Nowhere could be seen smoke, buildings, rutted roads, fences, or any permanent sign of man. Yet men were out there, somewhere. Caleb had seen tracks in places where mountains pinched the grassland into divides that were natural funnels for travelers. Some of the tracks had been headed north or east. Most of them hadn’t. Most of them were headed toward the SanJuans.

«That’s where we’re going,» Caleb said, pointing. «The farthest peaks you can see.»

From where Willow was, the cluster of mountains looked rather like a low, spiky, purple crown set with fractured pearls. The country between her and the SanJuans was as wild as it was beautiful.

«How long will it take us to get there?» she asked, having learned that travel time rather than distance was the only measure that counted in the West.

«Two days if we could ride directly. As it is, we’ll be lucky to do it in four.»

«Why?»

«Indians,» Caleb said. «TheUtes are damn tired of tripping over white men every time they turn around. Then there’s always Slater and his bunch.»

«Don’t you think we lost them?»

«It’s hard to lose someone who knows where you’re going,» Caleb said sardonically.

«Won’t they give up after not finding any of our tracks for almost three weeks?»

«Would you give up?» he asked.

Willow looked away from the bleak clarity ofCalleb’s eyes. Although he hadn’t mentioned abandoning the hunt again, she knew he wanted to. Yet when she asked why, he changed the subject with an abruptness that stung.

«Jed Slater is riding a grudge,» Caleb said, looking away from Willow. «He’s the kind of man who will ride it until he dies or I do.»

«Is that why you don’t want to find Matt?» Willow asked, remembering the older Slater brother’s reputation as a gunman. «Because you know Slater will be looking for you in the same place?»

Caleb gave Willow a hooded glance. «Only a fool hunts trouble. Enough of it comes without looking for more.»

He kicked Deuce lightly, sending the horse trotting down into the long, winding park that eventually would descend to a grassy valley thousands of feet below their present elevation. Unhappily, Willow looked at Caleb’s broad back vanishing down the trail and wished she had phrased her question more tactfully. No man liked admitting that he was looking for ways to avoid a fight.

Frowning, Willow urged Ishmael forward, thinking about the man she loved rather than the route ahead. Caleb had been withdrawn since they had left the little valley yesterday. He had kept to a hard pace, his whole manner that of a man getting through a distasteful task as quickly as possible. And never once, either in the valley or after it, had he spoken of what would happen between the two of them after they found her brother. Never once had Caleb said that he loved her, that he wanted to marry her, that he even wanted to be with her after his promise to guide her to her brother had been kept.

Yet Willow had awakened this morning to find Caleb looking at her with a yearning that was so great it had made her heart turn over. Then he had gotten up without a word, leaving her with tears standing in her eyes and fear coiling coldly in her stomach.

The memory haunted Willow throughout the long day, prickling her skin like an icy rash, making the beauty of the land bittersweet.

The long descent from the high country ended as many others had, in a wide valley that wound between ranges of mountains. Their route took them along a river that was rarely more than a hundred feet across. The water was clear, clean, and swift. Aspen and a tree that looked like a poplar grew along the river’s edge, spreading masses of shiveringsilvergreen leaves across the sky. Flowers of every hue winked and flirted among the grasses, telling of a spring that was not yet spent.

As always, the sun was hot. Willow was wearing only Levis and the buckskin shirt with most of its laces undone. The flannel underwear that had felt so good in the higher country was now folded and rolled into a blanket behind her saddle, along with the heavy wool jacket. The silver murmuring of the river had become a siren song promising cool, pure water to ease her growing thirst.

Just when Willow was certain Caleb was going to go past supper without stopping, he reined in, dismounted, and walked back to her.

«We’ll rest here for a bit.»

Willow began to dismount, only to be plucked from Ishmael’s back. Caleb lowered her slowly to the ground, letting her slide down his front. The look in his eyes and the frank arousal of his body made her heartbeat double. The uneasiness that had haunted her all day was replaced by a giddy sense of relief and a glittering rush of anticipation. Heat rippled through her, transforming her. In the space of a few breaths her body changed, preparing itself for the joining to come.

«Rest?» Willow asked, smiling, wanting so much to take the darkness from Caleb’s eyes. One of her hands drifted down his body. «Are you sure that’s all you had in mind?»

His breath came in swiftly. «I thought I might catch some trout for supper.»

«You might,» she agreed. Her hand moved slowly, measuring and pleasuring him in the same motion, glorying in the answering blaze of his eyes, all darkness gone. «Depends on the bait. Or is it the pole?»

«You,» he said huskily, «are one sassy little trout.»

«But I rise to your bait every time.»

«No, honey. I rise to yours.»

Willow’s soft laugh was as sensual as the slow movement of her hand. «Shall we argue about it?»

His answering smile was lazy and hungry at the same time. «Yes, I think we shall.» Long fingers worked over the fastening of her Levis. «Two falls out of three?»

«You’re bigger than I am,» she pointed out.

«Harder, too.» Caleb’s hand slid between layers of cloth. «But it’s too late to get cold feet now.»

The only answer Willow could make was a throaty sound of pleasure as his long fingers touched her. He knelt quickly, stripping away her boots and Levis. He had no patience for his own clothes. He simply unfastened his pants and pulled her to the ground astride him, wild with a need he couldn’t control.

«God,» he groaned when he teased and tested her, «you’re softer every time. Hotter. Sweeter.»

Willow tried to answer, but the feel of Caleb thrusting deeply into her body took away her breath. The hunger in him was almost violent, as though he must have all of her, know all of her, touch all of her in some elemental way. The first shattering wave of pleasure hit her as soon as they were fully joined, but it was the desperate need in him that stripped away the world, leaving only Caleb and the ecstasy that destroyed and created her in the same endless instant. Small cries rippled from her as she surrendered body and soul to the man she loved.

The depth and quickness of Willow’s response was as exciting to Caleb as the heat of her body melting around him, telling him that she was his woman, only his. It was what he needed, what he had sought through the long hours in which he had circled and circled the dilemma of Reno Moran and found no solution, no reprieve except this, the joining that was unlike anything Caleb had ever known. The passion in Willow was as hot as the sun and as deep as time, an intensity of feeling that reached down into his soul.

And soon she would hate him with a passion as deep as her love.

Willow’s name came from Caleb’s lips as a broken cry, for the passion he had called from her had claimed him as well, giving him more completely to her with each raking pulse of ecstasy, an elemental surrender of self that was not unlike her own.

He held her, praying that Reno would never be found…and knowing he would.

«MORE tracks?» Willow asked.

Caleb nodded. He hadn’t shaved since they left the hidden valley, but even six days of beard stubble couldn’t hide his grim expression.