"As vulnerable as a sharp-toothed cougar," Jamie supplied.

"Never to the likes of him!" Tess promised. Dolly was silent. Soft laughter sounded, and Tess saw that it was Jon Red Feather laughing, and that he seemed quite pleased with the situation.

"No wonder white men don't like Indians!" Jamie muttered darkly.

"Sure. Keep the white folks at war with themselves, and half the battle is solved," Jon said pleasantly.

"Jamie, come on. It's settled. You can pick up Miss. Stuart right after sunset."

"Nothing is settled" -- Tess began.

"Sunset!" Jamie said. He seemed to growl the word. And he didn't give her another second to protest, but slammed his way out the door. It closed with such a bang that even Dolly jumped, but then she smiled benignly.

"I do just love that man!" Dolly said.

Tess stared at her blankly.

"Why?" she demanded. "Oh, you'll see," young lady. You'll see. And that Jori! He does like to stir up trouble.

But then, maybe it's not trouble this time. Jon can be plain old silent as the grave when he wants, too. I think that he's just delighted to put Miss. Eliza's nose out of joint. She thinks she just about has her claws into Jamie, and who knows, it is lonely out here. But she isn't right for him, she just isn't fight at all. You'll see."

"Miss. Simmons" -- "Dolly. We're not very formal out here.

"Ceptin' the men, when they're busy playing soldier, that is."

"Dolly, I have no intention of going to a dance with Lieutenant Slater.

I don't really like him. He's self-righteous and hard as steel and cold as ice" -- "Hard maybe, cold, no. You'll see," Dolly predicted. "But" -- "Come on, I've got a steaming bath over there in the corner . You just hop in, and I'll make you some good strong tea, and pretty soon dinner will be ready, too. And you can tell me all about yourself and what happened, and I'll tell you more about Lieutenant Slater."

"I don't want to know anything more about Lieutenant Slater," Tess said firmly. But it was a lie. She wanted to know more about him. She wanted to know everything about him.

And she did want to go to the dance with him. She wanted to close her eyes and feel his arms around her, and if she thought about it, she wanted even more. She wanted to see him again as she had seen him that morning with his shirt hanging open and his hair tousled and his bare feet riding the rocks with confidence and invincibility.

"Let me help you out of those dusty travel clothes," Dolly said. She was quick and competent, and Tess felt immediately at home with her, able to accept her a.s.sistance. In seconds she was out of her dirt-coated clothing and into a wooden hip tub with a high back that allowed her to lean in 55 comfort. Dolly tossed her a bar of rose-scented soap and a sponge, and she blissfully squeezed the hot water over her knees and shoulders.

"What did you do to your hands, young lady?" Dolly demanded.

Tess looked ruefully at her callused palms.

"Driving. I can do it, of course. It's just Uncle Joe usually did most of the driving."

She didn't know what it was about saying his name, but suddenly, tears welled in her eyes.

"You should cry it out," Dolly warned her.

"You should just go right on ahead and cry it out."

Tess shook her head. She couldn't start crying again. She started talking instead.

"He raised me. My parents died when I was very young, both caught pneumonia one winter and they just didn't pull through. Joe was Father's brother.

He sold Father's land and put the money into trust for me, and he took me to live with him, and he made me love the land and reading and Texas and the newspaper business, and most of all, he made me love the truth.

And he never gave up on the truth or on fighting. And that's why I have to keep it up.

He always gave me everything."

Her voice trailed away. So much, always. She remembered learning how to ride, and how to ink the printing press, and then how to think out a story, and what good journalism was, and. And what it was like to live through pain, and stand up tall despite it, and to learn to carry on.

Joe had been there when she had fallen in love with Captain David Tyler back in '64, when his Confederate infantry corp had been a.s.signed to Wiltshire. She had been just seventeen, and she'd never known what it was like to love a man in that mercurial way until she'd met David.

They'd danced, they'd taken long walks and long rides and they'd had picnics out by the river, and he had kissed her, and she had learned what it was like to feel her soul catch fire.

They'd known the war Dolly sniffed, apparently uninterested in a woman running a paper or a ranch.

"There's things a young lady should be doin', and things she shouldn't!

