to do with
whether you're my landlady or not.

It's just that I'think of you as Mrs.  Brady.  " Elizabeth smiled,
suddenly realizing what Hanna meant.  To Hanna, the name was a term of
endearment, giving Elizabeth a special place in Hanna's life.

It had nothing to do with landladies or proprieties.  or stations in
life.

"Well, if you're sure," Elizabeth said.  She reached up and helped
Hanna sit on the back of the wagon, then Hanna hopped to the ground.

"I'm positive," Hanna answered.

"Now, since you were on your way to wake me, I assume breakfast is
ready, right?"

While they walked over to where Blake was waiting Hanna showed
Elizabeth the slits in her blouse where the knife had gone through.  By
the time they reached the fire, the fear that Hanna had managed to
squelch the night before was beginning to emerge again, but she tried
to ignore it.

As usual they were on their way shortly after breakfast.  As they rode
away from the campsite Hanna eagerly searched the road up ahead,
wondering what more could happen before they reached Hangtown.

The day went well.  A little slower than usual due to the hilly
terrain, but as darkness neared they began to see houses and barns here
and there, and shortly before dark they rode into the town of Hubbard
Creek.

As with most of the towns they'd been through, the place was isolated
and lonely looking out here on the plains, with the ever present dust,
heat and wind.  A piano could be heard as they rode past one of the
saloons, but few people were about.  Blake mined up in front of one of
the buildings without a facade and brought the horses to a halt.

"I know it doesn't look like much," he said as he fastened the reins
securely, "but the couple who own it came here from France and they do
try to give good Hanna glanced at the sign outside the hotel.

"The Chez Pari?"  she questioned, frowning.

"From what I've heard, he wanted a gaming house, she wanted a hotel, so
they combined the two.

Gambling downstairs, sleeping upstairs.  But I've been here before and
it's better than the hotel down the street," and he nodded toward a
dilapidated building with a bunch of drifters lounging around
outside.

Hanna had to agree, especially when they were greeted at the desk a few
minutes later by a charming woman with dark hair and bright blue eyes. 
Her heavily accented English was interspersed here and there with
little French phrases, and she seemed only too eager to please.

"You'll have to forgive my Francois," she exclaimed after promising to
see that water was sent to their rooms 'so they could all bathe.

"He usually tends to such things for our guests himself, out since it's
late, and he's dealing already, I will see to it myself, but it will
take a little time.  You will be patient?"

Hanna nodded.

"Perhaps we could find someplace to eat in the meantime."  She turned
to look at Blake.

"I am terribly hungry."

After showing them their rooms, the little Frenchwoman, who told them
her name was Yvette, promised to have their baths waiting for them by
the time they returned, for an extra fee of course, then Blake escorted
both Hanna and Elizabeth down the street to what looked like the only
eating place in town.

While Hanna enjoyed her really first good meal in days, home fries,
steak and raisin pie, Blake once more asked if she could think of some
reason for the attempts on her life, but Hanna could come up with
nothing.

When they finally returned to the hotel, it was dark outside and the
gaming tables were in full swing.

"Where do they all come from?"  Hanna asked as they passed the gambling
room and headed for the desk.

Blake took a quick peek at the tables.

"Most are drifters, some work on nearby ranches and the rest probably
live in town."

Mrs.  Brady smiled.

"At least they seem to be enjoying themselves."

Blake had to agree.  Men always loved to gamble, even out here, and if
there wasn't a poker game to be had they'd bet on how far they could
spit.  When they reached the desk the little Frenchwoman was all in a
dither.

"Oh, mademoiselles, m'sieur, you are just in time.  I had to hunt
about, but we managed to find three tubs and the men just finished
filling them.  I was afraid the water would get cold before you
returned."

"Not a chance," said Blake.

"We've been looking forward to this too much, haven't we, ladies?"

Hanna and Elizabeth both agreed, the Frenchwoman gave them the keys to
their rooms, and the three went upstairs.

Hanna's room was the first on the left, Blake's was across from it and
Mrs. Brady's was farther on at the end of the hall.  Blake unlocked the
doors for both women, then handed each of them their key, remind hag
them not to forget to tell the proprietor's wife when they were through
so the tubs could be removed.  This done, he disappeared into his own
room.

Hanna shut the door to her room, then stood taking it in.  It was about
the same size as the room she'd lived in at the boardinghouse, and the
tub was set up halfway between the bed and the dresser.

Before going to eat Hanna had brought her carpetbag up, set out her
nightclothes and turned back the covers on the bed.  Since it had been
almost dark she'd lit the lamp on the dresser, and now its golden glow
made the room look inviting.

Warm water, she thought as she stared at the narrow copper tub.  A
genuine bath.  Anxious to feel the wonderful sensation of being clean
again, she began unbuttoning her blouse.

Unfortunately the only clean clothes she would have to put on in the
morning would be the under drawers she'd been carrying in her
portmanteau along with her nightclothes.

That's one thing she had been doing.  She had six pair of under drawers
and every time they'd make camp near water of any kind she'd wash the
dirty ones, spread them out on bushes to dry overnight and pack them
away again in the morning.  But the rest of her clothes, her skirt,
petticoats and blouse, were still filled with the dust and dirt of the
trail.  And that's all it was most
of the time, a lonesome trail leading off ahead on the horizon for
what looked like endless miles.

The last vestige of clothing left her body.  Hanna tossed the clothes
onto a chair near the dresser, then walked to the tub where she stood
wondering whether she should wash, or do her hair first?

Realizing that too much soap wouldn't be good for her hair, she took
out her hairpins, set them on the dresser, then knelt down beside the
tub and washed her hair first.

She rinsed it as best she could and toweled it dry.  This done she
grabbed a brush from her portmanteau, stroked her hair enough to get it
to behave some, then fastened it back haphazardly with a ribbon she'd
found in her carpetbag instead of securing it in its usual knot.

After tying the ribbon, she reached down and felt the water.  It was
still warm, thank goodness.  Straightening expectantly, she finally
stepped into the tub.  What luxury.  The old copper tub was battered
and beat up, with green corrosion along the upper rim, but all she
could see was the soothing water as she eas~ herself down in it with a
sigh.

Never before in her life had Hanna ever realized how luxurious a bath
could really feel, and she wriggled her toes, letting the water swish
between them. After spending almost half an hour enjoying the feel of
the warm water, she finally realized it was starting to cool off.

If she wanted to get clean before it got completely cold, she'd better
get started.

By the time she'd scrubbed every inch, the water was not only cold, but
a scum was settling on top from all the soap and dirt.  Grabbing the
sides of the narrow tub, she pulled herself up, stepped from the water,
reached over to the bed and grabbed the big towel that had accompanied
the cloth and soap.

Once dried off, she wrapped the towel around her, then started toward
the chair to get into her street clothes, figuring she wouldn't put her
nightclothes on until after they'd taken away the tub.

Suddenly she stopped, hesitating, her gaze moving from her clothes on
the chair to her nightclothes spread out on the bed near where the
towel had been.  A frown creased her forehead.  She squinted, straining
her eyes.

Something had moved.  She'd caught the movement out of the corner of
her eye when she'd started for her clothes.  But what could it be? 
Cautiously, her hands gripping the top of the towel, she moved toward
the bed instead of the chair, only she didn't see anything, not at
first.

Then, when she was only a few feet from the big four-poster, she caught
the movement again, and this time she let out a startled shriek and
froze motionless, staring.

Across the hall, Blake has just finished shaving and was wiping his
chin with the towel.  The bath had felt good, but not wanting to linger
too long, he'd hurried through it, then slipped on his pants and boots,
but not his shirt because he decided he needed a shave.  He looked in
the mirror, studying the clean-shaven face that stared back at him. 
Hardly handsome, that's for sure, and the wind and weather had played
havoc on what once had been tender, youthful skin.  God, he was getting
old.

At thirty-five he felt ancient already.

He was just about to toss the towel aside to put on his shirt when
Hanna's startled scream brought him up short.  After everything the
woman had been through already, he didn't even wait to see if she'd
scream again.  Instead
he bolted for the door, and seconds later flung the door to Hanna's
room open.  Blake stepped inside quickly, then stopped, standing
transfixed at the scene before him.

At first he didn't see the snake.  But damn, he could hear it.  The
sidewinder's rattles were vibrating and echoing loudly off the walls of
the otherwise quiet room.

"Where is it?"  he asked, his eyes intent on Hanna's motionless figure
as she clutched the towel frantically around her.

Her voice when she answered was barely a whisper.  "On the bed neat to
my nightclothes."

Slowly, deliberately moving only a fraction of an inch at a time, Blake
began to ease himself farther into the room until he was finally
standing next to Hanna.  Now he could not only hear the snake, but see
it, too.

It had evidently slithered out from under her nightgown and was coiling
up only inches from it, its head drawn back, rattles a blur they were
moving so fast, and all Blake had with him was the towel.  He hadn't
put on his gun belt after his bath, and for the first time in years he
was going to have to find a way out of a jam without relying on his
Colt.

His hands tightened on the towel he held in his hands, then he inhaled
determinedly.

"Don't move.

Don't even hardly breathe," he whispered between barely open lips.

"If he decides to strike he can hit you easily right where you are."

The only way Blake knew Hanna had heard him was the low, half-strangled
groan that came from her throat.  Not only wasn't she moving, but he
hadn't even seen her blink since he'd stepped into the room.  ' Tensing
hesitantly, he finally knew there was only one thing he could do, and
slowly positioning the towel 67 in front of him, he eased closer to the
bed, trying desperately to put himself between Hanna and the
diamondback.

When the rattling became louder he'd freeze, then when the snake would
quiet down some he'd move again.  Finally he stopped altogether when
he'd gotten as close as he felt the snake would allow.  His insides
crawled feverishly and sweat dampened the back of his neck.

He was going to have one chance and one chance only and he knew it.

"When I throw the towel I want you to run to the other side of the room
as fast as you can," he said, his voice a low monotone.

He heard a strangled sob from behind him.  "You understand?"  He waited
for her answer.  When it came it sounded like a strangled gasp.

"Good."  His voice was still hushed and low

"Now I'm going to count to three.  On three you go.

One .  two .  three!  " As he uttered the word, the towel left his
hands, the snake struck out at it, and Hanna ran.  Blake's hand shot
out, hitting the back of the towel where he figured the snake's head
wouldn't be, and with one movement he scooped the snake off the bed and
onto the floor, then brought his boot heel down where he could already
see the snake's fangs puncturing the towel.

Over and over again he ground his heel into the towel until blood began
to seep through it, then finally, after one last crunching blow, he
stepped back and stood breathing deeply, keeping his eyes on the
towel.

Hanna cringed against the far wall staring at the towel, her heart in
her throat, hands trembling.

"Is it dead?"  she finally asked, her gaze moving from the bloodied
towel. to Blake's tension-filled face.

Blake didn't answer because he wasn't sure himself.  In spite of all
the blood, the towel was still moving.

Blake knew snakes didn't always quit moving right away even when they
were dead, but he was still hesitant.

Very cautiously he reached down, lifted one end of the towel, then
quickly dropped it into place again.

"His rattling days are over," he finally said, looking directly at
Hanna for the first time since entering the room.

She was leaning against the wall, clutching the top of the towel, her
face pale, eyes closed.  He assumed in relief.  Then, as he watched,
she apparently tried to compose herself, her eyes opened and she took a
deep breath, then straightened.  That was when he realized that her
hair was falling loose instead of twisted into its severe bun, and with
the flickering light on it from the lamp it looked all golden and soft.
 So different from the stark whiteness it usually was in the sun.  Even
her eyes looked different somehow tonight as she looked at him,
conveying her relief and thanks for what he'd done.  They had deepened
to a grayish purple hue with what looked like little flecks of silver
running through them.

"Are you all right?"  he asked, realizing he had to say something.

She nodded.

"I've never been so petrified in all my life," she answered, her voice
breathless and barely under control.

Suddenly he saw her legs start to give way and he hurried over,
grabbing her by the arms to help her stay up.

6~ "I'm all right, please," she murmured.  Summoning all the strength
she could, she finally forced the muscles in her legs to stop
quivering, then looked into his " face.

"Thank you," she said.

His hands eased on her arms, but he still didn't let go.

"You're sure you're all right?"

"Yes.  I'm fine."

Blake stared at her, suddenly very aware that Hanna Winters seemed to
have lost her prim and proper manner, and it had been replaced with a
warm, sensual vulnerability.  A quality new to her.  Funny, he'd never
quite thought of her as being vulnerable before.  And yet, as he stood
staring into her beautiful eyes, his hands still on her shoulders, he
had the distinct feeling that if he bent down and kissed her she
wouldn't resist.

Hanna swallowed hard as she stared into Blake's face.  Something was
wrong and it had nothing to do with the snake.  It had to do with
Blake.

Her eyes were on his and she felt a weird stirring deep inside.  A
sensation she'd felt more than once when he'd been around, but stronger
now than it had ever been before, and frightening.  As frightening as
the sight of the snake had been.

All too aware of his hands still holding her arms, Hanna felt her once
pale face suddenly grow hot and she wanted to die from embarrassment
because she was sure he knew exactly what she was thinking.  And right
now what she was thinking was something Hanna hadn't thought of in
years.

Blake's hands moved up her arms until they reached her shoulders and he
touched her long pale hair, sifting it through his fingers.

Boston Renegade "It looks nice loose like this," he said, his voice
husky in the quiet room.

Hanna's gaze moved from his clean-shaven face to his hairy chest.  She
didn't know what to say.  The smell of his shaving soap was strong and
she breathed it in deeply.  The sensation made her jaws tighten and her
insides quiver.

"It's ... it's too unruly to leave loose during the day," she answered
for something to say.

His fingers on the bare flesh of her shoulders were exceptionally soft,
and every place they touched they sent little shocks running through
her.  Now they were moving up her neck toward her face and she
swallowed hard.  Was he going to kiss her?

Blake started to bend forward, her hypnotic eyes mesmerizing him, the
feel of her soft flesh beneath his fingers tantalizing him until there
was no way he could stop, and as their lips met, he knew she'd been
waiting for it.

Hanna moaned under the pressure of Blake's lips, not from passion, but
from fear.  She had wanted this, yes.  While she stood staring up at
him she'd wondered what it would be like to be kissed again, really
kissed, this time for what she was, not what she had.  Only now that it
was happening, it was almost more than she could bear because she knew
it was arousing feelings in her she'd buried years before.

Feelings that had no part in the life of Hanna Winters.  Feelings she'd
sworn never to give in to again, yet here she was not only giving in to
them, but letting them get the upper hand.

Suddenly forcing herself back to the real world, she began to
struggle.

"Please, Mr.  Morgan!"  Her voice was raspy and broke on the words as
she pulled her mouth from his, her eyes widening indignantly.

Blake shuddered inside, trying to bring his emotions under control, his
eyes boring into hers as he straightened, catching his breath.

"Sorry," he apologized, his voice hoarse.  His eyes hardened
forcefully.

"My mistake," and as he continued staring at her he could once more see
the prim and proper Hanna Winters starting to emerge and he frowned. 
Damn!  He hadn't wanted to do that.  He couldn't afford to let his
feelings get tangled up in his work.  Taking her cue, he released her,
then watched her hands quickly grip the top of the towel as if it had
been ready to fall.

Hanna was breathing erratically and she knew it.  And she also knew
that for a brief few minutes she had kissed Morgan.  back.  However,
that couldn't be helped now.  He'd caught her off guard, that was
all.

Lifting her chin stiffly, she stepped back, acknowledging his
apology.

"I'm sorry, too," she said, her voice harsher than she meant it to be. 
Still she went on.  "And yes, it was a mistake.  One I'm sure will
never happen again, will it?"  She flicked her head, tossing her hair
off her shoulder as she avoided his eyes and looked toward the towel,
which had finally quit moving.

"I presume it was just the excitement of the moment, that's all.  Shah
we forget it?"

Blake could sense that she was as unnerved by what had happened as he
was, and yet she was putting on a good show of bravado.

"Why not?"  he answered, feigning indifference over the whole thing,
then he turned his attention to the creature that had brought him to
her room.
Forcing his gaze from her unsettled face, he straightened stubbornly,
walked over and took one more quick look under the towel just to make
sure, then scooped the whole mess up so the dead rattler was inside the
towel, and he headed for the door that was still standing open.  "Where
are you going?" she asked as she watched the powerful muscles rippling
across his broad back. He didn't even have a shirt on yet.

"To see Madam Yvette," he answered, his amber eyes snapping angrily as
he turned briefly to face her.

"Snakes don't climb in through hotel windows, Miss Winters," he went
on.

"And I'm going to gb find out who put it there and why."  As he went
out, he slammed the door shut behind him, leaving her Standing in the
middle of her room staring after him, her hands gripping the towel to
her like a shield, a strange, curiously bewildered look on her face.

Chapter Three Blake was oblivious of his bare chest as he made his way
down the steps toward the lobby.  In fact, he was oblivious of just
about everything except that somehow he had to forget what had occurred
in Hanna's hotel room.  All he needed right now was to get tangled up
emotionally with Hanna Winters.

Reaching the lobby, he marched over to the desk, deposited the bloody
towel on top of it and stared hard at the woman behind it.

"M'sieur?"  Yvette asked, her gaze moving from his face to the towel,
then to his face again.

"Something, she is wrong?"

"You're damned right something she is wrong," he mimicked her.

"Maybe you can tell me where the hell that thing came from."

She shrugged, looking perplexed.

"What is it, re'sieur?"

He took one corner of the towel and pulled it back so she could get a
good look, then he watched her eyes widen with horror.

"But it is a snake, re'sieur."

"That's right, and a rattler, too.  It was in Miss Winters's room,
curled up on her bed next to her clothes."

"Oh, but no."  Yvette shook her head.

"But how could something like that happen?  And why?"

"That's what I came down here for."  Blake covered the dead snake
again, then his eyes darkened ominously.

"Evidently someone put it there earlier while we were gone."

Yvette frowned.

"But who would do such a thing?"  "Who filled the tubs?"

Yvette's gaze moved from Blake's face to the other side of the lobby
and she held up her hand, beckoning toward a man who'd just stepped in
through the front door.

"M'sieur Bandy, come here," she yelled, then looked at Blake.

"M'sieur Bandy was in charge of getting the tubs filled."

The man Madam Yvette called Bandy was obviously the handyman about the
place, only he didn't seem to know anything about the snake, either. 
"Lessin' it was that stranger what give me and Geezer a hand," he said,
his weathered face screwed up in thought.

Blake eyed him dubiously.

"What stranger?"  "The one what helped us carry up some of the
water."

Bandy hesitated for a second, then went on.  "Come to think of it, he
did ask which room the lady was usin'.  Said he didn't want to get her
water too hot."

"There were two ladies," Blake reminded him.

"I know."  He nodded.

"That's why I'm sure it musta been him, caused he asked specifically
for the lady with the white hair."

"What did he look like?"

"About my size, give or take a few inches.  Sorta wizened up, though,
and shriveled from the sun with a 75 mustache that sat tight on his
upper lip as if it was drawn on."  ' Blake's eyes narrowed.

"He still around?"

"Don't think so.  Iffen I remember right, I ain't seen him since we
come back downstairs."  Madam Yvette continued to shake her head.

"I am so sorry, M'sieur Morgan.  If I had known... But why would
someone want to harm your Mademoiselle Winters?"

Blake straightened, his gaze resting on the bloody towel.

"If I knew that, madam, I wouldn't be down here asking questions."

"Ah, yes, oui, I understand."

Blake could tell the woman was upset as she instructed the handyman to
get rid of the snake, then she looked at Blake and her eyes moved from
their perusal of his face to his hairy chest and he suddenly realized
he'd come down without his shirt on.  "You'll have to excuse me," he
said, clearing his throat self-consciously.

"My only thought was how close Miss Winters came to being bitten."

"Then she's all right?"

"Thankfully, yes.  Only I think perhaps I'll accompany your Mr.  Bandy
and his friend, what is it, Geezer when they go after the tubs, just to
make sure?" And a short time later, he was following behind Bandy and
another man, who seemed just as friendly as Bandy, while they removed
the tubs from the rooms, starting with Blake's room.

By the time they reached the tub in Hanna's room, Hanna was fully
dressed, with her hair pulled back in its usual severe topknot.

"Did you find out anything?"  she asked Blake as they watched Bandy
and his friend pick up the tub and leave the room with it.

Blake shook his head.

"Not really, except that we probably have a description of the
culprit."

"Oh?"

"Those two got some outside help," and he pointed to Bandy and Geezer
who were just disappearing through the doorway into the hall.

"Only it seems their helper's suddenly disappeared."

"Surely they know his name?"

"He introduced himself as Willie, only I doubt that's his real name,
and the handyman said he's never seen the man before and hasn't seen
him since." "How marvelous."  She took a deep breath, then strolled
over to the window and looked out, staring at the dim lights, few and
far between in the small frontier town.

Somewhere out there was a man who was trying to kill her, and she had
absolutely no clue as to why.

"So what do we do now?"  she asked, turning to face Blake.

He shrugged.

"Isn't much we can do, I'm afraid, except really keep our eyes open the
rest of the trip."

He headed for the door.

"Hope you don't mind.  I think we should get an early start in the
morning so I'll probably be pounding on your door before sunup."

"I'd better let Mrs.  Brady know."

"No need, I've already told her."  His gaze traveled from her clean
scrubbed face to the toes of her kid shoes, then moved back up slowly
until he was looking directly into her pale lavender eyes.

"Make sure you lock your door after I leave," he said, his voice slid77
demy deeper.

"I'd hate for our man to sneak back here to see if his slithering
friend did its job."

"Don't worry, it'll be locked."  Her eyes fixed on his in an invisible
embrace she couldn't seem to shake.  Blake had his shirt on now, but it
wasn't hard at all for her to remember the way he'd looked without it,
and as she stared into his strangely golden eyes there were other
things she remembered, as well.  Things she had no right to remember. 
Feeling a flush getting ready to flood through her, she pursed her lips
stubbornly, fighting against it, and finally managed to wrench her eyes
from his gaze.  Walking over to the dresser, she picked up the key
where she'd set it earlier, then turned toward Blake.

"Now, if you don't mind I am rather tired," she said, hoping he
wouldn't see the' warm flush that was already tingling her ears.

"And you did say we'd be getting up early."

"Don't mind at all," he answered.

"You have a good night," and without another word, Blake left her room,
closing the door firmly behind him, waiting until he heard her key turn
in the lock before returning to his own room across the hall.

Hanna set the key on the dresser, then stood for a minute staring at
her nightclothes, still laid out on the bed.  Blake had made sure there
were no more uninvited guests in the room and she was grateful.  Yet
the idea that there'd been one in there in the first place still
troubled her.  Well, there was nothing more she could do about it
tonight, and pulling down the shade on the window, she reached up,
unbuttoning her blouse.

Tonight was going to be a long night, and a restless one, she was 'sure
of it.

The sun was barely streaking the sky the next morning as the old
buckboard pulled away from the Chez Pari Hotel and headed out of
Hubbard Creek.  As usual, Hanna was sitting beside Blake while
EliZabeth sat on her chair in the back watching his horse trot along
behind.

Blake had replenished their supplies just before leaving and Hanna
looked over at him now.  He'd told her while they were putting things
in the wagon that they should reach Hangtown in another couple of
days.

She was glad, because after last night, she wasn't quite as
self-assured around him as she had been at the start of the trip and it
was a feeling she didn't like.  "Something the matter?"  Blake asked as
he glanced over, realizing she'd been eyeing him furtively.  "Not at
all," she answered, her voice once more prim and proper as she quickly
straightened, her eyes on the dusty road ahead of them.

"I was just thinking that it's good we'll be there soon, then maybe
I'll be able to find out just what all this nonsense with bullets and
snakes is all about."

"That's all that's bothering you?"

"Should there be something else, Mr.  Morgan?"  she asked and she
turned from the road and looked right at him, appearing to be in
complete control of her emotions again.

He took a deep breath and half smiled, then flicked the reins, urging
the horses a little faster.  There was a knowing look in his eye as he
said,

"I guess not if you say so," and he watched her tilt her head defiantly
and turn away from his scrutiny, her eyes once more fixed steadfastly
on the horizon.

It was midafternoon three days later when they finally rode into
Hangtown and Hanna sat on the seat staring at everything, her head
shaking slightly in disbelief.

"This is a town?"  she asked, her gaze moving from one building to
another, taking in the haphazard structures.

It was almost as bad as Fort Worth although there did seem to be
several hotels.  One building that had a sign over it stating the
Hangtown Herald stuck out from most of the others because it was brand
new and freshly painted, as was one other building a few doors away.

Blake reined their buckboard up in front of the new building farther
down the street, then pulled the horses to a halt.

"That lawyer you're looking for has offices in there," he said,
motioning with his hand toward the fairly new building that was painted
yellow with white trim.

Hanna stared at it apprehensively, her gaze settling on the signs over
the door.  Milton Gibbs, Attorney at Law was on one sign, and below it
was a sign that read Land Office--Deeds and Parcels.  There was also
another sign to the right of the other two that read Government
Assayer.

"Which is he?"  Hanna asked.

Blake smiled, amused.

"All three."

"That's ridiculous."

"Not out here."  He gestured toward the rest of the town.  The feed
store doubled as a blacksmith, the boot maker was also a gunsmith, and
the general store sold everything from hats and food to hardware
supplies.

Only a small bank, saloon and the sheriff's office didn't do double
duty at something or other.

"Out here the more you can do, the better.  Even old Doc Weatherby
runs a pharmacy when he isn't pulling teeth, taking out bullets and
healing sick cattle."

"He takes care of people and animals both?"

"Hey, he's a doctor, that's all that matters."  Hanna turned and looked
at Elizabeth, who was already standing in the back of the buckboard,
stretching to get out the kinks.

"I'm sorry, Mrs.  Brady," she said,

"I was hoping the place would be a little more civilized."

Elizabeth grinned.

"You worry too much, Hanna."  She took a quick appraisal of the town.

"As long as there are people here there must be something worth staying
for.

Besides, we won't be living in town anyway, will we?  I thought we'd be
staying at the ranch.  " " But if the town's this bad, what will the
ranch be like?  "

Elizabeth wasn't about to be discouraged.

"Well, we'll never know unless you go inside and find out, will we?" 
she said.  With that Blake got down, then helped both women alight.

Hanna felt self-conscious as Blake opened the door for her and she
stepped into the small waiting room, listening to the little bell over
the door as it announced their arrival.  She'd have felt better if she
could have cleaned up some first, but as Mrs.  Brody reminded her, the
sooner they got to the ranch, the better.  Hanna reached up and tucked
a stray hair beneath the wide- brimmed straw hat she was wearing. 
She'd discovered only a few days into the journey that she couldn't
hold up the parasol all day long, and the little hats she'd brought
from Boston did nothing to keep the sun out.  So she had bought a big
straw hat at a store in one of the towns they'd been through, but it
had been made 81 for a man, not a woman, and looked rather out of place
on her.

"Maybe he's not in," she murmured halfheartedly, then tensed as she
heard a man's voice call from the other room.

"I'll be right with you!"

"You ever met Mr.  Gibbs?"  she asked Blake.  "Nope.  I've seen him a
couple of times when I was passing through, but never had the chance to
chew the fat with him."

Hanna was ready to ask Blake when he'd been here last when the door to
one of the inner offices opened and a tall, thin man with dark fringed
hair on each side of a balding pate stepped through it.  He had
piercing blue eyes, a rather thin pinched nose and one of his front
teeth was gold capped.

"Yes, sir, and what might I do for you folks?"  he asked, looking
directly at Blake.

Blake backed off.

"It's not for me, it's for Miss Winters here," he said.

Milton Gibbs's eyes widened in recognition.

"Miss Winters, ah, yes."

His gaze settled on her white hair beneath the hat.

"I should have realized, I'm sorry.  Come in, come in, I'm glad you
finally arrived," and he gestured to one of the doors that had Attorney
written on it.

Hanna didn't ask them, but Blake and Elizabeth followed her right into
the lawyer's office.

* "Excuse me, but..."  Milton Gibbs looked at Hanna expectantly, then
gestured toward Elizabeth and Blake.

"This is rather private, you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, then introduced them to the barrister.

"And I think as long as Mrs.  Brady's going to live with me at the
ranch, and
Mr.  Morgan's going to drive us there in the buckboard, that it'd be
foolish for me not to include them," she went on.

"Besides, according to your letter I should already know what's in the
will. Reading it is just a formality, isn't it?"

Gibbs had to concede she was right, so after settling them all in
chairs, reading the will and confirming that Hanna was the new owner of
the White Wind Ranch as well as a small account at the local bank, the
three of them left the lawyer's office.

Hanna stood just outside the door and stared across the dusty street to
the weathered buildings of the quiet frontier town.  Mr.  Gibbs said it
would probably take them another two hours to ride to the ranch in the
old buckboard, and she wondered if maybe they hadn't ought to wait
until tomorrow and spend the night in town so she could arrive at the
ranch a little less weary and bedraggled.  After all, it was close to
three in the afternoon already.

Elizabeth, too, was looking over the town, only at the moment her gaze
was on a man in front of the general store across the street.  He was
sitting on an old chair and leaning back on two legs so that he was
resting against the wall near one of the display windows.  It wasn't
the way he was sitting on the chair that bothered her, it was the man
himself.  He fit exactly the description Blake Morgan had said the
handyman at the Chez Pari in Hubbard Creek had given him of the man
who'd helped set up the bath, and she felt the hair at the nape of her
neck prickle.

"I'm not really sure," she said, answering Hanna's question.

"It all depends."

"On what?"

"On whether that man across the way is who I think he is or not," and
she saw both Hanna and Blake look in the direction she was looking.

Blake's eyes hardened and he inhaled sharply as fear settled in Hanna's
eyes.

"My God," Hanna said, half whispering.

"He fits the description perfectly."  .

"It may not be him," Blake cautioned her.

"That description could fit half a dozen cowhands in Hangtown."

"But if it is him?"

"Then maybe you'd better not take a chance on staying in town tonight. 
From what's happened so far, it's evident someone didn't want you to
get here at all, so maybe it'd be better to just keep on going."

Hanna thought over what he said, decided maybe he was right, and they
climbed back onto the buckboard and headed southwest out of town
following the directions given them by the lawyer.

The late afternoon sun was hot as they rode along, and Hanna wished she
could have had time to change.

Perspiration beaded her brow, and she could feel her clothes sticking
to her.

At times they found themselves traveling through open prairies swept by
hot gusty breezes that rippled across the pale grasses before losing
themselves in the mesquite, sagebrush and greasewood.  Later the road
wound through rugged canyons hidden from the worst of the sun, and
Hanna was amazed at the contrast.

They had been riding for almost two hours when Blake finally reined the
buckboard off the main trail they'd been following and started down a
narrow road that stretched out between two jagged cliffs dotted here
and there with
straggly cedar trees.  The trees were hanging precariously to the
sides of the rocky embankments that sloped down to the edge of the
narrow road, and the rock formations nearly blotted out the deep blue
sky.

Hanna felt dwarfed as she stared up at them, one hand on her hat to
hold it on her head, the other hanging on to the side of the seat since
the road was so uneven and bumpy.

Suddenly the crack of a rifle echoed, bouncing off the walls of the dry
arroyo, and before Hanna could grasp what was happening, Blake,
realizing the bullet had missed and whizzed right past Hanna's head,
slapped the reins, yelled to the team and gave the horses their heads,
moving the buckboard forward at breakneck speed.

Hanna wasn't just hanging on to the seat now, she was clutching it for
dear life, and trying to hold onto her hat, too, as the buckboard flew
down the road, dust billowing out behind it.

Another shot rang out, then another, and Elizabeth, who was hanging on
as hard as Hanna, let her gaze move from one side to the other to see
if she could spot where the culprit was.  But they were going too fast,
and there were any number of places where a person could hide up there
in the rocks and never be seen from down here.

After what seemed like an eternity Hanna finally felt Blake pull back
on the reins and the team begin to slow down.  They'd put a good mile
behind them in their mad dash, and now as the road skirted the towering
cliffs, the rock formations eased off and gave way once more to rolling
hills and flatter plains where an ambush would be harder to attempt.

Hanna leaned back against the seat and let out a sigh of relief as the
buckboard slowly ground to a halt.

"Everybody all right?"  Blake asked.

"If you could call being scared half to death all right, then I'm all
right," Elizabeth said as she straightened in her chair after
retrieving her parasol from the bed of 'the buckboard.

"Hanna?"

Hanna was having a hard time finding her voice.  Her heart was still in
her throat and her hands were trembling.

"I think I'm all right," she answered, her voice tremulous, then she
looked at Blake.

"You don't suppose it was that little man with the mustache again, do
you?"

"Hard to tell.  Either him or one of his cronies, I suppose.  Only
there's no way we could ever prove it."

Hanna breathed in deeply, looking toward the road they'd just traveled.
Well, someone knew they were coming, she thought, and she suddenly
stiffened. "Mr.  Morgan, about how far do you think we are yet from
where Mr.  Gibbs said the ranch is?"  she asked.

Blake shrugged.

"Five, maybe six miles, why?"

"And do you think we have enough water in our water barrels for us to
wash?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I've decided that I think it'd be best if I arrived at the ranch in my
best bib and tucker instead of looking like a fugitive from the
poorhouse."  She was slowly getting her self-assurance back.

"If anyone out at the ranch is responsible for the attempts on my life,
then the more respectability I command when I arrive the better.  Don't
you think?"

She glanced ahead, scanning the horizon, and her gaze rested on a
grove of trees about a quarter mile away.

"If you'll just drive over to those trees... They should give us enough
screen to wash and change clothes."

"What about our ambusher?"  Elizabeth asked.

"He could still be about."

Hanna smiled warmly as she looked at Blake.

"Why, that's what we have Mr.  Morgan for.  You will stand guard, won't
you? I mean... you did say you'd make sure we got to the ranch in one
piece."

Blake's topaz eyes crinkled at the corners as he studied her for a few
seconds, contemplating.  She was trying not to sound too frightened,
but he could tell she was really shook up.  Maybe she was right and
it'd do good for her to show up in her prim and proper Boston
clothes.

"I'd be glad to stand guard," he answered, heading for the grove of
trees off to the left of the road.

It took a little over half an hour for Hanna and Elizabeth to wash the
dirt from their faces and find something appropriate to wear. 
Elizabeth took no time at all deciding on the rust-colored poplin she'd
worn when they'd left Abilene, Kansas, but Hanna was having a terrible
time deciding.

Her best suit, the new purple one, had been ruined that first night out
of Fort Worth and the only other two outfits she felt were good enough
were a black linen suit she'd often worn to church on Sunday and a new
red dress she'd bought just before leaving Boston.  However, now that
she looked it over, she realized that the purchase of the dress had
really been a frivolous decision on her part.  It was a bright scarlet
faille with 87 long sleeves, way too hot for the Texas heat.  And the
neckline in front was far too low for a respectable Boston teacher.

Still, it just might be the thing to wear under the circumstances.  She
wanted to make the ranch hands think she was a strong person.  The kind
who could run a place like the White Wind.

Mr.  Gibbs had told them that her brother's foreman, Jules Hayden, was
running the place until she arrived, with help from an old Mexican
housekeeper, and she was afraid he'd see right through her pretense of
knowing exactly what being the owner of a ranch was all about.

"Wear the red one," Elizabeth urged her as she saw Hanna looking both
of them over carefully.

"But the black's more appropriate," Hanna protested.

"After all, I'm supposed to be in mourning over Henry."

"Are you?"

"Well..."  Her face flushed.

"I should be."

"Pshaw!  Who cares way out here?  Besides" -- and Elizabeth popped her
little yellow straw hat on her head as she~ talked"--you weren't all
that close to him.  Why, if he hadn't left you the place you wouldn't
even have known he died."

"But that's no excuse."

"Aren't you ladies through yet?"  Blake yelled from where he stood on
higher ground watching the road and the woods at the same time.

"It's gonna be dark before we even get there if you don't hurry."

"The red," Elizabeth urged again, and this time Hanna capitulated.

After putting the dress on, she let her hair down, brushed the tangles
out, twisted it into its usual knot then put on a small red faille hat
she'd
bought to go with the dress.  It had a narrow rolled brim with sheer
veiling stretched over it, and the veiling was made into a bow at the
back where it covered the knot of Hanna's twisted hair.

The whole outfit was a bit fancy, but Hanna agreed with Elizabeth that
it made her appear to be more a woman of the world, rather than a
former teacher from a private girls' school.  "We're ready," she called
out to Blake, who was some twenty yards away.  A few minutes later when
he joined them Hanna was certain she saw surprise in his eyes when his
gaze fell on her clothes.

The dress was rumpled from having been stuffed into the trunk, but she
was going to have to ignore that.  The important thing was that she
felt different in it.  More forceful and commanding.  Besides, as far
as anyone at the ranch was concerned the wrinkles could be the effects
of the long journey she'd been on.

