«Gentleman?» Caleb interrupted.

«— God-fearing man,» Willow finished.

«What makes you think I’m not?»

«I don’t think you’re afraid of anything,» she retorted, «including God.»

Caleb’s mouth shifted again, into a true smile this time, a smile that changed the hard lines of his face. Willow’s breath caught. When Caleb smiled, he was as handsome as the devil was reputed to be. Impulsively she touched his arm once more, smiling in return.

«Could we start over again?» she asked softly.

The seductive bow of Willow’s lips sent a shaft of hunger through Caleb that was almost painful. His body’s savage response to another man’s fancy woman made Caleb furious. The curve of his mouth changed, becoming thin and hard as the blade of the long knife he wore at his belt.

«Save the long eyelashes and soft smiles foryourhusband, southern lady. Every time I look at your fancy dress and silky yellow hair, I remember how many men died on both sides of the war to keep you in the luxury you think you deserve.»

The contempt in Caleb’s voice froze Willow. In truth she was not southern, not rich, not spoiled. But telling Caleb that would do nothing to arouse his compassion and could easily prevent him from accepting the job she was offering him. If he knew that she had no money to pay him until she reached her brother, Caleb might very well turn his back on her.

That would be a disaster. Mr. Edwards had made it clear that Caleb was one of the few men in the West — and the only man in the raw little city of Denver — who could be trusted with Willow’s life, her virtue, and her valuable-blooded horses.

Without a word Willow turned away from Caleb and walked toward Mr. Edwards. She didn’t notice the admiring looks and masculine murmurs that followed her progress through the lobby. It had been so long since she had thought of herself as a woman that she was out of the habit. To Willow her body was something she fed, bathed, and clothed in order to make it work. After her father had gone off to fight, leaving Willow alone with her fragile mother, it had been Willow who had struggled to see that the home farm provided the food that kept the Moran women alive.

Willow might have been oblivious, but Caleb noticed every approving look she drew. His cool, raking glance chastened more than one eager male. Caleb told himself that he wasn’t being protective of Willow’s non-existent virtue; he was merely guarding his ticket to the elusive Reno’s funeral. Any one of the tough young men lounging around Denver’s newest hotel would have been happy to earn fifty Yankee dollars for leading the lovely young Willow into a land so remote that most of its rivers, canyons, and mountain peaks had no names.

«Mr. Edwards,» Willow said in a low voice, «it was good of you to arrange this meeting.»

Eddy smiled, took her hand, and bowed over it before he turned to introduce her to his companion, a plump woman of thirty with black hair, red cheeks, and vivid blue eyes.

«Mrs. Moran, this is Mrs. Sorenson. Rose, this is the young woman you’ve been hearing so much about for the past three weeks.»

Willow looked startled. «Three weeks? But I’ve been in Denver less than three hours!»

Eddy grimaced. «Since the darned telegraph went in, loose talk travels so fast it makes a man dizzy. We’ve been hearing about a beautiful southern lady and her five blooded horses since you climbed on the stage in St. Joseph and tied your horses on behind.»

Rose stood and took Willow’s hand in her own calloused ones. She patted gently. «Pay no mind, Mrs. Moran. Out West a body don’t have much to talk about but rumors. Anything outside the ordinary sets us to buzzing like a kicked-over beehive.»

Willow saw the kindness in the other woman’s face, and the lines of sadness as well. It was a sadness Willow had seen in her own mother’s face, after war and widowhood left her with nothing to look forward to but the illness and death that soon overtook her.

«Don’t worry, Rose,» Caleb said, coming up behind Willow. «Any girl who is chasing a handsome young stud like Matthew Moran all over God’s creation must be used to being the butt of gossip.»

Rose’s laugh sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Smiling, she held out her hand to the dark man who towered above her.

Though Caleb had been careful to stay out of Rose’s bed since he had introduced her to Eddy a few months before, Caleb still enjoyed seeing Rose when he came to Denver. He admired the widow’s combination of grit and humor, and the way she had managed to keep all five of her young children and raise them without a man to support her. If the discreet contributions of a few men had helped in the three years since Rose’s husband had died, Caleb didn’t think less of Rose for it. The money went to her children’s care, rather than to silks and fancy horses.

