There was no answer. He hadn’t expected one. With fingers that shook, he probed gently around the bloody wound. Then he cradled her against his body and grieved in the dry, wrenching silence of a man who had never permitted himself to cry.

WHEN Wolfe rode into camp, the first thing he saw was Reno and Caleb sitting thirty feet away in the midst of sun-dappled shadows. Willow lay between the two men. Caleb flashed a quick look at Wolfe and the horses, then turned back to Willow as though afraid she would slip away unless he watched her every instant. Her hand lay between his. He stroked the smooth skin, trying to reassure both Willow and himself that she was still alive.

After a long look at his sister, Reno stood and walked to where Wolfe waited.

«I heard the gunfire. Was Willow hit?» Wolfe asked as he dismounted.

«Yes.»

«Bad?»

«We don’t know. Her pulse is strong and steady, but she’s unconscious.»

Wolfe’s dark eyes closed briefly. He turned and gave a brooding look to the girl who lay too quietly and the man who sat next to her, stroking her hand with a tenderness Wolfe wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it.

«What happened?» Wolfe said, turning away, feeling as though he had intruded on Caleb’s privacy.

«Slater and his kid brother came up the ravine after us. They were sixty feet away when I spotted them.» Reno’s voice was heavy and worn. «Willow was fixing Caleb’s arm. There was no time to get her out of the way. When Jed Slater knew he was finished, he shot her. May God damn his soul to Hell.»

«Amen.» Wolfe sighed. «What about Kid Coyote?»

«Dead.»

Reno looked past Wolfe to the horses he was leading. Ishmael was among them. His head was high and his walk was strong. Other than a coat dulled by dried lather, the horse looked no worse for his long run.

«Thanks for fetching the stud,» Reno said, his voice husky with all that had not been said. «He’s a particular favorite of hers.»

«No thanks needed. I would have killed every outlaw in the camp to get my hands on that red stallion,» Wolfe said calmly. He waited, but Reno didn’t say anything more about what they were facing with Willow’s wound. «Did she bleed too much? Is that why she’s unconscious?»

Reno hesitated, then made an oddly helpless gesture with his left hand. «It’s a head wound. Caleb said the wound is shallow. He said he’s seen men walk around with a bullet in their head until the wound closed.» With a weary curse, Reno added, «He also said he’s seen men die without ever waking up, and their wounds were as shallow as hers.»

Wolfe swore softly and snapped the reins between his fingers as though they were a man’s neck. «Looks like we better make camp here.»

«It’s too close to Slater’s bunch.»

«They’re through,» Wolfe said flatly. «That repeating rifle of Caleb’s is a real ring-tailed wonder. You don’t need to take it off your shoulder to reload it. You just stuff the bullets in the side and keep on shooting. It beat hell out of the two repeating rifles Slater had.»

«Only because you were the one doing the shooting,» Reno said. «I’ve never seen your equal with a long gun.»

«Nor yours with a six-gun. Except, maybe, Caleb Black.»

Reno’s smile flickered sadly. «That Yuma man is quick, all right. I had to step around Willow to shoot. By the time I did, Caleb had emptied his revolver. He’s as smart as he is quick. He saw right off that Kid Coyote was slow and scared, so he put six bullets in Jed Slater and left the Kid for me.»

Wolfe nodded. «I’ve seen Caleb shoot. Not often, mind you, but when he does, he gets the job done. Glad the two of you sorted out your differences short of drawing your guns.»

Reno pinned Wolfe with a pale green glance. «Caleb and I didn’t get off to a friendly start, but that’s a damn good man over there, and he’s tearing himself up, blaming himself for what happened to Willy. That’s pure foolishness. It’s not his fault Jed Slater was snake-mean and tough enough to take six bullets and still shoot back.» Reno made an angry gesture with his hand. «But Caleb won’t listen to me. Can you talk sense to him?»

«I’ll try, but I doubt it. I’ve discovered men aren’t real reasonable where their women are concerned. Especially men like Caleb Black. Still water runs deep and quiet and looks real easy, but God help the fool who tries to make it run in a different course.»

Wolfe walked over to where Willow lay. When Caleb looked up, Wolfe’s throat tightened over protests he couldn’t voice. Caleb looked like a man who no longer believed in anything, even Hell.

«What can I do?» Wolfe asked quietly.