Satisfied she'd made the tight decision, she ignored the strange way
Blake was looking at her and grabbed her handbag off the wagon bed of
the buckboard where she'd set it earlier.

"Shall we?"

After helping both ladies on board again, Blake grabbed the reins and
drove the buckboard onto the narrow road, and they continued on their
way.  Half an hour later they had just come over the top of a rolling
hill when Blake suddenly pulled back on the reins and pointed up
ahead.

"There it is," he said, squinting in the late afternoon sun.

Hanna reached up, shading her eyes as Elizabeth stood and peered over
their shoulders.

The land stretched out before them like a pale golden green carpet,
broken here and there by a bush, some rocks, and nearer the house, a
number of trees.

But it was the house itself that commanded their attention.  Hanna had
thought it would be a wooden structure much like the ranches she'd seen
closer to town.  Instead it was made of adobe.  The whole place was
spread out like a small village with the main house in the center and
the smaller buildings scattered here and there as if for fortification
while wood and stone fences cut back and forth separating different
areas.

Beyond the ranch, in the distance, the vast land was cut by a
meandering river that flowed down from the deep purple hills in the
background.  The rugged tops of the hills were golden now from the
setting sun as it fell closer to meet the horizon.

"But where are the cattle?"  Hanna asked Blake, her gaze resting on
what appeared to be a few horses in a corral to the left of one of the
larger buildings.

"Mr.  Gibbs said there should be close to a thousand of them."

"Out on the range.  They're probably in the middle of roundup."

"Roundup?"

He glanced at her.

"I see you have more to learn about ranching than I thought."

Hanna's mouth pursed stubbornly.

"And I'll learn it, too," she said then sighed.

"Well, I suppose we might as well get on with the inevitable."  Taking
his cue from her, Blake clicked to the horses and they continued on.

Up ahead at the ranch house, the housekeeper, Mafia, stood upstairs in
the master bedroom stating out a set of double doors at the buckboard
as it ambled down the lane toward the gates of White Wind.

She was tired and weary, the thought of visitors at this time of day
bringing
only irritation.  Well, she wasn't going to ask them to stay for
supper, that's for sure.  Bad enough she had to put up with Jules
Hayden ordering her around.

Opening one of the doors a little wider, she leaned her ample body
against the frame and squinted, hoping to see better, but the sun was
already too far below the horizon and whoever was in the buckboard was
too shadowed to distinguish at this distance.

It was probably just some people who'd lost their way.  Well, she'd set
them on the right track again.

Stepping back, she closed the doors behind her, then straightened, her
dark eyes intense as she strolled from the master bedroom and made her
way down the hall to the winding stone steps that descended to the
parlor.

For eight years she'd worked for Hank Winters, and before that, since
she was a young girl, for the de Vera family.  These walls, every stone
and board of this house were home to her.  At fifty-three she'd been
widowed twice, raised two sons and knew she'd no doubt die here.  Ever
since that lawyer in town had told Jules that Hank'S sister was coming
to take over, she'd been on edge.

What if the woman decided to sell the place?  Or worse yet, what if she
tried to run it herself and threw them all out?

She stood at the foot of the stairs gazing about the main room of the
hacienda.  It fairly reeked of masculinity, from the colorful woven
rugs scattered about the wood floors to the heavy ornate furniture. 
Hank Winters had combined some of the furniture left by Antonio de
Vera's widow.  with more familiar American ranch furnishings, but
without any frills.

Leaving the stairs, she strolled to the fireplace and stood staring at
the clock that graced the mantel.  It was the one thing that really
looked out of place.  It was a ship's clock, and Hank had told her he'd
bought it when he'd been on a visit to Galveston, some years back.

She'd often wondered about it, but had never had the courage to ask
him. Hank Winters was the type of man who didn't answer questions
easily. Especially if those questions might shed some light on anything
in his past. That's why Maria had been surprised to learn that he'd had
a sister living somewhere in the east.

Suddenly she frowned as she heard the rattle of.  horses and grinding
wheels as the buckboard she'd seen approaching pulled up ~near the
front veranda. Madre de Dios, she suddenly thought, what if it was
Senorita Winters?  But then she'd arrive in a carriage, not a
buckboard, wouldn't she?

Reaching up to smooth back her dark hair that was gently streaked with
gray, she Straightened the apron that covered her plain blue cotton
dress and headed for the front door.

Outside, Hanna's stomach was fluttering wildly as Blake maneuvered the
buckboard as close as he could to the veranda of the large adobe house,
its red tiled roof a contrasting background for the bright flowering
vines that climbed up to the second floor balcony.  Her gaze shifted
from the roof back down to the veranda that stretched the full length
of the place.  Directly in the middle of the veranda was a huge open
wooden door with windows on both sides of it.  The plump figure of a
Mexican woman suddenly appeared on the threshold, and Hanna remembered
Milton Gibbs telling her about the
housekeeper.  He said her name was Maria Rodriguez and that she was
half Comanche Indian, half Mexican.

Except for the woman in the doorway, there didn't seem to be anyone
about. Hanna continued to stare at the woman, but it was too close to
dusk and the veranda was too shaded for her to get a really good
look.

"Something you want?"  Maria called out in heavily accented English.

It was Blake who answered.

"Where's Mr.  Hay- den?"

The woman stepped out onto the veranda.

"Who wants to know?"

"The new owner of White Wind."

The veranda was only two steps off the ground and the poles holding up
its roof were made from natural tree trunks rather than planed wood. 
As Maria took another step closer, Hanna finally got a good look at
her.

Maria's dark hair was pulled back severely in front, braided, then
wound into a tiara across the top of her head with the hair in back
falling loosely to her waist, and her eyes were as dark as her hair. 
It was easy to see she had been pretty in her youth with a generous
mouth, high cheek bones, a slight slant to her eyes, and the broadness
of her nose giving away her Indian ancestry.  But now her looks had
faded from time and work, and wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes
while extra pounds rounded the flesh on her cheeks.  At the moment she
looked tired and rather unfriendly.  "Senorita Winters?"  Maria asked
as she stared at the young woman who was being helped from the seat on
the buckboard by the stranger who'd spoken.

Hanna straightened, trying to smooth the creases in her dress, then
held her head high hoping she looked self-assured and turned to face
the housekeeper. "You must be Maria?"

"Si."  Maria's eyes raked over Hanna.  The resemblance to Hank Winters
was uncanny, even to the white hair and strange lavender eyes, yet
Maria had expected a schoolteacher to be dressed much plainer.

Hanna Winters looked like anything but a schoolteacher.  But then she
didn't look like she'd be capable of running a ranch, either, not with
those soft-looking hands.

"I was not sure when you would be here," Maria went on.

"Or I would have been prepared for your arrival.

As it is, I must apologize for not giving you a better welcome.  "

Blake was helping Elizabeth down from the back of the wagon, and Maria
glanced toward them curiously.

"This is my dear friend, Mrs.  Brady," Hanna said when they had joined
her.

"And Mr.  Morgan has been kind enough to bring us here all the way from
Fort Worth."

"For a price, no doubt," Maria said as she studied Blake with disdain. 
The man looked like any other drifter except for his eyes.  They were
too sharp, too alert and too intense, and Maria wasn't quite sure she
liked him.

"Where is everyone?"  Blake asked.

"Out rounding up the cattle for the drive north, but Senor Hayden
should return at any time.  He and some of the men usually come home
for supper." "In the meantime?"

"In the meantime I will have Paco tend to your things," she answered,
and she
walked over to the edge of the veranda, cupped her hand to her mouth
and called out.

Seconds later a Mexican boy in his mid teens came running from the
stables some hundred feet from the house.  As he drew near he suddenly
stopped abruptly, then walked the rest of the way when he saw there
were guests. Maria quickly instructed him on what to do.  "I'll help
him with the trunks," Blake said when he realized the boy was the only
one coming.  After introducing the youth as her grandson, Paco, to the
new mistress of White Wind, Maria led Hanna and Elizabeth inside, while
Blake stayed outside with the buckboard.

Hanna hadn't expected the house to be anything like it was.  She'd
expected worn bare floors and roughhewn logs like most of the
homesteads they'd seen since leaving Fort Worth.  In some respects the
adobe house was elegantly Spanish, with fancy bricks in the stone
hearth and a earred mahogany mantel. Even the chandelier that hung from
the ceiling in the living room had gilded candle holders, and
gold-threaded drapes hung at the windows.  But the rest of it was bold
and plain.

It was cool inside away from the hot sun, and Hanna breathed a sigh of
relief.

"I'm sorry, Senorita Winters, but I did not know you would have guests
with you," Maria said once they were inside.

"I have your room ready, but it will take time to change the sheets on
the other beds."

Hanna reached up, removing her hat.

"How many bedrooms are there?"

"Four.  The master bedroom where your brother slept, and three
others.

I took the liberty of readying the master bedroom for you.  "

' 95 Hanna studied the woman curiously.

"You do all the work here yourself?"

Maria smiled slightly, the first smile since they'd arrived.

"Oh, my, no.  Teresa and Dolores help.  They are my sons' wives. 
Miguel and Sancho ride with Senor Jules and have worked with Senor
Winters as long as I have."

"And how long is that?"

"Since he bought the hacienda from the widow de Vera eight years
ago."

"I see."  Hanna let her gaze move about the room.  She was surprised to
see that the staircase that gave access to the upper floors of the
strange looking house was made of flat stone and wound around,
disappearing somewhere behind the fireplace.  The use of un- planed
trees as banisters all but made a lie to the richness of the room's
decorations.

Double doors opened on the far wall to the left of the fireplace, and
Hanna strolled over to them and looked out into a courtyard with
five-foot-high sunbaked walls, myriad flowers and a few shade trees. 
At one time it was probably a lovely place, but now the flowers needed
weeding and the fountain that sat in the center Of the garden was no
longer spewing water.  A few inches of stagnant water lay in the pool
surrounding it.  Evidently Henry hadn't cared all that much for flowers
or gardens.

She turned to face the housekeeper.

"I'm sorry we've inconvenienced you, Maria," she said.

"But I did tell Mr.  Gibbs I was bringing a friend.  However, there's
no need for you to make a fuss."  She hesitated for a moment, then went
on.

"I am curious though.  Mr.  Gibbs said Mr.  Hayden has been running the
place. Does that mean he's been living here in the house?"

"Oh, s He even stayed here when Senor Winters was alive because he
always ran things when the senor went away on one of his business
trips."  Well, that's a surprise, thought Hanna.  She had no idea 'her
brother had had to travel anywhere on business.  From what she'd always
heard, cattlemen spent most of their time on their ranches.

She glanced toward the entrance hall behind Maria where Blake was
helping the young Mexican boy with the trunks.  For the next few
minutes they were all busy as the trunks were taken upstairs and Maria
showed Hanna her room.

It was a spacious room with a fireplace and doors leading out onto the
balcony across the front of the house, but the furnishings were sparse
and unfeminine.  A patchwork quilt covered the four-poster bed while
worn brocade drapes graced the windows.  Maria explained to them that
Jules Hayden used the bedroom right at the top of the stairs, but that
she'd get the other two rooms ready for Mrs.  Brady and Blake.

"That won't be necessary," Blake informed her as he helped the Mexican
boy set one of Hanna's trunks down at the foot of her bed.

"I'll only be spending one night and I can sleep in the bunkhouse with
the hands."

"Nonsense," Hanna said.

"You'll sleep in the house.  After all, if it weren't for you, I
wouldn't even be here."

"It will be no harder to get two rooms ready than one," Maria added,
turning toward the balcony doors as the sounds of horses and riders
drifted up from below.

"Senor Hayden is back," she informed them, closing the doors.  A few
seconds later a man's gruff voice rang through the quiet house and
Hanna heard the front door downstairs slam shut.

So, Mr.  Hayden thinks he owns the place, Hanna thought as Maria
hurried from the room, her skirts flying, while the rest of them
followed slowly behind. Hanna was almost at the foot of the stairs, but
Mafia was already halfway across the parlor when Jules Hayden, slapping
his hat against his knee to rid it of trail dust, stepped into the
room.

"Who the hell left that buckboard" -- were the only words that left his
mouth, then his eyes suddenly came to rest on Hanna, her bright red
dress standing out like a beacon against the creamy adobe Walls.

Visibly shaken, he froze at first, then slowly straightened, still
holding his hat in his hand.  His eyes narrowed curiously, and the big
heavy mustache on his upper lip twitched slightly.

"It's Sefiofita Winters," Maria explained quickly.  "She just arrived a
few minutes ago so I'm afraid your supper will be a little delayed
tonight, Senor Hayden."  Jules stared hard at the woman who was staring
back at him. He'd expected Hank's sister to be a quiet mousy
individual, but it was apparent by the clothes she had on that Hanna
Winters wasn't what most people would consider a typical Boston
spinster.

His slate gray eyes, set beneath heavy brows, filtered over her from
head to toe.

"I'd have been here sooner, Mr.  Hayden," Hanna said, her voice pitched
a little too high to be natural.

"But I'm afraid your countryside makes traveling a rather fortuitous
adventure."

Yep, she's a schoolteacher, Jules thought, as he listened to her
answer.

"You could've just sold the place and not come at all," he responded,
caring little whether he insulted her or not.

"And missed out on all this."  She gestured about the room.

"I'must say the whole trip's been quite fascinating so far."  She
glanced over at Elizabeth.

"But here, let me introduce my friends," and she introduced Mrs.  Brady
and Blake.

While she was introducing them, Hanna studied Jules Hayden.  He was a
large man.  Perhaps in his mid fifties.  Big and rough, and with an air
of authority she wasn't quite sure she liked.  As a foreman he'd have
to be able to handle himself with the hired hands, but she had a
distinct feeling he probably took little advice from anyone, and was
more used to giving orders than taking them.  A strange man for her
brother to hire.

When all the introductions were over, she addressed him again, her hat
still in her hand.

"Tell me, Mr.  Hayden, just how long did you work for my brother?"  she
asked.

He hesitated, his eyes moving briskly from his perusal of Blake to
Hanna.

"Since he bought the place eight y~rs ago."

"And you've stayed here in the house all that time?"

"Well, no, ma'am," he answered, his voice still showing his irritation
at her arrival.

"Hank had me move in here about a year after I made foreman, when he
started making those business trips back east."

"Oh?"

"Said he wanted someone to watch over the place while he was gone and I
could do it better from in here than the bunkhouse."

"Well, under the circumstances, Mr.  Hayden, since I don't intend to be
going away on any business trips, and since it just wouldn't be
appropriate for two unattached women to be living here under the same
roof with a single gentleman, I think perhaps it'd be best if 99
tomorrow morning you started moving your things back to the bunkhouse,
don't you?"

His jaw clenched angrily.

"To hell I will.  I'm the foreman here."

"That's right, the foreman, not the owner.  I happen to be the owner,
Mr. Hayden.  Or have you forgotten?"

His eyes were blazing as he stared at her.

"Hank'd turn over in his grave if he knew you was throwing me out."

"I'm not throwing you out, sir," she reminded him.  "I'm merely
delegating you to the bunkhouse where you belong.  If you don't like
the arrangement, then I'm sorry.  But if you intend to stay at White
Wind and continue being foreman, I'm afraid it's the way things are
going to have to be."

Jules's eyes hardened as Hanna looked over toward the door, to where
the housekeeper was standing.

"Now, I presume since we weren't expected, Maria, it's going to take
you awhile to put together enough food for a meal, am I right?"  She
saw the hesitancy in Maria's eyes.

"But if you'd be so kind.  Anything will do.  The simpler, the
better."

"Senor Hayden already ordered roast beef for him and the men before he
left this morning, se~orita,"

Maria answered and Hanna looked surprised.  "The men?"

"St."  Maria glanced over at Jules.

"Since Senor Hank's death, Senor Hayden has had the two senors, Miles
and Caracas, staying at the house here with him."

"Pete and Jose6 are my two best hands," Jules cut in.  "There wasn't
not bing wrong with 'em stayin' here."

"Well, there is now."  Hanna was peeved and she looked at Maria.

"Is that why the other two rooms aren't ready, Maria?"

Maria nodded.

"St."  And she eyed Jules apprehensively.

"But I would not let them near your room, se~orita.  That I insisted
on."

Hanna smiled triumphantly.

"Thank you, Maria.  You did well."  She turned once more to Jules, who
was still fuming over this new turn of events.

"As for your men, Mr.  Hayden, I don't even want them to wait until
morning," she continued, and her lavender eyes sparked dangerously.

"I want their things out of here now, and they can take their meals in
the bunkhouse with the rest of the men, too.  I presume you do have a
cook for the bunkhouse, don't you?"

"Heck's out on the range with the men."

"Then I suggest you tell your men to get started back toward the range,
Mr. Hayden, and maybe they can get there before the food's all gone. 
For tonight, however, I'll concede to let you share our table, but as
for tomorrow and the rest of your time here at White Wind you will eat
and sleep in the bUnkhouse with the rest of the hired help, is that
understood?"

"Oh, it's understood," he answered, his voice seething with rage.  His
hat went back on his head.

"Hell, after all I did for Hank, and this is the thanks I get."  He
started for the front hall, then turned abruptly to face her again.

"And you can keep your damn roast beef, too.  I wouldn't eat at the
same table with you if you paid me."  Turning again toward the hall, he
left the room and seconds later the front door slammed shut.

Blake glanced over at Hanna expecting to at least see her a bit shaken
up by her foreman's angry departure, but instead she looked pleased
with herself. "Well, now, that was a stupid thing to do," he said as he
continued watching her.

"You know you just made yourself an enemy, don't you?"

"What do you mean, just made an enemy?  The man showed his true colors
the minute he opened his mouth.

Didn't you hear what he said about my not coming?  I wouldn't be at all
surprised to.  find out that he was the one who tried to have me killed
before I even got here.  " Maria's eyes widened.

"Someone tried to kill you?"

she asked.

Hanna took a deep breath.

"It's all right, Maria.  They didn't succeed and I'm here," she
answered.

"Now, since it seems Mr.  Hayden has decided he doesn't care for roast
beef after all, I think the rest of us are hungry enough to take care
of his share, too."

"Oh, si, yes, se~orita," Maria said hurriedly, and without another
word, she left the room.  "Blake's right, Hanna,"

Elizabeth said as soon as Maria was gone.

"You don't know a thing about running this place and you're going to
need Jules Hayden."

Hanna wasn't about to be dissuaded.

"For what?  To live in this house?

He still has his job.  I haven't fired him.  All I did was let him know
that I'm the boss around here, not him.  "

"Bully for you," Blake answered.

"You've proved your point, all right, only now I'd love to see what
happens when you discover there's more to ranching than buying and
selling a few cattle."

I'll learn.  "

"Oh, yeah, you'll learn, all right.  But I'll bet you aren't going to
learn from Jules Hayden, or any of the other hands on the White
Wind."

Elizabeth moved over from the fireplace where she'd been standing.

"I'm afraid he's right, Hanna," she said.

"And I have a distinct feeling you're going to be awfully sorry you
made the man angry."

"Well, I don't think I will."  Hanna's head went up defiantly.

"After all, as you said before we left Boston, Mrs.  Brady, ranching
has got to be easier than riding herd on a bunch of spoiled young rich
girls all day.

Now, since Maria doesn't seem to have dinner ready, I think I'll go
upstairs and see if I can find something a little cooler and more
comfortable to slip into," and she turned toward the stairs.

"You coming?"  she asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth stared at her for a second, then shrugged.  "Might as
well,"

she answered.

"I'm afraid Maria looks like the kind who'd resent interference in the
kitchen," and she followed after Hanna.

Blake watched them go, a worried look on his face.  Whether Hanna
Winters knew it or not, Blake was certain that her callous treatment of
Jules Hayden had ended any hopes she might have had for succeeding at
White Wind. Although in a way he didn't blame her.  There was something
about Hayden he didn't like, either, only he still thought she could
have been a little more tactful.

Shaking his head, he turned and went outside to find someOne who could
tell him where to put the buckboard that was still sitting in front of
the veranda.

Chapter Four Hanna stirred in the big four-poster bed.  It had been an
exceptionally hot night and she'd lost the nightcap off her head some
time during her sleep.  As she stirred, she suddenly realized that the
hairpins had also come loose and her hair was tangled all over the
pillow.  Opening her eyes, she stared at the ceiling for a few minutes,
then turned toward the open double doors.  A fly buzzed her nose and
she brushed it away.

Already the sun was streaming into the room and she guessed that it
must be late.  She'd instructed everyone not to let her sleep past
eight o'clock, but suspected they may not have taken her at her word.

Throwing back the covers, she sat up and stared toward the open doors,
her thoughts suddenly reaching back to last night and her arrival.

Now that she'd had time to think it over, she began to wonder if maybe
Blake and Mrs.  Brady hadn't been right.  Perhaps she had been a bit
presumptuous in her treatment of Jules Hayden.  But then just the
thought of the high-handed way he'd taken over after Henry's death
irritated her.  She'd been thankful he'd been in charge of things in
her absence, but having some of his men move
in was unforgivable.  He wasn't just making sure everything was still
running smoothly, and she had to make sure he knew his high-handed
tactics wouldn't be tolerated.

Stretching lazily, she stood up and walked toward the doors just in
time to hear voices coming from the veranda below.

"Is that the last of it?"  Jules was asking someone, and a man's voice
she didn't recognize answered.

"Yeah."

"Good, then see that you put it with the rest of my stuff out at the
bunkhouse and I'll meet you at the barn as soon as I get those supplies
Heck wanted from Maria."

"I still think you shoulda told her off," the other man said.

"If Hank was alive, heda told her."

"Well, he ain't, and that's that.  Now, we still got a job to do long
as we're takin' her money, so get with it."

Hanna was curious.  Grabbing her wrapper, she slipped it on and stepped
onto the balcony to see if she could get a glimpse of what they were
doing.  Not wanting to be seen, she eased up close to the railing, then
peeked over just as a man left the veranda carrying a couple of large
boxes and some men's clothes over his arm.

"Your foreman's carrying out your orders and moving out," Blake said
from behind her, and Hanna whirled.  She'd forgotten that there was
also a door onto the balcony at the end of the upstairs hall near the
room he'd stayed in last night.

"Oh, you startled me."

"Sorry."  He sauntered toward her and she clutched the neckline of her
wrap together.  He was already dressed for the "You're not ready to
leave?"  she asked.  He straightened, then stared off toward the road
they'd ridden in on yesterday.

"I was thinking about it."  He looked at Hanna.  "But then I haven't
been paid my fifteen dollars yet, remember?"

"Oh, dear."  Her hands clenched the wrapper more tightly, and she
suddenly remembered that her hair was hanging loose, too, and she
flushed.

"If you'll wait here I'll get it for you.  It's just in my room," and
she started toward the double doors.  "Hanna?"

She stopped, staring at him curiously.  It was unusual for him to call
her Hanna.

"Yes?"

"Are you absolutely sure you're going to be able to make it out here on
your own?"  he asked.

She laughed self-consciously.

"You don't think I will?"

His eyes darkened.

"I don't think you realize what you're up against."

She continued to stare at him, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"You mean because someone tried to kill me?"

"Hell, that's only part of it."  He straightened, realizing again how
vulnerable she looked when her hair was down like this.  For some
reason that old saying about letting your hair down really seemed to
apply to Hanna Winters.  Still, he went on.

"You don't even know how to ride a horse, let alone saddle one.  And
you haven't the faintest notion of what a cattle drive is.  I doubt you
even know how to tell a cow from a bull, do you?"

The flush on her face deepened.

"I told you, I can learn."

"Who's going to teach you?"

"I'll teach myself."

He exhaled, shaking his head.

"Are all Bostonians as stubborn as you?"

"I'm not stubborn.  I'm be'me practical.  Henry learned.  I will,
too.

I'm not stupid, you know.  "

"Oh, I know you're not stupid.  But I think this time, Hanna Winters,
you're biting off more than you can chew."

"I'll be the judge of that."

His eyes bored into hers and he knew that all the reasoning in the
world wasn't going to makn her change her mind.  Besides, he didn't
really want her to, what he really wanted her to do was ask him to
stay.  Yet, knowing her the way he'd gotten to since lea~,ing Fort
Worth, he knew damn well she wasn't about to let him influence her.  He
had hinted around enough about it last night and she hadn't taken the
bait.  If he stayed, the offer would have to come from him.

"For what it's worth, I can hang around awhile if you think you'll need
me," he finally said, giving in.

Hanna looked puzzled.

"Why would you do a thing like that?"

He shrugged.

"Mayhe I'm getting addle pared But hell, at least I could teach you to
ride a horse.  That's something."

Hanna's eyes turned a deep amethyst as she contemplated his offer.  He
was right.  Even if he knew nothing about ranching, he did know a lot
about horses.  But then that would he giving in and admitting that he
and Mrs. Brady had been right.

"I don't think so," she finally said.

"But thanks for the offer.  Now let me get that money for you," and she
continued on into her bedroom.

A short while later she stood on the upstairs- balcony and watched
Blake Morgan ride away from the ranch, her insides in a turmoil.  He'd
told her he'd hang around town for a few days just in case she changed
her mind, but she'd assured him she wouldn't.  In a way she'd wanted
him to stay.  It had been nice having someone to depend on other than
herself or Mrs.  Brady.  As much as she hated to admit it, having him
around had been a godsend.

That was just the problem.  She was getting too used to having him
around and she didn't like it.  Especially after what happened in that
little town. What was its name?  Hubbard Creek.  And even this morning
out here on the balcony.  She'd swear he'd been staring at her the same
way he'd stared at her that night when he'd kissed her, and she
couldn't have that.  No, this was the best way.  She'd make it on her
own or not at all.  As he rode toward the horizon, slowly becoming a
small speck in the distance, then vanished completely, a sudden feeling
of loss swept over her and she shuddered.

This was ridiculous, she told herself quickly, and turning to take in
the ranch grounds for a few seconds, she straightened stubbornly. 
Then, filled with determination not to give in, she headed for the
doors to her room.

An hour later she was outside standing by the corral at the back
looking over the horses with Elizabeth standing beside her.  Hanna was
wearing a plain brown skirt and white blouse, with the old hat on her
head she'd worn during
most of their trip from Fort Worth, and Elizabeth had put on a dark
blue cotton dress she'd often worn at the boardinghouse, her h. air
covered with a big old straw hat Maria had confiscated for her from the
hOUse.

"You really should go through Henry's things, you know," Elizabeth said
as she watched the horses flicking their tails vigorously, trying to
keep off the flies.  Hanna made a face.

"Why?  They'll be there tonight.

Right now I want to learn a little bit about what's going on around
here.  "

"From whom?"

Hanna looked around.  Not a soul Was in sight.  "Well..."  Suddenly
she.

spotted Maria's grandson Paco heading for the house from the barn.

"Paco can show me," she answered.

"Surely he knows something," and she called the boy over.

Paco was tall for thirteen with dark flashing eyes, beautiful white
teeth and one of the warmest smiles Hanna had ever seen on a boy.  His
parents were Sancho and Dolores and they lived in a small ado he house
way over the other side of the main house, with Miguel and Teresa's
place right next door.

Paco was the oldest of Maria's grandchildren, and it was his job to
feed the chickens, curry the horses and take care of the little things
that went wrong while the men were out on the range.

Hanna watched him approach.  Most of the Mexicans she'd seen since
arriving in Texas wore what could be called typical Mexican garb, but
not Paco.  He wore the same loose-fitting white shirt, but it was
tucked into tight-fitting buckskin pants while heeled boots covered his
feet, and around his waist was a narrow gun 109 belt.  Not as fancy as
the one Blak~ Morgan or Jules Hayden wore, but the six-shooter in it
looked just as deadly.

Beneath his straw hat, his dark eyes studied Hanna curiously as he
joined her.

"You called me, se~orita?"

he asked.

Hanna swallowed, a bit embarrassed.

"Why, yes, I did, Paco.  You know how to ride a horse, don't you?"

"No, se~orita, I never learned," he said then grinned impishly.

"St, yes, I can ride a horse.  As good as any other hand on the
place."

"That's what I thought."  Hanna was pleased with herself.

"And do you think you could leach me to ride, too?"  she asked.

Paco frowned.

"Me?  Teach you?"

"Yes, you."  She straightened some, tilting her hat back a bit to see
his face better because she had to look up at him.

"Since it's a necessity that I learn how to ride and you're the only
one who seems to be around."

"But I never taught anyone before.  Al~d besides, you probably don't
even have any clothes for riding."

"He's right," Elizabeth cut in.

"You don't own a riding habit, Hanna."

"Don't let that worry you, segora, no one rides sidesaddle out here."

Paco grinned again.

"That'd be a sure sign of a greenhorn."

"Then what would I have to wear?"  Hanna asked.  Paeo glanced down at
her skirt.

"Well, you cOUld wear a pair of Hank's old pants, I suppose, but they'd
be sort of big on you.  But you sure couldn't ride in that getup."

"Then if I can find something to wear, you'll teach me?"  she asked.

Paco thought it over for a few minutes.

"All right, si, I will teach You," he finally answered and Elizabeth
shook her head.

"You're making a mistake, Hanna, you know that, don't you?  You're
going to end up with a broken arm or leg or even your neck."

Hanna glanced at Mrs.  Brady, her eyes filled with determination.

"Well, it's my neck.  Now, why don't you come back to the house with me
and help me find something to put on?"

Elizabeth sighed while Hanna told Paco to meet her by the horses again
in about ten minutes, then the two of them headed toward the house
where Hanna confiscated a pair of Henry's old pants Maria was getting
ready to throw out, and a pair of boots that had been Paco's before his
feet had gotten too big for them.

Maria had been saving them for one of her other grandsons.

Hanna's shirt was really one of her blouses with the ruffles cut off
and the sleeves rolled up, then because the pants were too big she cut
down one of Henry's belts to hold them up.

"Well, you look right smart," Paco said a short while later when she
joined him near the gates of the corral.

"Now, which horse do you want to ride?"  Hanna's eyebrows raised and
she looked over the top rail of the fence to where the horses were
still moving around, nudging each other and trying to keep in the shade
of an old sycamore tree.

There were five horses.  Two looked like they'd be used more for
pulling buggies, but the other three were fairly sleek looking.

"Which one's yours?"  she asked.

"He's saddled in the barn already."

"Oh."  She looked the animals over carefully.

"How about that pretty little black one?"  she asked, pointing to a
beautiful gelding that-had begun to prance about gracefully, the
morning sun glistening off his shiny coat.

"Him?"  Paco asked.

"I don't know, se~orita.  He hasn't been broke too long."

"Does he belong to one of the hands?"  "He was Senor Hank's horse.

Rather, Senor Hank was training him.  Bought him down near El Paso last
fall and was plannin' to train him for cutting.  "

"Cutting?"

"S .  A good cutting horse is worth his weight in gold."

"What's a cutting horse?"

"They're trained to cut cattle out of a herd."

"Well, since Henry isn't here anymore, then I think I'll just use the
horse for riding instead of cutting.  She can be ridden, can't she?"

"She's a he, se~orita," Paco corrected her.

"Only he's a gelding."

"I thought you said he was a cutting horse?"  Madre de Dios, Paco
thought as he stared at his new boss, and this one I promised to teach
how to ride?  I must be loco.

Trying to be patient, he straightened authoritatively.

"A gelding is a horse who can no longer be used as a stud, sefmrita,"

he explained briefly.

She frowned.

"Oh, and what's a stud?"

He inhaled, his face flushing slightly.  Caramba, this senorita knows
absolutely nothing.  Now he knew he was loco.

"A stud is used for breeding."

Suddenly recognition lit her eyes.

"Oh, you mean he can't... Oh dear, the poor thing."

"No, se~orita, he can't," Paco answered.

"But he's not a poor thing.

He's quite content, and by gelding him one doesn't have to worry about
him forgetting his work and taking off after some mare.  Now"-- and he
hoped he'd explained sufficiently" --the first thing you have to learn
is to catch him so you can saddle him.  "

Her hand flew to her throat.

"You want me to catch him?"

"You want to learn how to ride?"

"Ride, yes, not chase horses."

"Well, one of the essentials for learning how to ride is learning how
to catch the horse first.  After all, you can't ride a horse you don't
have."

Hanna felt her heart sink.  Paco was right.  What good would it do to
know how to sit on a horse if no one was around to catch and saddle him
for her? "All right, if I have to I have to," she answered, and for the
next twenty minutes Paco helped Hanna try to lose her fear of the
animal until she was finally able to slip a halter on him and lead him
to the barn.  Until now Hanna had never had any dealings at all with
horses except to watch others drive them and saddle them, and as she
entered the barn and turned to smooth her hand over the animal's hard
head and down onto its velvety nose, she was amazed at how docile the
horse seemed.  Paco had warned her, however, that just because a horse
looked and acted gentle one minute didn't mean he couldn't turn into a
bucking maniac the next.  He'd also informed her that the horse's name
was Lucifer.

"Well, I'll have no truck with the devil," Hanna had told him.

"So I'll just call him Lucy."

Paco had shaken his head, but Hanna didn't care.  As she petted the
horse's nose, she glanced at the Mexican boy who was trying to find a
saddle she could use and smiled.

"See, he didn't mind' being called Lucy at all, do you, Lucy?"  she
asked the horse, and as if in answer, the horse suddenly lifted his
head and snorted, whinnying softly.

It took Hanna almost an hour to learn the technique of saddling the
gelding. The first time on her OWn she forgot the saddle blanket.  Then
she got the head- stall and curb bit on inside out.  A few minutes
later she had the cinch all fastened down before realizing it was
twisted.

But eventually, three times in a row she managed to get it on right,
and Paco was pleased.

"Now, let's see you get on," he said as soon as she got through
fastening the cinch right for the fourth time all by herself.

Hanna stared at the horse.  He seemed so much bigger up close than he
had in the corral.  After taking hold of the reins first as Paco had
instructed her to do earlier, she put her foot in what he'd Called the
stirrup just like she'd seen men do since she'd arrived in the west,
then grabbed the saddle horn and pulled herself up.

Once in the saddle, she straightened proudly and looked at Paco.

"Well, teacher, do I pass?"  she asked.

Paco smiled.

"For a lady who didn't know the front end of a horse from the rear, you
did just fine, se~orita.

But now the hard part starts," and he walked over to where his horse
was saddled, mounted and rode toward her.

"Now you will really learn how to ride."

For the rest of the morning, Hanna was kept busy putting Lucifer
through his paces.  First they rode all around the main house, then
between the different outbuildings while Paco got her used to the
reins.

As soon as he felt she'd mastered it enough, they left the ranch behind
and headed for the river that flowed near the hills.  By the time they
rode into the ranch just before lunchtime, Hanna was not only pleased
with herself, but pleased with Paco as a teacher.  But she was also
more sore than she'd ever dreamed.

A look of agony crossed her face as she unsaddled Lucifer, set him out
to graze in the corral and headed toward the house.  Her legs hurt, her
back hurt, and oh, how her rear end hurt.  She wouldn't be surprised to
discover she'd turned her buttocks into one big blister, and Paco
insisted she'd have to go out again tomorrow.

Well, she'd just see when morning came again.  Elizabeth was coming
down the hall from the kitchen as Hanna came in the front door, and she
stared at Hanna curiously.

"You look terrible," she said her eyes steady on Hanna's face.

"Please, Mrs.  Brady."  Hanna sighed wearily.

"I feel like one big sore."

"I told you, you should have taken things more slowly."

"You can't take riding more slowly.  Either you learn or you don't."

"Is that what Maria's grandson told you?"

"No.  It's what I've told myself."  She straightened, trying to relax
her legs a little more.

"So how was your morning?"

"Well."  Elizabeth looked pleased.

"Maria and I've come to an understanding.  She and her daughters-in115
law will continue to take care of the house, only they'll' let me help
once in a while, too.  After all, I didn't come out here to just sit on
my fanny."

Hanna started for the parlor with Elizabeth in, tow.  "You could learn
how to ride."

"At my age?"  Elizabeth was mortified.

"Good heavens, I'd probably end up ruining the horse."

"Nonsense.  It really isn't that bad.  In fact" -- she grinned "--it's
really kind of fun sitting up there with the world at your feet."

Elizabeth glanced toward Hanna's rear end.

"You look like you were having fun."

"Don't be silly.  Once I get used to it, it won't be this bad.  Now,
let me get changed and get something to eat, then I'll go through
Henry's things. After all, if I'm going to run this place I'd better
learn how to take care of everything," and she headed for the stairs
while Elizabeth went toward the kitchen to help with lunch.

After a light meal in the kitchen at the back of the house, Hanna,
dressed again in a blouse and skirt, made her way to the library off
the entrance hall where she assumed Henry kept all of his business
records.  She started going over the books only to discover that Blake
Morgan was right.  There was much more to ranching than just buying and
selling a few cows.  Besides, they didn't call them cows.  They were
steers.

There was one ledger to tally the steers in and anbther for hired help
including every man on the payroll as well as Maria and her brood. 
There was even one ledger kept especially for household and ranch
expenditures.

However, it seemed as if nothing had been either entered or accounted
for in any of the ledgers since Henry's death, and that had been over
two months ago.  It was the first of June already.

