done so.

"Up, up, now, Tess, dear! This is the cavalry, you know! Things are done

by the dawn here. Lieutenant Slater will want to be on his way!"

Dolly had brought coffee. She slipped a tin mug into Tess's hands, then,

chatting, picked up things in the room.

"What are you wearing, dear, this nice brown cotton? Perfect choice for

a hot day on the trail. And just one petticoat-no corset, of course.

You'll be much more comfortable that way.

Come on, now, Lieutenant Siitter and Jon Red Feather are already out by

the wagon." Tess gulped down the coffee and was grateful When Dolly

helped her slip into the brown traveling dress she had chosen. Then she

frowned, realizing that Dolly was dressed for travel in a mauve suit

with a huge, wide-brimmed hat on her head.

"Dolly?"

"I'm coming with you, my dear."

' "You are?"

"Yes. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, no, I don't mind. It's just that ..." She paused. In the outpost,

it had almost been possible to forget that yon Heusen offered death.

"Dolly, no one wants to believe me, but it could be very dangerous for

you."

"Miss. Stuart!" Dolly drew herself up and looked terribly dignified--and

menacing. It would take a hearty soul to go to battle against Miss.

Simmons.

"I have met danger all my life. I have lived in places that would make

the ordinary woman's skin crawl. I have fought Apache, Comanche,

Shoshone, Cheyenne and Sioux. I think that I will hold my own wherever I

may go." She was quiet for a minute.

"And besides," she added softly.

"I've really nothing left here. I'd like to come with you.. I'm a wicked

good cook, and I can organize any type of household in a matter of

hours."

Tess smiled.

"Dolly, you're welcome," she assured her. She finished dressing quickly

and stuffed the last of her belongings in a portmanteau. She and Dolly

gave the room a last look, then they departed together.

She almost didn't recognize Jamie when they came to the wagon.

Instead of a uniform he wore a blue denim work shirt and pants and his

knee-high boots. His sandy hair fell over his eyes as he cinched the

girth on his huge horse, then cast her a quick stare.

"It's about time."

"It's barely dawn."

He didn't reply, but nodded Dolly's way. He must have known that the

older woman had determined on coming, because he didn't say a word about

her appearance. "Get up--I want to get started. Jon and I will take

turns driving with you--there's no reason for you to completely destroy

your hands again. And for God's sake, keep your gloves on."

"I can manage" -- He caught her arm as she was about to crawl up.

"And don't tell me that anymore. I know you can manage. It's ]nst that

you can manage better if you listen to me. Got it?" She saluted,

gritting her teeth.

"Got it, Lieutenant."

She climbed up and took the reins and Dolly got up beside her. The mules

were harnessed, Jon was mounted and two packhorses were tethered to the

rear of the wagon. All was ready for their departure.

Colonel Worthingham walked up as they were about to leave.

"Goodbye, Miss. Stuart, good luck."

"Thank you, sir."

"Lieutenant, Red Feather, take care. Remember, we're here if you need

us."

"Thank you, sir!" Jamie wasn't in uniform, but he saluted smartly. The

colonel stepped back.

"Jamie! Jamie, take care!" Eliza ran dramatically from the shadow of the

command post. She raced to Jamie's horse and clutched his hands where

they lay casually over the reins.

"Eliza, thank you, I'll be just fine," he said harshly. "Eliza, come

back, dadin'. Lieutenant Slater has ridden out again and again. You know

he always makes it back." The colonel set his hands on his daughter's

shoulders, drawing her back. Eliza didn't even glance at Tess, but Tess

felt the hostility that rose from her.

She wondered again about what had happened after Jamie had left her last

night, and she was infuriated that it should bother her so much, that it

should hurt and dig into the very center of her being.

Maybe he would turn around now. Eliza was stunning this morning, her

hair ebony against a yellow dress, her eyes huge with anguish. Tess held

her breath. Then she realized that Jamie had picked up his reins, that

he was shouting to her, telling her they were going.

She called out to the mules. The wagon rumbled forward.