Now you, you need to be married. You need yourself a man."

Tess sank back into the water wearily.

"I need a hired gun, that's what I need."

Dolly was quiet for a moment, then she said enthusiastically, "Well, then, you really do need Lieutenant Slater."

"What?"

Dolly came around the side of the tub and perched on a stool.

"Why, he was claimed to be an outlaw, him and his brothers! There was a big showdown, and the three of them shot themselves out of an awful situation.

Then they surrendered, and all went to trial, and the jury claimed them innocent as babes!

But those Slater boys--why, it was legendary!

He's as quick as a rattler with his Colt." He was, Tess thought. She couldn't forget the way he had killed the snake. She might have died, except that he was so fast with that gun.

She shivered suddenly. Maybe he wasn't what she needed. He was what she wanted. A man good with a gun. A man with hard eyes and a hard-muscled chest and hands that were strong and eyes that invaded the body and the soul.

"Someone's got to escort you to Wiltshire," Dolly said flatly.

"And Jamie, he's got time coming. And he really ain't no fool. I know there's this big thing going on about whether it was Indians or white men attacked you, but Jamie, he'll find out the truth." "He didn't believe a word I said."

"Oh, but he could discover the truth! He knows the Shoshone, the Comanche, the Cheyenne, the Kiowas and even the Apache better than most white men--most white men alive, that is! Why, he speaks all their languages! He can tell you in a split second which tribes are related to which, and he knows their practices, and how they live.

Sometimes he even knows the Indians better than Jon Red Feather, 'cause you see, Red Feather is a Blackfoot Sioux, and he thinks that the world begins and ends with the Sioux!

If you're telling the truth--oh, my dear! I didn't mean that! I know you're not telling fibs! But if you're right about it being white men, why, Jamie will find that out. He won't let the Comanche be blamed for some atrocity they didn't commit!"

Tess was silent. Dolly spoke again, softly.

"If it isn't Lieutenant Slater who takes you, it might be the colonel himself. His wife was killed by p.a.w.nees before the war, and he ain't ever forgiven any Indian since. Or else there's Sergeant Givens, and he's an Indian hater, too. Or Corporal Lorsby, and he's a lad barely shaving, he won't be too much good to you. Oh, wait just a minute, I've got some shampoo here, all the way from Boston."

"I don't want to use your good" -- "Come, come, what good does it do to this old head of mine? Use it!

Your hair will smell just like spring rosebuds, and every bit as sweet as sunshine."

Tess accepted the shampoo. She disappeared beneath the water to soak her hair, then she scrubbed and rinsed it. As she rose from the water again, Dolly was still talking to her.

"Lieutenant Lorsby, he's a good boy. He's just untried.

He's never been in a battle. He came from the east, and I'm sure he's a bright and wonderful boy, but he don't know a Kiowa from a Chinaman, and that's a fact. You really need to think about this, you know."

Tess nodded, feeling a chill as the steamy water cooled. Maybe she did need Lieutenant Slater after all. She smiled at Dolly.

"Could I have the towel, please?"

Dolly held it, and Tess stepped from the bath, wrapped the towel around her and took a seat before the fire as she started to dry her hair.

"All right, Dolly, so tell me, please, just what is it about this Miss.

Eliza that's so horrible."

"why, I'm not quite sure.

"Ceptin' she seems to think that she's G.o.d's gift to the men of the cavalry.

Jamie's the only one who's never fawned over her, and I think that's exactly why she's set her cap for him! He ~ms to be amused most of the time, but the woman does have a wicked fine shape, and a wicked heart and mind to go along.

You'll see. Now sit back, and I'll bring you your tea, and then some of the finest Irish stew you'll ever taste. Then I'll see to getting the rest of your things brought in. I have a nightgown for you, right over there on the bed. Once you're all ~uched in, I'll see to the rest. You need to get some sleep." Dolly brought her tea, then the stew, and it was delicious.

Tess hadn't felt so warmed and cared for since. Since Joe had died.

The thought brought her close to tears again, but she didn't shed them.

She finished eating and put on the nightgown Dolly had provided for her.

She crawled into the bed, more exhausted than she had imagined. As Dolly started to leave the darkened room, Tess called her back.