"Maria?"  she called when she heard a noise in the hall.

"Si," Maria answered, sticking her head in the door, a dust rag in her
hands.

"Mr.  Gibbs said the foreman's been taking care of things since my
brother's death.  If so, why hasn't he written anything in these
ledgers?"  she asked. Maria shrugged.

"I

know nothing about them, Senorita Winters.  All I know is that he say
Maria do this, Maria do that, I am in charge now, Maria, and I do it
because if I don't he yell at me very loud.  " Hanna frowned.

"But he hasn't entered' even one tally of any kind.  Not even a record
of the household expenditures since Henry's death."

"I know nada, senorita.  Perhaps you should ask him."

~"Oh, fine, and he's out on the range someplace hunting for cows."

Hanna inhaled angrily, then addressed the housekeeper again.

"By the way, Maria, Mr.  Gibbs said my brother died from an accidental
gunshot wound.  Were you here when it happened?"  Maria shook her
head.

"No, se~orita.  It didn't happen here.  Senor Hank was on his way back
from one of his business trips and was taking a shortcut home when it
happened. He said he'd stopped for the night, rested his rifle against
a tree and it fell and discharged."

"I was led to believe the accident happened here."

"Oh, no."  Maria was adamant about it.

"I was here when he arrived home with blood all over his clothes, and
he died here.  But it did not happen here.  If it had happened here we
could have removed the bullet in time, but it was at least three, maybe
four days in him and by that time there was nothing we could do."

Hanna stared at the Mexican woman thoughtfully.  "Why didn't he stop
somewhere and have someone along the way take it out for him?"

"Like I say, he take a shortcut home over the range.  There was nowhere
to go for help."

"I see."  Hanna said she understood, but she didn't, really.  Why would
a man who was as familiar with guns as Henry seemed to be be so
careless with a rifle?  And why would he ride cross-country instead of
taking the roads where there would be houses and towns where people
could help him if he had any trouble?  It didn't make sense.

"Were you with him when he died?"

"S .  Dolores and me.  We were tending to his wound."

"Tell me, Maria.  He wrote me a letter.  Did he write it before he took
his trip or after he came home?"

Maria's eyes narrowed slightly.

"He write it after he get home.  When he knew he would die.  He tell me
to get him pen and paper so he could do what he should have done long
ago, then he seat Paco for Mr.  C, ihbs."

"Then Mr.  Gibbs did speak to him before he died?"

"Ah, si.  And Mr.  Gibbs make the will right out here.

That's when we all learn that Senor Hank have a sister.  "

"You mean he'd never mentioned me before?"

"No, se~orita.  Senor Hank never mention any family so we think he has
none."

It figures, thought Hanna.  When Henry had walked out he had left the
past behind.

"Well, that explains some things," she said.

"But it still doesn't explain why Mr.  Hayden hasn't taken care of the
books since Henry's death."

"Maybe because he don't know how?"  Maria offered.

"Senor Hank always do those things himself."

"But he went away on business trips and left Mr.  Hayden in charge.

What if something had come up?  "

"Nothing ever did.  Besides, if worse came to worst Paco can cipher
some and write a few words in English."

Oh, great.  Hanna had forgotten that many of the people this far out on
the frontier had few opportunities for schooling.

"How did Paco learn?"

"Senor Hank showed him.  He and the boy were pretty close since Senor
Hank have no family of his own."  ' This, too, was a revelation for
Hanna.  No wonder Paco seemed to be so at home with the horses and the
ranch.  Well, there wasn't much she could do now except try to study
the ledgers and pick up where Henry had left off.

"Thank you, Maria, that's all," she said, and Maria left, heading for
the parlor to give it its daily dusting.

It was late when Hanna finally settled into bed after her first full
day on the ranch.  She had not only started an in-depth inventory of
Henry's books, but had taken a quick tour of all the outbuildings
surrounding what Maria called the hacienda and met all of Maria's
family except for her two sons who were still out on the range
somewhere with the rest of the ranch hands. Dolores and Sancho had
three younger boys besides Paco, nine, seven and two, and a little girl
of five, while Miguel and Teresa had two girls,.  five and six, and a
baby boy a little over a year old.  Every one of the children had the
same dark hair and dark eyes as Paco.

As Hanna settled into the big four-poster bed, turning onto her side to
relieve some of the pain from her first day on horseback, she thought
over everything she'd learned today.

Mrs.  Brady had said it'd be a marvelous adventure.  It was an
adventure, all right, only she wasn't sure just how marvelous it was
going to be.

While they'd been riding Paco had explained to her what a roundup was,
why they had it, and why it was so important to the ranch.

"Without the sale of the herd up north, there would be no me~ they to
keep the place going," he'd told her, and it all seemed so ironic. 
They needed the cattle to pay for the land, and yet, if they didn't
have so many cattle, they wouldn't need so much land.

But then, as Paco said,

"Even without the cattle the land was worth having," and after riding
through it most of the morning, Hanna had been inclined to believe
him.

Still, there was a lot to do, and as she closed her eyes, trying to get
to sleep, she hoped she could handle it.

For the next few days Hanna continued to go over Henry's ledgers when
she wasn't riding Lucifer, then finally one morning she met Paco by the
corral and broke the news to him that she wanted to ride out onto the
range to see for herself what a roundup was all about.

They hadn't seen a thing of JUles Hayden since the evening of their
arrival and both Elizabeth and Hanna were a little uneasy about it.

"After all, he could have taken off with your whole herd by now,"

Elizabeth told her that morning at breakfast, and Hanna was inclined to
agree
with her even though Paco had told them it would be hard to change the
running W brand, which was two Was intertwined.

Paco was a little hesitant about taking her at flint, but once they
were tiding his reluctance seemed all but forgotten.  The day was
beautiful, the sky a deeper blue than Hanna had ever seen, and even
Lucifer seemed to be prancing a little more lively as they rode away
from the hacienda, heading beyond the river toward the hills that
signaled the start of the grazing land for the White Wind Ranch.

They'd been riding for a little over an hour when suddenly Paco reined
up, his head tilted info the soft morning breeze, his nostrils flaring
slightly as he breathed in.

"What is it?"  Hanna asked, her eyes intent on his face, and she pulled
Lucifer to a halt beside him.

His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Something is wrong," he answered.

Hanna was perplexed as she stared ahead toward a ridge he told her
overlooked a grassy plain where the men usually camped and set up their
corrals and branding fires.

"What is it?"

' "Smoke."

"Smoke?"

Hanna frowned.

"But I thought you said they used fires for the branding."

"Si, but smoke from the branding would not carry this far.  Besides,
the smell is different."

He spurred his pinto forward and she quickly followed, then just before
reaching the top of the ridge she saw it.  Gray wisps, streaking into
the blue sky, followed by dark swirls that drifted high like scattered
storm clouds.

Finally reaching the edge of the cliff, they reined up abruptly and
stared hard at the scene below.

To their right were a number of corrals with churning cattle, yelling
and bawling, their nostrils already catching the scent of the danger
they were in, with the rest of the camp, the chuck wagon, branding
fires and tents some of the men stayed in sitting between the corrals
and a grass fire that was about half a mile away and being fought by
every hand the White Wind had. "But how?"  Hanna asked as her gaze took
in the frantic panorama below.

"And why?"

Paco's eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps someone doesn't want your men.  to make the drive,
senorita."

Hanna frowned.  He could be right.  Killing her hadn't worked, so maybe
whoever was doing it decided to try a new tactic.  Without the money
from the cattle drive the White Wind would be hard-pressed to keep
afloat, according to what she had found in Henry's books.

"Well, let's not sit here speculating, let's go see if we can help,"

she said.

"Now, how do we get down there from here?"  Minutes later they were
winding their way hurriedly down a trail a short way from the top of
the ridge toward the plains below.

The heat was intense.  Sweat poured off Jules Hayden as he straightened
for a second, taking a gulp of fresh air, and spotted the two riders
heading toward them from the ridge above.  Wiping the dirt from his
face and squinting, he cursed softly to himself as he realized who it
was.

"Damn ornery woman."  He spat, then coughed, choking a bit as a whiff
of smoke curled into his face.

"I think we're makin' it, boss!"  one of the men yelled from behind
him, and Jules nodded.

"Keep with it!"  he yelled.  Pulling his gaze away from the two
riders, he went back to beating the flames with the blanket he'd been
using and thanked God it wasn't a windy day.  If it had been, they
wouldn't have had a chance of stopping the fire's progress.  As it was,
he could already see breaks in the walls of flame.

Hanna spotted Hayden as soon as they reached the foot of the cliff.

She rode toward him and reined up some hundred feet away.

"Can we help?"  she shouted.

He glanced back, his eyes intense, jaw set stubbornly.

"You can get the hell out of here!"  he yelled.

"What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?"  Men were strung out
all along the fire line and Hanna glanced around her, realizing they
were starting to get the thing under control.

"How'd it start?"  she asked.

Hayden sneered.

"Now, how the hell should I know?  The grass is dry, there's people
around." He stopped talking long enough to step over and help one of
the men put out a burst of flames that had reignited, then he
straightened again, looking at her.

"Look, why don't you and the boy just head back to where you came from
and let us handle this?"

"Because I thought maybe we could be of some help."  She whirled
Lucifer around, then motioned for Paco to follow her and rode to the
chuck wagon.  By the time the two of them dismounted, tied their horses
to the hitch rail and ran to join the men fighting the fire, the ranch
hands had managed to pretty well contain it to one area.  However,
there were pockets that were still out of control here and there.

They were beating on it with blankets, canvas tarps, anything that
could be used.

"You want to be useful, go get some shovels and start digging," Jules
yelled when he saw Hanna and Paco were empty-handed.

"Digging?"  Hanna questioned.

His eyes hardened.

"That's right, lady, digging," and he pointed a short distance away.

"If you two can get a dirt break dug about three or four feet wide and
some twenty feet from where those flames are roaring the worst, it
should slow them down if they make it that far.

Meanwhile we'll try to keep it from even reaching the break, but if we
can't do it, at least we can get it stopped there.  "

Hanna had never hefted a shovel before in her whole life, but not
wanting to let the foreman think she was stupid, she grabbed Paco's arm
and they ran to the chuck wagon.

Grabbing a couple of shovels they found inside, they ran to where
Hayden had told them to start digging.

The ground was harder than Hanna had thought it would be, but in spite
of that, it wasn't long before they had a three-foot-wide break
started. However, the faster they dug, the faster the fire came, and
finally Jules ran up, grabbed the shovel from her inexperienced hands
and began to dig furiously.

Smoke was swirling all about them now, sparks flying in the air.  Every
time the fire touched a mesquite tree or dry greasewood bush a new
spurt of flames would sizzle and crack, until finally after almost a
half hour of digging and slapping at them, the flames reached the fire
break.

Hanna had grabbed Jules's blanket from him when he'd taken away her
shovel, and now she let it drop at her feet as she watched the flames
reach the dirt,
have nowhere to go, then start to die out while at the edges of the
break some of the hands still slapped at occasional sparks.

Reaching up, Hanna pushed her hat so that it fell to her back, hanging
by the strings round her neck, then she brushed a few strands of hair
from h~r sweaty forehead.

Her hands were black, she imagined her face was, too, and all she could
smell was the pungent odor from the burnt grass and small trees.  The
place was a charred mess.

Thank God, she thought a few minutes later as she watched one of the
men put out the last flickering flames and call down the line of men
that the fire was out.  There were fifteen hands besides Hayden on the
White Wind payroll and every one of them including the cook had been
fighting the flames.

"So all right, how did it start?"  she asked again as she turned from
the blackened ground that was still smoldering and smoking in places
and looked at Jules.  The big man snorted, his mustache twitching
nervously as it had that night in the parlor when she'd first met
him.

"Like I said before, I don't have no idea how it started.  All's I know
is someone yelled fire, and we all came runnin'."  ' "And if the fire
had gotten too close to the cows?"

"They're not cows, ma'am, they're cattle," he corrected her.

"And if the fire had got to 'em we'da had to let 'em all loose, they'
da scattered and we'da been startin' the tally all over again."

"I see."

"No, I don't think you do see.  we was getfin' along just fine out here
till a few days back when you showed up.  But since then we've had the
small water hole over 125 at the north range get full of some kinda
black smelly stuff that makes the cattle sick, two of the men quit
cause they said they weren't gonna work for no greenhorn, and now
this."

"Someone quit?"

"Yeah, Ranklin and Morris."

"That means we've only got thirteen left beg ides you."

"And we were short of hands as it was."

"Why?"  she asked and he looked at her funny.

"Why what?"

"Why were you short of hands?  Why didn't Henry hire more men if they
were needed?"

"You looked at his books, you tell me."  Jules stared at this strange
woman who'd ridden into his life.  All these years he'd thought for
sure Hank would leave the place to him if anything ever happened.

After all, they'd been close friends for so long.  Granted, he'd never
said he would, but with him not having any kin.  Well, that had been
wishful thinking on his part, he knew that now.  Still, it just didn't
seem fair and he didn't like it.  He knew the place like the back of
his hand and now this woman was going to make a mess of it all.  He was
sure of it.  "Why didn't you ride in and tell me when those men quit?" 
she asked.

His head lifted haughtily.

"Cause I knew you wouldn't care."

"Not care7 My dear fellow, this ranch is mine now, lock, stock and
barrel, and that includes the men to run it.  I want to be informed of
everything. Just because I don't think it's proper for you to stay at
the house doesn't
mean I'm not interested in what's going on, whether it's out here or
at the ranch.  Is that understood?"

Jules's mouth was rigid.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good.  Now, since it looks like the men are pretty tired maybe you
should give them the rest of the day off to recuperate, and I'll come
back another day to learn how things are done."  She turned to Paco.

"Will you get our horses please, Paco, and we'll let the men get things
cleaned up?"

Jules stared at her while she waited for Paco to return with the
horses.  Her pale white hair was smudged with soot and ashes and there
was dirt all over her face, but he really didn't see any of it.  All he
saw was the woman who stood between him and everything he'd ever
dreamed of owning.  A woman who didn't have the faintest notion of what
it was like to ride herd on cattle with the icy rain pelting your face
and the bitter wind clawing at your clothes.  Or how it felt to plunge
a branding iron into a roped calf and smell the burning hide as it
marked the struggling critter.  She'd never had to sweat under the
stinking sun searching for strays, either, and being a woman' she never
would.  Why, hell, he could tell she'd just learned how to ride.

"You came out here to see what we're doin'?"  he asked, surprised she
even cared.

Hanna took a deep breath.

"I understand it goes with the job," and she looked quite pleased with
herself.

"If I'm going to run things, I really should know what everything is
all about, shouldn't I?  I bet my brother never sat back at the ranch
and let others run things."

"No, ma'am, he didn't."  Jules's face was a mask of anger.

"He could rope, brand, shoot.  There weren't nobody could train a good
cutting' horse the way he 127 could," and he glanced at Paco on his way
over with their horses.  Hanna knew why he'd said the last as her gaze
fell on Lucifer.

"Well, he's going to be my horse now, Mr.  Hayden," she said.

"And who knows.  Maybe before I'm through I'll also know how to train a
cutting horse," and she reached out to take the reins from Paco.

Mounting quickly, she glanced at her filthy hands, then reached up and
set her hat on her head, anxious to get to the ranch so she could clean
up. "And, oh, yes, don't worry, Mr.  Hayden, I'll find two new men to
replace those men who quit on you."  Not bothering to say goodbye, she
kicked Lucifer in the ribs and headed back the way she and Paco had
come.  Jules watched her ride off, his hands clenched around the shovel
he was still holding, his eyes narrowing viciously.

Damn female, he thought, then remembered that it wasn't even noon
yet.

"All right, you lumberin' jackasses, back to work," he yelled at the
top of his lungs.

"We still got cattle to brand and strays to bring in."  Within minutes,
the fire was quickly forgotten and things started to get back to
normal.  Jules was damned if he'd give the men the rest of the day off.
 They had too much to do as it was.

Hanna was frowning as she and Paco rode out of the hills behind the
ranch, forded the river and made their way across the long stretch of
spring grasses toward the barn.

"You've been quiet ever since we left the men at camp, senorita,"

Paco said, his young face troubled.

Hanna sighed.

"I was trying to figure out, Paco.  Why does Mr.  Hayden seem to hate
me so much?  He hasn't said a civil word to me since I arrived."

"You don't know?"

"If I did would I be asking you?"

The boy's face flushed and he straightened in the saddle, guiding his
pinto around a large rock.

"Senor Hayden expected your brother to leave the ranch to him."

"To him?"

"Si, se~orita.  They had been friends for years, and Senor Hayden was
sure he would own the ranch some day.  When he learned Senor Hank had
left it to a sister back east somewhere, he went out and got drunkflor
two days.  Oh, he was mean.  Like a rattlesnake."

"Mean enough to kill for it?"  she asked hesitantly.

Paco glanced over at her.

"I do not know, set~orita.  Men have killed for less."

This was a new turn of events.  She had told Blake that she wouldn't
doubt that Hayden was the one who'd been trying to have her killed
before she got here, but at the time it was just a passing thought.

Now, however, 'she wasn't quite so sure.  Spurting her horse a little
faster, she suddenly made up her mind as to who she was going to hire
to replace the ones who quit.  If he was still around town.  As the
noon sun drifted high overhead, she made up her mind that right now,
with everything that had already happened, it was the best move she
could make.

Half an hour after a late lunch with a soothing bath behind her, Hanna,
with Paco at her side, left White Wind on Lucifer's back again, this
time heading for Hangtown.

Mrs.  Brady had taken in some of Henry's old pants for her and she was
wearing a pair of his worn buckskins with one of her pink blouses.  She
had washed her hair and let Maria French braid it down the back to keep
it from coming loose instead of wearing it in its usual topknot.

Henry's hats had been too big, though, so she had tried to clean up her
own as best she could, but in spite of the fancy perfume she'd put on
it, it still smelled from all the smoke.

Mrs.  Brady stood on the veranda watching them start out, a worded look
on her face.  It was a long ride to town, and she'd warned Hanna it was
a bad idea, only lately it seemed Hanna wasn't listening to warnings.

It was as if ownership of the White Wind had suddenly freed the young
woman from the self-inflicted prison she had built around her emotions
years ago, and she was suddenly realizing she was as human as anyone
else.  The only trouble was Elizabeth was hawing a hard time trying to
figure out whether the change was good or bad.

One thing was for sure, Hanna seemed to be enjoying herself in spite of
the rough treatment the land was giving her.  After watching the two of
them disappear in the distance, Elizabeth turned and went back into the
house.

The streets of Hangtown were pretty well deserted when Paco and Hanna
rode in.

"I figured as much, se~orita," Paco said.

"The only men who are worth hiring are already out on the range
working, and the rest are in the saloons."  Hanna figured he was
probably right.  Still, Blake had said he'd hang around for a few days.
 She rode up to the front of
a run-down building with a sign that read Palace Hotel.  It looked
like anything but a palace.  Howevor, since there were only two hotels
in town, she figured it would be as good a place to start as any.

After dismounting and telling Paco to wait for her, she went inside.

The inside was as bad as the outside, with worn furniture in the lobby
and a desk clerk who seemed irritated because she'd disturbed his
afternoon nap.

"Yeah, sure, Mr.  Morgan's stayin' here," he finally said when he was
fully awake and realized what she was asking.

"Only you ain't gonna find him up in his room.  He spends most
afternoons at the saloon."

"There are three saloons.  Which one?"  she asked.  He thought for a
minute.

"Don't rightly know.  But most fellas like the Sundown this time of day
now that Trudy's got more time for them."

"Trudy?"

"Yeah, with Hank gone she's able to spread herself around some now."

"You mean Hank Winters?"

' Yeah .  " ' " Do you have any idea to whom you're talking?  " she
asked, looking at him indignantly.

He flushed.

"Well, I think so, ma'am.  Leastways I heard Hank's sister from back
east had come to town and since you resemble Hank somewhat I assume
you're her."

"And you still talk about my brother the way you just did?"

"Shucks, ma'am."  The desk clerk looked puzzled.  "All I said was..."

"I know what you said," Hanna retorted, her proper Bostonian morals
surfacing.

"Never mind that now.

Just tell me where this disreputable place is.  " " Two blocks down on
the left," he answered.

Hanna thanked him, then left briskly, shoulders up and head held
high.

At first she'd planned to go into the saloon by herself, but the closer
she and Paco got, the more her resolve began to leave her.  She'd never
been in a saloon in her life.  The closest thing to it had been walking
into the trading post in Fort Worth, and she'd been decently dressed
then, not wearing men's clothes as she was now.

In spite of the encouragement from Mrs.  Brady, and insistence from
Paco that she looked very respectable in Henry's old pants, Hanna felt
exposed.  It hadn't bothered her too much out on the range earlier when
they'd confronted Jules Hayden and been fighting the fire, but here in
town with all the men's eyes on her, she wasn't at all sure she liked
it.  There was no way to change things now, however, but at least she
didn't have to face it alone.  Making Paco promise to stay right beside
her, she rode up'to the hitch rail in front of the Sundown Saloon and
dismounted.

The afternoon she, Mrs.  Brady and Blake Morgan had arrived in Hangtown
there had been piano music coming from one of the saloons, but this
afternoon all was quiet.  As Hanna and Paco stepped through the
swinging doors, it took a few minutes for her eyes to get accustomed to
the light.

She let her gaze sweep over things.  The Sundown was exactly what she
expected it to be, crudely built with gaming tables toward the back, a
scarred bar to her right and a number of fancily painted girls lounging
about looking for customers; who were rather few.  She glanced at the
man behind the bar.  He was tall and pleasant looking with broad
shoulders, a large
paunch in front and a face that resembled a bulldog's.  His eyes were
studying her as she stood just inside the door with Paco behind her.

Finished with her perusal-of the bartender, Hanna drew her gaze from
him and began to look about the room.  She spotted Blake sitting near
the back of the place talking to a redhead with the biggest brown eyes
Hanna had ever seen.

The redhead's eyes were devouring Blake while they talked and for some
reason Hanna felt a twinge of anger deep down inside.  Maybe she
shouldn't even ask him, she thought, but then he'd offered, hadn't
he?

Still, he did seem to be a drifter.

Shoving aside the strange new feelings that were starting to gnaw at
her, Hanna reached up, set her hat more firmly on her head and began
walking confidently toward where the couple sat.

"Well, looks like we got company," Trudy said as she pulled her eyes
from Blake Morgan's intense gaze and looked directly into Hanna's
unsmiling face. Blake turned, then did a double take.  He'd hoped Hanna
would show-up, but hadn't expected it to be here in the saloon.

And the clothes she was wearing.  "Hanna?"  he said as he stood up,
pulling off his hat and staring at her awkwardly.

"I mean, Miss Winters?"

"Hanna'll do," she answered, her own eyes dead center on the brassy
redhead.

Hanna had to admit the woman was pretty in a cluttered sort of way.

Her fiery red hair was adorned with jeweled hair clasps and piled atop
her head, and the blue satin dress she wore was covered with bows,
beads and braid, while the rouge on her cheeks and the dark makeup
around her eyes were so overdone they looked ridiculous.  The only
thing about her that didn't look cheap and tawdry were her earrings. 
Hanna would swear they looked like real diamonds.  They were pear
shaped and dangled below her earlobes catching little prisms of red and
blue from her hair and clothing.

"I'm glad you decided not to leave yet," Hanna said as she drew her
gaze from the redhead and looked at Blake.

"I was wondering.  Does your offer still stand?"

"You mean about staying at White Wind?"

She figured it would be best to explain.

"Hayden informed me today that two men have quit, not wanting to work
for what they called a greenhorn or tinhorn or whatever, so I'm going
to need some replacements.

I was hoping maybe you'd be one.  " Inside, Blake was pleased as could
be, yet he didn't want to sound too eager.

"And just when I was beginning to enjoy the leisure time," he said,
pretending reluctance.

After seeing the annoyed look on Hanna's face he continued.

"But for you, I'll be glad to give it up, how's that?"

Hanna dismissed his remark with a stern look.

"You never did say how much you knew about ranching, though," she said
as an afterthought.

"Maybe it wouldn't even work."

Blake smiled more congenially.  He didn't want her changing her mind
now.

"Oh, I know enough to get by.

But you said you needed two men.  Have you' hinxt anyone else yet?  "

She glanced around the place.  She figured Paco was right.  Except for
Blake, most of the men in here didn't look like they'd be worth
hiring.

"Not yet," she answered.

"But I imagine word'll get around."

She quit looking the room over and again her gaze settled on ~the
redhead.

"Oh, excuse me," Blake said, "but I wasn't thinking.  Miss Winters, let
me introduce Miss... Trudy.

Trudy, Miss Winters.  "

Tandy had been busy studying Hank's sister ever since she'd stepped
into the saloon, and now she'd come to the conclusion that her first
impression of the woman had been right.  Hank's sister was a prude.

"Miss Winters," she acknowledged testily, then noticed the white hair
beneath the hat Hanna had on.

"I

was wondering what Hank's sister would look like.  " She smiled a slow,
lazy smile.

"Hank and I were friends, you know."

"So I heard."

"Oh?"

"The clerk in the hotel hinted as much.  Tell me, did he ever mention
to you that he had a sister, or were you kept in the dark, too?"

"No one knew he had any family until Milt made that will out for him.

Why?  "

"I was just wondering if maybe you were another one who thought you
were in line to become owner of the White Wind when Henry died."

"Well, you certainly don't beat around the bush, do you?"

"I discovered a long time ago that it doesn't do any good to dance
around things, Miss... What did Mr.  Morgan say your last name was?"

"He didn't."

"Well, anyway, I can be just as outspoken as the rest of the people
around here so don't think just because I've never run a ranch before
that I don't have any brains in my head.  If Henry was your paramour
that was his business.  I don't have to make it mine.  Now, if you'll
excuse us."

She looked at Blake again, noticing the amused crinkles at the corners
of his eyes.

"Are you ready?"  she asked.

"You want me to come now?"

"Unless you've got somewhere else to go."

"No, sir, I mean ma'am.  All I have to dO is get my horse, go to the
hotel, grab a couple things and we can be on our way."

"Good."  She started to walk away, then turned to look at Trudy.

"Oh, yes, goodbye, Miss.."  Trudy.  I hope I haven't spoiled your
afternoon. " Turning once more toward the door, she strolled outside
and waited at the hitch rail for Paco and Blake to catch up to her.  "
You sure weren't very nice to her in there," Blake said as he walked
over to help her onto her horse.  " What did she ever do to you?  "

"Nothing really," Hanna answered.

"But since she was a friend of Henry's and it seems like all of Henry's
friends thought they should have first grabs at White Wind, I thought
I'd better put her straight right now before she tries to cause any
trouble." "And you think she will?"

"Who knows, she may already have."  Hanna grabbed Lucifer's reins, put
her foot in the stirrup, then let Blake help her into the saddle.

"After all, we still don't know who it was who tried to keep me from
reaching Hangtown, do we?  Now, where's your horse?"

"At the livery.  I don't generally ride him around town."

"Then let's get going.  I'd like to get back to the ranch in time for
supper."  She nudged Lucifer in the ribs.

"Come on, Lucy, let's go."

Blake stared at her with a curious look on his face.  "Lucy?  Did I
hear you call that horse Lucy?"  he asked as he walked along beside
her.  "Certainly," she answered.

"His name's Lucifer, but he doesn't mind the name Lucy at all.  Do you,
Lucy?"  and she patted Lucifer on the neck.

"Now, let's go get your things."

Blake headed for the hotel to pick up his belongings, fighting to keep
a straight face.

Chapter Five The first storm clouds Hanna had seen since 'reaching
Texas were rolling in across the horizon.  She wondered if they would
become full-blown and bring some rain.

"Actually I had an ulterior motive for asking you to sign on," she said
as' they rode along, leaving Hangtown behind.

"It isn't just that we need some replacements.  I probably would have
come after you anyway."

"Oh?"  This was a surprise to Blake.

"You seem like an extremely intelligent man, Mr.  Morgan," she went on,
"and I've noticed that you let very few things get past you.  That's
why, when the fire started, I thought right away of you."

"Fire?  What fire?"  Blake asked.

Hanna proceeded to tell him about the range fire that morning, and how
she was suspicious of Jules Hayden's actions.

"But if he started it?"

"That's just the trouble," she went on.

"It'd be stupid for me to have him try to find out how it started if
he's the
culprit.  I thought perhaps, since you're a neutral party in all this,
you could find out what's re138 ally going on.  The attempts on my
life, the fire.  If it had reached those eat tie we'd have been in a
horrible mess."

He frowned.

"In other words you want me to play detective?"

She glanced ahead at Paco, whom she was certain was riding out of
earshot.

"I guess you could call it that," she said.

"Only no one must know except you, me and Mrs.  Brady."

"Elizabeth approves?"

"She more than approved.  She didn't know why I hadn't taken you up on
your offer to stay in the first place.  But then she's a bit more
tolerant of people than I am."  ' Blake eyed her curiously.

"Now what's that supposed to mean?"

Hanna straightened in the saddle, trying to look as prim and proper as
she could under the circumstances.

"Well, let's face it, Mr Morgan," she answered.  "You are just a
drifter.  We know absolutely nothing about you except that you were
willing to help us when we needed help, and you were most welcome to
have around during the attempts on my life.  But then, when it comes
right down to it, you could even be a participant in those attempts. 
We have no way of knowing.  After all, it was very convenient your
being in that trading post at Fort Worth."

"If you feel that way, why did you hire me again?"

"I didn't say I felt that way.  I said it could be a possibility."

"But you don't think it is."

"I'm hoping my instincts are right."

"Well, thank you anyway."  Blake had to admit she was being more
truthful about their relationship thgn he was.

"There's only one thing bothers me about the arrangements out at White
Wind," he said as they continued to keep abreast of each other.

"If I'm going to be just one of the hands, how will I be able to get
away from Hayden to let you know anything?"  She frowned,

"I hadn't thought of that."  Suddenly her eyes lit up.

"I know," she said, and there was a lilt of satisfaction to her
voice.

"I'm going to make you Hayden's assistant."

"And just how will that help?"

"Because I'm going to tell Hayden that anytime he has anything I should
know, or if I want him to know anything, I'll work through you.~' Blake
wasn't at all sure the foreman was going to like her new arrangement
any more than he'd liked the last one.

"There's only one trouble with that."  "What's that?"

"I don't think I've ever heard of a ranch foreman having an assistant
before. Desk clerks maybe and bank managers and such, but a ranch
foreman?"  Hanna inhaled stubbornly.

"Well there's always a first time for everything."  She patted
Lucifer's sleek neck, the feel of the horse beneath her becoming more
familiar with each passing day.

"I should know if anyone should.  So will you do it?"

He smiled, trying not to look too pleased, yet wanting to let her know
he'd go along with her in whatever she decided.

"Why not, it might be just what I've needed to put a little spice into
my
life."  And for the rest of the ride, as long as Paco stayed out of
earshot, they discussed some of the things Blake was to look for.

Early the next morning after spending the night alone in the bunkhouse,
Blake headed for the hacienda where Hanna had told him she'd meet him
for breakfast before taking him out to where the men were.

Suddenly he stopped to stare toward the veranda.  A lone horse was
tethered at the hitch rail, its rider talking to Hanna.  Blake looked
curiously at the man from the shade of an old oak tree.

He'd never seen the man before, but from what he could see at this
distance the man fit the description they'd given him when he'd left
the home office at Junction City, Kansas.  Right down to his clothes.

He had on dark brown pants underneath bat wing chaps, with a worn,
faded blue shirt, and even his gun belt and boots looked like they'd
seen better days, as did his black hat that.  sported a colorful
braided band around the crown.

The stranger was holding the hat in his hand and Blake could see that
his hair was a sandy red color, thick and unruly.  His face was
square-jawed with a dark red beard clipped to emphasize its
squareness.

Blake started moving toward the house.  He had to make sure.  The man
and Hanna heard the faint jingle of his spurs as he approached, and
when they glanced toward him, Blake was certain that the stranger was
the man he'd been warned about.  Especially when he gazed into the
man's eyes.

They were red-rimmed and bloodshot, the color of black coffee, with
thick red brows that almost met above his hawk like nose.

"Well, good morning," Hanna said when Blake was almost to them.

Blake stopped for a second, then stepped onto the veranda.

"I've found my other replacement," she went on as he continued to study
the man closely, and she gestured toward the new arrival.

"Cullerton Burris, I'd like you to meet Mr.  Morgan, the new assistant
foreman."

Blake reached out and took the hand offered to him.  "The name's
Blake," he amended.

The stranger nodded.

"And most people just call me Culler."

"Good."  Blake straightened, dropping the man's hand.

"Culler's easier to spit out."

He looked at Hanna.  She was wearing her riding pants again this
morning.

"You gonna ride out with us?"  he asked.  "I figured to.  After all,
you don't even know where the men are."

"Paco could show me."

"But I doubt Mr.  Hayden would take Paco's word for it that you're his
new assistant."  She set her mouth stubbornly.

"I'd better go.  Besides, Paco has other things to do today and won't
be able to go with us."

"Then maybe we should get started."  Blake glanced at the sky.  It was
well past sunup.

"It's gonna be late morning by the time we get there."

"But you haven't eaten yet."

"I'll just go grab something from the kitchen and get our horses
saddled." He turned to Culler.

"You eat anything yet today?"  he asked.

The man shook his head.

"Nope, left town way before sunup."

"Then come along, I'm sure Maria'll find something for us."  But
instead of
going into the house to reach the kitchen Blake walked the length of
the veranda, stepped off it, then headed toward the back of the house,
while Hanna stepped through the door.  That's strange, she thought as
she stood just inside the entrance hall and heard the men at the back
of the house in the kitchen, I wonder why Blake didn't just come in
through the front?  Oh, well, she guessed it wasn't really that
important.  Knowing she'd need her hat today, she headed for the stairs
and her room.  The sun was hot, the sky pale without a cloud in it as
the three of them set out for the camp.  Hanna had only been there that
one time with Paco, but the young Mexican had assured her that if she
just kept to the main trail she'd have no trouble at all finding the
camp.

She and Paco had taken a shortcut the day they had come, but: today
route bypassed the ridge, taking about half an hour longer.

The storm clouds from the day before had passed right over without
dropping any rain and Hanna was glad.  She hated muck and mud.  It was
close to midmorning by the time the three rode into the busy camp and
the first thing Hanna did was to locate Jules.  He was standing near
the branding fire arguing with a man Hanna had never seen before, and
the conversation was quite heated.

"To hell we have," Jules yelled, his voice ringing through the noisy
camp.

"Every maverick we've branded's been on White Wind range."

"Yeah, with a Box T cow nut sing it."

"You're a liar!"

"What's going on?"  Hanna asked as she, Blake and Culler joined the
foreman.

Jules's eyes were blazing.

"This no good son of a bitch is accusin' us of brandin' calves that
don't belong to us!"

Hanna looked surprised.

"Have you?"

"No, ma'am, we sure haven't.  Every calf we've rounded up was on White
Wind range."

She looked at the man who had been arguing with Jules.  He looked to be
about the same age as Jules, but heavier.  The stocky stranger was
slightly shorter than the foreman and had a bushy gray mustache that
hid thin, cruel lips. Even his dark blue eyes beneath their gray brows
had a cold hardness to them as they stud led Hanna.  His left cheek had
a big scar gouged out of it.

"May I ask who you might be?"  she said, her head tilting defiantly.

The man's jaw clenched stubbornly.

"The name's Terrell, Whitney Terrell.  I own ~he Box T."

"And you think my men have been stealing your cattle?"

"I didn't say they was stealin' 'em.  I said they was brandin' my
strays."

"And Mr.  Hayden's told you he hasn't, so that should be the end of
it."

"Hey, look, lady..."

"The name's Winters, sir, Hanna Winters."  The man's eyes narrowed.

"I

guessed as much, only I don't care who the hell you are.  I came over
to tell your men to stay clear of the Box T and I mean it.  "

"Good heavens, Mr.  Terrell."  Hanna was mortified.

"We've got ten thousand acres here, why on earth would we have to go
near your Box T?"

"You may have ten thousand acres, lady," he challenged.

"But you don't have ten thousand steers.  All you got is the piddlin'
few that made it through the winter, and Idon't intend to lose anymore
strays to you and your men."

Hanna looked at Jules.

"Axe you sure you didn't get some of his by mistake?"

"You callin' me a liar?"

"No, I'm just making sure."

"Well, we didn't."  He straightened, his eyes intent on Hanna.

"Whenever we found a cow with a calf we always made sure it was one of
ours, or else we didn't bring it in."

"Oh, yeah, you can say that now."  Terrell was fuming.

"Sure, I don't have no way to prove otherwise once your brand's on 'em,
but I'll warn you, Hayden, just like I warned Winters, I ain't gonna
sit back and let you steal me blind."

This time Blake spoke up.

"I think the conversation's OVer, Mr.  Terrell," he said.

"Leastways it is as far as we're concerned.  Now, why don't you just
mount up and ride out of here while you can still sit on a horse?"

