Laura gaped. Never had she seen men so grimy or so wicked-looking. They stared back at her with shifty, bloodshot eyes. All three wore garments of Spanish accent, their fringed leather vests and pants bradded with tarnished conchae. She saw that they had removed their spurs, probably to sneak up on her. Their horses were ground-tied at the opening of the draw, a goodly distance away.

At a loss for words and wanting to kick herself for ignoring Chief's warnings, she inched toward the dog, which was still snarling and crouched to leap. She noted that one of the Mexicans held his right hand near his gun and that he watched the canine warily. Praying she wouldn't be bitten herself, Laura rested a trembling hand atop the animal's massive head. Chief would be shot before he ever had a chance to move; of that, she had no doubt. She didn't want Deke Sheridan to come back and find his pet dead; she owed him that much, at least.

"Easy, Chief," Laura said thinly.

"He is not a very friendly dog," the man to her right said softly. "Please keep him under control, senora. It would be a shame if we had to shoot him. Would it not?"

Laura threw a glance in the direction Deke had gone.

"Yeah, a real shame," a dangerously low voice said from somewhere behind her.

She turned to see her tracker step out from a stand of brush. He moved forward with a deceptive laziness belied only by the quick shift of his eyes from one stranger to another. In his left arm, he cradled his Henry rifle, his hand curled loosely over the butt. His right arm hung relaxed at his side, his fingers slightly curled. Clearly he was ready to go for his Colt. Laura thanked God she had moved next to Chief, safely out of the line of fire.

"If you was to shoot my dog, I reckon I'd have to shoot you," he informed the Mexican softly. "I've learned over the years that bein' too quick at pullin' the trigger puts me to a lot of extra work. Grave-diggin', you know. I'd be right obliged if you'd save me the trouble."

The man who had threatened the dog drew his hand away from his gun and flashed a smile that made Laura's skin go cold. "We seek no trouble, senor. Not if we can steer clear of it."

Deke came to a stop abreast of Laura. Silence settled, the only sounds those of the small fire, the sizzling bacon, and the can of boiling coffee. Never glancing her way, he said, "Laura, honey, take Chief and go for a little walk." He hesitated a moment, then called to the dog, "Okema! Ni-ne-e-meh' equiwa!"

Chief ceased his snarling and moved closer to Laura. She curled her fingers in the dog's loose ruff and tugged him along behind her, surprised that he abandoned his deer leg and followed her without a fuss. At the edge of the clearing, she glanced back at Deke, loath to leave him. For one, she felt bad about deserting him to face such unfair odds alone, and secondly, she couldn't help but wonder what might happen to her if something happened to him. Not very noble of her, she knew, but there it was.

As though Deke sensed her hesitation, he said softly, "Go, Boston. Chief'll find the way back for you."

Laura ducked into the brush, shielding her face with one arm, holding the dog with her other hand. Her first instinct was to run as far as her legs would carry her. If the eager way Chief lunged against her grasp was any indication, he seconded that motion. However, as the sound of the men's voices faded, Laura's suspicious nature dragged her footsteps to a halt. She would be a fool to trust Deke Sheridan too far, and thanks to Tristan's many betrayals, she was certainly no fool.

Ignoring Chief's whines of protest, she retraced her steps to find a hiding place, dropped to her knees, and parted the brush to peer toward camp. Chief promptly clamped his jaws over her arm and tugged her off balance.

"Stop it!" Laura cried softly, and batted at his massive head. He ignored her and continued to pull, not sinking in his teeth enough to hurt, but letting her know he meant business. Laura tried to free her arm. "Shoo! Bad dog! Go away! Shoo!"

Chief clearly didn't respond to commands given in English. He was going to rip her jacket if he didn't stop. Laura pried at his teeth.

"Okema! No!"

Laura wasn't certain what Okema meant, but she had heard Deke say it, and it got the dog's attention. With a low whine, he released her arm. Laura was so surprised, it took her a moment to recover her composure. Then she gave the animal a light pat on the head.

"Yes, well ... Okema. Good dog," she whispered.

That problem settled, she parted the brush to peer toward camp. With a disgusted-sounding grunt, Chief dropped to his haunches beside her. At this distance, the men's voices barely reached her, but she could still make out most of what they said. She wondered how much of their conversation she had missed.

Right now, the Mexicans were asking Deke what he was doing up here with such a pretty riding companion. Didn't he know that was inviting trouble? Deke replied that trouble kept him shooting sharp.

At least he wasn't backing down, which had been Laura's greatest fear. She had no idea what she would do if he rode out and left her at the mercy of those three, which certainly wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. She was nothing to him, and up against three gunmen, who would blame him for cutting out? For far less reason, Tristan had left her to fend for herself more than once.

One of the Mexicans said, "Some men would pay a dear price for a womanlike that."

As if that came as a novel thought, Deke assumed a ponderous expression and nudged a smoldering piece of firewood with his toe. "You think so? How dear a price?"

"Perhaps as much as a hundred."

