Wolfe shook his head, but it was in admiration rather than disagreement. «And here I thought that Cheyenne women were tough. Caleb must have been standing under a whole sky full of lucky stars the day he found you.»

Jessica bent over the pan of cornbread, rearranging the clean cotton towel so that no warmth could escape. The fussing wasn’t necessary, but it gave her an excuse to hide her face until she was certain that none of the hurt she felt at Wolfe’s comments would show in her expression. Even knowing that he hadn’t meant his words as a backhanded slap didn’t remove the sting of them.

She had begun to hope that he was accepting their marriage. Since the night when Wolfe had discovered the source of her fear of men, marriage, and childbirth, he had been the affectionate companion of old. He had also been a restrained, generous teacher of the ancient arts of sensuality.

But now Jessica realized Wolfe hadn’t accepted her as his wife. Nor was he likely to do so. His contempt for the aristocracy was as deep in him as his blood.

Jessica had been born into that aristocracy. Wolfe never forgot that, not even when in the grip of a passion for her that made him shake. It was why, after three nights of the most intense sensual explorations, Jessica was still a virgin. She was born of the aristocracy, which made her the kind of woman with whom Wolfe might play sensuous games, but not the kind of woman he thought was fit to be his true mate.

The wind flexed against the house, testing its strength and reminding the men inside of what awaited them after they had eaten. A faint scratching sound came from the windows, particles of ice or grit flung against the glass by the strengthening wind. As one, the men stopped eating and exchanged wary looks.

Without a word, Wolfe stood and went to the back door. Ignoring the ice-tipped wind, he walked away from the house until he had a clear view of the sky around the mountain peaks. The air had an odd sheen to it. The wind was alive, potent, and smelled of winter.

Although it was barely noon, the elemental harmonies of wolf packs on the prowl shivered through the forest.

Motionless, silent, Wolfe stood and absorbed all the subtle messages of sky and earth, wind, and wildlife. When he turned and came back inside, his face was impassive and his eyes were bleak.

Caleb watched Wolfe sit down. «Well?» he asked softly.

Wolfe hesitated, then shrugged. The truth would come on the wind no matter what was said or not said now.

«It’s making up to snow.»

Caleb muttered something Jessica chose not to overhear. Quietly she set down another pan of warm cornbread and a bowl of chili.

«How hard?» Caleb asked.

«It’s going to be a real Hell-bringer.» Wolfe’s voice was very soft, but very certain.

«Then nobody rides but me. It’s too easy to get lost in a blizzard.»

«I’ll start bringing in the cows and calves,» Rafe said, ingoring Caleb. «My bullwhip makes the horses too skittish, but it works like a charm on those cattle.»

«I’ll ride shotgun for you,» Reno said. «Thank God not too many calves have been born yet. They’ll be a lot safer in their mother’s bellies. Have the mares started foaling yet?»

«No,» Wolfe said. «Mysteeldust will probably be the first. Once she foals, the rest won’t be far behind. When they start dropping their foals in a blizzard…»

Caleb narrowed his eyes but said nothing. There was nothing he could say that would turn back the cold northern wind.

«Once we get a rope on my mustang,» Wolfe continued, «Ishmael will make sure the rest of the herd follows.»

«Hell,» Caleb said in disgust. «The last time I tried roping thatsteeldust of yours, she ran rings around me.»

«Quick little thing, isn’t she? Smart, too.» Wolfe’s smile faded. «If I can’t talk to her —»

«Talk?» interrupted Jessica.

Caleb smiled oddly. «In Cheyenne. It’s the damnedest thing I ever saw. Wolfe can go up to a mustang and ‘talk’ to it and half the time it will follow him like a big dog.»

«That’s what the Cheyenne call them, Big Dogs,» Wolfe said dryly. His voice changed. «If thesteeldust won’t listen to reason, and we can’t get close enough to rope her, I’ll have to try creasing her with a bullet.»

Jessica looked unhappily at Wolfe. She knew thesteeldust was the core of the horse herd he hoped to build.

«I’ll do what I have to,» Wolfe said.

BY thethe third day of the blizzard, the men were exhausted from lack of sleep and long hours spent riding under the most miserable conditions imaginable. Jessica made gallons of stew, rafts of cornbread, and lakes of coffee. She kept all of it hot in the kitchen no matter what the hour, for she never knew when one of the men would walk in the back door shivering with cold and hungry as a spring bear.

«Go back to bed,» Jessica said to Willow.

«You’ve been up cooking since dawn. It’s late afternoon now. You must be exhausted.»

«I’m fine. I’m stronger than I look. I always have been.»

Willow looked at Jessica’s drawn face and understood what was bothering her.

«The men will be all right, Jessi. They’re used to riding wild country.»

A tight nod was Jessica’s only answer. She didn’t know how much Caleb had told his wife about the problems they were having with so many wolves prowling in the storm, with the contrary cattle, and with cows calving at the worst possible time. Not to mention the wind itself, edged with thousands of icy teeth that ripped into flesh and stole the very warmth of life from livestock and man alike.

But Jessica knew all of those problems, for Wolfe had told her more than he knew with his terse answers and eloquent silences.

«If only the bloody wind would stop,» Jessica said suddenly.

«Yes. If only. At least it’s not snowing any more,» Willow said, walking to the window. She picked up the spyglass she had put there. In the magnified circle of its view, she looked across the pasture, counting horses under her breath. It was impossible to be certain through thewaisthigh curtains of snow, but she thought the count came up short.

«What is it?» Jessica asked, coming to stand by Willow.

«At least four of the mares are missing.»

«Ishmael will bring them back.»

«Not if they’re foaling,» Willow whispered. «No stallion will disturb a mare when she quits the herd to give birth.» There was a tense silence before Willow added, «I saw at least one wolf. The packs are moving again.»

For an instant, Jessica closed her eyes. She had seen Willow’s Arabians when they were brought to the home pasture. Even heavy with their unborn foals and thick with winter coats, the mares had an elegance of form and movement that enchanted Jessica. The thought of those mares lying down in the cruel wind to give birth while wolves circled hungrily around made her feel ill. The mares would be all but helpless, captive of the need to give birth. For a time, they would be almost as vulnerable as the foals being pushed from warm wombs onto frozen ground.

«The foals…» Jessica whispered.

Willow looked through the spyglass, saying nothing.

«Can you see any of the men?» Jessica asked.

«No. They’re probably combing the forest for cows. When the wind started coming from the northeast before dawn, the herd drifted out of Eagle Creek Basin.»

With growing tension Jessica waited while Willow searched as much as she could see of the pasture through the swirling snow. When she collapsed the spyglass with barely restrained violence, Jessica knew that the mares were still missing.

«I don’t see thesteeldust anywhere,» Willow said finally. «I think the foaling has begun.»

«Dear God, no,» Jessica whispered. «We can’t lose thesteeldust now. Wolfe was so relieved when she came to him as though she understood he would keep her safe.»

Willow set aside the spyglass. «I nursed Ethan a few minutes ago. If he cries before I come back, just —»