Caleb swept off his hat and bent over Rose’s fingers with the grace of long practice. The courtly ease of his gesture silently told Willow just how little Caleb respected her. The man had excellent manners, yet he had never once removed his hat in her presence, much less bowed over her hand in greeting.

«I thought you said you didn’t know mybr — husband,» Willow said, her voice as cool as the silk folds of her skirt.

«I don’t.»

Willow’s dark amber eyebrows lifted. «Then how do you know Matt is handsome?»

«I’ve never known a girl to chase an ugly man unless he was rich. Is your husband rich?»

«No,» she said instantly, thinking of the gold strike Matt had found and was trying to protect. «He hasn’t a dime.»

But Caleb wasn’t listening. He was turning away from Willow, offering his hand to Rose’s escort. «Hello, Eddy. Glad to see you back on your feet. I thought that green-broke stud had been the death of you.»

«Damn near, er, darn near was,» Eddy said, taking Caleb’s hand gingerly and then sitting down with obvious relief. «My right hand and leg are stillkinda numb. Next time I’ll let you shake the kinks out of that horse.»

«No thanks. If I were you, I’d unload that stud the same way you got him — in a poker game. He has a flashy golden hide,» Caleb’s glance went to Willow’s hair, «but he’s mean as a snake underneath. Even if he throws yellow colts, you’ll never be able to trust them. Bad blood is bad blood, no matter how pretty the wrapping.»

Willow told herself that Caleb wasn’t insulting her, he was simply making conversation about a horse. She was still telling herself that when Caleb turned away and made such a prolonged fuss over seating Rose once more that Eddy started to struggle to his feet to assist Willow.

«Please don’t get up,» Willow said in a low voice when she saw Eddy’s difficulty. She sat down quickly. «I’m quite capable of seating myself.»

«Thank you, ma’am.» Eddy sighed and muttered unhappily, «Since that stud threw me, I’m a damned poor excuse for a man.»

Willow smiled and spoke too softly to be overheard, wanting to spare Eddy’s pride. «The quality of a man doesn’t change due to age or injury. You have been the soul of gentleness and helpfulness to me.»

Caleb’s acute hearing caught every word Willow said. He gave her a narrow look, but saw only compassion in her expression, rather than the flirtatious sidelong glances of a woman bent on seduction. Frowning, Caleb took the last chair in the informal lobby grouping. He had expected Willow to wait imperiously to be seated like the spoiled southern lady she was. Instead, she had seated herself and at the same time graciously eased Eddy’s embarrassment at the injuries that kept him from leaping to his feet and aiding her. Reno’s fancy woman was turning out to be a surprise.

Caleb didn’t like surprises. He had seen too many men die with a look of surprise on their face.

«Did you have any trouble coming West?» Rose asked, turning expectantly toward the younger woman, obviously eager for conversation.

«It was quite an adventure,» Willow admitted with a rueful smile. «Matt’s letters mentioned the Mississippi, but until I stood on its banks at sunset and saw it burning like a great golden sea, I never realized how big the river really was, or how powerful. When we crossed the next day, it was like riding an unruly horse.»

Rose shuddered. «I recollect it. Scared me near to death when I crossed it years ago, and my husband waited until low water. If you crossed in May, that devil river must have been brawling along.»

«It was. Trees bigger than wagons were being tossed around like jackstraws. When one battered old oak crashed into the ferry, some horses were knocked overboard, but we were close enough to the far shore that they swam to safety.»

Silently Caleb remembered his own crossing of that great, roiling barrier called the Mississippi. He had been only five, but the size of the river had thrilled him more than it had frightened him. Echoes of his own exhilaration came to him both from his memories and from Willow’s husky voice telling him that she, too, had gone eagerly into the river’s wild embrace.

«How was the stage ride?» Rose asked. «I been thinking of going East, but I swore I’d never walk it again andI’spect I’ll be dead before a railroad makes it this far West.»

Willow hesitated, then admitted, «The coach bucked and lurched, the driver cracked his whip and swore constantly, and the noise of the wheels was enough to wake the dead. In fact, after a few days on the stage I began to wonder if Hell wasn’t served by the Holladay Overland Mail & Express Line.»

Rose smiled. «It must have seemed strange to a gently raised girl.»

«Not as strange as all that land and no trees,» Willow said. «Not one tree. The stage stations were dug into hillsides and roofed with sod. Matt had told me about it, but I thought he was exaggerating.»