She didn't look back. She followed Jamie and Jon Red Feather through the

open gates of the compound, and she sighed with a soft sound of relief

as she heard the gates closing behind her. They were really on their

way. Jamie Slater was coming with her. Eliza hadn't been able to

convince him to stay.

About last night. She didn't know. She just didn't know. She needed a

gun, she reminded herself. She needed a gunman.

It didn't matter that she wanted the man. If rumor was right, he was one

of the fastest guns in the west.

Maybe fortune was beginning to smile upon her just a little.

And maybe, just maybe, she was setting herself up for the heartbreak of

a lifetime.

She couldn't think, and she couldn't worry. He was with her, and they

were on their way, and for now, that just had to be enough.

Chapter Five.

Jamie Slater didn't seem to do anything by half measures. When he set

out to move, he moved.

They pushed hard throughout the morning, either Jamie or Jon riding

ahead to scout out the road, the other riding with Dolly and Tess. Jamie

was true to his word--some- where around midmorning he called a halt,

and Jon came up to take over the reins of the wagon. Dolly and Jon were

comfortable together, old friends who knew one another well and

respected what they knew. And both of them seemed genuinely fond of

Tess, which was nice.

Dolly was full of stories. She didn't chatter, but she kept Tess amused

with tales of Texas in times before Tess had been born.

"Why, Will and I came out here long before Texas was a state. Before

there was a Republic of Texas!

And long, long before the Alamo. Why, I remember some of those boys, and

it was a privilege to know them.

Mountain men, they were good men. They were the stuff that Texans were

made of. Will missed being at the Alamo by just a hairbreadth. He'd been

sent out to deal with Cheyenne. By the time he came back, the boys were

dead.

They say that Davey Crockett was killed there, but that ain't true.

The Mexicans took him prisoner, and they tortured him to death, that was

what the boys said. He was a fiery old cuss.

They never broke him. You can't break a mountain man. You can kill him,

but you can't break him. Kind of like a Blackfoot, eh?"

"A Blackfoot--or an Englishwoman, eh, Dolly?" Jon agreed, grinning.

Dolly chuckled gleefully and agreed.

Tess found herself studying Jon's handsome features. There was no

denying that the man had Indian blood, proud blood. His cheekbones were

wide and broad, his flesh was dark bronze.

And his hair, too, was Indian, black as ink and straight as an arrow.

But his eyes were a deep, startling green.

He caught her studying him, and she blushed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"It's all right. You're welcome to wonder about me. I'll tell you,

because I like you. My father was a Blackfoot chief.

My mother was the daughter of an English baronet."

" A baronet?"

"Urn. Sir Roger Bennington. Actually, he's a very decent old fellow."

He smiled.

"What does that make you?"

Jori laughed softly.

"A half-breed Blackfoot. Sir Roger did not marry his daughter to an

Indian.

She was kidnapped, but she discovered that she was in love with my

father.

She stayed with the Blackfoot until my father was killed. Then she went

back to England. She died there."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They were both happy while they lived." Tess hesitated.

"Did you go to England with her? Is that where you acquired your

accent?"

"My accent?" he repeated.

"Well, you don't sound like a Texan or an Indian."

"I'm not a Texan, ~xeept by choice for the moment. I was born in the

Black Hills. And my father was still alive when I went to England. My

mother convinced him that a half breed needed every advantage. My mother

knew that the Indian's day was dying. That the buffalo were being 93

slaughtered.

That the white men were going to push west, and push us west, until we

were pushed fight into the sea or given deser/land as our reservations.

Our prisons."

He spoke hard words, but he spoke them softly.

"You don't seem very bitter," Tess commented.

"Bitter? I'm not. Bitterness is a wasted emotion. I ride with Jamie now

because I choose to be with him. Some time this year, I'll go back to my

father's people. And if the whim takes me, I'll go visit my grandfather

in London. I enjoy the theater and opera there, and Grandfather is a

hardy old cuss. I think he's actually damned pleased when people stare

at his Indian grandson. Actually, I wear formal clothing rather well."