Deke chuckled and shook his head. "She'd bring a thousand across the border, first crack. I could get two if I bided my time. To save myself havin' to make the trip, I might part with her for five hundred, but not a penny less."

Another of the Mexicans hooted with laughter. "Surely you are not serious, senor."

Deke shifted his hold slightly on his Henry. "Dead serious."

The pulse-pounding wave of anger that crashed over Laura made her miss what the strangers said next.

Deke replied, "Well, then, my friends, I reckon you'd best talk to your boss. Five hundred, no less, or I don't deal. You go tell him that."

"It is a very long ride to reach him," the Mexican to the right of the fire protested.

"We ain't travelin' none too fast," her tracker countered. "If you're that interested in the woman, you can catch back up with us."

The man standing in the middle removed his hat to run grimy fingers through his hair. After putting the hat back on, he said, "Senor, be reasonable, yes? Our leader wants the woman very badly. We have approached you with a very fine offer when we might have been less polite. Perhaps you should take your hundred dollars and count yourself lucky."

Deke braced his gun hand on his hip and met the man's gaze across the fire. "My bacon's burnin', and my coffee's boilin' dry. If you wanna swap lead, you greasy son of a bitch, then hop to it. Otherwise, go back to your leader, tell him what I said, and don't let me see your face again till he's ready to pay the money I want."

The lethal tone of Deke's voice chilled Laura. She could see that it had no less of an effect on the three Mexicans.

"You are loco, senor," the tallest stranger commented dryly. "Three guns against one? You'd be a dead man before you cleared leather, eh?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I reckon I can take two of you. I just ain't decided which two. You wanna be first?"

"Are you truly so sure of yourself?"

"I am. And if you knew my reputation, you wouldn't be standin' there flexin' them fingers of yours near that gun. I've killed men for less. Makes me real nervous."

The middle man nodded. "Ah, yes. It comes to me now, senor. I thought I knew your face. Deke Sheridan, are you not?"

"It ain't a face most folks forget."

The Mexicans all stiffened at this affirmation of Deke's identity. They seemed none too anxious now to draw on him.

"We will speak to our leader," the man in the middle said. "Perhaps he will agree to a leetle bit more money."

Deke said nothing as the three turned and walked back toward their horses.

"You miserable, slimy, double-dealing, worthless..." Laura staggered to a stop near the fire, so angry, she ran out of adjectives. Chief flopped down on the dirt near her feet and let loose with a mournful whine. Laura cast him a derisive glance and cried, "Oh, do shut up, you bothersome beast!" Then redirecting her gaze at Deke, she fairly screeched, "How could you? And to think I was actually starting to like you!"

"Really?" Deke's eyes, twinkling with mischief, trailed with insolent slowness over her face. "That sounds promisin', Boston. How much were you startin' to like me?"

"A negligible amount, but anything would be an improvement on my first impression of you, which you've just reaffirmed." She pointed a finger in the direction the Mexicans had disappeared. "How could you offer to sell me to those horrible men, and for a measly five hundred dollars?"

His mouth quirked at the corners. "Worked, didn't it? They left."

"And what if they had agreed?"

"I reckon I would've had to shoot the bastards. The thing is, they didn't. Five hundred's a steep price for a little bitty gal like you." He gave her a speculative once-over. "Not that I'm findin' fault."

Laura's mouth dropped open. The hint of a grin she had detected on his lips a moment ago slowly broadened into a smile that she yearned to scrub from his face.

"I've always maintained anything more'n a handful is a damned waste, anyhow. You're just right to my way of thinkin'."

Laura resisted the urge to hug her chest, and she absolutely refused to blush. "They might have taken you up on it! Even now, how can you know they won't return with the money?"

His gaze swept away from her and settled at the mouth of the draw. Pursing his lips, he seemed to consider that possibility. "Oh, they'll come back. No question of that. But not with no money."

The hair on Laura's nape prickled. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. They'll be back." A muscle twitched along his jaw. "They'll just hold off till their odds is a little better, that's all. No point in riskin' a bullet in their hides if they can take me later when I ain't expectin' it."

Her anger fled. "Then you had no intention of striking a bargain?"

He narrowed an eye at her. "If I meant to sell you, I'd take the hundred and be glad they offered that much. A hundred dollars is a fine price for an armload of trouble." His expression turned thoughtful. "The way I see it, I got one choice, and that's to pound leather and lose the bastards."

"Lose them?"

"There ain't no way I can take all three of 'em. Not face-to-face and swappin' lead. And now, sure as hell, they'll wait for dark and creep up on us." He shrugged as if that said it all. "I gotta get shut of the sons of bitches."

Laura moved to take the charred bacon off the flames. "I'm ready to ride."

He grasped her wrist before she could touch the skillet handle. "You'll burn yourself." He proceeded to move the hot pan with his bare hand. "As for you bein' ready, honey, you ain't goin'."

Laura froze in a half crouch, her arm still extended toward the fire. Panic flared within her. "What do you mean, I'm not going?"

