"No, dear, I don't think they plan to have us for dinner, at least not the way you're thinking. But it's clear they're preparing something."

Jay Mac took the count of the encampment to be one hundred, give or take a dozen. The site they had chosen was protected by a natural fortress of pale pink rock.

Although the rocky walls were high, they had not boxed themselves in a dead end canyon, and lookouts had been posted above the camp to raise the alarm if the band was threatened. Although the Chiricahua looked settled, Jay Mac had learned enough from General Gardner to know that the bands moved quickly and easily from one location to another. In the years before the Spanish and the English had come, the Chiricahua moved in concert with their six seasons, going where the plants and game were most plentiful. Now they moved to flee an enemy as well.

Moira thought about what Jay Mac had said.

"I think you're partially right, dear."

"How's that?"

"They're not preparing something." The purposeful ness of the activity caught her attention again: the briskness of a warrior's stride, the discussion among the elders, the busy hands working beads into a fringed leather skirt. A joyous anticipation hung in the air and was given sound by fits of high-pitched laughter from the children.

"They're preparing for something."

Ryder did not remove Mary's blindfold until they had walked from the cavern for two hours. The going had been slow, as much because Mary's steps were necessarily halting as because of the terrain.

Covering their trail had slowed their progress also. In all that time Mary had said nothing. When Ryder had announced his proposal he had effectively rendered her speechless, and she had remained that way throughout the first leg of their journey. It had occurred to her not to cooperate, to fight him just as he supposed she would, but perversely she didn't want to give him what he expected. Ryder took the blindfold and tied it around his forehead. His dark hair was free of the thong, and it fell loosely past his shoulders. He watched as Mary squinted under the sudden glare of light. He shielded her face with his hands, protecting her eyes. It was the most natural gesture in the world to place his lips softly on her brow. He drew back after a moment.

"Are you never going to talk to me again?"

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction," she said. Her voice sounded unfamiliar to her own ears, and the words fairly stuck in her throat.

Ryder stared back solemnly, then raised a canteen to her lips. He didn't need to persuade her to drink. She took the water with the youthful greediness of a child. When she had had her fill he let the canteen fall to his side and wiped her damp mouth with the pad of his thumb. Mary pursed her lips and thrust her bound hands forward into Ryder's hard, flat belly. He raised both eyebrows at the force of the blow, but she knew he wasn't hurt. Ramming her fists into his abdomen was like punching a brick wall, she was more jarred by the impact than he was.

"You can remove this rope now.

I'm not going to be yanked across the countryside on a leading string.

I'll go where you go because I want to, not because you have me on a tether." Ryder's frost gray eyes were remote as he considered her words.

"Then you agree we should be married."

Mary hesitated.

"I didn't say that. I said, "I'll go where you go." That will have to satisfy you for now." She waited until he removed the rope before she added, "And for the record, you didn't ask me to marry you." His eyes narrowed as he tried to fathom the twists and turns of her thoughts, but her features were once again cloaked. An expression of complete serenity made Mary as unreadable as she was beautiful.

"For the record," he said, "I'm not taking any chances." Mary didn't reply, following him instead as he began walking ahead of her, but taking chances was exactly what she thought he was doing. How did he think he was going to engage her cooperation in front of a priest? At first she considered that he would be taking her to a town to have the ceremony performed. The longer she pondered it, the more insanely dangerous it seemed. Mary imagined that Ryder could hardly hope to bring her into public without attracting notice. If they weren't identified immediately he must know she would make sure they were discovered. Ultimately she dismissed the possibility of a town wedding. It occurred to her now that Ryder had a mission as his destination. The Southwest Territory was dotted with Spanish missions, especially near the border. It was not difficult to determine that they were heading south. Perhaps they were even in Mexico already, she thought, and wondered how hard it would be to escape Ryder's side in a foreign country. Was she better with the devil she did know than among strangers who might have no sympathy for her situation or wouldn't even believe her? Ryder had told her they were a day's walk from their destination. She wondered if he counted the day as twenty-four hours or until sunset. After walking so far he must expect to spend the night. Would it be at the mission? The thought of sleeping in a real bed again, with a feather tick and pillows, a comforter pulled up to her neck, made Mary sigh aloud. The idea of sleeping in a real bed with Ryder's body fitted against her own made her knees grow weak. She stumbled. Ryder caught her before she fell. He helped her up and steadied her.