Whitney Terrell stared hard at Blake, then looked at Hanna again,
realizing she wasn't going to knuckle under.  Sensing more than just
hostility in the air, he shoved his hat tighter on his head, turned
abruptly and headed toward his horse.  Mounting the big gray stallion
rather ungracefully, he rode off, leaving the four of them staring
after him.

Finally Jules glanced at Blake.

"What the hell are you doin' here?"

he asked.

"I hired him," Hanna answered.

"In fact, I hired Mr.  Burris here, too.  Only Mr.  Morgan is to be
your assistant."

"My assistant?  What the hell you talkin' about?  I don't need no
assistant."

"Oh, don't you?"  Her eyes narrowed.

"Then why hasn't anything been entered in the books lately?"

"Hank always took care of the books."

"And Henry's dead, so you should have taken care of them."  She looked
at him skeptically.

"You don't know how to write, do you, Mr.  Hayden?"  "Hell, yeah, I can
write.

Just as good as anyone else.

But them books is different.  Besides, it ain't no fore- man's job to
do the figurin'.  "

"I agree with you there, and I didn't really hire Mr.  Morgan to do the
books, either.  I hired him to be sort of a liaison between the two of
us.  After all, Mr.  Hayden, it seems you're so busy out here with the
cat fie and all that you just don't have time to come and keep me
posted on things."  She looked at Blake.

"That's where Mr.  Morgan comes in."

Jules inhaled, nodding.

"Oh, I see.  In other words he's gonna be your errand boy and report
back to you if I ain't doin' my job."

"I didn't say that."

"What she means," Blake cut in, "is that to save you from having to
spend a lot of time needlessly running back and forth from here to the
ranch, you can just give me any report you might have, and I'll do the
runnin' for you, and in between times I can rope and brand as well as
the next hand."

Jules stared at him.  There was something about Blake he wasn't quite
sure he liked.  Maybe because the man seemed to be too easygoing.  Most
drifters were that way though.

That's why they were drifting.

"Please, Mr.  Hayden," Hanna added.

"Hiring Mr.  Morgan is no reflection on the way you perform your
duties. It's merely a way for me to stay on top of things.  After all,
Until I become a real working part of this ranch it's going to be rough
for a while."  Jules eyed her skeptically.  What do you mean by a real
working part?  " he asked.

She smiled congenially.

"Why do you think I came out yesterday, just to watch?  If Henry could
learn how to rope and brand steers, so can I."  Jules's jaw dropped.

"You're not serious," Blake said.

She frowned.

"I certainly am."  She glanced toward the area where the cattle were
milling about and her gaze rested on a big bull.  _ "Well, I may not be
able to throw one of those big things," she said, correcting herself.

"But surely a little calf wouldn't be that hard to rope."  Jules and
Blake exchanged quick glances with each other and the new man Culler. 
~ "Well, it shouldn't," she insisted.

Blake shook his head.

"Hanna, before you can even think of throwing a calf you have to learn
how to handle a rope."

"So?"

"So it isn't that easy."  He reached to his horse and grabbed the
lariat from where it hung on the saddle.

"Here," he said, handing it to her.

"Let's see you rope that calf over there," and he pointed to a small
heifer that was roaming around, grazing not far from the rest of the
herd.

There wasn't any brand on the animal yet and it didn't seem to be
paying much attention to what was going on around it.

Hanna's hands curved about the lariat and she looked down at it, a
frown creasing her forehead.

There was already a loop in one end and she fumbled around with it
until she separated the loop from the rest of it.

"Go ahead," Blake urged her, knowing full well she didn't know what she
was doing.

"Rope the damn thing."

Hanna continued to stare at the rope, then glared at the calf, then
back to the rope again.

Trying to forget that she had no idea what she was doing, she began to
walk toward the calf, every muscle in her body tense.  If she could
just slip the rope around the thing's neck, she'd show them.  Moving
slowly, so as to not scare the heifer, she inched closer and closer. 
Then suddenly, as the animal realized Hanna was heading for her, she
started to bolt.  Quickly throwing the end of the rope that had the
loop in it as hard as she could, Hanna was both surprised and a little
shocked to see the loop sail through the air and go over the animal'S
head, slipping down onto ils neck.  However, the animal was still
bolting for it's freedom and as it did Hanna felt the rest of the rope
grow taut, then start to slide from her hands.  Grabbing the end of the
rope as hard as she could, Hanna hung on, trying to pull and tug to
keep the animal from breaking free, only the calf was too strong.  With
one desperate lunge the heifer took off in the opposite direction,
pulling Hanna off her feet and dragging her through the dust and dirt
behind it.

"Let go!"  Blake yelled.

But she couldn't let go.  It was if she were glued to the rope.  Dirt,
rocks and all sorts of debris flew into her face, and she shut her
eyes, trying to turn her head away as she scraped across the ground.

"Damn female?"  Jules yelled at the top of him lungs, and he dashed
forward, running after the calf that was moving every which way. 
Finally catching up to it, he grabbed it, threw it ~xpertly to the
ground, then slipped the lariat from around its neck and let the thing
loose.  As soon as the heifer was prancing away on its own, Jules
returned to Hanna while he dusted the dirt from his pants.

"Why the hell didn't you let go of the rope?"  he asked.

Hanna was still on the ground trying to compose herself as she spit the
gritty dirt from her mouth.  Tears were close to the surface only she
was determined not to let them show.

"I couldn't," she answered, then relaxed some, breathing deeply, and
she looked at her hand, which still had the rope wound around it.  It
was red and sore where the rope had pulled and burned.  Slowly, trying
not to hurt her hand more, she' began to unwind the lariat, then as the
other men joined them, she stood up, brushing the dust from her
clothes.

"So you proved your point, Mr.  Morgan," she said and she handed him
the lariat.

"I may not be equipped to wrestle a bull, or even a calf, but there are
other things I can learn."  She glanced toward one of the fires where
some hands were branding a calf.

"It's just going to take time, that's all."

Blake wasn't at all surprised at her statement.

"Then you're not giving up?"

"Certainly not."  She retrieved her hat from where it had dropped to
the back of her neck, set it on her head and walked toward her horse
while the men followed.

"I may not ever he able to throw a calf, as you ~efer to it.  But I bet
I can learn to cut one out of a herd.

Especially with the right horse, like Lucy," she said and patted
Lucifer on the side.

Blake shook his head.

"Why don't you give it up, Hanna?  Let us handle the animals and you
stick to the books?"

"Because I just don't trust anyone else, Mr.  Morgan," she answered.

"Not after all that's happened.

Now, go ahead, all of you, get back to work while I spend the rest of
the morning watching," and Hanna took Lucifer's rems and led him over
near where they were branding so she could get a better look.

For the next few hours, Hanna hung around the camp, taking everything
in and marveling at the stamina of these men.  Hector, the cook,
referred to by the men as Heck, told her while she was eating lunch
that one man could herd up to three hundred steers all by himself if he
had to, and that sometimes it took two to three days to drive the
strays down out of the hills.  The whole thing was fascinating to her,
but by late afternoon she decided she'd better call it a day.  She'd
seen Blake only twice since their arrival and now as she unhitclwxt
Lucifer from where she had him tethered and mounted, she took one last
look around.

Neither Blake nor Jules were in sight.  She supposed they'd ridden out
again for more strays.

"You can tell Mr.  Hayden and Mr.  Morgan that I've decided to head
back to the ranch," she told Heck as she settled down onto the saddle. 
I'll expect Mr. Morgan to check in with me back there at the end of the
day.  "" Heck nodded.

"Be careful, ma'am," he said through tobacco-stained teeth, his dark
brown hair flying around his face.

"It ain't always good to ride alone."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," she assured him, and minutes later she
was heading down the road that led to the hacienda.

The afternoon had grown exceptionally hot and as Hanna rode along, she
unbuttoned the top button of her blouse to get a little more air.  Her
clothes were sticking to her, and since most of the road cut across
open plains there was no place to find relief from the sun.

All the while she was riding along she kept thinking about the
conversation between Jules and the rancher named Terrell.  It was
obvious the man was really upset, but to accuse Jules's men of rustling
was a serious matter.

Jules Hayden was a strange man, and not any too likable, but a rustler?
Besides, he wouldn't have any reason to rustle someone else's cattle
for White Wind, since none of the profit from the ranch went into his
pockets.

She frowned, then breathed a sigh of relief as the road she was
following began to wind into the hills where there were some trees to
offer shade. She'd been riding for almost an hour when suddenly Lucifer
balked, snorted, then threw back his head skittishly.

"What the... What is it, Lucy?"  she asked, and she reined the gelding
to a halt and looked around.

Everything seemed quiet.  In fact, it was almost too quiet.  Not even
the scrub jays or mockingbirds were making their usual chatter.

Just as she decided it was nothing and nudged Lucifer in the ribs,
urging him forward again, a shot rang out from up ahead on the road, a
bullet whizzed right past her head, and Hanna panicked.

Digging Lucifer hard in the ribs, she pulled the reins, veering off the
trail to the left.  They crashed into the woods, Hanna hoping whoever
was firing at her wouldn't be able to follow her in among the trees.

Another shot rang out, and Hanna didn't even look back.  Instead she
plunged deeper into the trees, giving Lucifer his head and hanging on
as hard as she could, her body bent over low in the saddle as the
gelding maneuvered first this way, then that.

Hanna had been riding for almost ten minutes when she realized she
hadn't heard any shots for a while, and she reined Lucifer to a slow
walk, then brought him to a stop.

"Whoa, boy," she said, patting the sleek horse's neck.

"I think maybe we might have lost them, what do you think?"

As she looked back on the trail she caught a vague movement of gray
behind some rocks, another shot rang out and she took off again.

This time she didn't bring Lucifer to a stop until they had ridden out
of the woods onto a grassy plain where it was impossible for anyone to
follow her without her seeing them.

The woods was at least half a mile behind her now as she sat in the
saddle and looked around.  My God!

Where was she?  When she'd taken off she hadn't paid any attention to
where she was going.  Now, as she nudged Lucifer softly in the ribs and
began to edge forward, looking all around her, she had absolutely no
idea where she could be.

The terrain was level up ahead for quite a ways, then began to slope
into hills again with trees dotting the landscape.  The sun was to her
right on the horizon and Hanna tried to work out her bearings.

She'd been heading toward the sun when she'd left the roundup, so that
meant if she headed toward the sun now she'd be heading the same way. 
However, she had no idea how many miles she might have ridden while
trying to get away from her assailant, but she figured she should at
least be going in the right general direction.

Searching the edge of the Woods and not seeing anything that gave her a
hint that someone might still be behind her, she reined Lucifer partway
'around and moved off again, heading northwest, her eyes alert for
anything out of the ordinary, her heart still uneasy over the attack.

An hour after she'd lost the gunman who'd fired on her, Hanna reined
Lucifer to a stop at the top of a small knoll, hoping to catch sight of
the ranch in the distahoe.  She let out a disgusted sigh.  There was
nothing.

Nothing except more rolling plains, hills and rocky ridges, although
she did spot a water hole to her left with a sloping hill and a stand
of cottonwood. s behind it.

As she sat in the saddle and watched, her gaze moved to the sky.  The
sun had dropped considerably in the last half hour, and an uneasy
restlessness se'~xl her as she realized it was going to be dark soon.

Well, she wasn't going to let it bother her, she couldn't.  The ranch
had to be over the next few hills.

Riding down from the ridge she let Lucifer get a drink from the
watering hole and quenched her own thirst before starting out again.

A few hours later as she stared into the growing darkness that was
descending on the small canyon she'd ridden into, Hanna finally had to
admit defeat.

Tears stung her eyes, and she swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," she said to the gelding as the howl of a coyote cut
through the stillness around her, "but I'm afraid we're hopelessly
lost." Looking at the strip of darkening sky between the cliffs, she
started to pray.

Blake sat next to Jules, not far from the chuck wagon, and watched the
older man finish lighting a cigarette, a habit Blake had just never
picked up.  "I hear you had a fire," he said, his gaze studying the
other man closely.

"Yup," Jules answered.

"Know how it started?"

"Nope."

"Did you try to find out?"

"Yup."

"Care if I try to find out?"

"Nope.  But it won't do you any good."  Jules took a long drag off his
cigarette.

"We brought a bunch of cattle across there early this morning and they
probably trampled anythin' that might've been there into the ground.
Besides" -- he flicked away a few ashes "--I went over the place as
close as I could and there wasn't a damn thing."

Blake looked pensive.

"Anyone around that area just before it started?"

"Not that I could see, but then I wasn't expectin' it so I wasn't
really lookin'."  Jules eyed Blake curiously.

"Is that why she hired you, to find out who started the fire?"

"Nope, but she was nice enough to give me a job and I thought maybe I
might try to help her out some."

"Don't do me any favors."

Blake frowned.

"Why don't you like the lady, Hayden?"  he asked.

"You saw what she did, movin' in, taking over.  Hell, it wouldn't have
hurt lettin' me keep my room in the house."  ' "It'd hurt her."  Blake
knew that wasn't all that was bothering the man, yet went along with
him.

"You have to remember, she comes from a society that frowns on such
things. To her it just didn't seem right.

Anyway, if you don't like working for her, why don't you just quit?

There's nothing keeping you here, is there?  "

Jules's eyes darkened.

"Maybe I like it here."  He tossed his cigarette butt into Heck's cook
fire and stood up.

"Guess I'll go make sure everything's settled for the night with the
main herd.  You got that report I told you to give her?"  he asked.

Blake nodded, patting his shirt Pocket.

"Right here.  I'll be taking off soon as I check around a bit where
that fire started."

He watched Jules stroll toward some of the men who were still branding
strays, then stood up, her ting his gun belt more comfortably onto his
hips. Turning away from the chuck wagon, he headed toward where the
ground was dark with the ashes from the fire.  Jules was right, they'd
brought a number of cattle across the area, all right, but there were
still enough traces of the fire to figure out where it had started.

Blake covered the area slowly, his gaze glued to the ground for
anything that might be out of place.  The scent of charred grass and
wood was still strong, and he wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor.

Suddenly, as he kicked a small clump of burned mesquite ashes aside
with the toe of his heeled boot, he 155 hesitated and frowned. 
Stooping, he reached out and slowly began sifting his fingers through
the cold ashea.  It took only a few minutes to find what he was looking
for.  He had just spotted the edge of the small metal object where it
lay beneath the gray ashe~, and now he fingered the heel chain
curiously.  It could have come off any set of spurs, only as far as he
knew, none of the men from White Wind had mentioned losing theirs. 
Tucking it into his shirt pocket, he stood up and started looking
around more, but there was nothing else.  Well, at least it was a
start.

He glanced at the sky.  It was already getting late and if he was going
to get to the ranch and back before dark he'd better get going. 
Leaving the area of the fire behind, he made sure he still had the note
in his pocket with Jules's tally report for the day on it, then headed
over to where Diablo was tethered.  Mounting the horse, he took one
last look at the camp, then reined Diablo around and started toward the
trail that led to the main house.

At the camp the men would keep branding' right up until dark, but since
Hanna wanted a daily report of how many strays were flushed out of the
hills, Jules was more than willing to let him leave early to take it
in.

It was well past six in the evening when Blake caught sight of the
ranch house and spurred Diablo a little faster, hoping maybe Mafia
might have a few leftovers.

Heck's cooking was all right if you liked spicy goulash, which Blake
didn't, and besides, Maria had been making doughnuts when they had
arrived at the
ranch last night and he hoped there would still be a few Maneuvering
Diablo through the gate, he dismounted and tethered him near the house,
calling out as he headed for the open kitchen door.  "Maria?"

The kitchen was empty and he frowned.  Where the hell was everybody?

"Hey, Maria, Elizabeth, Hanna!"

By now, he could hear a commotion in the hallway just beyond the
kitchen, and seconds later the housekeeper and Elizabeth came in.

"It's about time," Elizabeth said as her gaze fell on Blake, then she
frowned, looking behind him expect an fly.

"But where's Hanna?  I suppose she's headed for the front door.  Her
and her propriety."

Blake scowled.

"What do you mean, where's Hanna?  She's here, isn't she?"

"Here?  Hanna was with you."

"And she came home."

Elizabeth's face went whi~e.

"Oh, my goodness!  When?"

"Hours ago.  Heck said she left about four o'clock."  Blake's face grew
solemn, all thoughts of the food be~d been looking forward to gone.

"You mean you haven't seen her?"

Elizabeth's dark eyes grew wary.

"We thought she was still out on the range."

"where's Paco?"

Maria was quick to speak up.

"He and Dolores went into town for supplies and they haven't come back
yet."

"Oh, great, then I'm going to have to go out on my own."  He started
for the door.

"There's only one way she could have come.  I'll go back and see if I
can pick i 15'/ up her trail.  She might have tried a shortcut and
gotten herself lost."

"Oh, Lord!"  Elizabeth was frantic.

"Don't worry," he said stopping just long enough to reassure her.

"I've done some tracking in my day, and it shouldn't be hard to pick up
her trail.  Now you two just calm down.  If she's out there, I'll find
her."

Blake was really getting worried.  He'd been riding for well over an
hour, studying first one side of the trail, then tracking along the
other, trying to find where Hanna might have turned off, and he hadn't
found anything.

Finally, as he moved to the right side of the narrow wagon tracks and
began searching the ground beneath the trees, his gaze fell on a set of
hoof prints that had left the trail.  Stopping, he dismounted and knelt
down, studying them just long enough to determine that they had to be
Lucifer's and he glanced up catching sight of some broken branches on a
bush a few feet away. He stood erect and, leading Diablo, began to
follow the tracks into the woods.  Again he stopped, surprise and
concern on his face as he saw a telltale bullet hole in an oak tree to
his left.

Moving up to it, he took his knife from its sheath, probed for the
bullet, found it and slipped it into the pocket with the heel chain
before continuing on again.  Blake was really alarmed.  It was obvious
that someone had taken another shot at Hanna.  Picking up his pace, he
began to move faster, heading deeper into the woods, still following
the trail she'd left.  If she was out there he had to reach her before
dark, that is if her assailant hadn't reached her already.

Hanna's hands were trembling slightly as she reined Lucifer up the
narrow draw toward the low-lying hills.

The sun had dipped below the horizon ages ago and still she'd seen no
sign of anything that looked even ~motely familiar.  Nor had she seen
signs that anyone else might be in the vicinity.

Night shadows were already beginning to cheep into the rock cue vices
and beneath the trees, and she felt her stomach tighten apprehensively.
 Not only was she hopelessly lost, but she didn't even have a gun or
any kind of weapon, and she had absolutely no idea how to build a
fire.

She cringed at the thought of being out here alone.  Another coyote
howled off in the distance, and she drew Lucifer to a halt, startled,
as a couple of stray steers broke from the underbrush to her right and
took off at a run. Realizing she wasn't after thorn, they soon settled
down to grazing.  She squinted, trying to see if she could tell what
their brand was, but it was too close~ to dark and they were too far
away.  Pushing her hat off her head, she ran her hands along the sides
of her pale hair, tucking stray hairs into the braid here and there,
and wiping the perspiration off.

While she did, she let her gaze move over the tree- lined hills up
ahead and began to wonder.  Which would be better?  To settle down for
the night beneath some tree, or move up to the top of the draw where
she'd be able to see anyone.  or anything approaching and spend the
night there?  Whichever way she looked at it, it was apparent she was
going to be out here alone, and the thought was frightening.

"Well, at least I've got you, Lucy," she said to the black gelding, and
as if in answer, the horse snorted, tossing his head lightly.

Deciding it would probably be better to find a good spot at the side of
the gully, Hanna nudged Eucifer in the ribs and reined him to the
right, riding him up the embankment where she tried to pick out a
likely spot.

The place she decided on was halfway up the sloping side of the draw
where a small rock formation jutted out leaving an overhang.  Reaching
the spot, she dismounted and let out a sigh.

No food, no fire, no water.  What a horrible mess.  Well, she couldn't
think of that now.  She was going to have all she could do to keep
herself from dying of fright, and she jumped back, terrified, as a gray
lizard darted across her path and ducked into a pile of rocks.  Lucifer
whinnied softly and she reached up, petting his velvety nose.

:"I don't like this any more than you do, old leila," she said, trying
to keep her knees from shaking.

"But I just don't see where we have much of a choice, do you?"

She gazed again over the landscape, watching as an early evening star
began to glow in the distance.  She wanted to scream, only she knew no
one would be close enough to hear.

Instead, she sat down beneath the overhang and watched the night
settling in all around her, the edge of fear slowly filling every nerve
in her body while tears trickled down her cheeks.

It seemed like Hanna had been sitting there for hours already, when in
reality it was only about twenty minutes.

The tears had finally stopped when she'd resigned herself to what lay
ahead, and now her resolve was to get through it.  Glancing down, she
studied the
gully below.  It was almost too dark to see, but if she squinted hard
she could still just barely make out which dark objects were trees, and
which were rocks, and.  Suddenly she froze as she looked back along the
trail she'd ridden only a short time before.  Something was moving, but
then it could be those strays she'd bumped into earlier.

Straightening anxiously, she stood next to Lucifer, straining as hard
as she could to make out what it was.

As she kept her eyes on the trail, every sense alert, the distinct
outline of a man vaguely silhouetted itself against the sloping sides
of the ravine and the hair at the nape of her neck began to prickle
while fear shot down her spine.

As the man drew closer she could see he was wearing a hat and leading
his horse, with his gaze steady on the ground.

Her first thought was that it might be the man who'd tried to kill her,
so she held her breath, hoping with all hope that it would be too dark
for him to track her up the side of the draw.  The man straightened,
gazing about perplexed.  As he reached up, took off his hat and wiped
his brow, Hanna recognized the familiar stance and let out a sigh of
relief.

"Blake," she murmured half to herself, half to the horse.

"Thank God, it is!"  She grabbed Lucifer's reins and began waving her
arms as she started moving down the side of the ravine.

"Blake!  Mr.  Morgan!  Oh, my goodness," she yelled, the fear in her
voice giving way to instant relief as she plummeted down the hill.

"Where did you come from?  How did you find me?  Oh, my heavens, am I
glad to see you!"

Blake's eyes still hadn't adjusted to the growing darkness around him
and he stood transfixed while he i 161 watched Hanna stumbling down the
rocky slope, leading Lucifer.

He'd figured he had to be getting closer to where she stopped for the
night, but hadn't expected to find her this easily.

Hanna reached the bottom of the draw and for the first time since she'd
spotted Blake, she hesitated, suddenly overcome with self~
consciousness at the lack of decorum she'd shown by yelling and
flailing her arms.

She drew up short and stopped, then stood staring at him very primly.

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry for the outburst," she said, her voice
breathless.

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

Blake inhaled sharply, relieved that he'd found her in one piece.

"Frighten me?  Takes more than that to frighten me."  He glanced toward
the overhang.

"But what the hell were you doing up there?"

"Why, I was watching.  Isn't that what you said to do?  Find a vantage
point so no one could sneak up on me?"

Blake smiled at her logic and the fact that she remembered the casual
remark he'd made while telling her about some of his more adventurous
experiences. "Are you all right?"  he asked.

"I am now.  I was so afraid I was going to have to spend the night out
here all by myself.  Just me and Lucy."

"Well, now you've got company."

"Company?"  She was still holding Lucifer's reins and she looked
around.

"Aren't we going to go back to the ranch?"

"Not tonight."  He shook his head.

"Hanna, the ranch is almost twenty miles that way."  He pointed off to
his right beyond the ravine they were in.

"There's no way we could possibly make it back there tonight in the
dark."

"You mean we have to stay out here alone, just the two of us?"

"" Fraid so.  "

"Oh."

He stared at her, wishing he could see her better, because he could
just about imagine the look on l~r face.

"Don't worry," he said, straightening as he looked toward the end of
the ravine.

"If I 'remember right there's a line shack up ahead about a mile or so,
and we should be able to at least make it there."

Hanna was at a loss.  There was nothing she could do except agree with
him. Yet the thought of spending the night out here alone with him was
almost as bad as spending it by herself.  Especially right now. 
Because as she stared at his vague form in the darkness, she had to
admit that she'd felt a strange surge of excitement when she'd first
realized it was Blake making his way along the floor of the ravine and
not someone else.  An excitement she wasn't at all sure she wanted to
feel, and it irritated her more than being lost had.

"What's a line shack?"  she asked.

"It's where the line riders stay, but with all of them in now for the
roundup, we should have it all to ourselves.

Come on.  " He reached out to help her mount Lucifer.

Hanna hesitated, but only for a second, then let him help her onto the
black gelding.

As soon as she was in the saddle, he mounted Diablo, then nudged the
Appaloosa forward and she followed close beside him.

Hanna glanced over at Blake as they rode up the ravine, and suddenly
she became apprehensive.

163~ "How do you know there's a line shack so close by?"  she asked, a
wary suspicion beginning to gnaw at her.  After all, he'd told her when
they'd first met that he'd never heard of the White Wind.

His voice was noncommittal when he answered.  "Like I said, I've ridden
through here a few times before."

"How many?"

"Who knows.  I never bothered to keep count."  As they left the draw,
Blake skirted the trees and headed for a ridge to the right about half
a mile away. The going was slow in the dark, but the horses were
surefooted, and a short time later they rode into a small clearing just
north of the ridge.  Hanna caught a faint glimpse of a water hole, with
what was left of an old ramshackle building about twenty feet away from
it.

There was no moon yet, but the sky was full of stars as Blake stared at
the remains of the old shack.

"This is it?"  she asked and he glanced over at her.  "How the hell was
I to know something happened to it?"  He gazed about, trying to figure
out what to do first, then dismounted and walked over to help Hanna
down, just as a coyote howled a short distance away.  He felt her
shiver but didn't mention it.  Instead, he said,

"Well, let's go see what we can salvage," and he walked to what was
left of the shack.

"Looks like they've had a fire," he offered, and stepping inside, he
began to search through the ashes.

The place had been one room with a fireplace at the far end.  Now, all
that was left were part of the walls, half a chair and some canned
goods that had rolled far enough from the heat that they didn't
explode.

However, all the labels were burned off.

It was apparent by the fact that everything hadn't burned all the way
that someone had tried to put it out and he wondered why Jules hadn't
mentioned it.  But then maybe Jules hadn't been told.  Blake looked at
Hanna, who was standing just outside the mess, not wanting to get any
dirtier than she already was.

"My goodness, it's certainly a sight, isn't it?"  she said as she took
everything in including the charred remains of an old sagging bed.

"At least the location's better than that place you picked back there
in the gully.  Here we've got water."

Blake walked over and began checking some of the cans that hadn't
burned.

"And food," he added.

"Now all we have to do is make sure we don't bed down with any
rattlers."

"Rattlesnakes?"  "You didn't think that one back in Hubbard Creek was
the only one in Texas, did you?"

"I guess I'd completely forgott."  -- She frowned.  "Oh, dear, and I've
been walking around here not paying any attention at all.  And I don't
have a weapon with me even if I did see one."

"Not very smart of you, is it?"  He walked to what was left of the
fireplace and started poking around to see what pans might be usable.

"But then I guess after being shot at again, anything was better than
taking a chance on being hit."

"How did you know someone shot at me?"

He reached into his pocket and took out the bullet.  "I found this
embedded in a tree back there where you left the trail.  Did you see
who it was?"

She shook her head.

"No.  But whoever it was didn't give up any too easily.  I thought I'd
lost them once, but hadn't.  After that I just kept going as hard and
fast as I could, then suddenly realized I was lost."

"I figured as much."  He dropped the bullet into his shirt pocket, "I'm
surprised they didn't keep following you, though.  You left a trail any
greenhorn could track."

"I did not."  She looked indignant.

"I covered my tracks just like you said."

"Oh, and how was that?"

"Once in a while I'd double back, and one time I broke a branch off a
tree and brushed away the tracks.

I even rode partway up some small streams a couple of times so they
wouldn't know where to follow.  "

"And dislodged the dime on every rock in them.  I know, I saw."

"Well, you said it worked for you."

"It does when you know how to do it."  He left the fireplace and joined
her outside the burned-out shack.

"When you go back, you don't go back on the same trail you've been
riding," he said.

"And when you wipe out your horse's tracks you don't leave marks from
your boot heels instead, and when you ride up or down the streams you
pick some with sandy bottoms so' there are no rocks to dislodge."

Hanna began to simmer inside.

"Why didn't you tell me all that when you told me how you did it
before?"

"Because I had no idea then you'd have to use the info marion one
day.

In any event, whoever was after you must not have been much of a
tracker because it seems.  to have worked.  I didn't run into another
soul until I found you Blake set down the things he'd salvaged from the
burned-out line shack at the edge of the water hole and straightened,
looking around.

"For now, though, I suggest we get us some Wood and get a fire going
so we can see what we're doing."  He headed toward some underbrush and
Hanna followed.

Once the fire was lit, Blake washed the soot and ashes from the cans
he'd found in the cabin and opened them with his hunting knife.  One
was tomatoes, another peaches.  The third was beans.  Along with some
hardtack he had in his saddlebags, it looked like a feast to Hanna, who
suddenly realized she hadn't eaten since noon and was starved.

"How do you think the line shack got burned?"  she asked as they
settled down to eat.

Blake thought for a minute.

"Could have been anything.  A hot coal from the fireplace, overturned
lamp."

"What do you think?"

"I think it was set, and I think someone was inside when it was set,
and just made it out."

"What makes you say that?"

"The way it burned.  The fireplace is still pretty much intact.  So is
the floor near it, but the side wall where the door was is completely
gutted, and there's an ax head laying near what was once a window as if
someone chopped their way out."

"But why would anyone set a line shack on fire?"  'Maybe for the same
reason they want you dead, whatever that is.  Either way, I don't like
it.  " She eyed him curiously as she continued eating, savoring the
taste of the tangy tomatoes and beans he'd mixed together and heated
for them.

"Why did you happen to come after me?"  she asked.

He smiled.

"Because Elizabeth was frantic.  She thought you were still with me,
and when I showed up at the ranch alone she nearly had apoplexy."

i "But why'd you come alone?"

"Because I didn't want a bunch of cowhands tramping through the woods
and ruining the trail you might've left.  Besides, I didn't think I
needed any help."

That's right, he hadn't needed any help.  In fact, Blake Morgan seemed
to have a strange knack for knowing the right thing to do at the right
time, and how to do it.  A fact that had bothered Hanna more than on~
already since meeting up with him.  "I forgot to ask you,"

she said, changing the subject.

"Did you get a chance to find out anything about the grass fire yet?"

He reached into his shirt pocket and Pulled out the heel chain.

"I

found this, but that's all.  "

Hanna took it from him and began looking it over.  "What is it?"

"It's a chain from a spur.  It goes under the instep of the boot just
in front of the heel to keep the spur from riding up.  Maybe if we can
find out who lost it, we'll find out who stared the fire."

She studied the small piece of silver chain.

"It could're belonged to one of our men."

"Only it didn't."  He reached out and took the chain from her.

"Fortunately, it's not just an ordinary chain.

A chain like that had to have come off a set of fancy spurs and most of
the men I've seen around Hangtown wear plain old work spurs including
the hands at the ranch.  "

"Like yours?"

He glanced down at his boots.

"Well, not exactly.  I keep my row els filed down, and I don't
use.jinglebobs, but mine are a lot dressier than most."

They were, too, she thought, and frowned.  Blake's spurs were steel
and etched with fancy drawings that were copied in the tooled leather
of the spur strap.  "What are jingle bobs she asked.

"Just fancy little doodads that hang near the rowel and jingle when a
man walks to let folks know he's coming."

"I take it you don't like folks to know you're coming."

"That's right, and it's saved my life many a time, too."

Her frown deepened and she stared at him hard.  "Just who are you
really, Mr. Blake Morgan?"  she suddenly asked.

Blake managed to swallow a mouthful of beans without choking on them
while purposely avoiding her eyes.

"What do you mean, who am I?  I'm Blake Morgan, that's all."

"No."  She shook her head, her gaze still steady on him.

"You're not just Blake Morgan... You're the Blake Morgan, and I want to
know who you are, what you're doing here and why you seem to have made
me your private concern."

Blake laughed, hoping to throw her off guard.  There was no way he was
going to tell her the truth.  Not yet, not until he knew for certain
just how invoNed she'd been with her brother.

"You make me sound like someone important," he said.

"I told you.  I'm just a drifter.  Oh, I imagine I've been around a
little more than most and been in a few more scrapes.

But that's all there is to it.  "

Hanna's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"I wish I could believe you."

"You can."

"How?"

"By trusting me.  Now" -- and he stood up "--hand me your dishes and
we'll get them washed, then we should try to get some sleep."

After they'd cleaned up everything they had cooked with, Blake stepped
over to Diablo and untied two blankets rolled up together.

"One for you and one for me," he said, handing her one of the blankets.
Knowing she'd insist on sleeping by herself anyway, he didn't bring up
any other sleeping arrangements.

"There's a good spot over there."

He motioned a few feet away with his head.

"And I'll stretch out right here."  He walked to the fire and spread
out the blanket.

Hanna stared at him, watching him put the blanket as close to the fire
as he could, yet far enough away so he wouldn't get too much heat, then
she did the same with the blanket he'd given her.

"You sure we'll be all right here?"  she asked.

"We won't have to worry about snakes?"

"Rattlers don't like the fire," he answered.  She glanced about
apprehensively.

"I certainly hope not."  She watched him retrieve the saddlebags from
their horses to use as pillows, toss them onto the blankets, then drop
to the ground and stretch out on one side of his blanket, curling the
rest of it up around him.

"But you didn't even take off your boots," she said.  "Why should I?"

"Wouldn't it be more comfortable?"

"Not really.  I'm used to sleeping in them."  "Oh."

"You can take off yours, though, if you want to," he said.

"It doesn't really matter.  Only when you put them on again in the
morning make sure you check inside to see if anything's crawled in them
during the night ."

"Like what?"

"Lizards, spiders..."

"I'll leave them on," Hanna said emphatically and lay down, trying to
get comfortable on the blanket.

After stretching out, she pulled the edge of the blanket over her as
Blake had done and tried to relax, only she couldn't.  The ground was
hard and so were the saddlebags, although they were better than
nothing.

She was on her side, facing Blake, and she stared at him.  His eyes
were closed already and she wondered how he could sleep in such
surroundings.  At least when they'd ridden all the way from Fort Worth,
she and Mrs.  Brady had slept in the buckboard, which was far more
conducive to sleep than being right on the ground.

She watched the fliekefing firelight play across Blake's face, and
again the gnawing suspicions she'd felt earlier began to prick at
her.

Not only was Blake sleeping with his boots on, but his guns, too.

Only his hat had been removed for the night.  Even then, it lay right
above his head where he could grab it quickly.

Her gaze moved across his face and she felt strange, alien feelings
inside as she watched him relaxed in sleep.

She had to admit he wasn't really bad looking in a rugged sort of way,
and there was just something about him.

NOW look, Hanna Winters, she said silently to herself, he's just a man
like all the others, so forget all those funny notions that have been
trying to take root i in your brain ever since that night back in
Hubbard Creek.  He's a loner, a drifter, and besides, he's a man, and
that's the worst part of all because he's probably no different from
any other man.  He just seems nicer.

Suddenly for the first time in years she thought back to that day
shortly before her father's death when she'd learned what men were
truly like.

She'd been almost twenty-one at the time and so much in love she'd
blinded herself to 'the truth.  Even during the clandestine wedding
ceremony with Armand she hadn't suspected a thing, and that night she'd
even given herself to her new husband with all the passion that was in
her.  Now, as she thought back, she almost felt guilty about lying
during the annulment proceedings a few days later when she'd sworn the
marriage hadn't been consummated.  But it had been the only thing she
could do.

She hadn't been about to admit to the world that she'd been played for
a fool.  That the man she'd eloped with had thought her father was
rich, and that when he'd found out otherwise he'd walked out of her
life the very day after the o1opement.

The whole thing probably would have been a little easier to take if her
father hadn't died of a heart attack two days later, leaving her to
face everything alone.  She had also.

learned that her father had been encouraging her relationship with
Armand because he thought Armand was wealthy and he'd been hoping to
recoup some of his own losses with Armand's money.  How ironic, she
thought as she lay staring at Blake and remembering.  Both men had
thought the other had money and had only been using her to gain that
money.

Was Blake Morgan using her, too?  But if he was, for what purpose?

Well, she'd just have to keep her guard up and all her faculties
alert, because she wasn't about to be used by any man ever again, and
especially not one like Blake Morgan.

Deciding she'd better take a cue from him and get some sleep, she
hunkered down a little farther into the blanket, closed her eyes and
started to drift off.

Hanna still wasn't fully asleep, although she'd been lying quietly for
some time now.  She could hear the crackling of the wood in the fire
and the little night sounds that accompanied it, but quite abruptly,
the blood began rushing to her head.  Somehow Hanna knew that something
or someone was right behind her.

Keeping as quiet as could be, she just lay there, not moving, hardly
dating to breathe, and afraid to even open her eyes.

