"Maybe I should let Wrestler have you," he grumbled. "Those are some nice-looking ponies he's got."

"You can't frighten me," she lied. "You're a bounty hunter. Your duty is to arrest me. You said that yourself. You won't let him have me, not even at the cost of your own life."

"I didn't say that."

"I'm a good judge of horses and men," she said. "I know you wouldn't turn me over to the Indians. You couldn't sleep nights if you did."

"Damn if I'm getting much sleep tonight."

"Or anything else."

He grunted and settled down alongside of her, molding his body to hers.

"Please," she murmured. "Sleep somewhere else. I won't go anywhere. I promise."

"The trouble with you, MacGreggor, is that you don't have sense enough to know when you're ahead. Now, shut up and go to sleep, before I forget I'm not a snake like Cannon."

She bit back an oath.

"That's better," he said sleepily. "You're softer than the rock under my spine." He dropped his arm around her waist. "But I warn you, trying to get away could get you killed. I come up out of a sound sleep shootin'."

Sometime before dawn, the dog began to bark frantically. Ash leaped up and reached for his rifle. The horses, banded together in a small roped-in pen, snorted and whinnied, stamping restlessly.

Tamsin stirred.

"Stay where you are until I find out what's wrong," he ordered. See if Jack Cannon and his boys are payin' us a visit, he thought.

Damn if his head didn't feel like he'd been caught in a prairie twister. His mouth was as dry as gunpowder, and his gut was none too steady as he yanked on his clothes and boots.

He wondered if he was coming down with fever until he remembered the firewater Wrestler and Mountain Calf had shared with him around the campfire. "Nothing like bad whiskey to make a man a fool," he muttered under his breath.

The Utes were all on their feet. Shadow was throwing more wood on the fire. Wrestler held the yapping dog by the scruff of his neck. War-et's hair was roached up and his teeth were bared.

"What is it?" Ash called to the Indians.

Mountain Calf gestured toward the far side of the stream. "Gato!"

It was the cougar out there, not Cannon. Ash glanced back at Tamsin, wondering if she'd be disappointed. She'd denied a relationship with the outlaw, but that was to be expected. If the liquor hadn't been talking, he'd never have mentioned Jack to her.

As he watched, Tamsin snatched up the blankets and her boots and hurried over to join Shadow.

Wrestler's inscrutable bronze face glowed in the firelight. The Ute was on his knees, holding the struggling dog with both arms. "War-et is brave, is he not?" Wrestler asked. "Alone, this dog would throw himself into the teeth of the puma."

"I saw the cat," Shadow said in her own language. "He came out of the night without fear of the fire." She handed her sleeping baby to Tamsin and continued adding fuel to the flames.

Her husband nodded. "This man, too, saw the mountain lion. When War-et began to bark, I thought it might be a raiding party."

"There are hostiles in the area?" Ash asked. "What tribe?"

Wrestler shrugged. "Arapaho and Cheyenne. Together. Angry young men, a few women, mostly warriors. Dog soldiers among them. Those fierce ones who hate the white men for the killings at the place you call Sand Creek. They will not lay down their arms and go to Indian Territory as the white president says."

Ash frowned. He knew there were scattered bands hiding in the mountains, but he'd not heard of any fighting men in numbers. "How many?"

"Thirty, maybe more. Some men could have been hunting when we saw them pass."

"We hid," Shadow said. "The Arapaho and the Cheyenne are not always friends of the Ute."

"These are not friends to any man," Mountain Calf pronounced. "Many scalps hang from their lodge poles. All are not white scalps."

"What is this Sand Creek?" Tamsin asked.

"A disgrace," Ash said, as he scanned the trees for movement. "In early winter of '64, John Chivington led an attack on a peaceful camp of Southern Cheyenne and Arapaho and massacred men, women, and children. No one knows exactly how many were murdered, maybe hundreds. But it was pure butchery. I've fought Indians when I had to, but it sickened me when I heard of the brutality and senseless killing."

"You would do well to walk wide of those my nephew speaks of," Mountain Calf said. "Men who have lost everything have nothing to lose. They would shoot you down like a rabid wolf."

Ash nodded. "I value my scalp as much as you do, my friend."

They stood watch until morning light turned the forest from black to a shimmering gray-green. Once they heard the puma cough, but it came no closer to the camp.

Later, he and Wrestler searched the far side of the stream. They found cat tracks, larger than Ash had ever seen, and they located a tree with shredded bark.

"The cougar wait there," Wrestler said, pointing to a limb about ten feet from the ground. "She watched us."

"She?" Ash questioned.

The Ute nodded. Crouching a few feet from the tree, he brushed aside the bushes to reveal fresh scat and stains of urine. "A female. In her prime. This man believes she craves the taste of horseflesh."

Ash wondered. The puma had stalked Tamsin's fire on the far side of the mountain, as it had here. It was unnatural behavior for a mountain lion and growing stranger all the time.

"Mountain Calf does not like this place," Wrestler confided. "We had planned to go on north to trade with others of our own kind, but now…" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Now I think we will take our trade goods and return to our village."

Ash waited, certain that the Ute brave meant to say more.

"I think I am fortunate that you did not accept my offer for the woman."

"My wife, you mean?"

Wrestler smiled with his mouth, but his hooded eyes remained cool. "The red-haired woman. I think she brings danger with her. You must not trust her too much, whoever she is. She has power, this female who talks to horses. And this man, for one, would not sleep easy with her at his side."

"I slept easy enough last night. What did you put in that whiskey?"

A smile spread over Wrestler's face. "Trouble is, white man, you no can hold liquor."

Tamsin accused him of the same vice once the three Utes rode off through the trees. "We've venison and some sort of roots for breakfast, if you're not too hungover to eat. I traded Shadow a pack of sewing needles for enough food to last us through the day."

Ash rubbed his forehead. "I'll admit I had more spirits than I should have. I apologize for offending you last night."

"In more ways than one."

"I said I was sorry."

"But you don't believe I'm innocent. And now you're accusing me of having an immoral attachment with someone that you say is an outlaw."

He pulled his hat low on his brow. "Don't talk to me about Cannon unless you can tell the truth. And hear it."

"I didn't know him that well. He came into the store where I worked and seemed pleasant. Mr. Cannon escorted me to a church social and to eat in a public hotel. I've nothing to be ashamed of."

"You've got my sympathy, lady. People keep makin' up lies about you."

"I've heard what kind of women you're accustomed to associating with. Doubtless you're used to their fabrications, but I can assure you that I'm not-"

"Peace, MacGreggor. Your yammering is hard on my aching head. We'd best talk about something else, if you insist on talkin'."

"How can I convince you-"

"I'll put the coffee on if you'll tend to the cooking," he said, ignoring her argument. "But stay close to the fire. That cat's probably a long way from here this morning, but we can't be certain."