«Get her mares,» Caleb said, looking back at Willow. The back of his fingers caressed her cheek as lightly as a breath. «When she wakes up, I want her to see all her horses cropping grass nearby. I want her to open her eyes and see…»

Caleb’s voice frayed into silence. Wolfe put his hand on the other man’s right shoulder, squeezed, and turned away without saying anything. There were no words that could put the light back in Caleb’s eyes.

Caleb didn’t look up when Wolfe rode out. He didn’t look up when Reno made an oversized bed of evergreen boughs. But when Reno would have moved Willow, Caleb pushed the other man’s hands away and lifted Willow despite his wound. The pain in his arm simply didn’t matter except to tell Caleb he was still alive and Willow wasn’t, not quite.

«I’m going up on that rise,» Reno said. «I’ll be able to guard better from up there.»

Caleb nodded without looking up. Gently, he put Willow on the bed, pulled the blanket over her once more, and lay down next to her. His fingertips sought her wrist again, needing the reassurance of her pulse. Its steady, strong beat was all that stood between Caleb and the kind of darkness he hadn’t known existed until he had turned at the sound of Willow’s cry and seen her falling.

But Willow had known such darkness existed. He had seen it in her eyes last night, when she stood in the moonlight and called herself his whore. He had been furious that she could so belittle herself and him and what they had shared. She had been furious in just the same way, a rage as deep as the passion they had shared.

Yet underneath all the hurt, all the rage, Caleb had heard Willow calling his name in silence, asking why something that had begun in such beauty had ended in such terrible darkness. He had been asking the same thing since he had known she was Reno’s sister.

No answer had come to Caleb, only a pain that grew greater with each breath, each shared touch, each instant of knowing that eventually love would end and hatred begin.

And it had.

Reflexively, Caleb closed his eyes as though that would somehow erase the painful memories. It didn’t. He kept hearing Willow’s husky voice calling his name, haunting echo of a love lost before it could be truly found.

Caleb, what’s wrong? Caleb? What happened? Why won’t you answer me? Caleb? Caleb!

Then he realized that it was Willow, not memory, calling his name.

«Caleb.»

Slowly he opened his eyes, afraid to believe he wasn’t dreaming.

Willow looked at Caleb anxiously, her heart turning over at the expression on his face. Even as she winced at the headache that had come from nowhere, she touched his cheek with trembling fingertips, wanting to soothe the pain she saw in his eyes.

«You’re hurt,» Willow said, seeing the bloody bandage as though for the first time.

«I was shot.» Caleb looked at her intently, wondering at the concern in her, the emotion that made her look at him as though the past night had never happened. «So were you.»

Hazel eyes widened, revealing every shade of blue and green, amber and gray. Caleb felt his tension ease even more when both pupils contracted evenly in response to the increased light. The men who had died of their head wounds hadn’t been able to respond to light with both eyes.

«Shot?» she asked. «How? When? I don’t remember.»

«Don’t try to sit up,» he said, but it was too late.

A low sound came from Willow. Caleb caught her and eased her back down onto the bed.

«My head hurts.»

«Running into a bullet will do that.» He kissed her very gently and stroked her cheek. When she didn’t withdraw, but instead turned her face toward his caress, he felt a relief so great it was dizzying. He brushed his lips over hers and whispered, «Lie still, love. You’re weak as a kitten.»

«When did all this happen?»

Caleb looked at his watch and couldn’t believe so little time had passed. He felt as though he had spent months watching Willow’s unnatural sleep.

«Less than an hour ago,» he said.

She frowned, trying to remember. «Matt? Is Matt all right? Are you?»

«Your brother is up on the hill guarding us. My wound isn’t worth mentioning. Wolfe is getting your mares. He brought Ishmael back, too. Everything is fine. Except you. How much do you remember?»

Caleb couldn’t quite keep the hope from his voice. Amnesia sometimes followed head wounds. He would give a great deal if Willow could forget what had happened last night.

He knew the exact instant when Willow remembered. The light and loving concern left her eyes. Very slowly, she turned her face away so that his fingers were no longer touching her cheek.

«I remember riding out on Ishmael rather than have you marry me under the threat of Matt’s gun,» she said finally.

«Yes, I can see you remember that. Anything else?» Caleb asked tonelessly.

Willow frowned and lifted her hands to her temples, trying to rub away the pain. «I remember running Ishmael much too long, too hard.»