He straightened and nudged the coffee can off the coals with the toe of his moccasin. Then he began kicking dirt to extinguish the flames. "Just what I said. I can't make good time if I take you along." His silvery eyes took on a glint. "You're flowin' like a storm-swole crick. A ride like I'm gonna have to make would kill you."

Laura felt heat rising up her neck. How could he possibly know...? She tugged on the tails of her jacket. "I beg your pardon, sirrah?"

"You heard me right." His gaze gave her no quarter. "How come you didn't tell me you was bleedin' so heavy?"

Laura longed to break eye contact but couldn't. "Mr. Sheridan!" she said in her most indignant tone.

"Don't get your back up with me. Not about this," he retorted evenly. "There's some things that need sayin'. You ain't in no condition to ride, never even should've climbed on a goddamned horse, and I'm mad as hell you lied to me about it."

"I didn't!"

"You sure as shit did. I asked if you was feelin' poorly, and you said you was fine. That's lyin' in my books."

"And what of my books? There are some things a lady does not, under any circumstances, discuss with a gentleman."

"You ain't got a book, not on this trip, and I ain't no gentleman."

Laura lifted her chin and glared at him. "I can keep up."

"You can't take the pace, and you know it."

"At least give me a chance!"

"Nope."

She knotted her hands. "I hate it when you say that word. 'Nope'! Just who do you think you are? God Almighty?"

His eyes searched hers. "We'll find your baby, or we won't. That's up to whatever God it is you pray to. But I ain't lettin' you push yourself till you do yourself serious hurt."

"So you're leaving me?" she cried shrilly. "That's a dandy solution! How long did it take you to concoct that plan, about three miserable seconds?"

"There's no call to be scared, Boston."

"I am not scared," she retorted in a tremulous voice.

"I'll be back."

"Oh, sure you will."

He stepped slowly around the fire. "Honey, listen to me."

Laura batted his hand away, shivered, and hugged her waist. "Don't touch me, and don't call me honey. If you're going to leave me, just do it. I certainly can't stop you."

"I ain't leavin' you. Leavin's when you don't come back, and I"

"Those Mexicans will be back. You said so yourself. The truth of it is, you're taking the coward's way out. Leaving me alone so they can have easy pickings. And saving your own hide while you're at it."

Tears rushed to her eyes. She fully expected her accusations to enrage him, but she didn't care. At least his anger would be honest. She couldn't bear to be left behind again, pacified with lies, counting on some man who had no intention of coming through for her.

Memories rolled through her like waves, the images pounding on the sands of her mind with brutal impact. She saw herself, eight and a half months pregnant, begging Tristan not to leave her. Then she recalled how it had felt later, his promises nothing but dust, when she had gone into labor, her body afire with agony, her mind frozen with terror because she faced giving birth alone. She couldn't bear that kind of betrayal again. Not again.

"Laura..."

She spun away and fixed her gaze on the Rockies, hating the craggy peaks, detesting them. How many times in the last ten months had she stared at them, feeling alone and frightened? This time it wasn't Tristan leaving her behind, but for reasons beyond her, her sense of betrayal ran just as deep. Maybe deeper. Possibly because Deke Sheridan epitomized strength, and somewhere, deep in her heart, she had hoped he was different.

After leaning his rifle against a rock, he curled his large hands over her shoulders. His grasp was heavy and warm, anchoring her where she stood while he stepped close, his chest at her back, his head bent to press his cheek against her ear. She felt the rasp of his beard, and it seemed those whiskers embodied everything masculine, everything she had come to resent.

"Honey, listen to me."

Laura closed her eyes, familiar with that placating, soothing tone of voice even though she had never heard Deke Sheridan use it. Only Tristan. But Tristan had taught her well with his honeyed lies. Numbly she listened, just as Deke demanded, because, as always, she had little choice. As he outlined his plans, the words became a confusing jumble in her brain. Only one sentence rang clear, and upon hearing it, she whirled to face him.

"You're taking all the horses?" she said incredulously. "Even mine?"

Pressing a frontal advance this time, he grasped her shoulders again. "Those fellows may not be as good as the Cheyenne at trackin', but they can read sign, Boston. If I don't take all the horses, they'll know some are missin' and guess what I'm up to. I'll load your saddlebags down with stone so it looks like your gelding is carrying your weight." Releasing one of her shoulders, he took her chin in his hand and lifted her face. "You gotta trust me. What kind of man'd leave you stranded out here at the mercy of those three?"

"What kind of man wouldn't?"

He ignored that. "I'll lead them to hell and gone off our scent, then double back. If there's any way I can, I'll be here with you before dark."

Laura closed her mind to what he was saying. She had trusted before, and all trusting had ever done was make her troubles worse. She ended up waiting around, counting on someone else until it was nearly too late to help herself. Not this time. The fact that Deke Sheridan was taking her horse, blast his miserable hide, was all the affirmation she needed that he was hightailing it out of here and abandoning her.