"I found Colter Canyon marked on this first map, and I've been able to match the elevation markers and topographical features to the second map. It's really just a closer view, isn't it? I suppose it intentionally wasn't marked as Colter Canyon to make it less useful to someone who stumbled upon it."

"Like you." She ignored his sarcasm and said patiently, "No, not like me. Like another prospector. That is who drew this map, isn't it?

Your prospector friend?" Ryder's brows raised a fraction. He nodded his head slowly.

"Your amazement is not flattering. I know how to read a map, and I can put two and two together for the correct sum as well as anyone else."

At least he'd gotten a bit of a rise out of her.

"Yes, you're right. Joe Panama drew the map. He explored most of this area at one time or another. He was convinced there was a mother lode of silver in these parts." Mary could hear the strain in Ryder's voice, the small breaths between sentences that signaled he was tiring.

She thought of cautioning him, but decided against it. Showing concern for his strength was a sure means of raising his ire.

"Did he ever discover it?" she asked. Perhaps she could simply exhaust him with questions. Ryder shook his head.

"Not that he ever told me."

"He's dead?"

"A few years ago. He killed himself not far from here after a fall broke his back." Mary's features softened compassionately.

"You found him?"

"No," he said, watching her closely.

"I was with him." Her eyes widened.

"And you let him kill himself?"

"I let him end his suffering," he said' "because I couldn't end it for him."

"He asked you to?"

"Of course." He saw Mary's brows draw together as she struggled with this information.

"Measuring one sin against the other?" he asked.

"Was letting Joe pull the trigger any different than pulling it myself?

What if I told you that he didn't carry a gun?" He saw her brows lift fractionally.

"That's right. I gave him mine."

Something of the sorrow Mary felt in her heart touched her eyes.

"I'm not a saint," Ryder said.

"I never mistook you for one."

"If you're cataloging my sins, I have some more I-"

"I'm not judging you," she said quietly.

"I was only thinking how it must have pained you to make such a difficult choice. I know what the Church teaches, but I can't help wonder how I might have decided in the same circumstances."

"You may find out," he said gravely. At first she didn't take his meaning. Her features went from blank to horrified as she saw him tap his wounded leg lightly.

"What are you saying? You want me to shoot you?"

"Not just this minute."

"Don't make light of this," she said angrily.

Mary's mouth flattened and her tone became sharper.

"Or me. I find nothing about it remotely humorous."

"I recall that not so long ago you held a Henry rifle to my chest and claimed you were willing to use it." Mary did not appreciate being reminded.

"That was different," she snapped.

"What was different was that I was in good health then. Now that I'm likely to die, you're not willing to help me along. You have a confusing sense of morality."

"It would have been a grievous sin if I had killed you then. It would be an equally grievous one if I did it now."

"So you're saying it really wouldn't have been different at all," he said thoughtfully.

"You're very quick to change your opinion." He saw her face flush and her eyes flash.

"You look as if you're giving my request more serious consideration.

Perhaps the key to getting what I want is to goad you into it." Mary bent her head and stared at the map. The lines ran together and place names blurred.

A fat, heavy tear slipped past her lowered lashes and splattered on the paper.

"Mary?" She shook her head, not trusting herself to say anything and not wanting him to speak. Ryder forced himself to sit up, wincing as he slid his legs over the side of the stone bed. He was glad she hadn't looked up, glad that she couldn't see the pain in his expression. She would think it was all because of his leg, and she would have been wrong. He hadn't meant to make her cry.

"No more tears on my account, Mary," he said.

"I don't want-" She sucked in a sob and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Ryder managed to push himself off the bed. Relying heavily on his uninjured leg, he hobbled toward where Mary sat on the floor. He nudged aside the maps with the toe of his foot, putting himself in her line of vision.

"Go back to bed." she said hoarsely.

"There was no reason for you to get up."

"There was every reason. She raised her head.

"You're a horrible man."

She said it as if she meant it, and Ryder had no doubt that in that moment she did.

"Worse than horrible," he said.