"Thank you, Dolly. Thank you, so very much."

"It's nothing, child."

Tess sat up.

"Dolly?"

"yes?"

"I didn't take you from your family, did I?" She smiled.

"Me? No, child. I sit around most of the day and remember Will. My husband. He was with the cavalry, killed just a few years ago. He made it home, though. Jamie Slater brought him home to me. He rode through an ambush to bring Will home. So now I mind the store a few hours a day, and I try to look after the soldiers that need a little mothering. And now you.

It's been my pleasure, dear, so you go on and get some sleep."

Dolly was gone then. Tess yawned in the luxurious warm comfort of the clean bed. She stretched out, thinking that she would sleep. If she wasn't plagued with memories of Joe.

But it wasn't memories of Joe that kept her from sleeping. Even in the darkness and the warmth, she felt strange 61 chills snake along her body. It was Jamie Slateifs face she saw before her in the darkness, the dry amus.e.m.e.nt in his gray eyes: Then she remembered the feeling of wicked, surging heat as his gaze fell over the length of her. He had stayed away. And he had been drawn back. Almost as if he was feeling the same thing.

She didn't need a lover, she told herself. She needed a hired gun.

Maybe she would have to barter to gain what she wanted. Barter! she charged herself.

And in the darkness she admitted that he cola id be as cold and hard and ruthless as stone, he could care for her not at all, or perhaps even want her with a curious interest. It didn't matter. She hadn't thought about any man in over five years.

But she wanted this one. That he could deal well with a gun was all the better.

When she finally did sleep that night, it was with the stern reminder that she ought to be saying her prayers. That she ought to hope that Jamie Slater wanted nothing more to do with her, that the stoic colonel would take her to Wiltshire.

She could fight von Heusen, and she would. She just wasn't sure if she could fight von Heusen and all the decadent and shameful things she felt for Jamie Slater at the same time.

It was wicked.

It was true. If Joe had taught her anything, it was wisdom. She couldn't change what she was feeling, even if what she was feeling could only cause her pain. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she slept. Slept, and dreamed.

Of smoke-gray eyes, of a man with broad shoulders, taking her into his arms.

Naked, as she had been by the brook.

He was moving into a trap, Jamie thought the next night as he walked along to the Casey house, where Tess Stuart was. He was definitely moving into a trap, because he couldn't call Tess a liar. He did know the Indians well, and he couldn't let a huge war get started because everyone was unjustly blaming the Comanche. He was going to have to find out what had happened.

He paused at the door before knocking upon it, swallowing down a startling, near savage urge to thrust the door open and sweep the challenging and all too luscious Miss. Stuart into his arms. No matter how he tried, he could not forget everything that he knew about her. No matter what gingham or frills or lace or velvet adorned her, he kept seeing beneath it.

He'd lied to her. She was very much alive. She spoke of pa.s.sionate life and living with her every breath, her every word. Her gpirit was ever at battle, never ceasing. She would stay on in Wiltshire, he was certain, no matter how stupid it would be for her to do so. She was determined to fight this von Heusen, and she would fight him even if they met on the plain and he was carrying a shotgun and she was completely unarmed.

If. if. Was the man really so dangerous?

He didn't want to believe her. He wanted to be a skeptic. But there was truth in her pa.s.sion, in her determination.

There was truth in the honesty of her beautiful, sea-shaded eyes, eyes that entered into his sleep and made him wonder what it would he like if she looked at him with her hair wound between them and around them in a web of pa.s.sion.

Every time he was near her he felt it more. Something like a pounding beneath the earth, like a rattle of thunder across the sky. Every time.

And if he didn't watch out, the day would come when he would thrust wide a door and sweep her hard into his arms.

He wouldn't give a d.a.m.n then about Indians or white men or the time of day or even if the earth continued to turn. All that would matter would be the scent of her and the feel of her silken flesh beneath his fingers. He was going to a dance, he ~-r. afinded himself. And every officer in the post would be there, and the enlisted men, too.

He gritted his teeth and willed his muscles and his body to cease tightening with the harsh and ragged desire that seemed to rule his every thought. He knocked on the door. "Come in, Lieutenant."