Then, as she held her breath, she suddenly felt something claw at the
back of her head, a sniffing sound filled her ears and something cold
and wet nuzzled her neck.  Not even waiting to find out what it was,
she let out a shriek, grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it with
her, and half crawled, fighting the air as she lunged right at Blake,
landing directly on top of him.

Blake sputtered, his arms flailing as he woke up, startled to find
Hanna clutching at him like mad and trying to bury herself against him.
 Then, as his eyes began to focus and his vision cleared, he real' reed
what was happening, and gazed off to the spot where she'd been sleeping
just in time to see a raccoon running hellbent for the trees.

Hanna was panting heavily, her whole body trembling.  when she'd left
her bed the raccoon's paw had inadvertently pulled the ribbon off the
end of her braid, and her hair was starting to fall free and cascade
onto her shoulders like a pale mist.  "Hey, slow down.  It's all right,
it was just a raccoon,"

he said trying to calm her down.  He reached up, trying to extricate
himself gently from her vise like grip.

Hanna gulped a terrified swallow, then slowly began to come to her
senses at the calm reassurance of his voice.  She'd had her eyes shut
and her face buried in his shoulder, but now she drew her head back and
looked at him.

"You're sure it was a raccoon?"  she asked, her voice still tremulous
and shaky.

"Positive."  Blake was sitting up now and she was still cradled against
him, his arms partially around her.

"I saw him running away."

Hanna flushed as she looked into his eyes.

"Well, it could have been a bear."

"It could have been.  But it wasn't."

The fire was much lower now and Hanna's back was to it so he couldn't
see her face too clearly, but he knew exactly the expression she'd have
on it by the tone of her voice.  In spite of everything, she was trying
to be Miss Prim and Proper, only this time it wasn't working.

Maybe because the night was warm and the stars overhead compelling, or
it could be the firelight casting a rosy glow over everything making it
seem so different, but suddenly Blake realized Hanna was staring at him
the same way she had that night in Hubbard Creek.  He also realized he
liked it.  She reached up to straighten her hair.

"No, don't do that.  I told you before your hair looks pretty like
that," he
said, and he reached up and brushed her hand aside.  He touched her
hair, lightly at first, before running his tinge~ through it as he
finished unwinding the rest of the braid.

Hanna trembled.

"It looks terrible."

"Don't be ridiculous, it's beautiful."  He let its silky softness fall
through his fingers.

"Why do you always try to hide it like you do?"

She flushed.

"I don't."

Blake breathed deeply as his hand left her hair to touch her face.  He
cupped his hand along her cheek, his sinewy fingers plying her flesh
sensuously.  My God, she looked so pretty and soft.  He felt a stirring
deep down inside.

"You do try to hide it, and you know you do, Hanna."  His voice was
low, husky, the intimacy of the night around them deepening its
timbre.

"Why don't you just try to be yourself for a change and forget about
Boston and what's right and what isn't?"

"Blake..."

"Like right now.  Part of you wants to pull away and fight the feelings
the other part of you is beginning to enjoy."

Her blush deepened.

"YoU're insane."

"Am I?"  he swung her into his arms, then laid her gently onto the
blanket beside him and bent down, his lips gliding along her throat to
caress her earlobe.  His breath warm against her ear, he whispered,

"Then I like this insanity."

Hanna suddenly felt a surging fire begin to play along the nerves of
her spine as he once more began to tease her flesh with his lips.  She
tried to fight the heady feeling that was oveq~owering her, only it was
hopeless.

It had been so long since she'd felt like this.  So many years since
she'd truly let herself feel, and even 175 though it was frightening,
it was fascinating to know that she wasn't really dead inside as she'd
so often thought.

She closed her eyes, savoring the velvety warmth of his lips as they
caressed her ear, her throat, then with a low groan that came from deep
inside him, Blake's lips moved to her mouth and captured it with the
same heat that had been there in Hubbard Creek.  Only this time, she
didn't pull away.  Instead she moaned contentedly and surrendered to
the fire and passion that were consuming her, savoring the feel of his
lips and letting them taste the depth of her longing with an eagerness
that was intoxicating.

"I told you you'd like it," Blake murmured.  Reaching down, he slipped
his hand beneath her shirt and began to stroke her breasts, bringing
her whole body to life while his lips captured her mouth again.

Hanna couldn't even think anymore.  All she knew was that her body had
awakened from a forced slumber she'd imposed on it, and she felt as if
the whole world~ had betrayed her, only she didn't care.  All she could
do was feel.

"Let me love you, Hanna," Blake whispered as he stretched his body the
length of hers.

"Don't make me stop 'now.  Let me give you the world that you lost
somewhere along the way."  As he drew back for just a second and looked
into her eyes, seeing the surrender there, he let out a soft sigh.

Not wanting to lose the moment, he kissed her again tenderly, and
deftly loosened his gun belt, tossing it aside.  Then he began to move
his hands slowly down her body, kneading her flesh beneath her clothes
until Hanna her el~ aside so he could reach her.

Blake inhaled sharply as she finally stretched out naked beside him,
her body arched, waiting.

Her face was tanned from the sun, but the rest of her was like fine
ivory, smooth and silky in the firelight.  He divested himself of the
last vestiges of clothing and lay down, still staring at her hungrily,
his heart in his throat.  All he wanted to do was lose himself inside
her.  Gently, as if afraid to move for fear of shattering the illusion
before him, he reached out~ touched her taut flesh, then his arms
curled about her waist and he pulled her hard against him.

The sensation was intoxicating and he heard her sigh a deep sigh as his
lips captured the valley between her breasts, then cupped a nipple in
his mouth. Slowly, deliberately, his tongue circled it tenderly, then
released it.  He drew her head to him and kissed her full on the
mouth.

By the time he covered her, entering her with a thrust that forged its
way deep inside her, neither Blake nor Hanna cared anymore about
anything or anyone but the ecstasy that was overwhelming them.  Blake
gave Hanna stroke after stroke, the pounding rhythm bringing her to a
shuddering climax as he suddenly felt himself plunged into the very
same fulfillment deep in his core.

A slight breeze ruffled the leaves on a tree overhead and Hanna opened
her eyes, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings.

Oh, my God!  What have I done?  she wailed silently to herself, then
realized exactly what she'd done as she felt the heat of Blake still
inside her, the strangely unfamiliar feel of his flesh covering hers,
and a sickening dread began to mingle with the throbbing heat that
still filled her.

She swallowed hard.

"Blake?"  Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Mr.  Morgan, please... I shouldn't... We shouldn't.... Mr.  Morgan?"

Blake had been completely relaxed, breathing deeply, his body spent,
and now slowly the life began to surge back into him and he lifted his
head, looking at her.  "Hanna."

"Please... this should never have happened," she murmured, close to
tears.

"I should never have... Please, Mr.  Morgan, do let me upI'm so sorry."
"Sorry?"  He frowned, yet began to ease himself from her.

"What do you have to be sorry for?"  As he moved from her, she sat up
quickly, trying to cover herself, and reached for her clothes,
beginning to put them back on.

"Because now you're going to think I'm a loose woman, and I'm not." 
Her face turned bright red.

"In fact I don't really know what came over me.  Good heavens!"  She
was back to Miss Prim and Proper again.

"I've never ever done anything like this before.  What must you
think?"

"I think you're one hell of a woman," he answered as he reached for his
own clothes.

"Whether you like it or not."

"Well, I don't," she shot back.

"And I want you to forget it, do you understand?"

"Like I forgot what happened back in Hubbard Creek?"

"Exactly."  She finished dressing, then pulled on her boots.

"After all, I'm not some barroom doxy, Mr.  Morgan, and I assure you,
what happened just now was as much a surprise to me as I know it was to
you and it won't ever happen again, I assure you.  Now" -- and she
picked up her blanket
and set it right next to his "--I think we'd both better try to get
some sleep again, don't you?"

"If you say so," he said.  He was standing, and picked up his gun belt,
fastening it on as he stared at her, realizing she was fighting with
herself right now, and he didn't want to push.

"But you've laid your blanket down right next to mine," he said,
surprised at her action.

Especially after what they'd just been through.

"I realize that," she answered.

"But I'm sure it won't make any difference now, will it?  Besides, I
couldn't stand the thought of another raccoon maybe breathing down my
neck again."

"Suit yourself," he said and once more dropped to the ground, then
watched her settle down next to him.

The fire was still low and he glanced over, his eyes catching hers as
he stretched out, resting his head on his saddlebags.  At first he was
sure he'd seen tears in her eyes, but now they'd been replaced with a
passionate warmth that was frightening in its intensity.  "Good night,"
he whispered softly.

Hanna's gaze bored deep into his amber eyes and she felt a shiver run
through her.  He wasn't going to forget, and she knew he wasn't going
to forget, but then she wasn't sure she would, either.  Blake Morgan
had awakened something in her tonight she'd never, ever wanted to feel
again, and she wanted to hate him for it, yet knew she couldn't, and it
was turning her whole world upside down.  Well, she wasn't going to let
it.  Not if she could help it.

"Good night, Mr.  Morgan," she answered.  As she closed her eyes she
prayed that when morning came she'd truly be able to forget tonight,
but deep down, she knew she wouldn't.

Chapter Six Dawn was just starting to break in the east as Blake slowly
woke up to the feel of Hanna's warm body cud died against him.  Opening
his eyes hesitantly, he stared at her head resting comfortably on his
shoulder.  She was sleeping as peacefully as could be, and he wasn't
about to disturb her. At least not just yet.

She hadn't put her hair into its braid last night and it framed her
face with soft waves, like a white cloud.

Strange, he thought, she looked so young and vulnerable in sleep.

A frown creased his forehead as he remembered their lovemaking and
suddenly he remembered something that shouldn't have been.  Hanna
Winters wasn't a virgin.  Oh, she was tight, and inexperienced, and it
was as if the whole thing was new to her.  But damn it, he was sure it
hadn't been the first time for her, and he wondered how and why.

The thought was intriguing because to know Hanna there had to be a good
explanation for it.  As he stared at her, the heat that had overwhelmed
him last night started to surge to the surface again, and he knew if he
didn't stop right now he was going to ache all day, and he didn't want
that.

"Hanna?"  he finally whispered, hoping not to scare her.

"Hanna, wake up."

Hanna had been arguing with Blake in her dreams, although as she slowly
opened her eyes and stared at him, she couldn't for the life of her
remember what the argument they were having was about.  But the
animosity was still there.

"Oh, good heavens I" she exclaimed, reaching up to shove her hair away
from her face as she pushed herself from him.

"I didn't mean to do that, really.  I'm sorry, Mr.  Morgan."

"Hey, I didn't mind, not a bit.  It's just that I think we'd better get
up and get started or we'll have all the ranch hands out looking for
us."

He watched her sit back on her blanket and try to shake the cobwebs
from her brain and get fully awake.

Dark shadows still filled the clearing and he knew the sun wouldn't
clear the horizon for some time yet.

"I figure if we leave now, we might get back before they send out a
search party," he went on.

Hanna blinked the sleep from her eyes, then stretched and began to
stand up. She was a bit wobbly on her feet and not quite fully awake
yet.  She glanced at Blake, who still sat on his blanket smiling at
her.

"What are you laughing about?"

"I'm not laughing, I'm smiling," he answered.

"I wish I knew what makes you tick."

Hanna's eyes hardened.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He stood, too, retrieved his hat, set it on his head, and began to
gather up their blankets.

"You're an enigma, Hanna Winters.  You're prim and proper on the
outside and all fire on the inside, only you hate for anyone to know
it."

"That's absurd!"

"Is it?"  His topaz eyes darkened passionately.

"The woman I made love to last night isn't the same woman I'm looking
at this morning."

"You were supposed to forget about last night."

"That's right, I was, wasn't I?  Sorry about that, but things are had'd
to forget.  Forgive me."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and Blake caught the warning.

"I am forgiven, aren't I?"  he added quickly.  Hanna felt a cold
hardness begin to fill her as she fought against the charm of this man
she wanted yet resented for what he could do to her.

"I guess you're forgiven," she answered, her voice revealing her
reluctance.

"At least for now.  But don't ever bring it Up again."  She stood
quietly looking around.

"Are we going to eat before we go?"

"If you want."

"Not really.  The sooner we get back the better.  Besides, maybe
Maria'll have something better than what's in those cans you
confiscated."

"You mean you don't like my cooking?"

She gave him a disgusted look, yet couldn't help the slight smile that
tried to conquer the corners of her mouth.

"Axe you ever serious?"  she asked.  His face sobered.

"Sure, try me."

She stared at him hard, wishing she could understand him.  He seemed to
take life so casually at times, but then no one had been shooting at
him.  "Oh, never mind," she finally said and started toward the water
to wash the sleep from her eyes.  She could feel Blake's gaze follow
her all the way.

She knelt down and splashed water in her' face, and wasn't surprised
when he
was right there and offered her a clean bandanna from his saddlebags
to wipe on when she straightened and stood up.

"If you want I'll braid your hair again for you," he said as she wiped
her face dry.

"My kid sister used to wear her hair like that and I had to help her
when nobody else was around."

Hanna lowered the towel and frowned.

"You don't believe me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then turn around."

Hanna wasn't 3oing to at first, but just at that moment the morning
breeze blew a stray hair into her face.

She brushed it aside, then turned her back to him.  Blake reached into
his pocket and pulled out a comb, then his hands captured the sides of
her head and his fingers grasped the hair gently, but deftly.  He began
to comb the strands and braid them, working diligently to get it all in
without pulling.

While he worked, Hanna Was all too aware of the intimacy of the act,
only she tried as hard as she could to ignore it.  The worst part was
that it didn't seem to be bothering Blake.  He'd comb a few skeins of
hair, shove the comb into his mouth while he intertwined them, then he
would hum softly as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Finally he finished the braid in the back and held onto the end so it
wouldn't loosen again.

"What did you have it fastened with?"  he asked.  She pointed to where
she'd been sleeping when the raccoon had disturbed her.

"It's over tEe re With Blake in tow holding the end of the braid, she
moved to where she'd spread her blanket near the fire the night before,
retrieved the small piece of rawhide the raccoon had pulled out and
handed it to Blake.

"There," he said when it was fastened tightly, and he stepped back to
survey his work.

"Not half-bad, if I do say so myself."

Hanna hesitated before turning around.  For some reason the loss of his
nearness bothered her.  Fool!  she told herself.  Angry at her
reaction, she straightened stubbornly and finally turned around.

"I imagine it'll do for now, thank you, Mr.  Morgan," she said in her
most dispassionate manner.

"Now, do you think perhaps we might he ready to leave?"

Blake's eyes narrowed slightly at her cold rebuff.  "Why not," he said,
his voice sharp and caustic for a change.

"We just might make it back to the ranch in time for breakfast."  He
turned and headed for their horses.

Hanna watched him walk away and sighed deeply.  You just don't
understand, Blake Morgan, she said to herself, you just don't
understand, and stuff' rag the bandanna he'd given her into her hip
poCket, she reached down to pick up her hat where she'd left it on the
ground the night before and set it on her head, then followed after
him.

The kitchen was warm from the fire Maria had started in the stove so
she could make breakfast, only Elizabeth didn't really notice as she
sat at the table, her hands ringing a cup of coffee, her gaze on the
door.

It was close to seven already and not a sign of Hanna or Blake yet.

Either he hadn't found her and was still searching, or he'd found her
too late to head for home, or.  She hated to think of the
alternative.

"I can fix you some corn cakes," Maria offered from where she stood
near the sink.

Elizabeth shook her head.

"I'm just not hungry, Maria."

She reached up, ran a hand through her graying hair, then nervously
checked the buttons On the bodice of her light blue cotton frock, one
of the dresses she'd bought purposely for their trip out.  She'd always
felt nice in blue. It reminded her of one of the dresses Daniel had
liked her to wear.  He always had been partial to blue.

Her dark eyes filled with anxiety as she suddenly heard the
unmistakable sound of a fast rider approaching.

However, before she could make it to the door at the other side of the
kitchen, Jules was already over the threshold, his face as anxious as
her thoughts.  "So all right, where is he?"  he roared, anger showing
in his eyes.

Elizabeth was taken aback.

"I beg your pardon!"

"That no-account assistant Hank's sister foisted on me.  He was
supposed to report back last night and never showed up."

"Well, naturally not," g~l~abeth said, her voice just as haughty as his
was loud.

"He's out looking for Hanna."

Jules frowned.

"Hanna?  You mean Miss Winters?  Where the devil is she?"

"Well now, if we knew that he wouldn't have had to go looking, would
he?" Suddenly Elizabeth's eyes softened as she realized the foreman had
probably left the camp grounds without any breakfast, and he was a big
man probably used to a hearty meal.

"Now, instead of getting yourself all worked up, why don't you just
come over here.  Maria'll fix you something to eat, and I'll
explain."

Jules wasn't sure he wanted to listen to.  any lam~- brained excuses,
yet there was something about the woman's sincerity that got to him.

"All right," he finally said, and headed for the table.

"Your hat, Mr Hayden?"  Elizabeth reminded him.  "What about my hat?"

Jules questioned.

"You could take it off since you've decided to stay."  Jules hesitated
momentarily, then reached up, grabbed the hat and set it on the table
as he sat down.  "So, all right, what happened?"  While Maria fixed his
food, Elizabeth filled him in on Hanna's strange disappearance.

"What makes you think Morgan'll find her?"  he asked when Elizabeth was
finished.

"He said he's done tracking before."

"And probably a lot of other things, too," Jules added sullenly.

Elizabeth's eyes sparked.

"Now don't you go running down Blake Morgan.

If it weren't for him Hanna wouldn't even have made it this far.  He
saved her life more than once on the trail.  "

"Oh, hell, I know all about that."

"If you think you're annoying me by swearing, Mr.  Hayden, you're sadly
mistaken," Elizabeth said, her voice very matter-of-fact.

"My late husband was quite adept at it, and could probably have taught
you a few Choice words."

Jules eyes narrowed as he stared at Elizabeth Brady, and suddenly it
was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

He figured she had to be somewhere near fifty, give or take a few
years, and she was nothing like Hanna Winters.  There was none of the
crisp demeanor
that Hanna carried around with her, and the Brady worn- an's dark
brown eyes held a decided twinkle in them that softened the sharpness
of her features. Actually, she was a rather striking woman, warm and
friendly, and far more sure of herself than most of the women he'd met
around Hangtown.

"Miss Winters didn't say.  You a relative?"  he asked.  "Just a
friend."

Elizabeth sighed as Maria came over and put a plate of food on the
table in front of Jules.  "But now I'm really starting to get worried. 
If they don't show up..."

She never finished the sentence as the distinct drumming of hoofbeats
could be heard in the distance and they all stayed motionless,
listening.  "They're back!"  Elizabeth finally exclaimed as she heard
the creak of leather and harness and hoped that it was Hanna and Blake
reining their horses to a halt near the back hitching post.

Blake had spotted Jules's big bay mare long before they'd ridden into
the ranch yard, and now as he reined up beside it he glanced at Hanna. 
On the way they'd talked everything over and decided not to tell anyone
she'd been shot at.  That the less people who knew, the better.

The roundup was almost over and Pete and some of the men would be
leaving by the end of the week to drive the herd north to the railhead
in Kansas.  Jules wouldn't really be needing Blake to help anymore on
the range, so they'd decided that Hanna was going to have him stay at
the ranch so he'd be free to come and go as he pleased while he tried
to find out what he could about the fire, the heel chain and the bullet
he'd dug out of the tree.

"So what are you going to tell Hayden?"  Blake asked as they sat on
their horses.

Hanna frowned.

"I have no idea."  Her frown deepened.

"Besides,I wonder what he's doing here."

"Well, it looks like we're about to find out," he said, as they turned
toward the house in time to see Elizabeth hurry out the back door
followed closely by Jules.  Hanna and Blake dismounted hesitantly and
Elizabeth ran to Hanna.

"Oh, Lord, am I glad to see you," she cried and she grabbed Hanna in a
big hug, then set her away from her and stood looking into her face.

"What on earth happened anyway?"

Hanna tried not to look too embarrassed as she glanced at both Mrs. 
Brady and Jules.

"I'm afraid I tried to take a shortcut back to the ranch and got
lost."

"What a dumb thing to do," Jules said, his usual outspoken self.

Hanna looked disgruntled.

"I don't need your comments, Mr.  Hayden,"

she snapped defensively.

Jules eyed Blake curiously.

"Where'd you find her?"

"Near the northwest line shack."  They'd also decided not to mention
that the shack had been burned down unless Jules brought it up.

"But it was too late to start back last night."

"You should've come and gotten some help."

"Didn't need any."  Blake looked pleased with himself.

"She left a trail any greenhorn could follow."  Hanna was indignant.

"That's only Mr.  Morgan's opinion.  But at least I'm glad he was able
to follow it."  She reached up and took off her hat.

"Now, if you all don't mind... We've been riding since before sunup and
neither of us has had any breakfast."

As they started toward the house Hanna glanced at Jules.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"  she asked.  , "Lookin' for Morgan. 
He was supposed to take some men down near the southern boundary this
morning to find out why the boys there are takin' so long.  When he
didn't show up I had to send Pete."

He opened the door for her and everyone followed Hanna into the kitchen
where Maria was already setting food on the table.  They all sat down
and started to eat.

Hanna looked across the table at the foreman.  "What's wrong with
sending Pete?"  she asked.

"Is that bad?"

"Hell, no, Pete can handle it all right, it's just that I was hopin' to
use him someplace else."

"I see."  She studied the man closely for a few minutes.  He didn't
seem to be quite as blustery this morning, and she wondered if maybe
Mrs.  Brady had something to do with it.

Mrs.  Brady did have a way when it came to taking a person down a peg
and bringing out the good points.

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to do without Mr.  Morgan's help
for a little while yet, Mr.  Hayden," Hanna said, finally deciding what
to tell him.

"Because I'm going to be needing him here at the ranch and to get some
things done for me in town.  Since the drive's going to be starting
soon anyway, and he won't be going, I can't see any real reason he
can't stay right here and take orders directly from me, do you?"

"Well, don't that take all."

"Not really," she answered.

"You see, we still haven't discovered who tried~ to kill me while I was
on my way here, so I've decided it might he wise to have 189 someone
other than Paco around who can handle a gun, and Mr.  Morgan assures me
he can."  Jules stared at her hard.

Something was up, be knew it, but what?  Had another attempt been made
on her life?  If so, why didn't they just come right out and say so?  A
wave of frustration swept through him.  They didn't trust him.

"If that's the way you want it," he said, and he stood up.

"Aren't you going to finish your breakfast?"  Elizabeth asked as she
realized he wasn't through eating yet.

He glanced at the few bites left on his plate.

"I just ain't hungry no more," he answered, then looked again at
Hanna.

"Did you get that list of supplies Heck's go una need for the drive?" 
he asked.

Hanna nodded.

"Mr.  Morgan gave it to me this morning."  ~ "Good, then I'll be going'
and you can send Paco out with them as soon as you get them."  Without
saying another word, he grabbed his hat from the table and left.

After he'd left, Elizabeth turned to Hanna.

"I don't think he liked your explanation, about why you're keeping
Blake at the ranch," she said.  Hanna sipped at her coffee.

"He doesn't have to.  I don't owe him anything except his wages."

"Come on now, Hanna."

Elizabeth shook her head.

"He was trying to be nice for a change."  "That's just the trouble."

Hanna's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Like I said, I still don't know who's been taking potshots at me, and
it could just be him."

"You don't believe that."

Hanna glanced at Blake, then at Mrs.  Brady.

"I didn't say anything when he was here on purpose, Mrs.  Brady," she
answered.

"But I didn't just get lost.  Someone took some more shots at me and I
ran. By the time I got away Lucy and I were hopelessly lost." 
Elizabeth shook her head.

"Well, then, it couldn't have been Jules, because I distinctly remember
him saying he was at the camp all yesterday afternoon."

Hanna frowned.

"He wasn't there when I left."  "And he wasn't with me," Blake added.

"He also has a Colt five-shot revolving carbine, and I'd bet my bottom
dollar that's the gun this came from."  He reached into his pocket and
pulled out the bullet he'd dug out of the tree.

Elizabeth still wasn't convinced.

"I still can't see him wanting you dead.  Besides, you said you lost
whoever was shooting at you.  I have a feeling you'd have never lost
Jules Hayden if he was on your trail."

"She's right there, Hanna."  Blake had to agree.  "Unless he had some
reason for not going after you."

"Like having to get back to the camp before he was missed?"

Blake shrugged.

"Could be."

"Well, I wasn't about to take the chance.  Now if you'll both excuse
me, I'm going to have Maria heat some water for a bath, then go up to
my room and soak off some of the dust and dirt from the trail."  She
looked at Blake.

"While you, Mr.  Morgan, head for town and see what you can find."

She stood up.

"Oh, yes, and while you're there leave that list of supplies at the
store and tell them Paco'll pick them up later on, either today or
tomorrow."

"Will do," Blake answered.  He watched her closely while she called to
Maria at the sink to ask her to have Pace set up a tub in her room,
then, finishing his own breakfast, he excused him self and left, saying
goodbye as he went out the back door.

As he neared town, Culler glanced behind him with a frown.  Good, no
one was following.  He'd managed to sneak away without being seen.

The foreman had told him to make sure there were no strays left out in
the hills northeast of camp some thirty miles, and it had been easy to
get away. Especially since Hayden told him to take his time so nothing
was overlooked, even if he didn't make it back until tomorrow.

Culler cursed softly as he rode along~ It was almOSt the middle of June
already.  Even though he'd known his partner Whitey had been playing at
a masquerade all these years, he'd never thought the day would come
when he'd have to track down just who Whitey really was and where he'd
come from.  He thought back to the first time he'd ever laid eyes on
the man.  -- Unbeknownst to either of them they'd both been hiding in
the same rock formation waiting to rob the Denver stage.

When Whitey had ridden down into the Concord's path the same time he'd
eased onto the trail from the other side, Culler had just about had
heart failure.

He'd thought the other horseman was the law until he'd spotted the
bandanna pulled tightly across his nose, but instead of arguing over
which one was going to get the loot, they agreed it would be better to
share and share alike instead of either of them eating the other's
bullets.

Over the years that followed Whitey had made quite a name for himself
as a lone bandit, and it was rare for Culler to work with him except
when Whitey thought the job was too big for just one man.

Now Culler wished he hadn't been with Whitey on this last job because
things sure as hell hadn't gone right.  Wells Fargo not only had a
description of him that some stupid woman on the stage who'd pulled
down his bandanna had given them, but he'd come away without a dime to
show there'd even been a holdup.  And now, on top of that, he was sure
Whitey was dead.

It had taken him months of painstaking work to find Whitey's other
identity, and he still didn't have any proof.  That's why he was headed
for town.  Now, if he could just lay his hands on that two hundred and
fifty thousand dollars.  But being able to do that was getting harder
and harder with each passing day.  Just the thought of that much money
made his hands tighten on the reins, and he nudged his horse a little
faster.

It was close to eleven in the morning when he finally rode into
Hangtown and dismounted in front of the Sundown Saloon.  The boys at
camp had said Hank Winters was sweet on one of the girls who worked
here, and Culler was hoping maybe she might have known the rancher
better than anyone else.

He gazed about surreptitiously to make sure none of the White Wind crew
had been sent to town for anything, then walked up to the swinging
doors and stepped inside the place where he stood looking around.

According to the men, the woman he was looking for was a redhead named
Trudy, and it took only seconds to spot her.  She was the only redhead
in the place and 193 was sitting at one of the tables in the back all
by herself wiling the time away in a game of solitaire.  He strolled
over.

"Your name Trudy?"  he asked.

Trudy eyed Culler curiously, her gaze intent on his worn clothes and
dark flashing eyes.

"Who wants to know?"

"The name's Culler, Culler Burr is he introduced himself.

"And I think we had a mutual friend."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Hank Winters."

"You knew Hank?"

"That's what I'm hoping to find out."  He pulled up a chair and sat
down.

"You're Trudy then?"

"Yeah, I'm Trudy.  So what's this all about?"  Trudy was wearing a deep
rose satin dress with little black beads trimming the bodice.  In her
ears were the same diamond drop earrings she'd had on the night she'd
met Hanna.  The dress clashed with her hair, but she d?  dn't seem to
mind.

As he tipped his hat back, Culler happened to catch sight of the
earrings, and he froze.  He'd be damned if they weren't just the proof
he'd been looking for.  He leaned forward, his voice lowering so only
she could hear. " " Them's pretty earring~ you got there, Miss Trudy,"
he said, his eyes still glued to them.

"Hank give them to you?"

She looked surprised.

"How'd you know?"  "Like I said, I think he was a mutual friend."

Trudy was skeptical.

"But Hank said I wasn't ever to tell anybody where I got them, so how
do you know he gave them to me?"

"Because I was with him when he, shall we say, acquired them?"  He took
a furtive look around the room.  The place was empty except for a
handful of
men and dance hall girls at the tables and bar.  But it was more
people than he wanted around.

"Hey, look, can we go some place private and talk?"  he asked.  "About
Hank?"

"Yeah, about Hank."

Trudy stared at the stranger, then thought over her years with Hank
Winters and the suspicions those years had aroused.  She happened to
remember a remark he'd made one time that had helped feed those
suspicions.

Now suddenly she Wondered if maybe this sandy-hatred man with the cold,
hard eyes might supply the answers she was looking for.

"I got a room upstairs," she said and stood up.  "You can pretend
you're a customer."

Culler stood up, too.

"Fair enough.  Just so you don't expect to get paid."

She laughed.

"All depends on how far the talking takes us."  She started to walk
away and Culler followed.

Once inside her room he stood leaning against the door.

Trudy watched him closely.  The man was dangerous, she was sure of it,
but then she was used to men like Culler Burris.  Besides, she could be
just as dangerous given the opportunity.  That's why she'd changed her
name six years before when she'd left St.  Louis.

"So all right, you wanted to talk?"  she said.

"Talk."  He straightened and walked over to look out the only window in
her room, then turned to face her.  "Just how much did you know.  about
Henry Winters?"  he finally asked.

"What do you mean, how much did I know?"

"Just what I said."  His eyes flashed anxiously.

"Did you know those earrings you're wearing once longed to a wealthy
lady from New York City who was traveling west by stage to meet her
husband in Oregon?"

Trudy reached up slowly and touched one of the diamond teardrops.

"You're joking."

"No, ma'am, I sure as hell ain't," he answered.  "You see, I was with
an outlaw named Whitey when we robbed that stage.  Got away with a
twenty-thousand- dollar payroll meant for the miners out in Nevada and
a box of jewelry from that lady that'd make a jewel- efts eyes jump
right out of their sockets."

Trudy stared at him hard for a minute as if contemplating, then went
over to the dresser, opened one of the drawers and took out a small
wooden box. After lifting the lid, she held it out for Culler to see.

"You mean like these?"  she asked.  Culler's eyes narrowed.  They were
there, all right.

Every last piece.  He and Whitey had divided the money and the jewelry
evenly between them, and he'd sold his share of the jewelry off.  It
was obvious what Whitey had done with his.  Now Culler knew his
suspicions about Henry Winters had been right.  Henry or Hank Winters
and the outlaw he'd known as Whitey were one and the same.

~"You know what this means, don't you?"  he said to Trudy and to his
surprise she smiled.

"I suspected it years ago.  Especially when I saw one of those wanted
posters over at the sheriff's office, and Hank's business trips always
seemed to coincide with some big robbery somewhere."

"And you didn't turn him in?"

"Turn him in?  Now why would I do a thing like that?  After all, he
never did anything wrong to me.

Fact is, he treated me better'n I been treated for years.  " " But
there was a ten-thousand-dollar reward on his head, dead or alive.  "

Trudy looked thoughtful.

"I see what you mean.  Only I didn't really have any proof, now, did I?
 At least not until you showed up.  Besides, it would've been his word
against mine.  And anyway, why would I want to do a fool thing like
that when I think I'd just about talked him into marrying me and taking
me away from all this?"

Culler sneered.

"I thought you liked it here."

"I would have liked being Mrs.  Henry Winters much better.  Only it's
too late now.  I guess I can probably sell some of this stuff."  She
looked down at the jewelry she was still holding.

"But it still won't take me as far as I want to go."

"Would half of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"  he asked.

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly.

"Half?"

"That's what I'll give you if you can help me find out where Hank
stashed it before he died," "Why do you need me?"

"Because maybe you'll be able to remember something that might help me
find out where it is.

Something Whitey said one time makes me think maybe the money's hidden
away in the house somewhere, and I was hoping you could give me a clue.
 Did he ever mention anything over the years about where he might have
put anything valuable?  " " Only the bank.  "

"No, it's got to be in the house somewhere.  You sure you can't
remember anything at all?"

Trudy tried to think.  She'd been in the ranch house dozens of times.

"Well, there is the wall safe in the master bedroom upstairs off the
front balcony."

"Wall safe?"

"Yeah, it's behind a picture of a big sailing ship just over the
fireplace."

"You're sure about this?"

"Of course I'm sure.  The night he gave me these he got them out of
it."  She glanced down at the jewelry box she was still holding.

"I never knew they were real, though.  I thought they were just some of
those fake jewels you hear people talk about."

"Well, they ain't fake," Culler told her.

"And I bet that wall safe is right where the two hundred fifty thousand
is, and I bet Hank's sister doesn't even know the safe is there."

"But how will you get into it?"

"Don't worry about that."  He smiled, his mouth set determinedly.

"It shouldn't be that hard to crack."  He reached up, setting his hat
more firmly on his head, getting ready to leave.

"Hey, do I still get my cut?"  she called out as he headed for the
door.

"Sure, baby, just as soon as I get' mine With that, he walked out,
closing the door softly behind him, leaving Trudy staring after him.

"I just better," she whispered softly.

"Because if I don't, Mr.  Culler Burris, you're gonna wish you'd never
set foot in Hangtown."  She took another good hard look at the jewelry
in her hands before putting it back in the drawer and heading
downstairs to finish out the day.

Blake was frustrated.  He'd been trying all morning to track down both
the bullet and the heel chain, with no luck so far.  He left the
sheriff's office, strolled up to Diablo and got ready to mount the
Appaloosa, then happened to glance down the street toward the Sundown
just as Culler stepped out the front door.

Now what the hell was Culler doing at the Sundown this time of day?

he asked himself, only there wasn't any answer.  As far as he knew the
man was supposed to be out on the range with Jules and the rest of the
White Wind crew.

He watched Culler stop on the top step before setting foot in the
street, then Culler looked around furtively.

Blake was glad there was a sorrel between Culler and his Appaloosa
because Diablo would stick out like a sore thumb in a town that was
half-empty. Apparently Culler was satisfied that he didn't see anyone
he knew.  He mounted up and rode out of town.  It wasn't until Culler
was well out of sight that Blake untied the horse and led him down the
street, tethering him in front of the Sundown Saloon.

It was well past noon when Blake finally unhitched Diablo, mounted up
again and rode out of town, heading toward the ranch.  Although his
talk with Trudy hadn't been all that productive, he was sure deep down
inside she was hiding something.  And he was also sure that if he'd
just told her who he really was and why he was in Texas he probably
would have found out what it was she was hiding.  Only now just wasn't
the time.

Not yet, anyway.  Besides, if anyone had a right to know, it was Hanna,
and he couldn't even tell her yet.

Spurring his horse a little harder, he left Hangtown behind.

Hanna was in the library when Blake arrived, and he knocked before
stepping inside.

"So what did you learn?"  she asked as he strolled over to the desk
where she was sitting.

Her hair was in its tight knot again and she was wearing a plain gray
dress with a little white collar and buttons to the waist that gave
credence to her prim manners.  He was sure she was wearing it mostly
for defense against the emotions he knew were smoldering deep down
inside her.

"I didn't learn a damn thing," he answered.

"Except that half the population out here uses a Colt five shot
revolving carbine."

"The same caliber?"

"Yup.  So there goes your Jules Hayden theory."

"And nothing about the chain?"

"Now that's another matter.  There's only one place in town where a man
could have a new chain put on a pair of spurs, only nobody's been in to
have it done.  Not yet anyway.

However"-- and he looked rather satisfied with himself " --the man
there did tell me there's about four fellas in the area could wear
spurs fancy enough to have silver chains, and one of there's a
wizened-up fella sporting a mustache who works out at the Box T. "

"Terrell's place?  Good glory, why would he be trying to kill me?  And
why set the range on fire?"

He shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine."  "No."  She shook her head.

"There has to be a better explanation.  Maybe he only rides for
Terrell, but works for someone else."

"Maybe."  He glanced at all the ledgers on the desk in front of her.

"Find anything interesting?"  he asked.

She eyed him curiously.

"Strange you should ask, but I did."

"Oh?"  He sat on the edge of the desk.

"What's that?"

Hanna didn't know exactly how to tell him.  Well, the best way was
usually the simplest.

"It's these books," she answered.

"I'll be checking along going over all the figures just as carefully as
I can and there doesn't seem to be any money for hardly anything, then
farther on down the page the debts are paid off and the slate's wiped
clean.  And I've gone over everything trying to figure out just where
the money came from. There's nothing.  It's just there."

