«Then that’s just what Wolfe will do. We have to get over the Great Divide before a real storm comes.»

Rafe’smouth flattened beneath the light bronze beard stubble. He knew what was driving Wolfe. They had cut sign of other men headed for the pass over the Great Divide. In the last six hours, they had skirted areas where groups of men had camped in anticipation of the coming storm. The closer they came to the pass, the more likely it became that they would stumble over other men.

«Gold fever,» Rafe muttered. «Worse than cholera.»

«I doubt it. I’ve seen cholera go through a village like a scythe through a field of grain, leaving nothing standing, no adult living to bury the dead, and only a handful of children left alive to mourn.»

He stared at Jessica, surprised again. «You were one of them?»

She nodded. «I was nine.»

«Sweet Jesus,» he muttered. «How did you survive?»

Jessica smiled wearily. «I keep telling you. I’m not as fragile as I look.»

«I hope not,» Rafe said bluntly, «or you won’t make it over the pass. These mountains are as rough as the ones I saw in South America, and a damn sight worse than anything Australia had to offer.»

«Yet these mountains fascinate you.»

Rafehesitated, surprised by Jessica’s insight. «I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. Of all the mountains I’ve seen, these are different. Taller than God and meaner than the Devil, yet there’s a beauty in the basins and long valleys…»

He made a soft, puzzled sound. «It makes me feel like somewhere ahead there’s a cabin I’ve never seen, a woman I’ve never known, and both of them are waiting for me, filled with warmth.»

«You’re a good man, Rafael Moran,» Jessica said, her voice husky with bittersweet emotion. «I hope you find them.»

Rafelooked at Jessica with eyes that were the same color as the clouds. The sadness in her was almost tangible, as great as the weariness that made her lips pale and drawn.

A flicker of motion from the trail ahead distractedRafe. Even as his hand wrapped around the butt of the shotgun he carried, the burnt toast color of the big mare Wolfe had bought in Canyon City condensed out of the black and white of the landscape.

«Wolfe’s coming,» Rafe said, easing his shotgun back into its saddle scabbard.

Jessica nodded and fell back into the semi-daze that gripped her whenever she let down her guard.

Silently, Rafe decided to suggest an early camp if Wolfe didn’t suggest it first. But when Wolfe rode up, he had an almost tangible aura of alertness around him. Even before he spoke, Rafe sensed that there would be no early camp.

«It’s snowing in the pass,» Wolfe said tersely. «If we don’t get through now, we’ll have to make camp until the pass opens again. It could be a week or more. Even if we went without fire, it would be dangerous.»

«A cold camp?» Rafe asked. «Are there more men ahead?»

Wolfe nodded curtly.

«Did they see you?»

«No.» Wolfe reached into his saddle bag and withdrew a box of cartridges. «Cut to the right after you cross the stream, skirt the base of the ridge, and wait for me in the forest on the other side.»

Without warning, he snapped the box of cartridges inRafe’s direction. When the other man caught it with a motion of his hand that was so swift that it blurred, Wolfe smiled.

«You’re Reno’s brother, all right. Fastest hands I ever saw, except maybe Cal’s.» Wolfe’s smile faded. «How are you with a long gun?»

«Better than some and a damn sight worse than you.»

«Take Jessica’s carbine. Ride with it across your saddle.»

Rafeleaned over, lifted the carbine from Jessica’s saddle scabbard, and checked over the gun with the easy, economical motions of a man doing a familiar task.

«What about you?» Rafe asked without looking up.

«There’s a knoll about a thousand feet from their camp. I can watch them and you at the same time. If they start moving, I’ll start shooting. Some of them are bound to get past, though. No way I’ll get all nine before they get to cover.»

A blond eyebrow climbed asRafe realized that Wolfe was prepared to kill the men from ambush, if need be.

«You know those boys?» Rafe asked.

«I had words with some of them at a stage stop.»

Jessica’s breath came in audibly.

Rafelooked at her, then at Wolfe. «I see. In that case, I’ll be happy to pick off the stragglers.»

Wolfe smiled thinly. «If anyone gets past me, watch out for a man with a brown, drooping mustache. He’s wearing a gray cavalry cape and riding a black Tennessee walking horse with three white socks. He has a hideout gun behind his belt buckle, but I wouldn’t recommend letting him get close enough to use it.»

«Friend of yours?» Rafe asked dryly.

