Tamsin tasted dirt and rolled, shielding her face with her arms. A rifle cracked, and a limb shattered over her head. She started to crawl away, then heard another horse bearing down on her.

"Tamsin!"

Ash's voice cut through her terror. She looked up to see him pounding across the clearing on Shiloh. Behind Ash, Buffalo Horn whooped a war cry and threw himself onto the nearest Indian pony.

One chance, she thought. I've got only one chance. She waited, frozen, as Ash galloped closer and closer.

Then he leaned from the saddle and snatched her up. His arm clamped around her as she shut her eyes and scrambled to find something solid to grab on to as they plunged into the trees.

Before she could get a grip on Ash or the saddle, Shiloh reared and skidded on the loose stones. Ash dropped her on her feet.

"Take cover!" he yelled.

"Don't leave me!"

He reined the gelding around and spurred back the way they came. Tamsin heard the crash of underbrush and saw Buffalo Horn galloping toward him.

Two rifles barked as one.

Ash stiffened and wheeled his horse in a tight circle. An Indian pony trotted past. Buffalo Horn clung to the animal's mane for a few yards, then fell forward to sprawl on the ground.

Tamsin started toward the riderless horse.

"No," Ash said. "Get up behind me." He offered her his hand again and kicked loose his stirrup. She thrust a foot into it and accepted his help to mount behind him.

Ash urged Shiloh on, pausing only to slap the barrel of his rifle against the Indian horse's rump. The animal squealed and charged off in another direction.

"What about the cougar?" Tamsin whispered as Ash slowed his gelding to traverse a steep stretch of gravel.

"Me," he replied. "I wanted to make them nervous."

"It worked."

A branch tangled in her hair and scraped her back. "What about my horses?"

"I cut them loose," he grated. "Right now, I'd like to worry about my scalp."

She could hear the Indians behind them, and the cry of anger when they discovered Buffalo Horn. She buried her face in the back of Ash's shirt and held on with all of her strength as they reached a break in the undergrowth and galloped pell-mell down the wooded incline.

All night they played cat and mouse, following rocky streambeds and rugged coulees. Often they heard shots, and once they dismounted so Ash could hold Shiloh's nose to keep him from whinnying as two Cheyenne rode by.

At dawn they discovered a small clearing with a mule and three horses grazing there. "Dancer! Fancy!" Tamsin cried hoarsely.

"Shhh, keep your voice down. Wait to-"

The stallion raised his head and nickered. Shiloh returned the greeting. Tamsin dismounted and found she was almost too stiff to walk.

"Fancy! Here, girl," she called softly.

The chestnut snorted and trotted over, followed by an Appaloosa mare. Murmuring endearments, Tamsin stroked Fancy's soft nose and neck.

"She's safe," she said to Ash. The Cheyenne hadn't even bothered to unsaddle her. Her bridle was missing one rein, but Ash used several pigging strings from his saddlebag to make up for it.

"Mount up," he said tersely when Tamsin had tied the rawhide together to make another rein. "We need to put distance between us and them."

Too weary to question his orders, she pulled herself up onto Fancy's back and fell in behind Shiloh. Dancer, the Appaloosa mare, and the mule followed. The mule had scratches along his sides and singed spots on his rump.

"Poor thing," Tamsin murmured. "What did you do to him?"

"Tied a Texas tornado to his tail. Lit brush and a few cartridge shells."

"That's cruel," she replied.

"I figured the rope would burn through before the fire got to the mule. It must have, because he looks a hell of a sight better than you do."

She nodded. She wanted to thank him for saving her life, but she knew if she said one word, she'd choke up and lose her nerve. She'd given Ash every reason to abandon her, but he hadn't. He'd risked his life for hers. He was still risking it.

"How long will they follow us?"

He shrugged. "I wounded one at the campfire and killed that brave that came after us. That's bound to make them mad."

"One Cheyenne went off into the woods, after the owl hooted, but before-"

"Where do you think I got the rifle?"

"You killed him?"

Ash didn't answer, and she felt foolish. Of course he'd killed him. Tears welled up in her eyes and wet her cheeks. She wiped them away, but more trickled down.

He glanced back at her. "Why are you crying now?"

"I don't want to die."

"Reckon them Cheyenne didn't either. It was just a game to them, until things went the wrong way."

"You shouldn't have come for me," she said, urging her mare up beside Ash's weary horse. "After what I did to you… Why did you-"

"Don't ask. You might not like the answer."

She bit her lower Up and tried to control her emotions. "Thank you," she whispered.

He didn't say anything for a long time, not until the sun was high overhead. Then he looked back at her, and she noticed how gray and gaunt his features looked.

"You know I can't let them capture you," Ash said.

She roused herself out of a stupor. "What?"

"I can't let the Cheyenne take you prisoner."

Her lips were cracked. Her mouth was almost too dry to speak. "What are you saying?"

"I'll keep you safe, Tamsin."

His words were meant to be comforting… but somehow, they only made her more afraid.

No longer making any effort to hide their tracks, Ash kept the pace at breakneck speed. They crossed rocky gullies, scrambled down bare slopes, and galloped across alpine meadows knee-deep in blue-green grass and wildflowers.

They raced down canyons and led the horses along goat paths too narrow to ride where the threat of rock slides made Tamsin breathless. And then when the boiling sun was directly overhead, they stopped on a high ridge to spell the horses. Ash shaded his eyes, looked back the way they had come, and swore softly.

"Look there." He pointed to a string of horsemen that spilled across an open hollow.

"Cheyenne?" Tamsin shivered despite the midday heat.

"Too far off to say for certain."

"It's them, isn't it?"

"Switch your saddle to the Appaloosa."

Tamsin shook her head. "I've never ridden her. I'd feel safer on Fancy."

"Save her for an open stretch. That's a Nez Perce pony. They don't breed tougher horseflesh anywhere. I don't know where Buffalo Horn's bunch got hold of her, but I'd trade both thoroughbreds for her any day. She's fast and surefooted, and she's got a heart as big as these mountains."

"Why don't you ride her? Your Shiloh's worn out."

"I'll ride the devil's whelp," he said.

"Dancer?" She was too exhausted to do more than shake her head. "You can't ride him. You're not used to an English saddle, and he's not trained to a western."

"You put a rope on him and tie him to a tree. I'll ride the bastard or know why."

"He'll kill you," she warned. "I can barely ride him."

"If I don't kill him first."

It took the best part of ten minutes for her to coax the stallion near enough to slip a bridle over his head and switch the supplies to Shiloh's back. Then she mounted the Indian horse. She didn't bother to put a lead line on Fancy. She'd follow, and if Shiloh didn't, having him on a rope would only endanger them all.

Ash took Dancer's reins in one hand and put his foot in the stirrup. The stallion squealed with fury and reared, nearly throwing them both off the edge of the mountain.

Tamsin stifled a scream as loose rock crumbled and Ash flung his weight forward and lashed the horse's rump with the ends of the leathers. Dancer's white-rimmed eyes rolled as he fought to regain his balance.