"You did better when you were blindfolded," he said.

She drew back and brushed herself off.

"Yes, well I can see a little too clearly now." After a brief, quizzical, over-the-shoulder glance, Ryder started walking, this time shaking his head in bemusement. The pace he set was not hurried and Mary was not tired when he stopped. He studied the ground as she leaned against a rock and took off her shoes. Fine grains of sand and pebbles no bigger than the heads of pins were shaken out. She stared at the debris with no little astonishment. She would have sworn she was carrying Gibraltar in both shoes. Mary curled her toes, wiggling them to restore circulation.

"I'm not tired," she announced.

"You don't have to rest on my account." Ryder was hunkered beside a grouping of stones.

"I'm not resting. I'm reading." He picked up the stones, smoothed the ground underneath to remove their depression, then placed them carefully among other rocks, making certain the sun-warmed side was still facing up.

"You sound almost eager," he said, glancing at her.

"You'll be happy to know we're nearly there." Mary stopped wiggling her toes.

"But you said a day's walk." Ryder shrugged.

"They've moved again." She frowned, her brow frurowed.

"It's all right," he said.

"They're still expecting us." Mary eased herself away from the rock and straightened.

"What do you mean, "They've moved'? And who's expecting us?" Militancy was back in her stance and her eyes were issuing a challenge. Ryder ignored both.

"Put your shoes on. There are a few miles left, and most of it's downhill." As he turned to go he thought he might get one of the shoes squarely in the middle of his back. He was grateflil for Mary's nastraint. He wondered what conclusions she had drawn about their destination. Whatever they had been she was discovering them wrong.

Her confusion was quite real, however. It forced Ryder to think about how much longer he could count on her cooperation. He was certain now that she had been plotting her escape. It wasn't as surprising as it was disappointing. Jay Mac stiffened slightly as the guard approached.

Moira rose to her feet at the Chiricahua's gesture but stood protectively beside her husband.

"It is time to go," the guard said.

"They are waiting." He withdrew a knife from the soft buckskin folds of his boot like moccasin. His flat expression didn't change when he saw that Jay Mac did not flinch, but he was impressed.

"You will follow me."

He cut the bonds on Jay Mac's wrists, then the ones on his ankles.

Jay Mac got awkwardly to his feet. His palms and soles tingled with restored circulation, but he gave little notice to the discomfort. His arms went immediately around Moira. He could feel her heart beating madly as he pressed her close to his chest.

Believing they had lived their hearts and that nothing had been left unspoken, they exchanged no words. Jay Mac broke the embrace reluctantly. It was easy to read the guard's expression now. It was one of repugnance.

"It appears they don't approve of public displays of affection," Jay Mac muttered. Moira smiled, resting her head momentarily on her husband's shoulder.

"Imagine how he'd react if you kissed me properly. We'd probably be able to escape." The guard was not amused.

"This way," he said. Jay Mac squeezed Moira's hand.

"At least they want us together," he said quietly.

"What is it?" asked Mary. She was looking at the garments hanging from the end of Ryder's extended arm as if they might bite her. The truth was, they looked lovely and were treated to her suspicious stare because of that. The leather had been bleached until it was pale as eggshell and had been worked over and over until it was soft as butter.

The beadwork in the fringe along the neck, arms, and hem was all turquoise and silver.

"I mean," she corrected herself, "I know what it is, but what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Put it on." Mary didn't reach for it. Instead her hands went behind her back and she actually retreated a step.

"Oh, I couldn't," she said, shaking her head.

"It must belong to someone. It looks very valuable. You should put it back where you found it."

"You're not usually so slow to the mark," he said calmly.