«Never met the man. Cal killed his twin brother, Reno got the kid brother, and I got a couple of cousins, along with some other gang members.»

«Claim jumpers?» Rafe asked.

«They had it in mind. But first they took Willow. It was the last mistake those boys ever made.»

Rafe’seyes narrowed.

«Don’t give Jericho Slater an even break,» Wolfe continued. «ThoseSlaters makeQuantril’s Raiders look like altar boys. If he finds out you’re Reno’s brother, he’ll kill you any way he can.»

«I’m an obliging sort of man,» Rafe said calmly. «If a man comes to me with dying on his mind, I do my best to help him out.»

The corner of Wolfe’s mouth lifted. «I’ll just bet you do. Give me fifteen minutes to get in position. And watch for patches of ice ahead.»

As he turned his horse, Jessica said urgently, «Wolfe.»

He reined in and looked over his shoulder.

«I…» Her voice died. She made an uncertain gesture with her hand. «Be careful.»

He nodded, lifted the reins again, and sent his horse ahead on the trail at a ground-eating trot.

Fifteen minutes later, Jessica andRafe followed. She rode tensely in the saddle, straining to hear rifle shots. All she heard was the empty, icy howl of the wind. It plucked at her already overstretched nerves until she felt as though she must scream just to shut out the wind’s endless keening.

The minutes passed as though stretched upon a tanning rack. Jessica almost welcomed Two-Spot’s bone-shaking trot simply as a distraction.Rafe didn’t speak. Nor did she try to speak to him.

The ridge they skirted was overgrown with a combination of spruce and fir. The trees were a green so dark it looked black. Slender, whitebarked aspen grew along ravines. Not even a hint of green edged the aspens’ graceful, ghostly branches, for spring hadn’t yet come to the high country.

In the rare pauses in the wind, the horses’ breath came out in silvery plumes. The animals were working hard and the land was rising relentlessly beneath their feet. Patches of ice gleamed sullenly beneath the recent snow, making the footing tricky.

WhenRafe and Jessica rounded the ridge and crossed a small clearing to the forest beyond, Wolfe was waiting for them. Jessica’s heart lifted as she looked at Wolfe’s dark face and easy masculine power. The renewed realization of just how handsome her husband was broke over her in a wave. The trail clothes suited him. The austere mountains suited him. In his lean hands, the heavily inlaid rifle was revealed for the streamlined, no-nonsense weapon it really was.

And Wolfe was revealed for the man he really was; he had been born for this wild land rather than for the brocade and satin of civilization. Jessica understood that as surely as she understood that she loved Wolfe for what he was, that she had always loved him, and she always would.

The realization stunned her, sinking past layers of exhaustion to the raw emotion beneath.

«They didn’t see us,» Wolfe said. «Too busy drinking and playing cards. Jericho will have them picked cleaner than a hound’s tooth before breakfast.»

«Good at cards, huh?» Rafe asked.

«He’ll do until you sit down with the Devil himself.»

Wolfe took the lead once more, followed by Two-Spot and the pack horses.Rafe waited until they were a hundred yards ahead before he let his horse follow. He had kept Jessica’s carbine, and he rode with it across his saddle, listening for any sounds from behind.

Exhaustion reclaimed Jessica’s body in a numbing gray tide. She slumped in the saddle. Staring at nothing, she endured the endless trail as it became steeper and rougher. Along the left, asnowmantled slope dropped away a few feet from the trail. Jessica didn’t notice. She was running on reflex alone, able to stay upright in the saddle but nothing more.

When Two-Step hit an icy patch and went down to his knees, she grabbed instinctively for the saddle horn, but it was too late. She was already pitching forward, beyond the reach of the curving, off-center horn. Two-Step lunged to the right, trying to regain his own balance. The sudden motion completed Jessica’s undoing. She hurtled from the sidesaddle onto the snow-covered slope and began rolling down in a flurry of skirts and flailing limbs.

The startled cry Jessica had given when her horse first went to its knees was the only warning Wolfe got. He turned sharply in the saddle just in time to see Jessica thrown head first down the slope. By the time he spun his horse on its hocks and reached Two-Spot, Jessica’s tumbling fall had been stopped by a thicket of alder. Recklessly, Wolfe spurred his horse down the slope to the place where Jessica lay without moving.

«Jessi!»

Wolfe’s cry echoed, but there was no answer. He leaped from the saddle and ran the last few feet to Jessica, skidding to his knees beside her.