"You're sure?"

"Positive.  Look."  For the next few minutes she let him peruse her
brother's books with her.  Suddenly Blake knew he'd guessed right.  The
figures, the dates.  He glanced up from the books and looked at
Hanna.

Should he tell her or shouldn't he?  The question had been haunting him
all the way to the ranch, only now that he was faced with the actual
telling, he couldn't do it.  No, it was too soon.  He still wasn't all
that certain she was as innocent of her brother's affairs as she
pretended to be.

"Maybe he just forgot to record some of the money that was coming in,"
he said.

She laughed.

"Oh, he forgot it all right, until he had a use for it.

But then I guess Henry never was much of a one for keeping money
straight.  " She sat in the desk chair and looked at him, studying his
face.

"You had a worried look when you came in.  What's the matter?"  she
asked.

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out.  "It's that other
new hand you hired," he ~aid, talking 201 over his shoulder.

"I thought he was supposed to be out on the range with the rest of the
men." "He is."

He turned to face her.

"He wasn't when I saw him."  "Where?"

"Coming out of the Sundown Saloon.  Trudy said he'd stopped in for a
beer, but she was lying."

"How do you know?"

"I asked the bartender how long he'd been in the place and he said long
enough to enjoy himself, if you get my meaning."

Hanna flushed, knowing all too well what he meant.  "Maybe she just
didn't think it was any of your business.

' ' "Well, I'd say it's your business," he answered.  "After all,
you're putting the finishing touches on a roundup and you need all the
men you can get out there, so I'd sure as hell find out why Jule~ is
letting his men have free time in town when they should he working."

"I'll talk to him about it," she answered, then stood up.

"Now, I don't know about you, Mr.  Morgan, but I'm in need of a cool
drink. Would you care to join me?"  A few minutes later they were
heading for the kitchen.

The moon had been up for almost an' hour as Culler led his horse
quietly across the White Wind ranch yard, talking soothingly to him all
the way yet keeping his voice down.

Once at the side of the veranda, he ground reined him, then looking
about and searching the darkness to make sure no one was about, he
stepped onto the
veranda and checked the posts that held up the balcony.  They were
good and solid and, not being planed smooth, they were easy to climb,
like trees.

He'd taken his spurs off and stuffed them into his saddlebags before
reaching the ranch house, and now quietly and deftly he began to climb
to the balcony. Trudy had said the safe was in the master bedroom in
front, so he wouldn't have to go through the houSe.  Breathing deeply,
he finally reached the railing around the balcony and pulled himself
over the side.  One glance toward the double doors Trudy said were in
the master bedroom showed him they were open, and he tiptoed forward,
holding his breath.

That's what he'd been afraid of.  The moon was up full, and where it
streamed into the room he could see Hanna Winters sound asleep in the
big four-poster bed.  Flattening himself against the doorframe, he
stood for a minute, trying to figure out his next step.  His gaze moved
from the sleeping woman to the walls of the room, then it stopped at
the sight of the picture over the fireplace on the inside wall.

Well, first things first.  Before he could crack the safe open, he'd
have to take care of Miss Winters, and he reached down taking a knife
from its sheath at his waist.

The curtains on the doors were heavy drapes with cording and very
quickly he sliced through, cutting off a generous piece of the cord. 
This done he stepped gingerly into the quiet room, then looked about
for something he could use as a gag.  He could use the bandanna from
around his neck, but was afraid someone might trace it to him.

Picking up a lady's petticoat off a chair, he used his knife again, cut
a piece from it, then moved over to the 203.  bed.  However, just as he
did Hanna began to move and he hesitated again, holding his breath.

Hanna was restless.  She'd been dreaming of Blake again, and arguing
with him in her sleep as usual.  Now, half awake and half asleep, she
punched the pillow up more beneath her head and began to settle down
again.

Suddenly she turned her head sideways with her eyes open just enough to
catch sight of a shadowy figure standing close to the bed.  The figure
was blocking the moonlight from coming in and she squinted.

"Blake?"  she mumbled, hoping to hear an answer, but instead of hearing
Blake's voice, she saw two hands shoot out.  They gmbhed her by the
shoulders and tried to force her hands behind her.

"Oh, no, you don't!"

she screamed hysterically, and using all the strength she could muster,
she began to fight and yell.

A hand went over her mouth and she bit into it, sinking her teeth
deep.

"Damn!"  Culler yelled, then tried again, only to feel her teeth sink
into his arm this time.

He lashed out, his hand striking the Side of her face, but the effort
got him nowhere.  In fact now he was getting mixed up in her covers,
and still she hadn't quit yelling.

Suddenly realizing that he wasn't going to be able to subdue her,
Culler let go of her as quickly as he could, just as the bedroom door
opened and Elizabeth rushed in.  He made a mad dash to the balcony,
went over the rail and started shinnying down, almost falling onto his
horse in his hurry to get away.

The last thing Elizabeth heard as she moved to the bed and grabbed
Hanna in an effort to soothe and comfort her were the hoofbeats from
Culler's horse as they faded into the night.

Chapter Seven Elizabeth's hand shook as she lighted the lamp and sat
down next to Hanna on the bed.

"Are you sure you're all right?"  she asked.  Hanna reached up, took
off her nightcap, then nodded.

"I think so."  She looked at Mrs, Brady.

"This is ridiculous, Mrs.  Brady," she said.

"First they try to kill me, then they try to kidnap me.  What on earth
do they want?"

"I wish we knew."  Elizabeth put an arm around her.  "Do you think
you'll be able to get back to sleep?"

"Hardly."

"How about if I go get Blake?"

"Blake?  What for?"

"Well, with him in the house maybe you'd feel bet~ tea.  He can sleep
in the bedroom where he slept the first night we were here."

Hanna shook her head.

"That isn't proper and you know it."

"Proper, my foot.  At this point, Hanna, who cares?"  Elizabeth was
tired of Hanna's firm stand on conventionality.

"The important thing is that we can't let anything happen to you, and
if that means having Blake move into the house, then that's what you're
going to have to do."

Hanna glanced at Mrs.  Brady, knowing she was right.  With Blake close
by it was less likely that anyone would make another attempt to get to
her.  "All right, but what do we tell him?"

"The truth."  Elizaheth stood up.

"He's the only one down at the bunkhouse, so I'll go get him."

She started for the door.

"Wait!"  Hanna yelled.

"That man might have decided to come back.  I'd better go with you." 
She stood up and shoved her feet into her slippers.  Walking to the
huge armoire on the far wall, she took out her wrapper and put it on~
then began to tuck her hair into her lacy nightcap as she followed
Elizabeth out the door.

The bunkhouse was some distance from the main house, and Blake stirred,
opening his eyes.  He'd awakened from a deep sleep minutes before, only
he wasn't quite sure what had awakened him.

At first he thought he'd heard someone yell, but the sound had been so
faint it was indistinguishable; and as he opened his eyes he thought
maybe it was part of the dream he'd been having.  Then, a few minutes
later, he was certain he heard hoofbeats fading off in the distance.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he shoved back the sheet that covered
him and sat up, glancing out the window.  The moon was still up and he
figured it had to be late.  Maybe two, three in the morning.

Just to make sure everything was all right, he grabbed his pants off
the chair where he'd slung them, slipped into them, then took the Colt
out of its holster and headed for the door.

He was almost to it when he heard strange scuffling noises coming from
outside.  Slowing his pace, he flattened himself against the side wall,
inching slowly toward the door.

Outside Hanna and Elizabeth were hesitant.  "Maybe you should go in,"

Hanna said, her voice barely a whisper.

"After all, what if he's uncovered?  I wouldn't want to embarrass
him."

"So why don't we just knock?"

"And scare him half to death?"

"He'll be just as scared if we sneak in and wake him up that way."

Elizabeth sighed, exasperated with Hanna's worry about modesty.

"All right, how about we open the door, then both of us call to him
first, giving him a chance to wake up?"

"That sounds better."

Hanna reached for the door handle, turned it, started to open the door,
then froze as she caught sight of the barrel of a gun in the moonlight
as it came out from behind the door and Blake said,

"Hold it right there."  ' She heard the hammer on the gun click.

"Oh, my goodness!"

The door opened the rest of the way.

"Hanna?"  Blake couldn't believe his eyes as he gazed past Hanna.

"Elizabeth?"

"For heaven's sake, don't shoot," Elizabeth cried as she and Hanna
stepped away from the door.

Blake came the rest of the way outside.  "What the hell are you two
doing here?"  he asked.

Hanna exhaled, relieved.

"We were trying to wake you up."

"Why?"

"Because someone tried to kidnap Hanna," Elizabeth explained and they
told him about the~ horrifying experience.

"Do you know who it was?"  he asked when they were finished.

Hanna shook her head.

"No.  But one thing I do know.  The man reeked of tobacco, I could
smell it.

And he'd been drinking, too.  I always did hate the smell of secondhand
liquor.  "

Blake was amused at her description, but he didn't show it.

"Then it could have been anybody."  He stared at her curiously.

"But why wake me now?  It's all over with and you're both all right."

Hanna could feel herself flushing, only she knew it was too dark for
him to see.

"That's why we woke you.

I'd like to stay in one piece, and Mrs.  Brady suggested it might be
best if you moved your things into the house with us.  After all, it
doesn't do much good to have a man on the premises for protection if
he's so far away he can't even tell when he~s needed.  Mrs.  Brady
figures you can use the same room you stayed in before.  "

Blake stared at Hanna, the moonlight full on her face, and he felt a
familiar warmth shoot through her.

Even with her hair shoved into that silly lace nightcap she wore, she
had a way of getting to him that he didn't like.

Still, moving into the house was just what he'd been hoping for.  It
would be much easier to search for the money if he had free access to
the house.  He wasn't quite so sure about being that close to Hanna all
the time, though. After all, things had already gotten out of hand
once.

However, work came first, and he straightened, still staring at
Hanna.

"When do you want me to move in?"

"Tonight."

"You mean now?"

"I don't think Hanna will be able to sleep the rest of the night if you
don't," Elizabeth said.

"Nor will I."

Blake thought for a second, then shoved the gun into the front of his
pants.

"Just let me get some of my clothes and put my boots on."

As he turned and went into the bunkhouse the two women looked at each
other, relieved.

Culler was furious the next afternoon when he rode into Hangtown.

He'd reported to camp that morning herding some ten steers he'd managed
to scare up out of the hills to make it look good, and Jules had sent
him out again-for more they might have overlooked.  This time he was
supposed to be up near one of the line shacks.  Herding cattle,
however, was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment.

He'd been smoking a cigarette as he rode along and he took the last
drag off it, then tossed the butt onto the dusty street as he reined up
in front of the Sundown just as he'd done the day before.  This time,
though, the determination on his face was all too visible.  "So,
where's my money?" Trudy asked a few minutes later when he sat down
next to her with his beer. Culler's eyes darkened.

"There ain't none," he answered.

"And there won't he, either, unless I can figure out a way to get into
that safe."

"I thought you said you could handle it?"  "Don't get smart."

"Hey look, Mr.  Burris, or whatever the hell you said your name was,
you promised me half of two hundred and fifty thousand and I've been
lookin' forward to it, so you'd better come up with something'."

His gaze raked over her.

"I think I have."  "What's that?"

"You any good at actin'?"

She looked at him dubiously.

"How good?"

"Good enough to make the spinster from back east think you got a
fractured hip, or at least a bad sprain?"  Now Trudy was really
curious.

"Just what are you getting at?"

For the next half hour Culler let Trudy in on the great scheme he'd
thought up on the way in.

An hour after Culler rode out of town, Trudy also left, dressed in a
blue poplin suit with a matching hat and driving a small buggy she'd
rented at the livery stable.  Her destination was the White Wind
Ranch.

It was close to four o'clock when Trudy reined up in front of the
veranda at the White Wind.  She could feel the dust from the long buggy
ride as she wiped her hand across her skirt, smoothing it, then glanced
toward the house. God, she hoped Culler's idea worked.  With a hundred
and twenty five thousand she could get away from Hangtown for sure. 
Getting down, she fastened the reins to the hitching post and headed
for the door.

Inside the hacienda, Hanna was just making her way down the winding
stone steps to the parlor.  She had changed from her riding clothes
only a few minutes before, and was wearing her dark green bustled skirt
and pale green blouse with the little pearl buttons.  Most of her
morning had been spent out on the range going over everything with
Jules and making sure things were set for the start of the drive the
next day.  Now she was headed for the library to make sure the tally
sheets were in order.

Jules told her that Pete Miles would be the trail boss this time,
'with Jose6 Caracas taking over if anything happened to Pete. 
According to Jules both men had been with Henry as long as Jules had,
and Pete had been Henry's right-hand man on many a drive over the
years.

During the past few days Hanna had hired three more new men to help on
the drive while Blake and Culler would stay at the ranch with Jules and
the other men who weren't going.

Actually there were only two hands who wouldn't be on the drive besides
Blake, Culler and Jules--Maria's sons Miguel and Sancho.  Jules
explained to her that Hank had always kept what he called a skeleton
crew at the ranch when they were away on a drive.  "You mean my brother
went along, too?" Hanna had asked, and was surprised when Jules told
her he'd been one of the best trail bosses in the cattle business.

When Hanna reached the bottom of the stairs she hesitated at the sound
of knocking on the front door.

"Maria?"

The housekeeper didn't respond so Hanna shrugged and headed across the
parlor toward the entrance hall.

A few seconds later she swung the door open and stood face-to-face with
the young woman she'd met some days before at the Sundown Saloon. 
"Trudy... isn't it?"

Trudy swallowed hard, trying to look convincing and yet not appear too
pushy.

"I hope you don't mind, Miss Winters," Trudy said.  "But I've been
debating whether I should come or not."  She hesitated.

"Do you think maybe I could come in?"

Hanna hadn't expected this and was momentarily taken off guard.

"Ce.rtainly, I guess I... Yes, do come in."  She opened the door wider,
then watched curiously as the woman.

she knew only as Trudy sailed into the entrance hall and quickly
hurried into the parlor.  "You wanted to see me about something?" 
Hanna asked once they were both standing in the parlor.  Trudy tried
not to act too self-conscious.

"It's about the clock," she said and walked over to the mantel where
the ship's clock sat among all the other knickknacks.

"You see, I know you probably don't think too much of my relationship
with your brother, but Hank and I had been together for quite a long
time, and he always said to me,

"Honey, if anything ever happens to me I want you to have that clock to
remember me by."  So, well, you can see.  "

"In other words, you came to ask me if I'd give' you the ship's clock
from the mantel?"

Trudy smiled, flushing self-consciously.

"I guess you could say that."

"You came all the way out here just for that?"  Hanna was amazed.

"Why didn't you ask me for it that day when I was in the saloon?"

"Would you have given it to me?"

"What makes you think I'll give it to you now?"

"I'm not sure you will, but I had to ask."

"You mean because of Henry?"

"That's right.  When you love someone it's nice to have something to
remember them by."

"And since you can't have the ranch you figure the clock'll do, right?"
Hanna walked over and looked at the old clock.  It had evidently come
from a
clipper ship of some kind and had once been bolted down in some
captain's cabin.

"You mean my brother never gave you anything to remember him by over
the years?"

"Well, he did give me these earrings."  And Trudy reached up, fingering
the diamond teardrops.

"But jewelry just isn't the same."

Hanna stared hard at Trudy, wondering if she were really telling the
truth or not.  Especially since the old clock didn't seem like the kind
of keepsake a saloon doxy would care to have around.

"You're sure it's the clock you want?  Not maybe one of the pictures
off the wall, or some other equally ridiculous item?"

"No, ma'am," Trudy answered quite firmly.

"Only the clock."

Hanna inhaled, wishing she knew just what the woman was up to.

"Well, I'll tell you now," she answered.

"Right at the moment I'd rather not just hand the clock over, but give
me a few days to think about it and I'll let you know.  Will that be
all right?" Trudy's jaw clenched stubbornly.  However, she tried not to
let her anger show.  When she'd first decided to ask for the clock it
had been just a lark, a reason for her to be here.  But now suddenly
the clock had become a pawn between her and this white-haired sister of
Hank's who thought she was too good to associate with someone who
worked in a saloon.  Trudy was more determined than ever now to not
only leave with the hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, but the
clock, too.

"I can't expect more than that, I guess, can I?"  she finally said,
hoping Hanna couldn't read between the lines.

"I'll be leaving then, and if you'll just send Paco or someone to town
as soon as you decide."

She turned and started back to the entrance hall, and Hanna frowned,
then followed after her.

Suddenly, just as Trudy reached the hall, her foot seemed to get
tangled in something Hanna couldn't see, and Trudy went sprawling
through the air, twisting sideways until she came to rest on the floor
and up against a boot bench in the entrance hall, her face contorted
with pain.

"Oh, my God!  My back!"  she shrieked helplessly, and Hanna was beside
her in seconds.

"Heavens, are you all right?"

"I'm not sure."  Trudy forced tears to her eyes.

"I feel like something's broken."

"Broken?"

At that moment both Elizabeth and Maria came rushing down the hall into
the entrance way

"Good Lord, what happened?"  Elizabeth asked.  Hanna glanced up at
her.

"Trudy fell."

"Trudy?"

"Henry's..."  Hanna cleared her throat.

"Henry's lady friend."

"Oh, you mean... Oh."

"She came to see if I'd let her have Henry's ship's clock off the
mantel," Hanna explained.

"But I told her I'd have to think.  it over.  Now she thinks
something's broken."

Elizabeth hurried over to the other side of Trudy and reached down,
hoping to help her up.

"Ah, no, please, I can't get up," Trudy wailed and both Elizabeth and
Hanna exchanged glances, then Hanna turned to Maria.

"Go get Mr.  Morgan and send Paco for the doctor," she said to the
housekeeper, and Maria practically flew out the front door.

She was back in no time at all with Blake.  Trudy was still on the
floor, wailing louder than ever.

"She thinks her hip's broken," Hanna said as she caught the surprised
look on Blake's face.

"I thought maybe you could carry her upstairs, then Maria's going to
send Paco for a doctor."

"He's gone already," Blake answered and he walked over, took a good
hard look at the teary-eyed dance hall girl, then reached down and
started to lift her. "Oh!  Be careful.  Oh, my God, I hurt!"  Trudy
yelled as he jostled her about so he could get a good grip on her to
cradle her in his arms~ With Hanna and Elizabeth following close
behind, he carried her up the winding stone steps to the bedroom where
the foreman once slept, and laid her down on the big wooden bed.

Trudy lay back gingerly, pretending she was in agony as Blake released
her, then straightened.

"Are you comfortable enough?"  he asked.  She nodded, sniffing as if
holding back tears of pain.

"I guess I'm as comfortable as I can be," she murmured, then looked at
Hanna.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Winters.  I should have been more careful."  Hanna
glanced at Trudy's feet.  She couldn't for the life of her think what
it was the woman could have fallen over.  There was a small rug in the
entrance hall, but Trudy hadn't even been near it when she tripped. 
"It could happen to ahyone," she said, trying to ease Trudy's
embarrassment some.

"It'll probably take a couple of hours for Paco to get back with the
doctor, though, and in the meantime if you just stay quiet."

"Oh, I intend to.  Besides, I couldn't move if I wanted.  It's just too
painful."

Hanna and Blake exchanged glances, then Hanna turned to Maria.

"I'll let you play nursemaid, Maria,"

she said.

"Unless you want One of your daughters-in- law to."

"No ... no, they're working on supper, senorita.  I will take the
lady's shoes and stockings off and see that she's made comfortable
until the doctor comes.  You can all go on downstairs," she said, and
she shooed them away from the room.

Hanna turned to Blake when they reached the parlor.

"Well, what do you think?"  she asked.

"About what?"

"Come on, Blake," Elizabeth said.

"Look."  She gestured toward the doorway where Trudy fell.

"There's nothing there for her to trip on."

"Except maybe her own feet or the hem of her dress."

Hanna wasn't convinced.

"If so, then she's the clumsiest woman I've ever known."  Hanna shook
her head.

"It just doesn't make sense."  "Well, tell me then," he said.

"Why would she fake it?"

"I don't know.  But something just doesn't Smell right, and why would
she want that clock?"

"She wants the clock?"

"That's what she said.  That's why she came all the way out here."

Blake walked over, picked up the clock and gave it a good once-over.

There was a date on the back, March 8, .2, and a name below the date. 
The Glouchester.  "Why'd she say she wanted it?"  he asked as he set it
down.

"She claims Henry told her she could have it."

"Did you tell her she could have it?"

"Heavens, no.  I'm not giving anything of HenrY's away until I find
out why someone's trying to get rid of me."  ' "You think the clock
might have something to do with it?"  Elizabeth asked, joining in their
conversation.

Hanna shrugged.

"Who knows?  But it seems awfully strange that that woman upstairs
would drive all the way out here at this hour of the day all alone just
to ask for it."

Blake had to agree, but since none of them could think of an ulterior
motive, they finally decided to let things take their course and keep
their eyes and ears open to anything Trudy might say or do.

Meanwhile upstairs in the bed where Blake had de- posi~l her, Trudy lay
quietly watching the Mexican woman leave the room.  Unfortunately the
housekeeper didn't shut the door behind her and Trudy swore softly to
herself.

Damn!  Now she didn't dare get up until nighttime or until she knew
everyone had left the house.  Well, she could do that, too.  Culler
said all of them were supposed to be out on the range-tomorrow morning
to watch the men start out on the drive north.  Now, if she could just
put up a good enough act when the doctor got here so she'd be able to
stay overnight she'd have the house all to herself in the morning and
the combination to the safe should be in the library somewhere.

Resting her head more comfortably on the pillow, Trudy gazed about the
room while she lay back and waited.

By the time Doc Weatherby left to go back to town that evening, supper
at the White Wind was over, and everyone had congregated in the parlor
to bid him goodbye and thank him for coming.

Trudy was still upstairs in the bed, however.  Although the doctor said
he couldn't find any broken bones, he did feel it would be best to have
her rest for a few days.

After all, a ride back to town in her condition could make matters
worse if it was a bad hip strain or a hairline fracture.

Hanna watched Blake walk the doctor to the door, then she turned to
Mrs. Brady.  "why do I have the distinct feeling that something's going
on we should know' about?"

she asked.

l~lizabeth smiled.

"After all that's happened, dear, it's a wonder you're not suspicious
of everything."  She studied Hanna for a few minutes.  Hanna had
changed a great deal in just the few weeks they'd been at the ranch. 
She'd been rather quiet and unassuming before, but now it was as if she
knew her word was law and she was using it for all she was worth. 
Elizabeth strolled toward the front window and stared out.  Doc
Weatherby was riding out, all right, but someone else was riding in,
and she frowned.

"Looks like we've got company," she said.  Hanna walked over to stand
beside her.

"My heavens, I wonder what he's doing here?"

"Who is it?"

"Mr.  Terrell from the Box T Ranch.  I met him one day out at the camp
when he was accusing the men of rustling."

"Rustling?"  Elizabeth looked surprised.

"Well, not really rustling, but he did say they were branding stray
calves that belonged to the Box T."

"Then I wonder what he's doing here?"

"I have no idea."

They watched Whitney Terrell dismount, tie his horse to the hitching
rail, then greet Blake.  Minutes later Blake was ushering him into the
parlor. "You remember Mr.  Terrell?"  he asked Hanna, then turned to
Elizabeth.

"And this is Miss Winters's companion and friend, Mrs.  Brady.  Mr. 
Terrell owns a ranch nearby, Elizabeth," he explained to her.

"Said he had a proposition for Hanna if she'll listen."

"I'll listen to anything," Hanna answered, "but that doesn't mean I'll
act on it."  Her lavender eyes were hostile.

"Go right ahead, Mr.  Terrell."

"First of all, I owe you an apology," Terrell said, hoping to sound
friend lief than he felt inside.

"I difln't mean to be so ornery the day we met, but when a man's losing
cattle, he sort of takes it out on those around him."

"You said you had a proposition?"

Whit stared at Hank Winters's sister.  He'd expected a mousy woman,
typical spinster material, and Hanna Winters was neither mousy nor a
typical spinster.  "I'd like to buy the place off you," he said and she
.  saw his eyes darken anxiously.

"I gave your brother the same offer shortly before he left on his
business trip and he was going to give me an answer just as soon as he
got back.

Said he'd probably take me up on it," too."

"You're a liar, Mr.  Terrell," Hanna said, without even taking time to
think over what the man said.

"My brother was alive when he got back to the ranch, and if he had any
idea of selling it he would have let me know instead of leaving it to
me and telling me to take 219 care of it.  So you can just take your
proposition and leave."

"Well, you certainly aren't any friendlier than your brother was, are
you?"

"Not when it comes to people who think I'm some ignorant woman without
a brain in my head."  Her chin lifted haughtily.

"You should have known I wouldn't sell.  If I'd wanted to sell I'd have
never come out here and tried to run the place.  Now, if you don't
mind... We can be neighborly and ask you to join us for coffee and some
refreshments if you'd like, but as far as selling goes, don't
underestimate me, sir.  I intend to make White Wind a paying ranch if
it takes me the rest of my life."

Whit Terrell's face was red with frustration, and his eyes grew cold.

"No thanks," he said, refusing her offer of coffee.

"I can get coffee at home, but you be mindful, Miss Winters, it takes
more than wishful thinking to run a ranch this size.  It take~ damn
hard work and I doubt you're cut out for it.  Don't worry, when the
time's right, you'll sell, or go to your grave wishing you had."

"Is that a threat?"

"Take it for anything you want, but just remember, I warned you."

Crushing his hat back on his head, he started to walk out.

Blake was going to see him to the door.  "Don't bother," Whit said, his
jaw set angrily.

"I

know the way.  " Seconds later they heard the door slam shut, and the
echo of hoofbeats as Terrell rode out of the ranch yard.

"Why do you always have to make enemies?"  Blake asked Hanna as soon as
the
hoofbeats faded in the distance.

"First Jules, now Terrell.  Keep it up and you won't have anyone in the
area on your side~" She eyed him sharply.

"I didn't know we were taking sides."

"You know what I mean."

"He means that if you make a bunch of enemies," Elizabeth said, "no
one's going to care whether someone's trying to kill you or not."

"I know what he means."

"Then for heaven's sake, Hanna, quit acting like you're living on an
island all by yourself.  You need people out in this country." 
Elizabeth was infuriated with Hanna's attitude.

"I know you're trying to be independent, but you're carrying it to
absurdity."

"Well, thank you."  Hanna wasn't any too pleased.

"Now, if you two don't mind I have some things to go over in the
library." She headed out toward the hall.

"I wish I understood her,!"  l~lizabeth said as she watched Hanna leave
the parlor.

"Back in Boston she was just as easy to get along with as anyone, but
ever since arriving here, it's as if she's a different person."

Blake's eyes softened.

"Maybe she is."

"I don't understand."

"It's simple," he said, his dark topaz eyes rmgering on the doorway
Hanna had just vacated.

"Back in Boston her life was all laid out for her.  The same thing
every day.

Out here every day's different.  Black can be in different shades of
gray and white is never spotless.  She's been forced to take inventory
of herself 'and what she is and I have a feeling she's frightened by
what she's discovered.  "

"You think it's that simple?"

"I do."

"Tell me," Elizabeth asked.

"Do you have any idea what's behind all this nonsense that's going
on?"

"Not yet," he answered.

"But as soon as I know one way or another I'll let you in on it.  All
right?"

"I guess it'll have to be."

"In the meantime, don't be too hard on her.  See if you can round out
the edges and maybe she'll still have some friends yet when this is all
over." Elizabeth smiled, then excused herself and went to the
kitchen.

As soon as she'd left the room, Blake walked over, stood looking at the
clock on the mantel for some time, then shrugged and headed for the
door to go put the buggy Trudy had used to come in over at the barn and
her horse in the corral with the others so neither would be in the
way.

It was late.  Everyone else was asleep already, but Hanna had been
unable to sleep.  For one thing it was hot.  Too hot.

Throwing back the covers, she sat up on the edge of the bed, then
finally stood up and stretched.  There was a moon again tonight, and
the sky was filled with stars as she walked over and stepped out onto
the balcony, then looked up, marveling at how beautiful everything
was.

Earlier in the evening She'd been going over the papers the lawyer had
sent when she was in Boston, taking special care to read the letter
from Henry carefully a few more times, only most of it still hadn't
made any sense.  She thought over it now.  He told her to remember the
east wing of the old house.

Heavens, they hadn't played in there since their grandmother was
alive, and the place had been boarded up years before Henry took off. 
Actually, ! ~Ianna had been only a,b.  out nine or ten when her
grahdmother died and they d just quit using the east wing.

It was all so puzzling.  Yet Henry's letter had been very precise. 
She'd never have to worry about money again if she'd just remember the
days they'd spent in the east wing as children.  The whole thing was
frustrating.

Hanna hadn't bothered to put on her wrapper, and now she straightened,
sighing as she felt a slight breeze catch the sleeve of her nightdress
and rustle it.  She turned her head into the breeze so she could catch
the coolness on her face and froze as she saw Blake standing not ten
feet away, leaning against the adobe wall of the house.

He had to have been standing there when she'd first stepped out because
she certainly hadn't heard the hallway door open or shut.  His feet
were bare, as was his chest.

"I take it you couldn't sleep, either," he said, straightening and
strolling toward her.

Hanna reached up self-consciously and tried to tuck a stray hair
beneath her nightcap.

"I ... didn't know you were out here," she exclaimed, embarrassed at
being caught in her nightgown.

He smiled.

"Don't worry, I won't bite."  "If you'd just said something..."

"I'm always restless.  Especially at night."  He was standing less than
a foot from her, and Hanna realized that her heart was pounding
unmercifully. What was it about this man that bedeviled her 223 so? 
She stared into his eyes.  They were warm and vibrant, the look in them
far too compelling to ignore and she swallowed hard as she saw the
muscles on his chest tighten.

"I'd better leave you to yourself," she said.  He frowned.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why?  I know you don't want to."  Blake's gaze was steady on
Hanna's face and slowly he reached up and began to take off her
nightcap.  "No..."

"Shh... be still."  His fingers caressed her cheek, then he slipped the
lacy cap from her head, letting her hair tumble like a silvery cloud
about her face.

"There, that's what I like."

"But ... this is wrong, and you're doing it again, Mr.  Morgan... you
know you are."

"What am I doing?"

"You know very well."

"You mean this?"  he asked, and he leaned down, his lips caressing her
neck just below the ear.

Finally he drew his head up again and stared into her eyes.

"Is that what you mean?"  he asked.

Hanna couldn't find her voice.

"Or is this what you mean?"  he whispered, and this time he began to
kiss her chin, her cheeks, her eyes, his lips teasing like the wings of
a butterfly as they caressed her flesh, then finally captured her
mouth.  The kiss was long and sweet, filled with all the hunger Blake
had been holding back the past few days.

Finally he drew his head away and glanced into her languid eyes.

"Is that what you meant, Hanna?  Is it?"

he asked, his voice barely a whisper, the warmth of his breath her
mouth
Hanna's knees were weak, her head spinning, and she felt' as if she'd
explode.  He wasn't supposed ~o be doing this, and she wasn't supposed
to be liking it, and yet he was and she was and the whole thing was
insane.

"Yes, that's what I meant," she finally managed to answer, her voice
husky with emotion.

"You were supposed to forget."

"I know.  But how can a man forget?  And you haven't forgotten, have
you?"

"That's beside the point."

"No, that's the whole point.  Hanna, we need each other," he said, his
eyes boring into hers, and he felt her shiver.

"Let me love you, Hanna.  Let me make you live again.

Don't turn away.  " With one last plea he kissed her again, then drew
her close in his arms, picked her up, cradling her against him and
began moving toward the doors to the master bedroom.  Neither of them
spoke as Blake laid her on the bed ' and let his hands begin their
exploration.  Removing the nightdress from her damp body, he followed
his hands with his lips until Hanna knew there was no turning back.  He
slipped the pants from his body and joined her on the bed.  Sweat ran
slick, the heat of the night mingling with the heat of their passion,
only neither of them seemed to care as Blake's hands finished their
teasing and he moved over her, then entered and the feel of his entry
brought her loins to meet him, hot and demanding.

Over and over again Hanna let him love her, his body taking all she
could give and giving back tenfold until suddenly Hanna cried softly,
stifling the cry with her mouth pressed to his damp shoulder, then she
felt him shake, his mouth searching for hers in his total surrender,
and she drew her lips from his flesh to kiss him back.

"Mmm," he finally murmured against her lips, his voice husky and
tremulous.

"That was so good."

Hanna groaned again, her body still throbbing, his lips, still sipping
at hers, bringing back the reality of what she'd again let him do. 
She'd promised herself it wouldn't happen again.  Never again.

"Oh, dear," she murmured against his mouth, and he drew his head
back.

"What do you mean, oh, dear?"

"Damn it, I've done it again."

There was a touch of agony in her voice and Blake frowned.  He drew his
head back and stared at her.

"Is that so bad?"

"Good Lord, yes.  Please, Mr.  Morgan.  I shouldn't be doing this."

His body was still against her, the perspiration like a lubricating
oil, making them fit perfectly, and he marveled at how comfortable she
felt beneath him.  "Then why are you?"

he asked.

She looked at him and couldn't avoid his eyes, nor could she answer.

The room was dark, but he was so close she could see him well enough to
know that he wasn't mocking her.

"I don't know.  I shouldn't... Oh, you're just..."

"No, you're just lovely, that's all.  And you're not stern and cold
like you pretend to be, and I think I'm falling in love with you."

"Don't say that."  She sounded like loving her was the worst thing that
could happen to him.

"Men like you don't fall in love, and especially not with women like
me."

He laughed softly.

"What do you know about men like me?"

"Enough."  Hanna stared into his ruggedly handsome face, the feel of
his flesh against her more wonderful than she ever thought anything
could feel, and yet.  "You're a drifter, a man who doesn't like
commitment."

"Your words, not mine."

"You know I'm right."

He leaned down, licked the tip of her nipple, then straightened again
to look into her eyes.

"What if you aren't?"

Hanna could hardly talk.

"What do you mean?"

"

" What if I was really falling in love with you.  What would you do? 
"

She inhaled sharply and studied him closely.  How strange it was to lie
here like this beneath him, his body intimately coupled with hers, his
hands still caressing her tenderly, and letting him do whatever he
wanted with her while they talked.  It seemed so natural even though it
went against everything she'd planned for herself.

"I'd tell you you were crazy," she said.  He started to kiss her
again.

"No," she said, and turned her head so he couldn't reach her mouth.

"You'd better go, Blake.  I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have let myself get
carried away like this, please."

Blake's stomach tightened savagely.  She was doing it again.  Refusing
to take down the barriers she'd erected years ago, and he wished he
knew why. "If that's the way you want it," he said and he lifted
himself from her, then headed to the chair where he began putting on
his pants.

"For now, anyway.  But someday, Hanna, ~you and I are going to come to
an 227 agreement and you're going to have to face life head-on when it
comes to love, and I hope you lose, because by your losing we're both
going to win." Turning abruptly he quietly left the room.

Hanna watched him go, her heart in turmoil.  She'd been hot before, but
now she was suddenly cold, the cool night breeze sweeping across her
sweaty body like a frosty snow.

She reached down and pulled the sheet over her naked body, but it
didn't help.  She wasn't cold physically, but emotionally.  All the
warmth had drained from her with Blake's going and she felt as empty
and alone as she had the morning Armand had walked out on her.

She shivered, feeling the pain of Blake's going in every fiber of her
being, and it was agony because her body still wanted him.  Yet she
also felt betrayed by him.  He'd torn down the walls.  she'd erected
around her feelings and it wasn't fair.

Another shiver ran through her and she pursed her mouth stubbornly.

Why did she have to feel like this?

Why did she have to feel at all?  Why couldn't she just go on as before
and ignore what he'd done to her?  Yet she knew she couldn't.

Angry with herself, yet knowing that if she was going to sleep tonight
something was going to have to be done, she threw the covers back once
more, sat up, then moved to the chair where her wrapper lay.

Slipping it on, she moved gracefully toward the double doors, then
realized Blake was still on the balcony.

He hadn't gone into his room yet.  "Blake?"  she whispered.

Blake whirled, surprised to see her standing there.  She looked all
soft and warm from their lovemaking, and yet there was a sadness about
her eyes. "yes?"

"I'm sorry," she said, for something more to say, and she stepped
closer until she was so close she could feel the warmth of his bare
chest through the sheer wrap.

"But I'm cold."

"Hanna?"

"Make me warm again, please," she pleaded, her voice breathless.

"Make me feel again, please.  I can't freeze until morning."

He sighed.

"You're sure?"

"Tonight I am, yes."

"Tomorrow?"

"I don't want to think about tomorrow.  All I know is I can't let you
go, not tonight, not like this."

Blake sighed again.  He didn't need any more coaxing-no man would.

Responding to her plea like a drowning man gulping for air, he lifted
her in his arms and headed for her bed once more.

