«The passes are open, so long as you don’t get caught in a storm. Slater’s gang divided up. They’re waiting for us somewhere along the Rio Grande and the Arkansas both,» he said flatly.

What he didn’t say was that Slater had also put a bounty on Caleb’s head, enough hard cash to make every outlaw between Wyoming and Mexico sit up and rub his hands with greed.

«What are we going to do?»

Caleb’s bleak, golden glance fell on the sidesaddle. With an angry motion he grabbed it and chucked it into the small stream that ran alongside camp. Her torn riding habit followed.

«Caleb! What in heaven’s name are —»

«They’re looking for a girl fool enough to ride sidesaddle into the Rockies,» Caleb interrupted in a cold voice, looking into Willow’s started hazel eyes. «I don’t know any girl that foolish. Do you?»

Willow’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

«Good,» Caleb said, nodding curtly. «They’re looking for a girl stupid enough to wear fancy, flapping clothes that never dry out from rainstorm to rainstorm. I don’t know any girl that stupid. Do you?»

Lacing her fingers together, Willow said nothing.

Caleb grunted and continued. «They’re looking for a girl stubborn enough to try and sneak five fancy horses past every damned outlaw between her and hell. I don’t know any girl that stubborn. Do you?»

«My horses go with me,» Willow saidinstantly. «That was part of our bargain, Caleb Black. Are you going back on your word?»

The instant the words were out of her mouth, Willow wished she could call them back. But it was too late. She had said them and now she must face Caleb’s wrath.

«I’ve never gone back on my word to anyone, not even to a spoiled southern lady who is no better than she has to be,» Caleb said icily.

Without looking away from Willow, he yanked the ties of the thick bedroll and unrolled it with a snap of his wrist, revealing the clothes that had been packed inside. He grabbed a fistful of buckskin, denim, and cotton flannel.

«Start with the flannellongjohns,» Caleb said in a cold voice. «Then put on the buckskin pants. Then the Levis. On top, wear —»

«I’ve been dressing myself for years,» Willow interrupted. «I can tell top from bottom.»

Caleb stuffed the clothes into her outstretched hands. «There’s a hat and jacket for you inside Wolfe’s sheepskin jacket. He didn’t have a slicker forJessi. Sorry.»

«What about you?»

«Wolfe and I both hate slickers. They only work if you’re sitting inside a tent.»

Curiosity finally overcame Willow’s caution. «Who is Wolfe? IsJessi his wife?»

«His name is WolfeLonetree. Jessi is his stepmother’s cousin or some such.»

«Where does he live? I’d like to thank him personally.»

«I doubt that you’d have much to do with him.»

«Why not?»

«His daddy was a British blueblood, but his mother was the daughter of a Cheyenne shaman.»

«A medicine woman?» Willow asked eagerly.

Caleb looked down at her throughslitted eyes. He saw only curiosity rather than the contempt many people had toward a man of mixed blood.

«I never asked him,» Caleb said finally. «Why?»

«She would know the healing plants of the West,» Willow explained. «I’ve recognized some that are the same as back home, but not many.»

«You’re the damnedest southern lady I’ve ever met.»

«Probably because I’m not a southern lady,» she retorted.

Caleb smiled slightly. «Couldn’t tell it by the drawl. Listening to you is like licking honey off a spoon.»

«Just because I don’t have a voice like agravelbottom river —»

«You can insult me some other time,» he said, cutting across her words. «We’ve got better things to do right now.»

With quick motions, Caleb tossed the blankets Wolfe had given him onto the tarpaulin, set his saddle in place as a pillow, and crawled into the makeshift bed.

Willow looked around and saw no other blankets. «Where is my bed?»

«Same place it was last night.» He lifted the blankets, indicating the empty half of the tarpaulin. «Right here.»

She looked as shocked as she felt. «I slept next to you?»

«You sure did.»

«But I–I don’t remember it.»

«You were so tired you wouldn’t have noticed if a buffalo crawled in and snored in your ear,» Caleb said. «Now you can sleep next to me and stay warm or you can sleep alone and get cold. Your choice, fancy lady. Either way, put out the fire after you’ve changed your clothes.»

Before Willow could think of a suitable answer, Caleb pulled his hat down over his eyes, shutting her out. Within moments his breathing changed, slowing and deepening.

