«Matthew isn’t like that. He’s every bit as decent as you are.»

Caleb said nothing, but his mouth thinned at being compared to the man who had seduced and abandoned Rebecca. He stared broodingly at the map. At one point, deep in the heart of the SanJuans, five meticulously drawn triangles had been placed to indicate various mountain peaks. Despite the fact that there were many more mountains in the area, no more triangles appeared.

Across the map waswritten, Makea fire and I’ll come. Beneath it was a line of Spanish. Caleb translated itsilently. Threepoints, two halves, one gathering.

Willow stepped close and saw that he was looking at the writing.

«That was another thing I couldn’t figure out,» Willow said. «Why would Matt write the line in Spanish?»

«Do you know Spanish?»

«No.»

«Maybe that’s why,» Caleb said flatly.

He looked at the triangles again. Willow followed his intent, tawny glance.

«Where are we supposed to build the fire?» she asked after a minute. «Any one of those triangles could be his camp.»

«One is as useless as another. Those are mountain peaks, not camps. We could look for five years and never find anything but rough country.»

«You needn’t sound so happy about it,» Willow grumbled. «Why don’t you want to find Matt?»

Caleb looked at her almost fiercely before he spoke. «That’s rough country. Let me take you back to WolfeLonetree. He’ll protect you and the Arabians while I look for your brother.»

«If I’m not along, you’ll never get close to Matt. If he doesn’t want to be found, you have a better chance of catching moonlight on water than catching him.»

Caleb bit back a curse. That was exactly what it had been like chasing Reno — trying to catch moonlight on water.

But then I didn’t know where the son of a bitch was. Now I do.

Willow frowned over the map. «I can’t understand why Matt didn’t leave better clues. He isn’t a careless kind of person. He was the one who taught me how to navigate by the stars, taking reading and drawing lines and making angles of intersection.» She bit her lower lip. «All I can figure is if we light a fire at any one of those five peaks, he’ll be able to see us. You know the country. You can find a place that can be seen for a long way and we’ll light a fire and —»

«Get our fool heads shot off,» Caleb said flatly, interrupting Willow. «Nobody lights a signal fire in that country unless he’s looking to get his scalp lifted. Your brother knows it, too, or he would have been dead long ago.»

«But then why did he say it?»

«It’s a trap.»

«That doesn’t make sense. Matt wouldn’t want to hurt his brothers.»

«Are your brothers fools?»

Willow laughed. «Hardly. Matt is the youngest. He learned a lot of what he knows from his older brothers.»

«Then none of your brothers would be damn fool enough to light a fire in Indian country and wait like a staked goat for whatever came.»

Willow wanted to argue, but knew it would do no good. Caleb was right. None of the Moran brothers would be that foolish.

«A trap,» she said unhappily.

«Like you said, your brother is a careful man.»

«Then we’ll just have to climb each peak until we find his camp,» Willow said, taking the map from Caleb.

He heard the determination in her voice and knew she wouldn’t stop seeking her brother until she found him or died trying. Reno had written for help and Willow had answered in the only way she could.

«You’re going to find your brother come Hell or high water, is that it?»

«If you were me, would you do any less?» she asked, wondering at the tangible hostility in Caleb every time her brother was mentioned.

Caleb closed his eyes and tasted the pain that the future would bring, Willow’s screams echoing as she watched her beloved brother and the man she loved face each other over drawn weapons, gunfire echoing and death coming down like thunder.

Be sure you’ve got a good reason to draw on Reno, because a second after you do, both of you are likely to be dead.

«So be it,» Caleb said bleakly.

Fear went through Willow like black lightning. «Caleb?» she asked shakily. «What is it? What’s wrong?»

He didn’t answer. He went to his saddlebags, pulled out his journal, a pencil, and a ruler, and came back to where Willow waited, map in hand and fear in her heart. Saying nothing, he took the map, spread it on his journal, and began drawing lines.

«What are you doing?» she asked finally.

«Finding your goddamned brother.»

Willow winced. «But how?»

«He’s a careful kind of man. He was real careful how he drew these triangles, even though he stood them every which way on the paper.»

«I don’t understand.»

«The triangles are all the same kind, with one angle of ninety degrees and two angles of forty-five degrees.»

Willow stared at the triangles and saw that Caleb was right.

«If you cut the ninety degree angle in two and drop a line down through the base, you get two equal triangles,» Caleb said, working swiftly as he talked.

«So?»

«So if you lay a ruler along that dividing line and draw it out to the edges of the map, and you do it for each triangle, all the lines should intersect somewhere. ‘Three points, two halves, one gathering. ’ It should be about —»

«There!» Willow interrupted, pointing to the map where line after line had crossed. «Caleb, you’ve done it! That’s where Matt is!»

Caleb said nothing. He simply noted the area of intersection in relation to landmarks both in his mind and on the map, and then threw the paper into the fire. Willow made a startled sound as flames bit ravenously into the map. Before she could move to prevent it, the paper writhed and curled and turned to ash.

«Good thing your Arabians are in good shape,» Caleb said tightly. «We’ve got Hell’s own ride ahead.»

He looked from the fire to Willow. In the twilight her eyes were mysterious, the color of autumn rain. The thought of losing her was a knife turning in him. Silently, he held out his hand to her. She took it without hesitation, not understanding the darkness she saw in him, but knowing that he needed her. When he drew her closer, she came willingly, needing him in the same way. For long minutes, they held each other, neither moving except to cling more tightly, as though they expected to be torn apart in the next instant.

«Love,» Willow whispered finally, looking up at Caleb. «What’s wrong?»

His only answer was a kiss that didn’t end until he was deep inside her and she was shivering with the fulfillment that grew more consuming each time he came to her. After he sipped the ecstatic tears from her lashes, he began all over again, taking and giving and sharing until there was no yesterday, no tomorrow, nothing but the timeless instant when two became one.

When Willow fell asleep, she was still joined with Caleb. For a long time he listened to her slow breaths, felt her small stirrings, watched moonlight glow on her cheeks. When he could bear it no longer, he closed his eyes and fell asleep, praying that Reno was already dead.

WILLOW stood in the stirrups and looked over Ishmael’s pricked ears. The land fell away before her in so many shades of green she couldn’t find names to describe all of them. The countryside was neither flat nor truly mountainous. Although distant clusters of high peaks jutted sporadically from the horizon, the land between the clusters was mile upon mile of rumpled forest and grassland, as though a huge patchwork quilt had been thrown over an uneven floor. The wrinkles were long, high ridges where pine and aspen and scrub oak grew. The troughs between wrinkles were equally long, wide parks where rivers ran.

Taking a deep breath, Willow tasted the freshness of the air, grateful that she had finally adapted to the altitude. Caleb had told her that even at its lowest point, the land was nearly seven thousand feet high. Many of the peaks were twice that height. It was like riding on the green roof of the world with stone chimneys rising in the distance. The sense of openness was exhilarating.