“Guess I’ll be heading off in another direction now. I have a compadre who lives on the Conchos River a bit north of here.”

“Why is it that I’ve been expecting this?” The air stirred by her hat was only slightly less hot. She stared up at Paco, who had the grace to look sheepish.

“If I do not join you before, I will meet you at Don Francisco’s hacienda,” he said, but his furtive glance in Steve’s direction convinced Ginny he had other reasons for splitting up.

She shrugged, her only comment the customary, “Vaya con Dios.”

With Paco gone, Steve kept to the more traveled trail, riding at a swifter pace than they had before. They stopped in the occasional village, sleeping in missions when there was no cantina or inn available, sometimes sleeping out under the stars.

“Ever think about the first time you rode in these mountains with me, chica?” he asked her once, when they were bedded down in a copse of gnarled trees twisted into shapes resembling grotesque animals.

“Yes, but usually only in nightmares.” She watched his face in the erratic glow of the small fire between them, saw him smile.

“You were the meanest little hellcat I’d ever tangled with until then.”

“You weren’t exactly charming yourself. If I recall, you had a nasty habit of dragging me everywhere, like some primitive beast with a trophy.”

“Yeah, you kinda grew on me after a while. I got used to you.”

“Is that why you refused to free me?”

Firelight made his eyes gleam like hard jewels. “No. If I’d let you go, there would have been no reason for your father to bargain with me. As it was, he was out for my hide anyway.”

“I don’t think he’s ever forgiven you for besting him. He’s used to winning.”

“Yeah, sometimes losing can build a man’s character. Or so I’m told.”

She stared at him curiously, suddenly grateful for more time alone with him, the opportunity to understand him as a man provided at last. With nothing to distract them, it was the perfect time. But what could she say that wouldn’t seem like prying, or an attempt to ferret out more information?

Silence fell, comfortable, filled with night sounds—a shivering wail of a coyote, plaintive and lost against the vast sky; small scuttling sounds of nocturnal creatures that came out after the heat of the day melded into cooler gloom. The moon was higher now, and nearly full, a silver disc that spread ethereal light over the mountain ridges but left deep purple-black shadows in the crevices.

On nights like these, the Comanche were said to take advantage of the light for their raids. She held her hands out to the warmth of the fire, shivering at the thought.