This time, when the lovemaking was over, Hanna curled up against him,
her body content for the first time in years, and she fell asleep.  Now
it was Blake's turn to lie awake staring at the ceiling and feeling
guilty because he still hadn't told her why he was here.  How could he?
 How could a man go about telling the woman he'd just made love to that
he wasn't sure he could trust her with anything except his heart?  It
was hours before he finally dropped off to sleep.

Chapter Eight Hanna stirred in the big four-poster and slowly opened
her eyes.  The first thing she realized was that Blake's pillow was
empty beside her, and suddenly she was cold again.  As cold as she'd
been last night when she'd gone to the balcony and begged him to stay
with her.

Raising her head, she looked about the room.  Not a sign of him.  She
glanced toward the double doors.  It wasn't light enough out to really
be able to see anything.  She squinted toward the old grandfather clock
on the far wall.  My Lord, it was almost four o'clock already, and
she'd wanted to get up early so she could see the drive start.

Hurrying from the bed, she rushed to the basin on the dry sink, poured
some water from the pitcher' and began to wash, her thoughts half on
the cattle drive, half on Blake's whereabouts.  A few minutes later,
Blake stuck his head in at the double doors, just as she finished
dressing.

"Are you almost ready?"  he asked.

She whirled.  He was dressed and she marveled at how good he looked to
her this morning.  She finished putting on her boots and stood up.

"I thought you'd left without me."

"" You think I'd do a thing like that?  " He was carrying his hat.

"I

had to get dressed, didn't I?  Couldn't ride out with just my pants on.
 "

Hanna knew she was blushing and tried to ignore it.  "Here, let me fix
your hair," he said, and as he had the night they'd slept on the range
together he braided her hair for her.  When he was finished he turned
her to face him.

"No regrets?"  he asked, his hands caressing her shoulders be neat

~'he white shirt she had on.

"You mean about last night?"

"Uh-huh."

"No regrets," she answered, and as she did, he bent down, kissed her
full on the mouth, then grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the
door.

"Come on, let's go see if Elizabeth's ready.  She did say she was going
to go, remember?"  They headed for the door that led into the hall.

Jules had told them that the men had planned to start the drive shortly
after sunup so they were going to have to ride hard.

Since Elizabeth had never seen a cattle drive and hadn't even been out
on the range yet, Paco was going to drive her out in the buckboard
while Hanna and Blake rode alongside.

Much to their surprise Elizabeth was in the kitchen waiting for them
when they' got downstairs.

"I didn't know you were so eager to go," Hanna said.

Elizabeth smiled.

"I wouldn't.miss it for the world.  Mafia said it's a stirring sight to
see all those cattle and men."

Hanna glanced toward the parlor.

"But what about Trudy?  No one'll be here with her."

I'll be here," Maria answered.

"Now, don't you worry, I'll take good care of the senorita, you'll
see."

Hanna was grateful for Mafia.  Maria had become a friend, and she was
glad. She glanced at Blake.  At least she hadn't made an enemy of
Maria, she thought, and she was still thinking about Maria and her
family as they rode out of the ranch yard heading for camp.  Upstairs
in the bedroom Jules had once called his, the big bed was empty.  Trudy
had climbed out of it and was standing across the hall stating out one
of the back windows watching Hanna Winters, Blake Morgan and the woman
called Mrs.  Brady leaving the ranch, with Paco accompanying them.

A frown creased her forehead.  She'd been hoping the housekeeper would
go, too, but no such luck.  Well, she'd have to figure out something
there.  At least she'd been here often enough while Hank was alive that
she knew Maria pretty well.

Suddenly a noise on the stairs brought her up short and she ran across
the hall and leaped into the bed just in time, and since it was barely
breaking dawn she pretended to be asleep yet.

Satisfied that Trudy was still sleeping, Maria made all the other beds,
then went back downstairs to wait for her to wake up.

Dust swirled like smoke from a fire as Hanna and the others sat their
horses at the top of the ridge and watched the cattle begin to surge
forth, their low bawling filling the air with a whirlwind of noise. 
Jules had joined them beside the buckboard where Elizabeth and Paco
sat.

Hanna could barely see Heck's chuck wagon up ahead as he-led off, Pete
close behind him.  Jules explained that the trail boss always rode
ahead to scout the trail while the rest of the men rota text positions
in the main column. There were always two at the point, keeping the
leaders in line, two swing riders making sure the center of the herd
stayed together, and two at the flanks, with three men bringing up the
drag to take care of strays and weaklings that didn't want to keep up. 
A wrangler was always somewhere near the men who rode drag, keeping the
extra horses they'd brought in line since there was always a chance a
man could lose a horse on the trail.

Pete had made sure they had enough extra horses for each man, and now,
as he waved them all forward, Hanna watched with pride.  These were her
cattle, her men.

"You'd think you rode every one of them down and branded them yourself,
the way you're acting,"

Elizabeth said as she looked at Hanna.  Hanna smiled, the first smile
Elizabeth remembered seeing on her face in a long time.

"I almost feel as if I have.  Isn't it thrilling, Mrs.  Brady?"

Elizabeth smiled back.

"Good Lord, she loves it."  Blake was surprised, too.  He'd never have
guessed that Hanna would enjoy watching a bunch of bawling steers
shoving each other around in the dust and dirt.

He sat his horse for some time, watching the others enjoying the
spectacle. However, as he watched there was something that kept gnawing
at the back of his mind and he couldn't quite forget it.  It was the
fact that Trudy was at the ranch all alone and Trudy had been Hank
Winters's mistress.  He wondered if maybe Trudy knew more about the
money than he'd figured.

Was that why she'd pretended to hurt her hip?  Because he was more
certain now than ever that she had been faking last night.  The thought
had been eating away at him all morning long and now suddenly he
decided he'd better do something about it, only he didn't want Hanna to
know.

He glanced over to where Hanna sat.  She was completely absorbed in
watching the drive.  He didn't want to just ride out, yet he could see
no other way. If he let her know where he was going she might want to
go with him, and he couldn't have that.  Hell, maybe she wouldn't even
miss him, he thought. Easing Diablo back a bit, he walked him off
toward the trail that led to the ranch, then with the moving cattle
covering the sound of his leaving he headed toward the road as fast as
he could.

He'd been gone a good ten minutes when Hanna suddenly glanced behind
her.

"Did you see Mr.  Morgan?"  she asked Jules, who was sitting on the
buckboard with Elizabeth.

He shook his head.

"Mrs.  Brody?  Paco?"

"Si," Paco answered.

"I saw him head back toward the ranch a few minutes ago."

Hanna frowned.

"Now why would he do a thing like that?"

Paco shrugged.

"I don't know, se~orita."

"Well, I intend to find out," Hanna said, then looked at Mrs.  Brady.

"Have Paco bring you back when you're ready,"

she said.

"I'll see you at the house."  Digging Lucifer in the ribs, she took off
at a gallop, heading for home.

"Well, what's that all about?"  Jules asked.

Elizabeth shook her head.

"I have no idea, but whatever it is; it sum seems to have upset Hanna."
 She was frowning as she watched Hanna disappear in the distance.

Trudy was pleased.  The housekeeper had brought her some breakfast,
waited until she was finished with it, talked to her for a while about
Hank, then said she was going to walk over to her son's house for a
short time and she'd be back later.  That meant Trudy finally would
have the house all to herself.

As soon as Trudy was sure Maria had left, she climbed from the bed
again and tiptoed downstairs to the library, sure she'd find the
combination to the safe.  After searching thoroughly for what seemed
like hours, she came up empty-handed.  She closed the last drawer in
the desk, then her jaw set stubbornly.

The bedroom.  It had to be in the bedroom, probably somewhere near the
safe. Lifting the skirt of her petticoat to make sure she didn't trip
for real this time, she went to the window and peeked out to see if
Maria was still with her daughter-in-law.  She could see the woman
playing with one of her grandchildren near 'the door of their home, so
she.  headed for the stairs. The house was so quiet it was unnerving,
but Trudy tried to ignore it.  After passing the room where she was
supposed to be lying sick abed, she hurried to the master bedroom.  The
door was open, the room straightened.  She stood for a minute in her
bare feet gazing about, trying to figure out where Hank might have
hidden the combination to the safe.

There was a small writing desk on the far wall next to a grandfather
clock, and she moved toward it hurriedly.

After all, she had no idea how long Maria was 235 going to be gone. 
Lifting the lid, she began to go through the drawers.

There were some envelopes and papers, but no combination.  Disgusted
and upset, she was about ready to close the drawer when her gaze rested
on the first few words of the letter that lay right on top.  It read,

"Dear Hanna, when you read this it will mean that I am dead."

Curious, she picked it up and began reading.  She was almost finished
when suddenly she heard a noise behind her and whirled.

"My God, you scared me," she said, her gaze resting on Blake Morgan
where he stood in the doorway.

Blake's eyes were like simmering coals, his face livid as he stared at
her. She was barefoot and wearing only her petticoat and chemise, but
it wasn't her attire that bothered him, it was the fact that she was
standing up without any trouble at all.

"Why?"  he asked simply.

She knew what he meant.

"Like I told Hank's sister.  I want the clock and I figured I'd stay
here until she gave in and gave it to me."  .  "That's why you're going
through her things?"  He stepped the rest of the way into the room,
then saw the letter in her hand.

"What's that?"

She laughed halfheartedly.

"Oh, this?  Nothing.  It's nothing at all."

She'd been folding the letter while she talked because she hadn't
gotten to read it all and thought maybe Hank had told his sister about
the money, and now she lifted her hand and started to tuck it into the
front of her chemise.

"Oh, no, you don't!"  Blake yelled, and he lunged toward her, making a
grab
for the letter, only Trudy anticipated it and moved sideways, then ran
to the other side of the bed.

"Get your hands off me," she screamed, but he paid her no mind.

"I said, give that here," he ordered her, but she only backed farther
away.

"Never," she said, her hands trying to cover the spot between her
breasts where she'd deposited the letter.  As he grabbed for her,
trying to pull her hands away and get the letter from her, both at the
same time, they fell sideways, sprawling haphazardly onto the bed. 
Trudy was beneath Blake now, her eyes narrowed, voice breathless as she
called him every name she could think of, then suddenly she finally
stopped yelling and submitted weakly to his brute force.  Glad she'd
finally given in, he reached into the front of her chemise and pulled
out the letter just as they were interrupted by Hanna, who had stepped
into the room only moments before.

'"Well," was all Hanna could say.

"Of all the..."  Trudy and Blake both stared at her, their eyes wide
with surprise.

"You bastard, you," Hanna finally blurted, her eyes brimming with
rage.

"You dirty skunk.  You couldn't even wait for the drive to finish
getting started so you could get back to her, could you?

And I thought you cared.  "

Blake had expected anything but this, and now, as he stared at Hanna,
then looked at Trudy's limp body beneath him, her clothes rumpled and
her hair all askew, his heart fell to his feet as he realized what
Hanna must be thinking.

"And on my bed, too," Hanna went on.

"You two- timing Judas.  You... you..."

Hoping to save the situation, Blake extricated himself quickly from the
dance hall girl and stood up, hoping to try to talk some sense into
Hanna.  He held the letter out for her to see, unfolding it as he
did.

"Don't jump to any wrong conclusions," he said, his face flushing at
the thought of what she was thinking.

"I was only trying to get this away from her, that's all."  Hanna
stared at the paper in his hand, only she was so upset she didn't
recognize it.

"That's right, try to talk your way out of it," she said, her eyes
blazing heatedly.

"Just like every other man.  Well, I'll tell you, Blake Morgan, I hired
you to protect this house, and since you've been doing that job well
enough, I won't fire you, but that's the only job you'll do from here
on in, is that understood?"

Blake stared at her, his eyes hardening.  He knew very well what she
meant.

"Well, is it?"  she asked, once more the prim and proper Bostonian he'd
gotten to know only too well.

He straightened his clothes as he watched her, then threw his shoulders
back just as stubbornly.

"It's perfectly clear," he answered.

"And as for you," Hanna said, looking past him to where Trudy had
finally climbed from the bed and stood staring at them both.

"Get out of this house, and I mean now, and I wouldn't give you
anything of Henry's if you begged for it."

"Well!"  Trudy tilted her head haughtily.

"Just who do you think you are?"

"I happen to be the owner of this ranch, Miss... That's right, you
don't use a last name, do you?  I wonder why?"

Trudy's eyes narrowed.

, "Well, that's neither here nor there.  The important thing is that
if you don't get your things on and leave right now, I'll have you
thrown out bodily whether you're dressed or not, do you understand?" 
Hanna's eyes showed that she meant business.  "Don't worry, I'll leave,
but you haven't heard the last of this," she said.

"Hank owes me and I intend to collect."

Picking up the skirt of her petticoat, she walked around the bexl,
swept past Blake and Hanna and left the room.

"I don't suppose I could talk some sense into you," Blake said as soon
as Trudy had disappeared down the hall toward her room.

"Sense?  My dear Mr.  Morgan, I know what I saw and believe me it would
take' more than just a few words to try to explain it away."

"How about this?"  he said and he held the letter out to her again.

"What about it?"

"Your house guest was trying to pilfer it."  "What is it?"

"Well, why the hell don't you take it and see?"  Hanna took the paper
from him, then suddenly realized what it was.

"She had this?"  "It was tucked down in the front of her chemise.

What else did you think I was doing with her on the bed?  "

Hanna felt the warmth creep into her face.

"I don't believe you."

"Then believe whatever you like."  He exhaled, disgusted.  He was tired
of this whole damn mess and he studied her face hesitantly.  Maybe now
was the time to tell her.

Hell, maybe it would even help.  Summoning all the courage he could
muster, he took another deep 239 breath, then said,

"Remember back some time ago when you asked me who I really am?"  Hanna
looked at him, frowning.

"You said you were a drifter."

"Well, I'm sorry, I lied."

"I told you" -- "Just shut up and listen."  He straightened, his topaz
eyes taking on a hardness she'd never seen before.

"My names Blake Morgan.  That part of it's the truth.  But I'm not just
a drifter, I'm a special investigator for Wells Fargo and I've been on
the trail of an outlaw named Whitey for years now, and I think I've
finally caught up with him."

"I don't understand."

"Hanna, your brother, Henry, wasn't just a rancher, he was an outlaw
with a price on his head.  Four days before he died he was wounded in a
stage robbery that netted him and his partner two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars."

Hanna shook her head.  She just couldn't believe her ears.

"You can't mean that.  I know Henry wasn't an ideal human being, but a
robber and a thief?  No, there has to be some mistake."

"There isn't."

"How can you be sure?"

"Remember when you went over his books and found money popping up where
it shouldn't be?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

"Every time he ended up with money that wasn't accounted for it
coincided with dates I have for robberies."

"But that doesn't mean it was Henry."  Blake studied her face.  Was she
only
pretending she didn't know or was she re nocent only he knew for sure.
Well, he was going to have to assume she was pretending, and the
thought hurt.

"Your brother got away with two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,
Hanna, and my orders are to find that money."

"So that's why you were so available back in Fort Worth.  And that's
why you... That night when I got lost, and last night..."

He started to walk toward her, but she stepped back.  "Don't come near
me, Blake Morgan," she said and her voice quavered unsteadily.

"Just like my father and Armand, you're no different... You used me." 
Her head lifted haughtily, her lavender eyes intense.

"Well, it'll be the last time, I assure you."

~"Hanna, I didn't."

"You did."  She lifted her hands, covering her ears.  "I don't want to
hear it.  I don't want to listen to any eXCUSeS."  ' Blake was prepared
to argue the point, but as he stared at her, he realized it would
probably be better to give her some time.

"I'll pack my things," he said and he turned, starting to head for the
double doors.  She pulled her hands from her ears and stopped him.

"Just where the hell do you think you're going?"  she shot out, her
voice harsh and caustic.

"I haven't fired you yet, Mr.  Morgan, so don't think you're going to
get away that easily.  I won't listen to any excuses from you, but I'm
not firing you, either.  So, if you're really who you say you are,
you'll remember I hired you to find out who's trying to kill me, and
you haven't found out yet, have you?"

"You know damn well I haven't."

"Then I suggest you do so before they succeed.  Now, if you'll excuse
me, I'm going to make sure that little tramp is gone."  She turned and
left the room. Blake stared after her, a puzzled' look on his face.  He
wondered if she was more upset over what she thought he'd been doing
with Trudy, or the truth about her brother?  Well, there was really no
way for him to find out, not without the money, anyway.  Taking the cue
from her, he left the room, heading down the hall.  He heard hoofbeats
in the distance and figured Elizabeth and the others were coming
back.

Maybe I should have told her about Culler, he thought, as he went by
the bedroom where Trudy had been and saw it was empty.  Then he
shrugged.  Hell, she probably wouldn't have believed him, anyway, and
hitching his gun belt more comfortably onto his hip, he started down
the winding stone steps toward the parlor.

Trudy was furious as she left the livery stable and headed for the
Sundown Saloon.  Not only didn't she have any money, but she'd been
made to feel like a no- good tramp.

Well, Miss High and Mighty would pay for that one, too.

Stepping into the saloon, she was just ready to tell the bartender to
pour her a drink when she was brought up short by Culler's voice behind
her.

"I see you came back empty-handed."

She whirled around.

"Good Lord, do you have to sneak up on a person like that?"

"What happened?"  he asked.

She snorted derisively.

"Blake Morgan happened, that's who.  Who the devil is he anyway?"

Culler frowned.

"Far as I know he's a drifter."

"To hell he is.  No drifter handles himself like Morgan.  You sure you
don't know anything about him?"

"No more than you."

"And that's another thing.  Mafia said someone's been trying to kill
Hank's sister, and the other night when you tried to tie her up so you
could get to the safe they thought you were the same fella who's been
trying to get rid of her."

"You're kidding."

"Nope.  Only that still doesn't help us.  One way or another we've got
to get into that house."

"We could kidnap the lady."

"How would that help?"

"Well" -- and Culler smiled.

"We could hold her until they turn over the money."

"And what if they don't know where the money is?"  "Then we tell
them.

Either way we can't miss.  "

Trudy stared at him, running the thought over in her head.  Half of a
quarter of a million dollars was worth taking the chance for, and yet. 
What if it didn't work?  Oh, hell, she'd just have to take off again,
that's all.  Just like she did in St.  Louis.  "All right, so how do we
kidnap her?"  she asked, and for the next couple of hours they retired
to her room and went over their plans carefully.

Meanwhile out at the Box T two other people were talking over not the
kidnapping of Hanna Winters, but something just as serious.

Whitney Terrell downed the contents of the glass of whiskey in his
hand, his eyes already bloodshot from drinking.

"Damn the woman," he said, the scar on his cheek vivid in the late
morning light.

"She's got a charmed life."

Milton Gibbs sneered.

"You should have followed her that day and finished her off."

Whit shook his head.

"You know I ain't no good at trackin'.  If I'd had Steele with me she'd
have never gotten away."

Milt stood up from the big easy chair where he'd been sitting and
strolled to the window.

"All right, now, look," he said, and he turned to face Terrell.

"I

told you I'd get her out here, now it's up to you.  If you really want
that land as bad as you say you do, you shouldn't he letting a few'
little setbacks get in your way.  "

"That's the trouble," Terrell said, his eyes studying the lawyer from
Hangtown.

"They ain't just little setbacks.

She shoulda been dead weeks ago, but instead she's sittin' there just
as big as life tellin' everybody she's running the place.  "

"And whose fault is that?"

"Okay, okay, so what do I do now?"

"Mayhe since killing her hasn't seemed to work, you can coerce her into
selling you the place."  "How's that?"

"She thinks a lot of that old lady she brought with her, right?  So you
kidnap the old lady, then tell Hanna Winters you'll kill the woman
unless she sells."

"But that wouldn't be legal, would it?"

"Long as her signature's on the bill of sale it'd be legal and it'd be
her word against yours if she tried to complain about it."

"I don't know."  Terrell poured himself another drink as he looked
about the parlor of his modest ranch house.

The Box T couldn't compare to the White Wind either in size or
structure. Terrell had been here almost twelve years already and owned
five thousand acres, but his dreaTM had always been to make the place
bigger by acquiring the White Wind.  However, Senora de Vera had
refused to sell it to him when her husband passed away, preferring to
sell it to Winters instead, and Winters had been stubbornly refusing
all offers since.

With his sister dead, though, it would have been easy to buy out the
estate, and for a fraction of the price, too.  Only Hanna Winters
wasn't dead, and now he thought over the alternative Gibbs had just
mentione& "All right, it just might work, at that," Terrell said, his
hand clutching the refilled glass firmly.

"I'll call in the men."  Downing the whiskey he'd just poured, he
headed for the door.

Elizabeth stood on the veranda and adjusted the small straw hat on her
head.

"Are you sure you don't want anything special from town?"  she asked
Hanna for the tenth time.

Hanna smiled.

"Only the supplies I asked you to get."

"Not even a piece of licorice or hard candy?"  "All right, all
right."

Hanna remembered how she used to go to the museum on Saturday
afternoons, then stop on the way home and buy a small box of hard
candies that always lasted until the next Saturday.

"But only a small amount, if they have any."

Elizabeth grinned.

"I knew you'd give in.  You always were partial to those little
peppermint ones."

Hanna sighed.  Mrs.  Brady knew her only too well.  "Just go so you'll
get back at a decent hour," she said.

"And tell Paco to drive slow, we don't need any more problems."

She watched Elizabeth head for the barn where Paco was hitching the
team to the buckboard.  Maria had added some of her own supplies to
what Paco had brought out from town for the drive and now they had to
be replenished.

Since Elizabeth had been wanting to get some things in town anyway, it
was decided she'd go this time instead of Sancho's wife, Dolores.

Hanna continued to watch as Paco helped Mrs.  Brody onto the buckboard
and the wagon rumbled out the gates.  Blake was off somewhere, she
didn't much care where.  She'd seen him ride away shortly after sunup,
heading in the direction of town, and Jules had taken Miguel, Sancho
and Culler with him to check on the line shacks and watering holes. 
Something he'd been neglecting to do during the roundup.

Hanna was glad no one was around except Maria and her daughter-in-law. 
Ever since Blake had told her of his suspicions about Henry, she'd been
running the whole thing over in her head and coming up without any
answers.  Was that why he wrote in the letter that she'd never have to
worry about money again? Because he had two hundred and fifty thousand
dollars hidden somewhere on the ranch?

Was that what the little tramp from' the saloon had been after?  Maybe
Henry had confided in her sometime over the years.  Hanna had to find
the answers, and there was only one place to start.

As soon as the buckboard was out of sight, she turned, Went into the
house and headed for the library.

An hour later, Hanna still didn't have any kind of definite proof, but
her suspicions had grown considerably.

According to Henry's books, whenever things got really bad and it
looked like the ranch would go under, miraculously the bills were
suddenly paid, and things went all right again.

Could Blake have been right?  Hanna closed the ledger she'd been
looking through, then leaned back in the chair.  Blake said the outlaw
had been known as Whitey, and Henry's hair had been white since he'd
been in his early twenties, just like hers.  And Maria said Henry had
taken all those business trips .  Even Jules had verified that.  But
Henry?  The thought was shocking, to say the least.

Of course, her father often used to tell them about how one of his
ancestors had been a pirate years before.

Maybe Henry had inherited his wild ways.  She set the ledger aside just
as Maria stuck her head in from the hallway.

"Excuse me, sego rita but Senor Culler wants to see you out back," she
said, surprising Hanna.  "I thought he went with Jules."

"S , but he say you have to come.  I guess something happened."

"Good heavens, what now?"

Hanna stood up, left the desk and headed toward the kitchen.

"What is it?  What's the matter?"  she asked as she confronted Culler
at the back door.

The man shook his head.

"Don't ask me, ma'am," he answered.

"All's I know is the foreman said to come get you and said it was
important. Said he's got some- thin' to show you."

Hanna stared at him for a few minutes, then frowned.

"You'll have to wait till I change first.  I assume he's still out on
the range somewhere?"

"Yes, ma'am, but I can lead you right to him."

"Fix Mr.  Culler a cup of coffee while I change, Maria," Hanna said.

I'll be right down.  "~' She left Culler in the kitchen while she went
upstairs to get into her riding clothes.

Some ten minutes later Maria stood at the open door of the kitchen and
watched them ride off.

Big billowy clouds rolled across the deep blue sky and somewhere toward
the side of the road a mockingbird could be heard.  Paco clicked to the
team, keeping them at a steady pace.

Elizabeth was humming softly.  She and Paco were almost talked out
already and there was still about an hour yet before they'd reach
town.

They were riding along a stretch of road that went right through a
copse of trees and Elizabeth glanced about, still marveling at the
diversity of the land.  Boston was Boston.  The countryside never
changed.

You were either at the seashore or inland, but it was all the same.

Not here.  Here the land changed from one mile to the next and one
never got bored With the landscape.  She was so glad she'd come with
Hanna.

Suddenly she saw some riders~ emerging from the trees up ahead.

"Paco!"

"Shh, se~ora," he said, his eyes steady on the road.  "Don't say
anything because I think we are about to be held up."

"Oh,.my God?"

Elizabeth's stomach was twisting nervously as six riders, bandannas
pulled up over their faces and guns drawn, cantered toward them.  Paco
didn't even have a chance to make a run for it.

"Hold it right there," one of the men said even though Paco was already
bringing the team to a halt.

Paco's eyes narrowed.

"We don't have no money, seAors," he said.

"It just the two of us and we're broke."

"Tell the old lady to get down," the man ordered.  Elizabeth fumed.

"Who are you calling an old lady?"

"Shut up and get down," he reepeated.  Elizabeth stared at him.

He rode his horse a little closer, then leveled his gun right at her.

"I said get down."

This time Elizabeth wasn't about to argue.  With Paco's help she
started to climb down.  As soon as she was on the ground the man who'd
told her to get down and who seemed to be the leader rode his horse
next to her.  Keeping the gun in his 'right hand, he slipped his foot
from the stirrup.

"Put your foot in there and give me your hand," he said, motioning
toward the empty stirrup.

"You mean you want me to get up on there?"  Elizabeth looked at the
horse.

"That's right, lady."

"Well, I won't."

"You will or I'll put a bullet between your eyes."  "Go right ahead,"

Elizabeth said.

"It'd be better than riding up there with you."

"All right," the bandit answered, his hard cold eyes intent on her
face.

"If that's the way you want it, I'll put the bullet between the boy's
eyes instead then."  He turned his gun on Paco,~who was still sitting
on the seat wishing he could do something.

Elizabeth knew she was beaten.  The man just might do it, and she
couldn't have that on her conscience.

"All right, you win," she said.

She lifted her hand, put a foot in the stirrup and let him pull her up.
 She landed sitting sideways in front of him.

"Now, sit still," he said, and his arm went about her, holding her
close.  He motioned for the other men.

"Let's go," he said as Paco watched, flabbergasted, unable to shoot for
fear of what they might do to Elizabeth.

"Hey, wait, se~ors, why do you do this thing?"  Paco yelled and the man
holding Elizabeth reined up for a second and turned to face him,
pushing the straw hat on Elizabeth's head away from his face so he
could see better.

"Tell your boss she'll be hearing from us," he yelled, and before Paco
could ask anything else they rode off, leaving him sitting in the
middle of the road still holding the reins not knowing quite what to
do.

Finally, getting over the shock and realizing he had to do something,
Paco slapped the reins angrily, maneuvered the wagon around in the
road, and headed back for the ranch at full speed leaving a trail of
dust in his wake.

Hanna was getting leery.  She and Culler had been riding for well over
half
an hour already and she was sure all they'd done was circle around,
except for the trail they were heading up now.

They hadn't been on this trail before, and she could see a line shack
ahead nestled at the side of a hill, half hidden by some trees.

"Is that where we're headed?"  she asked.  He nodded, then took a
pocket watch out of his pocket and checked the time.

"Is something the matter?"

He shook his head.

"Nope, just wanted to see how long it took."

The trail up to the cabin was a narrow one and he motioned for her to
lead the way.

"Where's Jules?  And where are their horses?"  she asked as they neared
the place and she realized there didn't seem to be a soul around.

"Just keep on going'," Culler said from behind her, and this time Hanna
turned and found herself staring into the barrel of the man's Colt
aimed right at her.  She reined Lucifer to a halt and stared at
Culler.

"Just what on earth do you think you're doing?"  she asked.

He sneered.

"What does it look like?  Now keep moving."

"You'll regret this."

"I said keep moving."

Hanna looked into his eyes and suddenly felt a shiver run through her. 
The man was serious.  Gently digging Lucifer in the ribs, she moved
forward. Then, as she reached the front of the small cabin, the door
suddenly opened and Trudy stepped out.

At first Hanna didn't recognize her because she was men's clothes and
no makeup and had her 251 hair down and tied back in a queue.  But the
face was undeniably Trudy's.

"You, too?"  Hanna remarked as she pulled back on Lucifer's reins.

"I

might've known you'd hire someone to get what you want.  It's the
money, right?  " Trudy was surprised.

"You know about the money?"

"I didn't yesterday, I do now."

"Well, well, then we won't have to explain, will we?"  Trudy looked at
Culler, who was still holding his gun on Hanna.

"You're sure now that you weren't followed?"  she asked.

"Positive."  He addressed Hanna.

"Now, get down."  Hanna just stared at him.

"I can put this bullet right where I want it, Miss High and Mighty,"

he said.

"And that means I can cripple you, I don't have to kill you.  So, like
I said, get down."

Hanna knew better than to argue.  Grabbing the saddle horn, she hefted
her weight sideways and slid from Lucifer's back.

"Now, get inside," Culler told her as he, too, dismounted.  With Trudy
holding the door for her, Hanna walked into the place.  It was one of
the line shacks, all right, and she assumed Jules had been here,
checked it out for supplies and gone already.

"I thought you were with Jules," she said as Culler and Trudy followed
her inside.

Culler grinned.

"I was, only I asked him if I could run an errand in town and he said
yes." His grin hardened.

"Now, all I got to do is figure out how to get word to everybody that
you ain't comin' home and why."

"I don't Trudy stepped up, confronting her.

"What don't you understand?  It's simple, Miss Hoity-toity.  Your
brother brought two hundred and fifty thousand dollars back with him on
his last supposed business trip, and we intend to have it."

Hanna frowned.

"Then you knew about Henry?"

"I didn't, Culler here did.  Fact is, he was his partner."

' Hanna looked hard at Culler.

"You knew my brother?"

"I knew a man named Whitey."

"But that doesn't mean he was my brother."

"Oh, he was your brother, all right."  While Culler talked, he walked
over, picked up a length of rope and began to fie Hanna's hands behind
her back.

"I've been trackin' him since March when we pulled the job, then had to
split up."

"But that doesn't mean it was Henry."  '-"You want proof, the little
lady here can give you proof.  About five years ago Whitey and I robbed
a stage up near Denver.  Had a nice big payroll on it, but there was
also an old lady on her way to meet her husband and she was wearin'
enough jewelry to choke a horse.  Even had a box of it in her trunk. 
Well, Whitey and I split the jewelry and I sold mine over the years,
but he gave it to Trudy here.  I recognized those earrings she was
wearin" the minute I spotted her in the saloon 'cause I wanted them
earrings, only he won out when we drew cards for 'em.  "

Hanna couldn't believe what she was hearing.  Actually, she didn't want
to believe it because that meant Blake had been telling the truth, at
least part of the time.

"But why take me?"  she asked.

"Because you're going to be our way of getting our hands on that
money," he answered as he knotted the ropes tight, then sat her down
and tied her to the chair.  He looked at Trudy.

"You know how to write?"

"A little."

"Good.

"Cause you're gonna write the ransom note."

While Hanna watched, the two of them sat at the table and with Culler
dictating, Trudy wrote out a note demanding the two hundred and fifty
thousand for Hanna's return.  It wasn't very nice, but it would be
effective.

"But how do we get it to them?"  Trudy asked as she finished.

That's one part of it Culler hadn't thought of.  "I'm not going to take
it," she went on.

"It'd be just my luck that old lady'd try to shoot me."

"Let me think," he said.

The room was quiet and Hanna watched them anxiously.  Maybe they'd give
up on the whole idea.

"I know," Culler finally said.  I'll go back to the house, watt till I
can catch that Mexican housekeeper alone and give it to her.  She won't
dare do nothin' ex- copt give it to that old lady or even Morgan.  Then
I'll come back here and give them time to think it over.  "
Straightening arrogantly, he walked out the door carrying the note with
him while Hanna watched in dismay.

Chapter Nine Blake was upset.  Trudy hadn't been in town and no one
seemed to know where she was.  He was sure she'd known about Hank
Winters, and he was also sure she could have told him something about
where the money was hidden if Hanna hadn't made her leave.  He should
have followed her right then and there, but he felt bad enough that
Hanna thought there had been something between them.  If he'd followed
Trudy to town he'd never have been able to convince Hanna that he
wasn't having an affair with the saloon girl.

Damn, where could she be?  He reined up at the door to the hacienda,
wondering what the buckboard was doing here.  As far as he could
remember, Paco and Elizabeth were supposed to be in town today.  He'd
been surprised when he hadn't run into them while he'd been looking for
Trudy.

He glanced toward the door, then dismounted quickly as Paco ran out,
yelling something in Spanish.

"Hey, slow down, boy," Blake said, and he caught Paco by the
shoulders.

"What is it?  What's the matter?"

Paco was never so glad to see anyone before in his whole life.

"They have Senora Brady," he cried, his face mirroring his fear.

"They who?"  Blake was at a loss.

"I don't know who, but some masked men stopped us on the way to town." 
He told Blake everything that had happened.

When he was through, Blake frowned.

"But why would anyone kidnap Elizabeth?  It doesn't make sense."

"They said the senorita would be hearing from them."

"Hanna?"

"$L"

"Where is she?"

"That's just it, Senor Morgan, she is not here, either.  Abuelita said
Senor Culler came and told her Senor Jules wanted her out on the range
and she rode off with him."

"She left with Culler?"  Blake swore.

"Damn."  He should have told her about Culler, but then maybe Jules
really had wanted her.

He tensed as he heard riders approaching the back of the house.

"Come on, Paco, let's see if that's Hanna getting back."  But when they
made their way around back it was to see Jules, Sancho and Miguel
riding in. Neither Hanna nor Culler were with them.

"Where's Hanna?"  Blake asked.

Jules reined his chestnut up to the hitching rail and got down.

"What do you mean, where's Hanna?  The lady's here, ain't she?"

Blake's worst fears were starting to take root.

"Mafia said she took off with Culler well ~over an hour ago."

"Culler told me he had business in town and asked if he could take the
rest of the day off.  Said you wanted him to run an errand for you."

"Something's wrong, dead wrong."

Blake decided it was finally time he took a chance and confided in
Jules.

"There's something you should know, Jules," he said, hoping the foreman
would understand, and he quickly told him not only who he was, but why
he was there.

"You mean you think Hank was this Whitey fella?"  Jules was
flabbergasted.

"Don't tell me you never suspected?"  Blake eyed him curiously.

"Where'd you think he got the money he always showed up with?"

"Oh, hell, Hank was a gambler.  He could turn a card slick as the best
of them and he'd always hinted that he got lucky in a poker game.  Who
was I to question it?  But an outlaw?"

"Trudy's the proof," Blake replied.

"And Culler, too.  A lady on the last stage they robbed described
Culler right down to the fancy braid on his hat."  Jules shook his
head.

"If that don't beat all.  No wonder Hank never wanted me to learn the
books." "You'd have gotten suspicious."  Blake looked around, his gaze
lifting toward the riverbank near the hills.

"But right now we got problems," he said, and he told Jules about
Elizabeth, too.

The man's face grew livid.

"What the hell!"  he shouted.

"Why the devil would anyone kidnap her?"

Blake wished he had an answer.

"If I knew that it might help.  But at least we know where to start
looking."

He frowned.

"I thought if we try to track them 257 from where she and Paco were
waylaid we might be able to locate her."

"Go get your horse, Pa o," Jules ordered him, anger firing him on.

"And you, too, Morgan."  His eyes darkened ominously.

"If they hurt even one hair on that little lady's head there's gonna be
hell to pay, you can be sure of that."  He mounted again, yelling for
Paco to hurry while he followed Blake around to the front of the
house.

A few minutes later the three of them, with Miguel and Sancho following
close at their heels, rode out the front gate at White Wind, hoping to
find some trace of Elizabeth, while back beyond the river Culler was
riding down out of the hills, confident he was going to end up a rich
man before nightfall.

Elizabeth stared at the man who sat opposite her in the old house.  At
first she'd had no idea what was going on or where she was being taken,
but as time passed and she'd listened' to the men talk, things had
suddenly started to fall into place.

The man who'd held the gun on her and made her ride his horse was the
same man who?  d tried to kill Hanna.  on the long trip from Fort
Worth, she was sure of it.  Not only did he fit the description, but he
liked to run off at the mouth, too, and from some of the things he said
it was easy to pinpoint him as the culprit.

