Willow told herself that Caleb wasn’t insulting her, he was simply making conversation about a horse. She was still telling herself that when Caleb turned away and made such a prolonged fuss over seating Rose once more that Eddy started to struggle to his feet to assist Willow.

«Please don’t get up,» Willow said in a low voice when she saw Eddy’s difficulty. She sat down quickly. «I’m quite capable of seating myself.»

«Thank you, ma’am.» Eddy sighed and muttered unhappily, «Since that stud threw me, I’m a damned poor excuse for a man.»

Willow smiled and spoke too softly to be overheard, wanting to spare Eddy’s pride. «The quality of a man doesn’t change due to age or injury. You have been the soul of gentleness and helpfulness to me.»

Caleb’s acute hearing caught every word Willow said. He gave her a narrow look, but saw only compassion in her expression, rather than the flirtatious sidelong glances of a woman bent on seduction. Frowning, Caleb took the last chair in the informal lobby grouping. He had expected Willow to wait imperiously to be seated like the spoiled southern lady she was. Instead, she had seated herself and at the same time graciously eased Eddy’s embarrassment at the injuries that kept him from leaping to his feet and aiding her. Reno’s fancy woman was turning out to be a surprise.

Caleb didn’t like surprises. He had seen too many men die with a look of surprise on their face.

«Did you have any trouble coming West?» Rose asked, turning expectantly toward the younger woman, obviously eager for conversation.

«It was quite an adventure,» Willow admitted with a rueful smile. «Matt’s letters mentioned the Mississippi, but until I stood on its banks at sunset and saw it burning like a great golden sea, I never realized how big the river really was, or how powerful. When we crossed the next day, it was like riding an unruly horse.»

Rose shuddered. «I recollect it. Scared me near to death when I crossed it years ago, and my husband waited until low water. If you crossed in May, that devil river must have been brawling along.»

«It was. Trees bigger than wagons were being tossed around like jackstraws. When one battered old oak crashed into the ferry, some horses were knocked overboard, but we were close enough to the far shore that they swam to safety.»

Silently Caleb remembered his own crossing of that great, roiling barrier called the Mississippi. He had been only five, but the size of the river had thrilled him more than it had frightened him. Echoes of his own exhilaration came to him both from his memories and from Willow’s husky voice telling him that she, too, had gone eagerly into the river’s wild embrace.

«How was the stage ride?» Rose asked. «I been thinking of going East, but I swore I’d never walk it again andI’spect I’ll be dead before a railroad makes it this far West.»

Willow hesitated, then admitted, «The coach bucked and lurched, the driver cracked his whip and swore constantly, and the noise of the wheels was enough to wake the dead. In fact, after a few days on the stage I began to wonder if Hell wasn’t served by the Holladay Overland Mail & Express Line.»

Rose smiled. «It must have seemed strange to a gently raised girl.»

«Not as strange as all that land and no trees,» Willow said. «Not one tree. The stage stations were dug into hillsides and roofed with sod. Matt had told me about it, but I thought he was exaggerating.»

Eddy laughed even as he looked at Willow and shook his head. «Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Mrs. Moran.»

«Oh, you did,» Willow agreed. «When I found your name in my father’s, er, father-in-law’s correspondence and wrote you about finding Matt, you were most discouraging.»

«Must be every bit of six hundred miles from St. Joseph,» Eddy said. «That’s a long, hard trip for a young woman alone.»

«It’s a long ride for anyone, but I had my horses. My Stallion Ishmael is more comfortable than any stage seat. When it wasn’t raining, I rode. Some of the passengers had it much worse than I did. They had no horse to ride and no money to pay for extra overnight stops to rest from the ride. I met several poor souls who were making the trip in half the time I took.»

«Why didn’t you wait for your man to come and get you?» Rose asked. Then she half-laughed, half-smiled, and flushed. «Lord, listen to me! I’m sorry, Mrs. Moran. I’m so hungry for news of anything east of Denver I forget my manners. Lots of folks that come here don’t want to talk about what they left behind, or why, or even what their name was back home.»

Before Willow could answer, Caleb said coolly, «Don’t fret about pretty manners, Rose. Mrs. Moran is such a fancy southern lady that she doesn’t expect much in the way of polish from people out here.»

«Caleb Black!» Rose said, astonished. «What’s got into you? You’re not the kind to care which side a man fought on, long as he had grit enough to fight. And your manners are better than any man’s — East, South, or North! Leastways, they used to be good.» She turned toward Willow and patted the younger woman’s hand. «Don’t mind Cal. He’s just funning you. He don’t hate southerners. My goodness, Eddy is from Texas!»

«Wouldn’t matter if Cal did hate southerners,» Eddy said. «Mrs. Moran’s a Yankee gal. West Virginia, the part that declared for the North.»

Caleb gave Willow a narrow-eyed look. «Then why did you tell me you lost the war?»

Willow told herself that she shouldn’t answer, but it was too late. She was already talking, her words as clipped and cold as Caleb’s had been.

«Our farms were in the border area,» Willow said. «When JohnnyReb came calling, we were called Yankees and everything that could be eaten or carried off was. When Yankees came calling, we were called JohnnyRebs and everything that could be eaten or carried off was. During the war my father was killed and my mother died of a broken heart. All but five of our horses were stolen or ‘requisitioned’ by one side or the other. Our crops were burned and our trees were cut down. We lost our farms one by one until nothing was left, not even a kitchen garden. Tell me, Mr. Black — in what way was I on the winning side of that glorious war?»

«So that’s why you come West,» the widow said quickly, trying to interrupt the fierce currents of emotion she sensed between the tired young lady and Caleb Black. «You’ll feel right at home in Denver, dear. Lots of folks out here just walked away and left it all behind them like a snake shedding old skin. That’s what the West is for, starting over when everything else goes wrong. Are you and your husband going to take up ranching?»

Willow dragged her glance away from Caleb’s bleak, whiskey-colored eyes and focused on Rose. She would like to have told the amiable widow the whole truth, but Matt’s letter had been quite blunt about not trusting anyone with the map he had sent. Most people were decent and honest in their day-to-day lives, but a gold strike tested even the best friendships. That was why Matt had written home in the hope of finding one or more of his brothers to help him dig gold. When the letter arrived, the Moran brothers had been scattered from London to Australia.

Willow, however, had been available.

«Whatever Matt does,» she said finally, hating to lie even by omission, «I hope to raise horses. Ishmael is a fine stallion. My four mares have been bred with equal care.»

«Where will you settle?» Rose asked.

«I haven’t decided. The homestead laws allow a woman to —»

«Homesteading!» Eddy interrupted. «Mrs. Moran, you can’t be thinking of homesteading. You’re much too fine a lady to ruin your hands working this stubborn western land. You let your man take care of you.»

«You’re very kind,» Willow said, «but I’d rather depend on myself. Men are so easily distracted. Wave a flag in front of them, or whisper about gold or adventure, and off they go, leaving their women to fend for themselves and the children the men were so eager to create in the first place.»