"Is that a lot?"

"Your father ought to have been a wealthy man."

"He never was. It seemed we had just enough cows to pay for the expense of rounding them up. Daddy said it was rustlers. Greene is the only man I can figure who might be doing it."

"But that's no reason to want to kill you. If he's been rustling your cows, he could just keep on doing it."

"I can't think of anybody else."

They slowed down as they allowed the animals to pick their way across a sparkling stream running bank-full with the run off from the melting snow. The deep green of spruce and pine formed a sharp contrast to the white snow. Here and there the browns and yellows of the rocky mountain soil showed through, muting the effect of the sunlight on the snow's pristine surface. The call of an occasional bird broke the silence, but Daisy saw no animals. It was almost as though she and Tyler were alone in this winter wonderland. It was almost impossible to believe that somewhere out there three men were following them, determined to kill her.

She kicked the burro in the flanks, encouraging him to keep close to Tyler. He might be a dreamer more concerned with fabulous hotels and lost gold mines than a decent future for himself, but he was the only thing standing between her and these crazy killers. Despite his tendency to concern himself with the fanciful, she was confident he was fully capable of dealing with them.

After they left the mountains, Tyler and Daisy rode through an area of low hills and shallow, flat canyons covered with a spa.r.s.e growth of buffalo and grama gra.s.ses and stunted pines, juniper, and service berry. From any one of a dozen ridges, in almost any direction, an unbroken vista of up to seventy miles stretched before them. Thirty miles away, across the Rio Grande River, a flat-topped mesa rose like a black wall cutting off the fertile valley from the dry plains beyond. The expanse of sky overhead was a dull blue-grey.

A thousand feet below the Rio Grande River wound its leisurely course through a narrow valley that had never entirely lost its green. Cottonwoods, willows, and a few maples, oaks and alders hugged its sh.o.r.e, their leaves shivering noisily from the cold wind that wafted down from the snow-covered peaks. A dozen rivulets of snow-melt glistened in the bright sun.

It was on a slight rise in this pastoral setting that, late in the afternoon, they reached Daisy's ranch.

Chapter Sixteen.

Daisy hadn't expected the sight of the charred remains of her home to affect her so strongly. She knew the house had burned, but seeing it was a shock. The charred spot on the desert floor bore no resemblance to the home she remembered.

"It's almost as if it was never here," she said to Tyler. She couldn't explain the feeling of loneliness that a.s.sailed her. Not only was her family gone, almost all trace of her life had disappeared. It was almost as if she had never existed.

"We buried your father next to your mother." Tyler looked over the charred remains of her home but found nothing worth salvaging. "I wonder why your father didn't build closer to the river. The soil would have been better for a garden."

Her mother had asked her father to move several times, but he wouldn't. For him the difficulty of finding water to irrigate the garden didn't outweigh the view of the mountains above and the river valley below. Daisy slipped from the saddle and reluctantly approached the graves. She had been here so many times before, times when talking to her mother was all that kept her sane. Her father had never understood. Now he lay here as well. She wondered if he would be glad of her visits now.

"I know it's not much, but the ground was frozen."

"It's okay." If she managed to find the money, she would have a nice stone marker made. Her mother would like that. She would hate having nothing but her name carved on a piece of board. In a few years, there would be nothing to show she had lived or died in this place.

Daisy found that unutterably sad.

"Let's go," she said, turning away from the graves. "I imagine the killers know we've left the cabin by now. I won't feel safe until I'm in Albuquerque."

"Son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h!" Toby cursed when he slammed through the cabin door. "There ain't n.o.body here." The whole left side of his head was badly swollen from a nasty-looking wound to his cheek.

"Looks like they ain't been gone long," Frank said.

Ed dismounted with painful slowness. He hobbled inside and dropped into a chair to take his weight off a heavily bandaged leg. "This can't be the place," he said. "Looks like a woman's been living here. I never seen so much kitchen stuff in all my life."

"If it's a woman, why do they have bunks?" Toby asked.

Frank threw back the curtain to Daisy's corner. "They got a bed back here," he said. "Now why would a man keep a woman and let her sleep in the corner?"

