“Valdez?” Paco looked startled, a reaction swiftly hidden as he lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug. “He is a minor official, unimportant. And he no doubt would love to see you without your clothes, but if he comes again, I will be sure that you do not have to deal with him.”

“Yes, he waits in the lobby, and approaches me even when I am eating dinner. A rather forward man. He reminds me of…of someone very unpleasant.”

Devereaux sprang to mind, a man puffed up with a sense of his own importance, and far too eager to ingratiate himself with higher-ups in the command. The French colonel had lied to her, had tricked her into his bed to save Steve. But Steve had still been condemned, still whipped and sent to prison. She’d learned to recognize men like Devereaux, to see the motivation behind their smiling faces and too polite reassurances.

As the sun slowly sank behind the ragged horizon, light lingered in a reddish haze that made the stark hills glow. Ginny dressed for dinner in her yellow silk, coiled her hair atop her head and secured it with fine Spanish combs and pins. Paco had other plans, he’d said, and suggested she eat dinner in her room, but she didn’t feel like it. What did it matter if she was alone tonight? She certainly could take care of her own needs.

Dusk was balmy, the promise of winter’s chill a distant bite in the air. Above the folded creases of the Chinati Mountains, clouds hung low to cloak serrated peaks. It was the end of the rainy season in Chihuahua, when the desert received most of its rainfall. Flat-topped ridges and gap-toothed passes lined narrow, twisting trails westward; it would be the most difficult, dangerous part of their journey.

But tonight, Ginny thought restlessly, I am not going to think of that, or of anything but what I want to do!

She paused in the arched doorway of the cantina, absorbing the loud, gay music of Mexico that drifted in from the patio. Cottonwood vigas and rajas formed the framework of the cantina, sheathed with creamy adobe. Torches shed cheerful orange light on walls, chasing away shadows and chill as effectively as did the bottles of tequila and wine upon scattered tables. It was a fiesta night, and laughter and noise filled the air. With Presidio just across the border, Tejanos mixed among the Mexicans, dancing with pretty señoritas garbed in bright skirts and blouses, watched over by indulgent parents or sharp-eyed dueñ as.