Willow watched Caleb for a while longer, seeing the even rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took. He seemed to be asleep. Even so, she considered retreating into the brush to dress, but was reluctant to drag the wonderfully dry clothes into the dripping willow thicket. Besides, it would be chilly away from the cheerful leap of flames.

«Caleb?» she whispered.

He didn’t answer. Nor did he stir.

Abruptly, Willow made her decision. Moving slowly and silently so as not to awaken Caleb, she took off her boots and she set down the clothes on the strip of tarpaulin he had left empty. Easing thelongjohn bottoms from the tangle of clothes, she turned her back and left the blanket she was wearing open. Fumbling slightly, she pulled the ribbons that fastened thepantelets around her waist. The thin cotton fluttered down her legs and heaped around her ankles beneath the blanket entirely. She stepped out of the frail cloth and managed to pull on thelongjohn bottoms without dropping the blanket entirely.

It wasn’t easy. Whoever had been the previous owner of the underwear was somewhat smaller than Willow. What should have been a loosely fitted garment covered her like a second, supple skin. The long-sleeved top was as snug as the bottom. The result wasn’t uncomfortable, simply unexpected.

For Caleb it was breathtaking, especially as Willow had tired of wrestling with the blanket and let it drop in order to pull the top of the underwear into place. When she finished, she ran her hands over the soft, warm flannel and made a sound of pleasure. Caleb set his teeth against a groan. He would have given a great deal to have his hands running over the same fabric and to hear Willow murmur with pleasure in response to the touch.

Grimly, Caleb closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, making no noise as he turned his back on Willow. She didn’t notice his change of position when she bent to the new clothes once more, for she was entranced by the feel of the buckskin pants. They were softer than velvet and supple as the wind.

With a murmuring sound of pleasure, Willow ran her palm over the pants before pulling them into place over thelongjohns. Again, the fit was close without being uncomfortable. The top, with its rain-shedding fringe and laces down to her breasts, was as soft as the pants and fitted her just as lovingly. Like the underwear, the buckskins were fragrant with the rose petal sachet that had been tucked in the folds. She took a few tentative steps, feeling as though she might float away without the accustomed weight of skirt and petticoats. The freedom of movement pants gave her was almost startling.

Mother would have an attack of the vapors if she saw me in pants, Willow thought with a combination of amusement andsadness. Butbeggars can’t be choosers.

Besides, the pants are warm and they cover as much of me as a skirt would. They just don’t cover it in quite the same way.

All that remained were the Levis and the wool lumberman’s jacket with its big checks of blended red and black. The Levis were looser than the other clothes, as was the jacket. The derringer fit so nicely in one of the jacket’s large front pockets that Willow left it there. The fly front fastening of the Levis baffled her for a moment, then her fingers went to work over the stubborn steel buttons. Finally, she shoved her arms into the jacket’s sleeves. The jacket had been made for a man rather than for a woman, which meant that the buttons were on the wrong side. Both Levis and jacket had been worn enough to make them flexible.

Willow picked up the pearl-gray, flat-crowned, wide-brimmed hat that had been rolled among the clothes. A few strokes of her hands pushed the hat back into shape. She put it on her head, fastened the chin strings, and wished she had a mirror.

«Just as well I don’t,» she muttered softly. «My hair must look like river weed.»

The warmth of the clothes seeped into Willow, making her realize how long it had been since she had been dry. Almost fearfully, she glanced up at the sky. No clouds were overhead, but that was no guarantee that it wouldn’t rain later on. By the end of daylight, clouds could easily pour down from the peaks in one squall line after another.

Wind blew with a long, lonely cry, reminding Willow of the icy night she had endured. Sparks leaped up from the flames. Quickly she pulled apart the fuel, and the fire guttered and died. As she banked the few coals in ashes, she regretted the loss of warmth. She looked at the narrow strip of tarpaulin that remained and realized all over again what a big man Caleb Black really was. The thought was daunting, but not as dismaying as the idea of lying down on the cold, wet ground in her dry clothes.

Making no more motions than necessary, she removed her hat, jacket, and Levis, lowered herself to the tarpaulin, and eased beneath the blankets. The feel of Caleb’s body so close to her own was unnerving at first, but when he showed no awareness of her, Willow relaxed, enjoying the warmth that radiated from him. With a long sigh she fell asleep.