Travis couldn't shake the dark mood that followed him all day. He used his cane and forced himself to walk around, staying clear of the fire. If he fell he could always crawl back to the bunk and pull up, provided he didn't fall into the fire. But he didn't dream he died burning. He didn't even dream he could walk again, or ride, or go back to his life as a Ranger. He dreamed he was reading.

All his life he'd been a man of action, and now, when he supposedly had one look into his future, he dreamed of a study, which shouldn't surprise him, since he'd spent the past few months sleeping in one.

He'd been a fool to even test the legend. It was just that-a legend, nothing more.

By midafternoon the sky grew cloudy, but Travis didn't smell rain. He wondered if his brothers were worried about him. Sage had probably driven them nuts by now, but he knew Teagen and Tobin wouldn't come unless he fired rounds. They would give him the time he'd asked for.

Before dark, he ate the last of Martha's bread and cheese. He checked his guns out of habit, enjoying the weight of the Colt in his hand. It felt familiar, like the night around him and the fire. He could almost believe for a time that he was whole and the world was right once more.

He leaned back waiting to fall asleep. If he were to glimpse the future, it better come tonight. As he drifted, he thought of how the wind always chilled his face when he rode hard.

When the dream came, it was almost the same, only this time he was standing. He held a book in one hand. Big, heavy, black-like a family Bible.

Fear cut off his breathing. His mind kept racing, saying over and over again, "One chance, one chance." He tried to look around the room, needing to see someone. Needing it so badly he felt like he would have given his life for one view.

One chance, he thought. One chance. His heart pounded in his ears as need and longing mixed with fear.

He could hear movement, like rats circling in a dark cellar. He tried to see, but smoke whispered through his dream, blocking his view. He had the sense that time was running out.

Forcing air from his lungs, he took action. In one swift move he opened the Bible, reached for the gun inside, and fired. The blast echoed off the walls as the Bible hit the floor.

Travis woke with a jerk. For a moment he didn't know where he was. The dream seemed so real. The room of smoke, the Bible, the gun in his hand.

He closed his eyes and tried to shove it all from his mind. A nightmare. Nothing more, he told himself.

But the dream still haunted him as his brothers carried him down the mountain a few hours later. He'd told them of his first dream, but couldn't bring himself to mention the second.

He'd forget it, he decided. In the legend a man only gets one dream. The second one didn't count. He'd shove the nightmare from his mind and never think of it again.

Only when he was back in the study and night came, he fought sleep, not wanting to see any part of his vision again. He never wanted to feel as if he were trapped, as if his entire life balanced on one shot from a gun hidden inside a Bible.

Finally peace settled in, and when he dreamed back in his bed at the ranch house, he dreamed of dancing with a woman with green eyes.

CHAPTER 10

Rainey Adams thought long and hard about selling the horse she borrowed from the McMurray ranch, but when life comes down to whether to eat or not, rationalizing is often served as a side dish. She reasoned that if she starved, she'd never be able to pay Travis and his brothers back for the horse, and if she didn't sell the animal, it would have nothing to eat and would die, providing no help at all to anyone.

So, three days after she reached Austin, Rainey walked down the dusty streets to a livery and sold the horse for what she hoped would be enough for a month's room and board and clothes suitable for job hunting.

Rainey had circled the town for two days and found Austin busy and overrun with visitors. Traders, soldiers, families moving in, all crowded the walks and cafes. Most looked as if they'd gone longer than Rainey had without a bath. She moved among them as invisible as the occasional rat she noticed darting from alleyway to alleyway.

Though this town was rough and smelled of campfires and unwashed bodies, it had a liveliness she'd never noticed in Washington. Here the people seemed more real, as if layers had been washed away. There were no family names. No assumed respect given because of a man's dress or even occupation. If Austin were a painting, the artist would have used only primary colors, no subtle shades. The very town seemed so alive she swore she could hear a heartbeat pounding beneath the muddy streets. Building seemed to be going on everywhere with wagon loads of lumber log piling at almost every intersection.

