He tied his gelding to a tree and proceeded to unsaddle the animal and drop a bedroll on the ground. "As I said, you're safe enough from me, so long as you don't try anything. You'd best curl up beside me here by the fire."

"I'd sooner sleep in a snake den," she answered fervently. "What kind of a fool do you take me for?"

"Suit yourself, but don't be surprised if a diamondback crawls into the blankets with you." He slid a.44-caliber Winchester rifle out of a saddle holster and stood it against a pine tree. "They slither out of the rocks this time of year, and they favor a warm place to sleep, the same as you."

"I'll take my chances." She sucked in a deep breath. "How do you expect me to sleep with my wrists shackled?"

He tilted the brim of his hat and gazed at her across the fire. "On your stomach?"

"I think not."

He studied her for a long minute; then the hint of a smile played over his thin lips. "All right." He unlocked one cuff and snapped it around the loop of his lariat. "About six feet of rope should do you," he said as he tied the other end to his forearm. "I warn you. Move sudden in the night, and I might take you for another puma and shoot you."

Tamsin clenched her teeth to keep from saying the same thing to him. She curled up in her own blanket facing him.

A deep cough sounded from the woods higher up the ridge. Morgan reached for his rifle as brush crackled below them.

Tamsin rose on her knees and looked around anxiously. "What is it? What's that-"

"Hush!" The bounty hunter was on his feet, rifle in hand, muscles tensed.

A branch snapped and a steel-shod hoof struck rock. Morgan's roan raised his head and nickered. Morgan raised his rifle.

"Don't shoot!" Tamsin struggled up and circled the fire until she stood beside him. "It's my horses."

An answering snort came from the forest, and two dark shapes loomed out of the night. Tamsin ran toward the mare and was brought up sharply when she reached the end of the rope.

"I told you. I said they'd come back. Good Fancy, good girl!" Her mane and tail were tangled and pine needles clung to her side, but she seemed sound.

Tamsin glanced back at Morgan. "You can put your rifle down. You're hardly in any danger from these two." Fancy stepped daintily forward until she was close enough for Tamsin to rub the horse's velvet nose.

Dancer squealed and tossed his head.

"Yes, I see you back there," Tamsin said. The stallion pawed the loose stones and grumbled in short, deep huffs.

Suddenly, the lariat binding Tamsin to the bounty hunter went slack. She turned to see him staring uphill, away from her and her horses. "Now what-" she began, but her question was cut short by a bloodcurdling scream.

The eerie howl echoed down the ravine and sent the three horses into a plunging, snorting frenzy. Gooseflesh rose on Tamsin's arms.

"What is it?" she whispered.

Morgan's terse reply made her knees go weak. "Another cougar."

Sweat trickled down her spine. "But you told me they only travel alone. You said-"

He shook his head and peered into the trees. "Hell with what I said. There's another cat out there, and unless I miss my guess, he's stalking us."

"Can't we saddle the horses and ride out of here?" Tamsin asked breathlessly. She'd managed to get the rope around Fancy's neck and tie her to a tree beside the fire. Morgan's roan gelding stood trembling, legs spread, eyes rolled back in his head. Dancer had torn away into the darkness. She could hear him crashing through the undergrowth, but she didn't know if he was trying to escape the mountain lion or attack it.

Tamsin was acutely aware of the scent of the frightened horses and the pungent smell of crushed spruce boughs under their hooves. She could hear Morgan's breathing and the metallic click of his revolver as he spun the cylinder. If he was afraid, she could see no sign of it by his relaxed, precise movements.

Tamsin had known only three men well in her life. One was her grandfather, and the second a former slave and expert horseman. The third was the sorry excuse for a man she'd married. This Ash Morgan was unlike any of them and he puzzled her. Truth be told, he frightened her as much as the cougar circling their camp.

A sharp crack tore her from her reverie.

Morgan snapped a branch with his boot heel and tossed it on the blazing fire. "No, we can't leave camp."

"What?"

"You asked me if we could outrun the cat," he said gruffly. "It would be suicide to try. None of us can see in the dark like that puma can, and the horses could break a leg if we tried to move fast. We wouldn't get a hundred yards. He'd leap out of a tree and-"

"I understand." She didn't care to hear more. Images of the dead puma's ivory fangs were all too clear in her memory. She could imagine the ferocious roar, the screams of the horses, and the feel of the slashing claws tearing her apart.

Morgan nodded. "I saw what was left of a man killed by a big cat once…" She shuddered.

"I should build a second fire, but there's not enough dry wood nearby." He dug extra rifle bullets out of his saddlebag and dropped them into his shirt pocket. "And it would take a bolder man than me to go out there"- he motioned to the circle of darkness around them- "hunting for more."

"Not bolder," she replied. "Stupid." She leaned against the mare and whispered soothing endearments as she ran her hands over the silken hide. Each time the cougar snarled, Fancy shuddered and tried to rear. The rope stretched taut, cutting cruelly into her neck. Tamsin wanted to ease the knot, but she was afraid that Fancy would slip out if the tie was looser.

"You said there couldn't be two mountain lions." Tamsin shivered despite the crackling fire.

Suddenly, Morgan raised his rifle and fired. Tamsin's ears rang from the explosion, but she caught a brief glimpse of two green-glowing coals high up in a tree. Then she saw only blackness. "Did you hit it?"

"Shhh!" he ordered. "Listen." He placed a big hand on her arm, and she jerked back from him as if she'd been burned.

"Quiet." His deep voice was whisper soft, but his tone brooked no argument.

Her breath caught in her throat.

A dry cough sounded to their left, near the place where he had abandoned the carcass of the first puma. Heart pounding, Tamsin moved closer to Morgan and slipped her hand inside the slit in her skirt to grip her pistol.

Minutes dragged by. The horses pawed restlessly and sniffed the air. Then the quiet was broken by a long, drawn-out scream from the gully below.

Hair rose on the back of Tamsin's neck. Her mouth felt dust dry, and her feet seemed rooted to the ground.

Morgan lowered his weapon and swore softly under his breath. "Missed it."

"Maybe you wounded it." Her voice echoed oddly in her head.

"No such luck." He kicked a rock into the fire. "This is all wrong. I've never seen a cougar act this way." He glanced at her. "You might as well get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

Tamsin shrugged. The way her heart was racing, she'd have as much chance of sprouting wings and flying. "Do you think my stallion Dancer… Do you think he's in danger?"

"Sure. Who the hell knows? By rights, that cat should have been after him, not us. Humans stink to high heavens. Lions are afraid of them, but horseflesh is fair game."

"But it didn't go after Dancer."

"Nope." He uttered a sound of derision. "The Shoshone say these mountains are haunted. They'd tell you that wasn't a live puma at all. They claim a spirit cat hunts red men and white alike." Morgan looked at her with fierce eyes. "You believe in ghosts, lady?"

She swallowed, trying to ease the constriction in her throat. "I have a name. It's Tamsin."