However, it wasn't until they rode into the ranch yard at the Box T
that Elizabeth realized who was behind it all.  Now she sat on the sofa
in the parlor, her eyes fixed on Whitney Terrell as if he were Satan
himself.

"You know you'll never get away with this, don't you?"  she' said
hoping her voice sounded more convincing to him than it did to her.

He smiled.

"And why won't I?"

"Because Blake Morgan won't let you."

"A drifter like him?  Hey, my men are just as good with their guns.

Only it won't come to that, I assure you.  "

Elizabeth reached up, adjusted her hat, then smoothed the skirt on her
pink calico dress.  A dress she'd made special since her arrival, so
she didn't look so out of place in her trim Boston clothes.

"Just what are your plans?"  she asked.  "Well, I'll tell you now, Mrs.
Brady.  That is your name, right?  Anyway, the point is that I'm going
to give Hanna Winters exactly one day and no more to sell the White
Wind to me, lock, stock and barrel, including the cattle that are on
their way to Kansas."

"And if she doesn't you'll kill me?"

His eyes narrowed.

"You catch on quickly."  "But that's illegal."

Elizabeth shook her head.

"No court in the world would allow something like that."

"Out here, my dear lady, the only court is the law of the land and once
Miss Winters's name is on a bill of sale it'd be just my word against
hers, and with the family lawyer on my side."

"How much are you paying him?"

Whit studied the Brady woman closely.  Milt said she'd been Hanna
Winters's housekeeper before coming west with her, but it was obvious
the woman wasn't stupid.  In fact, she was even rather attractive for
her age, but then, that was something he couldn't think about.  Not
now, anyway.

"I'm paying Gibbs enough," he answered and she looked puzzled.

"You mean you'd actually kill me?"

He was sipping at a glass of wine and she saw his eyes narrow.

"Why not?  You don't mean anything to me."

"But I'm a human being."

"So?"

It was incredible.  The man was infuriating.  No wonder Hanna had
treated him the way she had that night he'd come calling.  Hanna always
did seem to have an uncanny way of judging people that was rarely
wrong.  Although she'd been wrong about Jules, that's for sure.

Suddenly Elizabeth thought about Jules and the others and what they
must be thinking, and if they even knew.  If only she could get away.

She stood up.

"What do you think you're doing?"  Whit asked.  She straightened.

"I was hoping maybe you'd come to your senses and realize that you can't
do this.  " " Can't?  " He set the glass of wine down, rose from the
chair where he was sitting and called for one of his men.

"Yeah, boss?"  Steele said as he looked in at the door.  Steele was the
man who'd brought her here.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to tie her up, Steele," Whit said.

"I don't think she's going to be any too cooperative.  " Just at that
moment, Elizabeth made a bolt for a side door that opened onto a porch
out front, only the man named Steele caught her before she got there.

She stared into his wizened face, seeing the small mustache just as the
handyman back in Hubbard Creek had described him.  As he held her in a
vise
like grip, then began tying a rope around her wrists, Elizabeth knew
that Whitney Terrell would do just as he said unless Hanna complied.  A
fear like none she'd ever known before suddenly flooded Elizabeth and
for the first time since leaving Boston she suddenly wished she hadn't
come to Texas.

Blake was restless as he studied the ground and kept the others back so
he could pick up the trail.  Paco said there'd been six of them, and
that meant they should have left enough tracks.

Suddenly his eyes narrowed as they fixed steadfastly on the distinct
hoof prints of six shod horses.

"Over here," he called, and with Blake leading the way, the five of
them took off.  However, they didn't go far.  Unfortunately some half
hour onto the trail a number of cattle had wandered a~ross the area,
and Blake lost the trail.  Angry and disappointed when he couldn't find
it again, they headed to the ranch to see if someone would get in touch
with them.  Fortunately, they didn't have long to wait because as they
rode in they were met at the door by Maria who was shouting in both
Spanish and English, all at the same time, so excited she was almost
hysterical.  "Now calm down, Maria," Blake said as he dismounted and
led her into the parlor.

"One word at a time, tell us what happened."

Maria rolled her eyes.

"First of all, senor, the man named Culler was here and said to give
you this."  She handed him a note.

Blake frowned, then read it and his jaws tightened angrily.

"What is it?"  Jules asked.

He inhaled.

"Cullefts holding Hanna until we give him the two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars Hank stole as a ransom."

"You're not serious?"

"Dead serious."

"But you don't even know where it is, do you?"

"The note said it's in a safe behind a picture upstairs in the master
bedroom.  Come on."  They all hurried up to Hanna's room where Blake
stood staring at the picture of the ship named the Glouchester. 
Reaching out, Blake took it down and they all gasped at the sight of
the safe.

"But how do we open it?"  Jules said.

"None of us knew it was even there."

Blake stared at the safe curiously, then glanced at the picture in his
hands, and suddenly he remembered something.

"Hey, wait a minute," he said, trying to think.

"The clock."

Jules frowned.

"What do you mean, the clock?"  Blake looked at Paco.

"Get me the clock off the mantel, and hurry," he said.

Paco left and was back in minutes holding the clock out to Blake, who
set the picture of the ship aside, then took the clock from him, turned
it around and checked the back.

"March 8, .2. They didn't even have clipper ships in .2," he said.

"And this is a picture of the Glouchester, and it says Glouchester on
the back of the clock."

Reaching up, he began to work on the safe.

"Three to the left," he murmured hurriedly, as his fingers moved
nervously on the dial.

"To eight, then one to the right to eight, then three to the left to
two, and there."

As he finished the last turn, the safe gave a dick and he swung the
door open.

To their surprise it was almost empty.  All that was in it were a few
assorted papers, a couple of pieces of jewelry and a great deal of
dust, but no two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

"Oh, great," Morgan said, his gaze sifting over the stuff.

"We still don't know where the money is."

"But that's not all," Maria cut in, anxious to get the rest of it off
her chest.

"Another man, he came and he gave me this."  She handed Blake another
note. This time after reading it he handed it to Jules who read it
apprehensively.

"But damn it, we can't have Hanna sign a hill of sale when Hanna ain't
here," Jules blustered furiously.

"What the hell does Terrell think he's doing?"

"Don't you see?"  Blake said, his thoughts running rampant as he tried
to think of a way out.

"Whoever has Hanna knows nothing about what happened to Elizabeth, and
vice versa, and we're at a stalemate.  We can't ransom Hanna because we
still don't know where the money is, and we can't have Hanna sell to
Terrell so he'll release Elmbeth because we don't know where Hanna
is."

"Madre de Dios.t" Maria said, shaking her head.  "Then what will you
do, se~ors?"  she asked.

Jules straightened, his gaze going to the double doors where the
shadows of night were starting to fall.

' iI guess we're gonna have to take matters into our own hands~ won't
we, Morgan," he said, her ting his gun belt confidently.

"After all, there are five of us and we're all pretty good shots."

"No," Blake said as he looked about the room.  "Paco doesn't go.  I
want him to stay here in case Culler comes back so he can track him to
where Hanna is. First we go after Elizabeth."  Not even bothering to
take time to eat, Jules, Sancho, Blake and Miguel left the ranch yard
on horseback, their guns loaded as they headed cross-country for the
Box T. It was dark already as the four riders approached the Box T and
Blake reined in, the others following suit.

"You know your way around?"  he asked Jules.  Jules nodded.

"I been here before."

"Good, then I'll let you lead the way in."  Seconds later they were off
their horses and approaching the place on foot, leading their horses
behind them.

Evidently Terrell kept a skeleton crew home during the cattle drives,
too, Blake thought as he realized the place looked deserted.  Blake
knew he probably should have gone right to the sheriff, but since the
sheriff knew who he really was already and had promised to keep mum
about it, he no doubt wouldn't have too much trouble convincing him
latex that they had a reason for being here in case the lead started to
fly.

Inside the house Elizabeth was furious.  Not only had they tied her
wrists, but her ankles, too, and they'd only untied them once when
they'd accompanied her to the outhouse, then tied her back up again. 
They had moved her from the parlor to a pantry at the back of the house
off the kitchen.  She had lost her hat somewhere in the process, but
that didn't seem to matter anymore.

The supper they'd given her hadn't been enough to keep an insect alive,
let alone a woman, and it had smelled terrible.  It had been a small
bowl of
chicken soup with some rice in it, but Elizabeth swore it had probably
sat around in the heat for a day or two.

She shuddered at the thought that these men really meant what they
said, and she wondered if she'd ever see Hanna again.

Outside, Blake looked at Jules.

"I want you and the others to stay put," he said, his eyes narrowing in
the darkness so he could see better.

"I'm going to go on in and talk to Terrell."

"Talk to him?"

"That's right, talk.  In the first place we have to see just how
serious he is about what he's doing, and secondly maybe I can find out
where they're holding her because I doubt they're serving her tea and
crumJules knew MOrgan was right, and yet he didn't like it.  He'd known
for years that Terrell had been trying to get White Wind away from
Hank, and Terrell had almost succeeded when he'd burned down the line
shack with Hank in it last winter. Hank had gotten out alive, but they
hadn't had enough proof Terrell was the one who started the fire so
they hadn't been able to do anything about it. But this!  And putting
Elizabeth's life in jeopardy.  Hell, she was exaspexafmg at times,
making him take off his hat when he came into the parlor, but at least
she made a man feel like he was something special, and his jaw clenched
angrily at the thought of what she was going through.

"All right.  We'll wait for you' here he said.

"But if I hear any gunplay I'm comin' the rest of the way in, and
fast."

"You do that," Blake answered.  Seconds later he was on his horse,
leaving the others behind in the shadOWs near some of the outbuildings
while he rode in alone to feel out Terrell and give the place the once
over

He was some thirty feet from the front porch when a voice stopped
him.

"You on the horse.  That's as far as you go."  Blake reined Diablo to a
halt.

"I came because of the note," he yelled.

Now he could see the man who belonged to the voice.  He was sitting on
a chair on the porch, a rifle across his lap, silhouetted by the dim
light coming from the window behind him.

"You stay right there," the man said, and Blake saw him ease out of the
chair and go to the door.  He stuck his head inside, said something
Blake couldn't hear and a few minutes later, Whitney Terrell stepped
onto the porch.

"Where's Miss Winters?"  Terrell asked, his eyes scanning the empty
darkness behind Morgan.

"The lady can't come."

"The hell she can't."

"We have to talk, Terrell," Blake said.

"And I'd rather do it inside, unless you got some objections."

"Ain't not bing to talk about.  She read the note, that's all there is
to it. I got the bill of sale all made out.

Hell, it ain't like I'm takin' the place for nothin', she'll get money
for it, all nice and legal like.  "

"You aren't takin' the place at all because Hanna Winters isn't there
to sell it to you."

"What the devil you talkin' about?"

Terrell didn't like it, but he nodded reluctantly and Blake rode the
rest of the way in.

A few minutes later as they stood in the parlor and Blake finished
telling Terrell the predicament they were in, the man only laughed.

"You expect me to believe that?"

Blakewas disgusted.

"Whether you like it or not, it's the truth."

"Hey, look, Blake, or whatever your real name is, if you think I'm
gonna believe Hank Winters was an outlaw named Whitey, you're sadly
mistaken. That's about the dumbest excuse I've ever heard of."  His
eyes darkened, the scar On his cheek showing white in the flickering
lights of the parlor.

"Now, I'll give you until tomorrow morning and that's all.  You bring
Hanna Winters over here to sign those papers or her old landlady just
disappears, is that understood?"

"How do I know she hasn't disappeared already?"

Terrell stared hard at Morgan for a minute, then looked at Steele,
who'd ushered Blake in.

"Go get the lady," he ordered him.

Elizabeth was hot and sweaty.  The pantry was worse than any place
she'd imagined.  They'd just thrown her in here unceremoniously and
she'd landed on a stack of burlap bags that smelled stale and musty. 
And she was thirsty, too.

It seemed like she'd been here forever.  Leaning her head against the
wall, she was just about ready to let out a yell to see 'if maybe
somebody'd come and give her a drink, when the door opened and the man
she knew only as Steele came in.

"Come on, lady, the boss wants you out front," he said, and he reached
down, untied her ankles, then pulled her toer feet and began shoving
her toward the door.

Elizabeth's legs were stiff from being in one position so long and she
struggled to stand as straight as she could.

"You'll pay for this, you'll see," she said as he pushed her through
the door and down the hall.

Suddenly she stopped and stared into the parlor, her gaze coming to
rest on Blake.

"Thank God, Blake," she murmured half to the man pushing her, half to
herself, only the minute she saw Blake's face she knew something was
wrong. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth," Blake said and he glanced to where
another of Terrell's men was standing guard near the door with a gun.

"But I'm afraid I haven't exactly come to rescue you.  I just wanted to
make sure you're safe until we can figure out what to do."

"Where's Hanna?"  Elizabeth asked trying not to let Terrell see that
her predicament was bothering her.

Blake looked disgruntled.

"That's just the trouble, we don't know."

Terrell laughed.

"He wants me to swallow some cock-and-bull story about Hank having been
an outlaw, and a bunch of stolen money, said your lady friend's been
kidnapped, too, don't that beat all?"

Elizabeth frowned, her dark eyes steady on Blake.  "What's he talking
about?"

Blake had been studying Elizabeth since she'd come into the room.  She
looked tired and worn, the dirt and sweat putting years onto her
already advanced age, and yet her eyes were sparking vibrantly.  It was
going to take more than Terrell's threats to do Elizabeth in.  Yet he
could tell the past few hours had taken their toll on her.

"First of all, are you all right?"  he asked.  "I'd be much better if
this insane man would just come to his senses.  Now, what's all this
nonsense about Hanna?"

Blake told her what they were up against.

"And he doesn't believe you, right?"  she said, and she looked: over
at Whitney Terrell.

"Not only doesn't he not believe me, but he insists that if the bill of
sale isn't signed by morning... Well, you know the rest."

Elizabeth continued to stare at Terrell.

"It figures.  Well" -- she straightened her head haughtily as if
ignoring the fact that she was sentenced to die "--if he's stupid
enough to think you'd be lying I guess there isn't much you can do
except try as hard as you can to find Hanna before morning."

Blake winked at her, hoping she'd catch on.

"That's what I intend to do," he said.

"So just stay calm and say a few prayers, okay?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"Okay, take her back," said Terrell, and he motioned toward Steele.

"I've heard enough of this nonsense."

"Back to the pantry, huh?"  Elizabeth said, and Terrell cut her off.

"Shut up," he said.

"Just make sure you tie her feet again, too.  We don't need her walkin'
off."

Steele gave his boss a nod, then pushed Elizabeth into the hall, moving
her toward the kitchen.

"All right, Morgan," Terrell said as soon as Elizabeth was out of the
room.

"You've got until morning."

Blake's jaw set stubbornly.  That's what you think, he said to himself,
then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the heel chain,
realizing now where it had to come from.

"Here, I think this belongs to one of your men," he said as he tossed
it to Terrell.

Terrell caught it and smiled.

"Hey, yeah, that's Steele's.  Now where the hell did you find that?"

"Why'd you have him set the fire?"  Blake asked.  Terrell sneered.

"Because with her drive broke up she'd have had to sell," he
answered.

"There wouldn't have been no money to keep it going."

"You're a bastard, Terrell."

"I'm a businessman, Morgan."

Blake stared at him hard, then without saying another word, he turned
and walked out.

Blake knew that Terrell was standing on the porch watching him ride
away.  He rode right past where the others were hiding until he knew he
was out of sight of the house, then he quickly turned his Appaloosa
around, left the main trail, and filtered through the trees and shadows
to where the rest of the men waited.

"Jules?"

"Over here," the foreman said.

Blake dismounted, then moved quickly in the dark, checking his gun on
the way, and when he reached Jules and the others he told them what
they were up against.

"They haven't hurt her, have they?"  Jules asked, and Blake reassured
him that except for a bit of wear "and tear, Elizabeth seemed fine.

"But there are two guns at the front that I could see and since they
must be keeping her at the back of the house, there are probably more
back there." Jules thought for a minute.

"Well, we know he's got at least six men with him," he said.  "" Cause
that's how many Paco said there were.  "

"All right," Blake said.

"Now this is what we're 'going to do."  And they made their plans.

A few minutes later, they moved forward.  Blake had made Jules and the
others take off their spurs and stuff them in their saddlebags because
of the jingle bobs and now as they crept through the darkness, he was
glad.

They weren't making a sound.

Miguel and Sancho were to locate the men at the back while Jules moved
in to get Elizabeth loose, and Blake was going to cover the front.  As
Blake made his way to a watering trough where he had a good bead on the
front door, he smiled, amused at Jules's concern for Elizabeth.

He was going to keep an eye on the two of them when this was all
over.

Meanwhile at the back of the house, Jules was making his way along the
side of the porch.  From what he could see, only one man stood between
him and the door.  However, it was one man too many, and he'd have to
eliminate him.

Easing himself forward as slowly as he could, he moved about an inch at
a time, then stopped just to make sure.  Finally he reached the corner
of the porch.  He stood for a minute, looking around, trying to figure
out what to do next.  Suddenly there was a single shout from the
bunkhouse off to the right of the porch, and the man on the porch stood
up.

"Carl?  Joe?"  the man yelled, but was greeted with nothing but
silence.

Good, Sancho and Miguel evidently got their men.  "Keating?"  the man
yelled as he went up the steps into the kitchen.  It was then Jules
realized there was another man in the kitchen.  He'd forgotten about
that, and he'd also forgotten about the old Indian woman Terrell had as
a housekeeper, since he wasn't married, and he began to wonder where
she was.  Well, he 271 couldn't worry about that now.  Anyway, he'd
never known her to carry a gun.

He watched the men as Keating came out of the kitchen, then the two men
left the porch and started toward the bunkhouse.

Now was his chance.  Leaving the spot where he'd been standing, he
started for the porch steps and was almost to them when suddenly the
man named Keating must have sensed something and half turned.

"Damn!"  Keating blurted anxiously, but by the time he had Jules in
line with his six-shooter, Jules was already firing.  " Keating went
down and so did the other man.  Jules didn't wait to see if there was
anyone else.  Taking the steps two at a time, he shoed the door open
and yelled.

"Elizabeth?"

"In here," she called out and as he heard shots from out~ front this
time, he paid no attention to the old Indian housekeeper who was
cowering in the corner, and he made a lunge for the pantry.

Elizabeth was never so glad to see anyone in all her life as she was to
see Jules.  As soon as her hands were f~e, she looked at him and smiled
with relief.

"Well, it took you long enough to get here, Mr.  Hayden," she ~aid, the
warmth in her eyes letting him know she was grateful.

"Now I just hope we can get the rest of the way out of here alive."

"Don't worry about that," Blake interrupted from from of the pantry.

"Everything's well in hand."

"Terrell?"  Elizabeth asked.

"Unfortunately, he's dead."  Blake's gun was still in his hand and he
holstered it.

"He tried to get the drop on me."

"Oh, my."  Elizabeth was still rubbing her wrists where Jules had cut
the ropes.

"Wha~t are you going to do?"

"About Terrell?"  Blake's jaw set firmly.

"Not much I can do except explain to the sheriff.  Lucky that man
Steele's still alive.  He should be able to confirm everything that is
happened here."

"So should she," Elizabeth said, and she pointed toward the old Indian
woman still hiding in the corner.

It was some fifteen minutes later when Blake and Jules, with Elizabeth
sitting in front of Jules on his horse, rode out of the Box T, leaving
Miguel behind while Sancho rode into town for the sheriff.

"So now what?"  Jules asked as they rode along.  "Now we see if Paco
learned anything about where Cullefts holding Hanna."

"And if he hasn't?"

"Then we wait until we hear from Culler."  He spurred Diablo a little
faster.

This time when they got back to the ranch Culler wasn't there, but
Trudy was. Blake stared at her curiously as he stepped into the parlor
where she was sit- ting waiting for them as if she owned the place.

"I thought you'd be in on this," Blake said, his eyes sifting over
her.

She was wearing .  a riding skirt instead of the usual fancy dress and
her hair was tied back, but the diamonds were still in her ears.

"So I'm ambitious," she said and she smiled triumphantly.

"Now where's the money?"

"Didn't Maria tell you?"

"She gave me some stupid story about the safe being empty, but like I
told her, it's the only place Hank could've had the money stashed."

"Well, it's not there."

"I don't believe you."

"You'd better," he said and his voice lowered viciouslY.

"Because it's the truth."

"Then where'd he put it?"

Just then Elizabeth and Jules came in from the kitchen where Elizabeth
had been getting her bearings after the long ride over from the Box T.
"Did you ever think that maybe he didn't have it?"

she cut in.

"You're all so sure Henry had the money when he got home.

Maybe he wasn't this outlaw Whitey after all.  "

"Oh, he was Whitey, all right," Blake assured her.

"There's more than enough evidence to prove that."

"Then maybe he lost the money somewhere before he got home.  That is
possible, isn't it?  After all, the man was shot, and from what Mafia
says he had a hole in him the size of an egg."

Blake looked at Trudy again.

"She's right, you know.  The money was probably never here in the first
place."

"To hell it wasn't.  I saw that letter Hank wrote to his sister.  He
said she'd never have to worry about money again.  It's got to be
here."

"Then you tell us where it is because that safe upstairs was empty."

She stood up.

"So what do I tell Culler?"  "Tell him it won't work.

That there's no way we can give him two hundred and fifty thousand
dollars we don't have.  "

"He won't like it."

"I don't care what he likes.  You just tell him.  And tell him to
release Hanna, too, because if he doesn't I'll see that he never lives
to spend two hundred fifty thousand even if he should happen to come
across it."

Trudy looked disgusted.

"You think you're pretty smart, don't you?"

She started to leave the room.

"I'll tell him, but don't be surprised if he doesn't believe you."  She
walked out, heading for the kitchen and the back door.

"You aren't going to just let her go, are you?"  Jules asked.

"Hell, she can lead us to Miss Winters."

"I know," Blake answered.

"Only I don't want her to know she's doing it."  He waited until he
heard Trudy reining her horse out of the ranch yard, then he looked at
Jules.

"Come on, let's go."  He was reloading his gun as he, too, headed for
the back door with Jules right behind him.

Hanna was weary and hungry.  She'd had some bread and beans washed down
with water hours before, but nothing since.  In fact, she'd been alone
in the cabin for the past half hour, although she knew Culler was
sitting right outside the door.

She'd heard him whistling off and on, and occasionally the smoke from
his cigarette would waft in through the cracks, but he hadn't come in
from outside, not once in the last half hour.

He'd left one lone lamp lit in the cabin and Hanna looked around the
place for the umpteenth time.  There was still no way she could get out
even if she were able to move.

There was just one door, two windows, and barely enough room to call it
a cabin.

There were two chairs in the place, and Culler had tied her to one.

Her wrists hurt, as did her ankles, but it was her pride that was hurt
more than anything else.  She'd come out here hoping to make a new life
for herself and had botched things up horribly, and yet none of it had
been her fault, really.

Henry!  It was all Henry's fault, the whole thing.  If he hadn't messed
up his life things might have been different.  Still, it was hard to'
imagine Henry robbing stages and banks.  Yet that's eXactly what Culler
said Henry had done.  Why, he'd even robbed a few trains, according to
Culler.  The thought was awesome.

She tried to remember back to when she and Henry were little.  It
seemed so long ago.  Henry had always been the one to play pretend, and
she'd been the more practical one.

Suddenly her thoughts wandered over the letter Henry had left her, and
she began to remember something.

Pretend, let's pretend.  Why hadn't she thought of it before?  It had
to be the answer, and smiling smugly to herself, she suddenly relaxed. 
She was sure now that she knew where the money was.

Now that she remembered, the whble message in the letter seemed to fall
into place.  It was the only explanation.

However, she certa.  inly wasn't about to let Culler know she knew
anything at all.  The man was obsessed.

Her ears perked up at the sound of a horse outside.  Then she heard
talking and realized Trudy must be back.  She couldn't hear everything
that was being said, only an occasional word here and there.  However,
they sounded like they were arguing.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Culler strolled in.  His face
was livid, his eyes cold and vicious Directly behind him was Trudy, and
she didn't look any more pleased than he did.

"All right, Miss Winters, you want to play rough, we'll play rough,"

he said, his voice sharp and caustic.

"Since it seems nobody at the house knows where the money is, that
leaves only you."

"Me?"  Hanna was astounded.

"How would I know?  I was in Boston when Henry stole that money."

"Well, I'll tell you," Trudy offered.

"I got a good glimpse of that letter Hank wrote to you while you were
in Boston, and in it he acted like you should know."

"That doesn't mean I do."  Hanna sighed.

"Do you think if I knew where two hundred and fifty thousand dollars
was that I'd be strUggling to make ends meet at the ranch?  Henry left
me barely enough money to pay this month's wages.  Good heavens, you
must think I'm stupid."

"She's right, Culler," Trudy said.

Culler wasn't convinced and he stared at Hanna contemplating.

"Just what did that letter say, Trudy?"

he asked and Trudy tried to remember what she'd read during the few
seconds she'd had it.

"For one thing it said if she remembered something about where they
played when they were kids she'd never have to worry about money ever
again." Culler looked at Hanna.

"And have you remembered?"

"Don't be ridiculous."  Hanna was affecting her old prim and proper
mannerisms to try to hide the fear that was growing inside her.

"Henry might've thought he was giving me some sort of clue to where
he'd hidden the stupid money, but I have absolutely no idea what he was
talking about."

Cullefts brown eyes narrowed, the heavy brows over them making them
even more menacing.

"I think you're lying," he said and he reached out, gmbhed her hair and
stared into her face.

"Either you tell me what I want to know or I'm gonna start cutting," he
said, and he drew a knife from a sheath in his gun belt and laid it
across her cheek.

"And when I'm through with you you'll wish you'd never heard of Texas
or the White Wind."  ~ Hanna's heart was in her throat, the fear
turning her '~sides to jelly: It wasn't worth it and she knew it.  No
amount of money was worth being scarred for life.  A~d yet even if she
told him, there was no guarantee he wouldn't kill her anyway.

The knife moved harder against her flesh and tears came to her. 
eyes.

"Well?"  he taunted viciously.

She was just ready to tell him what he wanted to know when he looked at
Trudy, who was watching the Whole thing with apprehension.

"Did you hear something'?"  he asked, his gaze suddenly da~fius f, from
one window to the other.

She shook her head.

"No."

"You sure you weren't followed?"

"I told you, I checked to make sure."

"You'd better be right."  He turned his attention back to Hanna, his
fingers twisting harder into her braid.  Just as he started to open his
mouth to say something, the door suddenly burst open and Blake stepped
onto the threshold, gun in hand, with Jules right behind him.

"Okay, put it down, Culler," Blake spat out, his eyes boring into the
outlaw's, his gun leveled on the man

Culler froze.

"I can still cut her, Morgan," he yelled.

"You do and you'll be wearing a bullet right between the eyes.  Is
that what you want?"

"I want the money."

"There is no money.  I've come to the conclusion that Whitey lost it
somewhere when he was trying to get home.  Hell, it could be out on the
range where he stashed it, God knows where."

"Then why'd he write that letter to the lady here, telling her she'd
never have to worry about money again?"

"Who knows.  He probably buried it somewhere figuring she might know
what he was talking about, but she doesn't.  Now, lower the knife and
back away." Culler stared hard at Blake.  Morgan had the upper hand and
he knew it, yet he hated to give up.  "What happens if I give in?"  he
asked, his mouth twitching nervously.

Morgan straightened, his hand tightening on his Colt.

"I take you into custody, you serve a few years for robbery, a couple
for kidnapping, if the lady presses charges, and with good luck, you
can be a free man again some day."

"And if I don't?"

"You'll die with your boots on.  Now, what'll it be?"  Culler glanced
at Trudy.  She had already given up, hands spread high with Jules's gun
leveled on her, and slowly he realized he'd rather take his chances on
being alive. His hand eased in Hanna's hair, and he released it, at the
same time lowering the knife.  Hanna let out a sigh of relief.

As soon as the knife left Hanna's cheek, Blake stepped forward, grabbed
it out of Culler's hand and stuck it in the waistband on his pants,
then forced Culler and Trudy into a corner so Jules could keep a drop
on them while he untied Hanna.

"Am I glad to see you," she said as he knelt down and began untying
her.

"The man was crazy."

"I know, but don't worry.  It'san over now."

She pulled her hands around in front of her and tried flexing them to
get the circulation back in them.

~,How did You manage to follow' Trudy without her seeing YOU?  " She
asked.

He reached out and helped her rub the circulation into her hands.

"It comes with the territory.  It's my She looked into his topaz' eyes
and saTM the truth resting there, and suddenly she thought of the
money.

"What are you going to do now?"  she asked.

He helped her to her feet.

"What can I do?  I know Henry was Whitey, and I know he had the money,
but if I don't have it..."  He shrugged.

For the first time in her life Hanna felt a strange sense
Of_apprehension. She was sure she knew where the money was, and yet. 
Henry had died for that money.  He'd wanted her to have it, and she did
need it.

Rather, the ranch needed it, she knew that.

Only it wasn't her money even if it was where she thought it might be. 
She should tell Blake where it was right now, only for some strange
reason she couldn't.

Maybe it was because Blake had 'lied to her right from the start.  Or
maybe she was still smarting over-his bedrOOm escapade with Trudy.  Or
maybe she, too, had a little larceny in her heart, just like Henry'd
had.  But for some reason she couldn't tell him.  Not just now, not
yet.

"So what happens?"  she asked as she moved around some to get the
circulation back in her legs after sitting down so long.

"We tie these two up, take them to the ranch and maybe the sheriff will
be there to meet us," he answered.

With Jules helping they tied up Culler and Trudy, found Hanna's horse
outside where it had been tethered with the others and headed for the
ranch.  On the way Blake told her all about their earlier escapade
rescuing Elizabeth.

It was close to morning.  Everything had been taken care of, including
the events at the Box T. The sheriff was gone already, Jules and
Elizabeth were in the kitchen arguing over something inconsequential,
and Hanna was standing on the veranda staring toward the horizon where
dawn would soon be creeping into the hills.

She still hadn't told Blake about where she thought the money could be,
and she didn't know why.

Reaching up, she brushed a few stray hairs back, tucking them into the
braid, which was really a mess now.

"Why don't you just undo it?"  Blake asked from behind her.

She whirled around.

"You know I always like it when it's loose," he went on, and stepping
up to stand in front of her, he reached out, slipping the leather tie
from the end of her hair, then using his fingers, he began to comb it
free until it lay like white clouds on her shoulders, framing her
face.

"You're lovely, you know that," he said.

"But then I guess I've told you that before."  "Blake... please."

"No.  You listen, and you listen good, Hanna Winters.  I know you've
been upset with me because I lied to you about who I really am and why
I was here, and I'm sorry about that, but I had no choice.  You'd never
have let me come with you if I'd told you the truth then.  But I'm not
lying to you now.  I love you, Hanna.  I've been trying to deny it,
trying to tell myself you were just a passing fancy, but it isn't
working and I know that."

Her lavender eyes filled with tears.

"" Now~ don't cry2 "I hate to see you cry."  ~' "CB'ut~ u don't know. 
I want to trust you so badly, Blake, ahdyet..."  She turned away and
walked to the railing.  "

"There's something you don't know about me."  ' "Go on."

"It was after Herfly had gon~.  I wasn't quite twenty- one at the time.
 Oh, I'd had a few 'beaus, but nothing serious and then I met Armand. 
He was handsome and charming, quite the ladies~ man.  Actually, you
might say he swept me off my feet.  The courtship was short, not quite
a month, but like so many gullible young women I thought I was in
love."  She turned.

"Well, I eloped with Armand and we had one night of bliss that I
thought was the start of a lifetime together, but it wasn't.  The next
morning when he discovered my father was penniless and in debt to his
ears, Armand walked out on me and I haven't seen him since.  He never
even.  showed up for the annulment proceedings, and I've hated men ever
since."

"Hate's a strong word."

"Well, then, let's say I've avoided men ever since, and then you came
along, and now you've lied to me, too."

"But I'm not lying now."

"How do I know that?  How do I know that you're not just saying this
because you think I might know where the money really is?  That by
getting in my good graces you're hoping I'll tell you."

"Do you know where it is?"

She could feel her face flushing.

"I don't know."  "What do you mean, you don't know?"

She stared at him apprehensively.

"I just mean I don't know."  She lifted her head stubbornly.

"Besides, what if I did know?  What then?  I suppose you'd take the
money and leave."

He shook his head.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hanna, didn't you hear me talking with Jules before?  There's a
ten-thousand-dollar reward for the person who finds that money."

"So what good would that do me?  I'd still be alone."

"With ten thousand dollars you could buy Terrell's ranch, now that he's
dead, and still have enough money left over to keep the place going
until Pete and the men get back from the cattle drive.  But the most
important thing is that without the money standing between us, maybe we
could have some sort of a future together."  "Us?"

"Yes, us.  Now look, all that seems to be standing between us now is
your fear that all I want you for is to find out where the money is. 
Well, if you give me the .

money, then if I stay, you know it's because I love you.  "

"And if you don't stay Fm out the money and you, as well."

"I guess that's the chance you'll have to take."  She stared at him,
wanting himsmore than she'd ever wanted anyone or anything in her life.
 She was in love with him, really in love, and she knew it, and yet
he'd lied to her ever since this whole thing began.  "right,"

she.  finally said, taking her heart in her hand~ .  as~d throwing it
at his feet.

"I'm going to trust you just this once more, but if you blow that
trust, B!a~.  Morgan, if you trample.  on my heart, I'll never trust
anyone ever again."  She stepped past him and walked into the house.

Blake was frowning as he followed her into the parlor where a dim lamp
east shadows about the room.

They could still h~r Jules and Elizabeth in the kitchen, but it sounded
like the argument was over, at least for now.

She walked to the fireplace, then stopped and stood s~taring at i~
apprehensively.

"What is it?"  he asked.

She turned to face him.  Henry used to pretend a lot when we were
kids," she said, her voice unsteady.

"And one of the things he was fondest of pretending was that he was
Robin Hood and stole from the rich to give to the poor, and he had a
special place to keep his treasures, right in front of the
fireplace."

She turned toward the hearth, dropped to the floor and began examining
all the stones in the hearth one at a time.

Suddenly she stopped.

"Here," she said, her fingers running' along the side of a flat rock
right in front.

Blake dropped down beside her.

After a close examination Blake dug his fingers under the edge and
began to lift.  The stone moved easily, and within minutes it was
shoved aside to reveal a deep hole.  Down inside the hole, covered with
dust and dirt, were four canvas bags with the words Wells Fargo written
across them.

"Thank God," Blake whispered as he reached in and drew them out one at
a time.  Opening them quickly, he began to check their contents.

While he did, Hanna looked at him curiously, then, seeing him so
absorbed in the money, she stood and walked to the double doors that
led to the garden. The first few rays of dawn were lightening the sky
to the east and she felt a shiver run through her even though the night
had been warm.

"Jules, come in here!"  Blake shouted from behind her where he still
knelt at the fireplace.  A few minutes later she heard a babble of
voices as Jules and Mrs.  Brady both came in, only she paid no
attention to what they were saying.

All she could think of was the fact that he had the money now.  Blake
had the money and there was no reason for him to stay any longer.  She
was sure she had seen it in his eyes when he'd read the words Wells
Fargo on the canvas bags.  It was over and she'd lost.  She leaned her
head against the doorframe, pushed back her pale hair and felt tears
sting her eyes.  He was so absorbed in finding the money he'd forgotten
she even existed, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

Suddenly she was brought up short by his voice, close to her ear.

"Justwhat do you think you're doing?"  he asked, his voice low.

She turned to face him.  He Was directly behind her, his tall frame
filling her vision.

"Jules?"  she asked, avoiding his eyes.

"I had him take the money to the library for safekeeping, and Elizabeth
went with him.  Why?"

"I just wondered."

"What else have you wondered?"

"When you'll be leaving."

"When do you want me to leave?"

This time she couldn't avoid his eyes, and when she looked into them
she trembled.

"Whenever you like."

"And if I don't like?"

"I don't understand."

For the first time in his life Blake suddenly realized he'd really been
telling the truth there on the veranda.

He didn't want to leave, ever.

Reachingout, he took her bytl~shouldt~ "Like I told you, Hanna Winters,
you. took a chance and won.

I'm in love with you, don't you understand?  It isn't the money that's
kept me here, it was you.  And it isn't the money that's going to keep
me here, either, it's you.  I want to teach you everything you need to
know about taking care of a place like this, if you'll have me, and
while I'm doing it I'll teach you everything you need to know about
love, too.  "

Hanna couldn't believe her ears.

"You really mean that?"  she asked her heart suddenly filling and
melting the cold icy feeling that had gripped her only moments ago.

"You really mean you love me?"

"I really, really mean it," he said emphatically, and while the voices
of Jules and Elizabeth filtered into the parlor as they argued over the
best place to put the money for safe-keeping until it could be returned
to Wells Fargo, Blake lifted Hanna into his arms and climbed the
winding stone steps toward the master bedroom as the early morning sun
bathed the ranch in its golden glow.