After Rainey collected the money for the horse and saddle, she went to a small mercantile she'd noticed the day before. Though off the main path on a side street, the place had a sunny look, as if whoever owned the store cared about first impressions.

Her choices were few here, but the clothes seemed well made, and, most important to Rainey, the place had few customers. No one would question or notice why a ragged boy bought a dress. She'd thought of changing into her one dress. Though it hadn't been washed properly or mended in weeks, it would pass if she wore her blue cap over it. But she felt somehow safer, more invisible, in the trousers and baggy shirt.

Plus, something about her wanted to be presentable when she did switch into her real clothes. Many books commented that a women not properly careful of her dress must be not only an embarrassment to her family, but mentally impaired. So Rainey walked into the store in her boy's rags thinking she'd change all at once back into a proper lady.

The woman who ran the place had warm honey-colored skin and apple cheeks. Her kind eyes were framed with laugh lines. She seemed a bit overwhelmed as she tried to watch the store and take care of a child just learning to walk. She barely glanced up when Rainey entered.

"Let me know if I can help you!" she yelled from near the back.

"Thanks," Rainey answered. "I'll manage."

Rainey made sure she was the only customer in the store, then bought a rose-colored dress, shoes, and a proper bonnet. At the last minute she added undergarments, a nightgown, and a small handbag. They were the first things she'd bought new for herself in years. At the school, without an allowance or wages, she'd always made do with hand-me-downs from graduating students.

The blue wool cape with its wide hood was an exception. Her mother made it for her last year, telling Rainey that her father had noticed her shivering and ordered the cape made so she wouldn't become ill and neglect her duties. Rainey loved the cape. Though it looked serviceable and nothing special, her mother had put extra care into it. Double stitching on the border and two small hidden pockets inside the lining.

Her one dress and the cape were now packed into her traveling bag she'd left by the mercantile door.

As Rainey paid for her things, the woman smiled. "You'll want to wash before you put these on, dear?"

Rainey panicked for a moment, realizing her disguise hadn't fooled the store owner any more than it had fooled Martha at the ranch.

She glanced up into a face that looked almost too old to have a toddler.

The woman winked. "Don't worry; I thought you were a boy until I saw how you touched the fabric. Boys don't feel cloth the way women do." She laughed, enjoying talking to someone. "My ma used to say that I was a watcher in a world full of the blind. I seem to always see things that are right there for the seeing, but no one else notices."

Rainey didn't know what to say. Though she'd tried not to get close to anyone, she'd been careful when she'd had to, knowing her safety depended on her being able to play a part, and now she'd shown herself up so easily. A mother wrestling a baby hadn't been fooled.

"I'm Pearl Langland," the owner said. "My husband is delivering supplies to a farm halfway to San Antonio today. He won't be back until late. If you like, you could wash up in our room in the back. There's even a hip tub if you want to haul water from the well for a bath. I don't mind at all, dear. It'll be nice to have the company."

"Thank you." Rainey couldn't believe the woman's kindness. "I'd be eternally grateful."

"You're from up north, I'm guessing." Pearl led her to the back room. Their quarters couldn't have been more than ten feet wide and maybe fifteen feet long, but in one room the Langlands had made a home.

Rainey frowned again. She'd worked on erasing any hint of her accent. The lack of food lately must be making her mind turn to mush.

When Pearl glanced back, she laughed a deep laugh that filled the small room. "I told you I was good at guessing. It's a game I've played all my life. Most folks listen for clues, but I watch. It's the little things that give secrets away. You wouldn't believe what I've guessed about some of the people in this town. I swear they wear their lies like ribbons on their chests for anyone who has a mind to look."

"What gave me away?" Rainey asked, feeling safer with this woman than she had since she'd boarded the train just outside of Washington.

Pearl shrugged as if her talent were nothing. "It was the way you counted out the money. Most men, even boys, just hand you a handful and don't bother to count out the amount to the penny. Women usually are more accurate."

Rainey wanted to hear more, but Pearl pulled the tub from the wall behind the back door and suddenly Rainey had other priorities. The mercantile owner also produced a clean bath sheet and tiny samples of soap that peddlers must have left at the store.