"Of course." Watching him, seeing a thread of tension leave his features and a certain remoteness return to his eyes, Mary realized there was no "of course" about it. Ryder really had come back because he was concerned something had happened to her. She wanted to tell him that he should have thought of that before he forced her to leave with him. The moment to say it passed as Ryder picked up his torch at the entrance and disappeared into the corridor. There would be other opportunities, she reflected, glancing around the room. Her eyes landed on the box of Henry rifles and the cases of shells, and she smiled. Opportunities could be made if one was resourceful.

Ryder leaned his torch against some rocks in the spring room. He filled the bucket with fresh water, took a few deep sips from the ladle, then set it aside. He would give Mary ten minutes to finish bathing and no longer. The water was too cold for her to be safe any longer than that. Her strength had already been pushed to the limit.

He could still feel the spot on his back where she had caught him with the corner of that bar of soap. She was at the end of her emotional endurance as well. He could only guess at the lengths she would go to to be rid of him and the methods she might use. He would have to make certain she understood there was no escape from the cavern. Otherwise Ryder was very much afraid Mary would die trying. He mulled over the things he might say to her, testing them in his mind before he tested them on his tongue, and at the end of ten minutes he retraced his steps to the lighted chamber.

All of his carefully considered phrases were left unsaid. Mary Francis met him at the entrance wearing nothing but a blanket and a feral smile. She was also silent. The Henry rifle she aimed at Ryder's chest spoke for her.

Chapter Six.

"I know how to use this," Mary said, raising the rifle a notch. Ryder nodded.

"That's important information for me to have," he said.

"Thank you." Mary's forest green eyes flashed, set off by the hint of amusement she thought she heard in Ryder's tone.

"You might want to know this also," she told him.

"I will use it."

"I didn't think you'd pick it up otherwise." This time she was satisfied with his sincerity.

"You can put down the torch," she said.

"And the bucket. Then I'd like you to remove your gun." Her eyes dropped momentarily to the weapon Ryder had tucked in his pants.

"You can put it on the ground and kick it toward me." Ryder dropped the torch and bucket. He raised his right hand slowly and took the Colt out. He was careful not to indicate in any way that he might turn the tables on her. The Henry rifle had a quick trigger and deadly accuracy. At her present range, she could hardly miss. Even if her intention was only to wing him, the wound could prove fatal.

Ryder knew she hadn't entirely considered the consequences of killing him. If he died she had only the slimmest chance of finding her way out of the cavern. That still left her to face the mountains. She had even less chance of surviving in them. Ryder carefully placed the Colt on the cavern's rock floor and kicked it in Mary's direction.

"Now what?" Mary's chin jerked briefly in the direction of the odd assortment of chairs.

"You may have a seat," she said.

"Your choice." He took the stool. Mary followed but didn't sit. Ryder watched her heft the rifle again, and knew it was getting heavy for her.

"Your blanket's slipping." She shook her head.

"I won't be so easily taken in."

"All right," he said, his eyes dropping to the upper curves of her breasts.

"Then you won't mind if I enjoy the view." Mary considered shooting him just to shake his imperturbable calm.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"You don't have to point a rifle at me to get an answer to that."

"Apparently I do. You haven't answered it yet."

"This is the Cavern of Lost Souls." How fitting, she thought.

"A burial ground?"

"At one time. It hasn't been used for that for centuries. There are chambers within the cavern with human remains. It's still a sacred place to the Apache."

"Particularly the Chiricahua?"

"Then the cavern is well known." He shrugged.

"It's drawn up on all the geological surveys of the area." He was being purposely and maddeningly obtuse, she thought. And he was still staring at her breasts. It was very tempting to look down to ascertain what he could see, but Mary resisted. The blanket was heavy wool, and she could feel the weight of it against her skin.

She was still modestly covered even if he pretended to see right through her.

"Will the search party know to look here?"

"We spent most of the night laying down false trails," he said.

"This isn't the first place they'll come."

"I see."

"And if they do, it's doubtful they'll find this chamber." Mary almost told him about her brother-in-law. Jarret Sullivan had made a good living bounty hunting before he'd married Rennie. She quelled the urge to be smug and said instead, "The Army has scouts as clever as you."

"More clever," he said modestly.

"But at Fort Union they're all Apache."

"They might lead the Army to Lost Souls if they pick up a trail, but not one of them will enter."

"Because it's sacred ground?" He nodded.

"The Apache are superstitious about the dead, even fearful. They won't come in here."

"But you did."

Now Ryder raised his eyes and regarded her frankly.

"I'm not Apache." Mary felt the pull of his pale, frost gray eyes.

"Not half?"

"By blood, not a quarter. Not even an eighth.

Scots-Irish on my father's side, French on my mother's. And that's generations ago. My parents were born and raised in Ohio."

Mary's weight shifted from one foot to the other. She wished she could shift the rifle with as much ease. He was an enigma to her, raising more questions in her mind than he was answering, and she was already tiring. Mary backed up to the wing chair and stepped behind it. The high back gave her support for the rifle and steadied her aim. It also provided adequate cover. If the blanket slipped now, she would be the only one who knew it.