"Maybe there's two of them, and they take turns at her," Toby said with a lewd sn.i.g.g.e.r.

"You ain't never seen that kind of woman keep a place like this," Ed said.

"You two stop jawing and let me think," Frank ordered.

He didn't understand. Three animals had occupied that shed, but he could find the tracks of only two leading down the mountain. That cabin sure looked like a woman lived here regular, but mountain men didn't go to any trouble to hide it if they were keeping a woman. None of the dried-up pieces of leather he'd talked to these last few days had said anything about a woman. If the Singleton woman was brought into the mountains, this had to be the cabin. They had been everywhere else.

"We'll stay the night," Frank said. "The answer was here somewhere."

"You'd better catch up with that son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h soon," Toby said, making himself comfortable in Tyler's bunk. "I mean to fill him full of lead for this cut across the cheek."

"And my leg," Ed reminded him.

"You just find him," Toby said to Frank. "Then you leave the rest to me."

"I wouldn't be too anxious to tangle with that hombre if I was you," Frank said. "Any man who can hit a rifle barrel at a hundred yards can kill you before you got within pistol range."

"This ought to do for tonight," Tyler said as he pulled up his mule in a cottonwood grove on a wedge of land between a noisy stream and the Rio Grande. He dismounted and tied the mule to a willow. Daisy slid from the saddle, her body stiff, her legs sore. She stumbled when she tried to take a step. Tyler caught her. The electricity was still there. Even his touch was sufficient to send her pulses racing.

She had to put some distance between them. After tonight she wouldn't have to worry about her desire to be in his arms, but just now it was nearly overpowering.

"I'm not used to riding," she said, reaching out to lean against the trunk of a ma.s.sive cottonwood. "Papa thought women should ride in a buggy. Only we didn't have a buggy, so we stayed home or walked."

Tyler waited, but Daisy didn't release her hold on the tree. "You ought to meet Iris. She wouldn't allow Monty to go anywhere without her. She rode down the outlaw trail once in little more than a week."

Daisy didn't know a thing about the outlaw trail, but she gathered Iris's accomplishment was something out of the ordinary.

"Who's Iris?"

"My sister-in-law."

"You've got so many relatives, I lose track."

Tyler began to unsaddle the animals. "You wouldn't forget her if you ever saw her. She's enough to knock your eyes out."

Not only could she ride better than Daisy, she was ten times as pretty. No wonder Tyler wasn't interested in her. He'd seen far better.

Tyler spread out Daisy's mattress and blanket. "Here, sit down for a few minutes."

"I'd better walk around a bit to loosen my muscles." She hobbled away from him. Anything to keep her mind off her desire to be near him.

She told herself Tyler wasn't the kind of man she wanted for a husband, that if he asked her marry him, she'd refuse. But would she? Her heart leapt at the thought, and she realized with a sinking feeling she did want to marry him. She sighed aloud as she hobbled back and forth. It was silly enough she should fall in love with him. It was inexcusable she should consider marrying him.

She walked around a second huge cottonwood, letting her fingers trail over its rough bark. A mat of damp leaves squished under her feet.

She tried to tell herself Tyler was exactly like her father, but she knew that wasn't true. He might be a dreamer, might never make anything of himself, but he was thoughtful and kind and handsome and so big that for the first time in her life she felt small and feminine. She could marry him for that alone. Feeling a little better, she walked toward him. He was arranging stones for a fire.

"I can help," she offered, determined to put such thoughts out of her mind.

"No need. I can handle it."

She stopped. She was so close she practically stood over him. "Why won't you ever let anybody help you?"

Tyler looked up, surprised. "It only takes one person to make coffee."

"There's water to fetch, wood to find, the fire to build, the food to dig out of the saddle bags, and everything to get ready for eating. That's more than enough work for two people. Sometimes I think you'd eat for me if you could. That way you wouldn't have to be bothered with me at all."

"It isn't that." He broke some dry sticks and lighted them with a match.

