“Butch Casey,” he said with a shrug that conveyed his indifference to her anger and her questions. “My job is to get your baggage to Mexico in one piece, ma’am.” The glance from his cold blue eyes was neither hostile nor cordial, but strangely wary.

“Just what else are you supposed to get to Mexico in one piece, Mr. Casey? Do you think I’m blind or deaf? I know how many trunks I have and how many wagons it takes to carry them. I may allow my husband to think I haven’t noticed there are a lot more crates than necessary, but I have.”

Casey’s attention was riveted on her; his head jerked in a nod. “That’s between you and Mr. Morgan, ma’am. Good day.”

Their brief confrontation only served to strengthen her convictions that there was much more going on than Steve would admit, but she did not ask him about it again. Recent experience proved he would only avoid answering.

She should be used to it by now, the mysterious events and secrecy. But why did Steve still feel he must be so…so furtive!

Ginny barely had time to catch her breath before they were on a steamboat up the Rio Grande to Roma, a town clustered on steep sandstone cliffs above the river. They disembarked, then continued by horseback up the rutted road that ran parallel to the Rio Grande; the twisting river formed the border between Mexico and Texas, shallow enough to walk across in places.

Though the journey was calm and uneventful, there was an element of tension behind Steve’s easy, casual manner that made her wonder why he and Paco had been in such a hurry to disappear once they reached Nuevo Laredo, leaving her alone with no explanation.

I suppose I should be glad that I’m staying in a nice hotel instead of someplace like—like Lilas’s again, she thought with a trace of irritation. Steve seemed to have a penchant for choosing houses of ill repute—where he was far too well-known for her preferences.

The American town of Laredo was just across the thin, sluggish red ribbon of the Rio Grande. Fort McIntosh faced Mexico, perched on the high bluff overlooking the river, a warning and reminder of former conflicts and the current friction. It seemed quiet, with no sign of civil unrest along the border despite the rumors.

Yet uncertainty dogged Ginny as she tried to rouse from the torpor brought on by the lull in their tiring journey. With some of the journey made by boat, it was not as arduous a trek as it once was, but it was still exhausting.