"Signs?"

"Chiricahua signs. They're the ones who have been doing all the raiding." His eyes were grave now.

"It's serious, Mary.

They're not taking prisoners these days and death is brutal at their hands. A ranching family was slain recently. The five-year-old daughter was left to die, hanging on a meat hook in the smokehouse."

Mary's complexion paled. Her eyes went immediately to her nieces.

"Oh, that can't be true," she whispered.

"It is," Jarret said flatly. His gaze had gone to his daughters as well. They were both laughing brightly, oblivious to the dangers.

Jarret already knew his children would die by his own hand before he'd let them fall victim to Apache torture. He turned to Mary and realized she had divined his thoughts and wasn't horrified by them, only heartsick.

"The Army's been going mad looking for Geronimo and his renegade warriors. Now that the Chiricahua have the gold ore from the Colter Canyon raid, it's expected they'll get more guns and ammunition."

"Surely no one will sell them any."

"For a hundred thousand in gold?" Jarret scoffed at Mary's naivete.

"The sellers are lining up all the time. A detachment from Fort Union confiscated a wagon load of Henry rifles and ammo just three weeks ago.

All of it was headed for Chiricahua country.

"What kind of men would-" She shook her head, realizing it was beyond her sensibilities.

"Never mind. I wouldn't understand."

"I'm not sure I do," he admitted. And he had seen a lot more of the world than his sister-in-law. Mary's eyes were drawn to the rocky cliffs around them again.

"So our scout's out there, watching over us like a guardian angel."

Jarret smiled at the image that presented.

"Something like that," he said.

"I hope he's a good one," she said. She was unaware of her smile or the fact that it was vaguely secretive. Mary didn't realize her eyes had taken on a faraway look as she thought of a certain Army scout getting lost on his way from Baileyboro to the Granville mansion. There was an edge of laughter in her voice when she added, "Not like Ryder McKay." Enjoying the otherworldly expression that had crossed Mary's face, Jarret had felt a momentary lightness in his chest. It passed quickly when she spoke this name. He frowned, confused.

"I thought I heard you tell Rennie you didn't know anything about the attack on Colter Canyon.

"I don't."

"But you said--" Puzzled, Mary tilted her head to one side.

"What?" she asked.

"What did I say?"

"Mary, Ryder McKay is the traitor the Army's preparing to hang."

"You're looking very pensive," Rennie said to her sister. Rennie smiled to herself. Mary's thoughts were clearly elsewhere and had been for some time. Rennie had first noticed it not long after they'd resumed their journey to the fort. At first she had considered sheer weariness the cause of Mary's uncharacteristic silence. But there had also been the tiniest indication of a frown between Mary's brows, and she'd worried her lower lip in a way she only did when she was deeply concentrating. Rennie hadn't asked any questions then, nor as she helped her mother and Mary settle into their quarters in the officers'

building. Now that Moira was napping with her granddaughters and Jarret was engaged in some business with the surveyors, Rennie realized she had waited quite long enough. She repeated her comment, more loudly this time.

"You're looking very pensive." Mary blinked, startled into awareness by Rennie's raised voice.

"Was I?" she asked.

Rennie's mouth screwed comically to one side, and she shook her head, amused.

"Here," she said, holding out a cup of tea.

"I.

made this for us while you were daydreaming." Mary accepted the cup and saucer that was thrust into her hands. She was curled comfortably in a large, overstuffed chair, her stockinged feet hidden beneath the full skirt of her hunter green gown. She watched Rennie settle opposite her on the short sofa and draw her legs up in a similar fashion. Rennie's posture was relaxed, yet there was a certain expectancy in her expression. There is no pretense between us, Mary thought. There was something distinctly soothing about this, and especially about Rennie's expression.

They could have been children again, preparing to share secrets in their room long after they should have been asleep.

"So," Rennie prompted, "what have you been thinking?"

"Straight to the point as usual," said Mary.

"And absolutely no respect for the privacy of one's thoughts." Rennie's response was cheerful.

"That's right." When Mary still hesitated, Rennie asked, "Is it you and Mama? Is nothing changed between you?" Mary's head was lowered as she stared at her teacup. That was why her sister didn't catch the relief that passed quickly across her features. When Mary lifted her face it was stamped with its trademark serenity.

"Everything's changed between us," she said honestly.

"She won't accept my decision, and I can't accept that she won't accept it."

Rennie nodded, understanding perfectly.

"Michael and Maggie couldn't help her see reason?"

"I didn't ask them to try." She speared her sister with frank, warning eyes.

"And I am not asking you to do it either. It's not your place."

"I wouldn't know where to begin." Not that it would have stopped her, Rennie thought. Mary's vaguely threatening glance, however, was giving her pause. Unconsciously Rennie found one of her hands going to her hair in a protective gesture. When they were growing up together Mary thought nothing of yanking on Rennie's thick auburn braids to keep her in line. Rennie's hand fell away when she saw Mary's look of caution fade and amusement take its place. She stuck out her tongue.

"Well," Mary said dryly.

"That certainly cut me to the quick." Rennie ignored her and asked seriously, "Has there been no understanding at all on Mama's part?"

"I don't know. She won't let me broach the subject."

"Oh, Mary," Rennie said sadly. Mary pushed words past that hard, aching lump that was forming at the back of her throat.

"We talked about incidental things on the journey from New York to Denver. The weather. The scenery. The people in the forward cars. We shopped in various cities along the way for gifts for all the grandchildren. If I mentioned my desire to teach I was met with icy silence. If Mama saw me reading my Bible she began to cry." Rennie felt tears pressing at her own eyelids.

"How awful for you," she whispered.