"I know. You don't even think about it. You did the same thing to Zac. You only let him take care of the animals when you wanted to get rid of him."

"I don't need help." Tyler arranged some larger sticks over the tiny flame.

"That's just it," Daisy said, waving her hands about in frustration. "You don't need anything. Don't you think that's strange? It's not normal for a person to go through life not needing other human beings, not wanting their company, never depending on them for anything."

"I've always been this way." Tyler dipped some water from the stream and put it on to boil for coffee.

Daisy knew she ought to stop right here. It was none of her business how Tyler chose to live his life, but this was her last chance. It was inconceivable she should disappear tomorrow and leave no trace on his life.

"Look where it's got you. You live in the mountains by yourself, avoiding the company of every living soul but your mules. You spend all your time searching for lost gold mines that don't exist. You seem to have a large family, but you never see them. Twenty years from now you'll still be there, and what will you have to show for it?"

Tyler dropped some coffee beans into the steaming water. "I've got less than six months."

His response dried up the stream of words she was about to utter. "What do you mean?"

"I've given myself a deadline. If I don't find anything by June seventeenth, I'll quit."

Daisy felt a surge of hope. "What would you do?"

Tyler opened the pack where he'd put the meat. "My family would find me a job in Denver, probably in a bank."

Daisy spoke before she thought. "But you'd hate that."

"Yes, I would, but I promised George I wouldn't play in the woods for the rest of my life. Like you, he finds it an inappropriate pastime for a grown man."

"It might not be as bad as you think," she said, hopefully. "You'd have a regular income. You could have a house and everything."

"I don't want a house." He opened another pack and took out a pan.

"Well you can't expect your wife to want to live in a cabin in the mountains. It's no place to bring up children."

Tyler looked up at Daisy, a faintly baffled expression on his face. "Whatever made you think I want a wife and children?" He put some venison steaks in the pan.

"I j-just a.s.sumed y-you did," Daisy stammered. "I thought every man did."

"I don't."

Daisy felt hope die. It wasn't a terrible death because it had only been a faint hope, but it was a sad death nonetheless. It was the only hope she had.

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

"No." He carefully seasoned the meat.

"Don't you want to like people and have them like you?"

"I've got family."

"You might as well not. You never see them. I can't imagine wanting to hide in the mountains from my family."

"I'm not hiding."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm there because that's where the gold is."

"You mean you'll like living in Denver?"

"It doesn't matter where I live." He unwrapped some bread he'd cooked at the cabin.

Daisy gave up. She didn't believe Tyler knew what he was talking about. He had probably convinced himself that as long as he had his hotels he could live anywhere. She imagined he was in for a big surprise. She had to confess she didn't know anything about big hotels or big cities, but she didn't think a man who liked living alone in the mountains would feel comfortable there.

Tyler poured some coffee into a cup and handed it to Daisy. Then he put the steaks on to cook.

Daisy took her coffee and settled down on her blanket. If Tyler wanted to do everything himself, he could. She wasn't going to offer any more. She wasn't going to do anything except work at putting him out of her mind.

Tyler leaned against the trunk of a cottonwood, standing watch. He didn't think he needed to. He doubted the killers would have followed this far today, but he couldn't afford to be wrong.

Anyway he couldn't sleep. Daisy's accusations had raised questions in his mind he couldn't answer. Everything he told her was true. At least, it had been until now. Now he didn't know. He only knew he didn't feel comfortable leaving Daisy.

It wasn't just because of her safety. He was concerned about what she was going to do for her future. He believed she could do anything she wanted. But she didn't.

He was concerned about her marrying Guy Cochrane. He didn't know the man, but he couldn't be worth much. Daisy had never mentioned him. No woman keeps quiet about her fiance when she thinks he's the greatest guy to wear pants.

Then there was the fact she had almost let him make love to her. He wasn't blaming her, but if she loved this Cochrane fella, she'd never have done something like that. She might have let him kiss her, in a casual, brotherly fashion, but she wouldn't have let him kiss her like he did. Or allow him to repeat it.

He didn't know why she had agreed to marry Guy Cochrane, but she didn't love him.