WARNING: If you have not read "Wild Heart" this excerpt contains spoilers. To those who love spoilers, read on. I do ask that you please forgive for the formatting mistakes, as I do not know how to use this editor very well. :)

WILD HEART

By

Shannon Nicole Wells

Chapter 1

Arizona Territory, 1881

The mid September sun seemed to breathe its heat as it shined unmercifully upon the quiet and dusty streets of Tombstone, Arizona.  The unbearable heat was not unusual for the last days of summer, yet folks seemed to think that September should bring relief, instead of more of the same hot, dry, dusty conditions, that made merely existing, seem like a chore for the most hardy of men.  Not even a cool drink of water under the shade of a low hanging roofline could provide respite for a perspiring pedestrian, or diminish the hot rays of the ball of fire slowly slipping toward the western horizon.  For this reason, the streets of Tombstone were unnaturally quiet.
While ladies endeavored to relax in their homes or on their covered porches, most men took to the saloons where it was believed that a game of cards or a drink of whisky might help get their minds off the heat and their boredom.  For a young man out to prove himself, a saloon was the perfect place to look for a fight.  For a more content man who had no need to prove his worth, the porch of the sheriff’s office was the perfect place to gab the day away, but for Gage Colton, those quiet and dusty streets of Tombstone were a source of information on that lazy day in mid September.
After his father’s untimely death, he had made the necessary arrangements, as best he could; kissed his daughter; and left the Colton ranch to try to find the man who was responsible for the aching grief that plagued his every waking thought and even his dreams.  To a casual observer, Jeb’s murder had appeared to be an accident at best, or at worst, a suicide.  However, Gage was no casual observer; he was a man who had seen his fair share of death by gunshot, and this was definitely a murder. 

It had seemed like hours, but only a few moments had passed between the echo of a pistol shot and his riding up to find his father lying prone on the ground, pistol in his right hand with a widening stain of crimson darkening his shirt front.

He had quickly dismounted and went to his father’s side, calling out to him, but even before Jeb spoke in a labored whisper, Gage new it was too late.

“I don’t think I ever seen him before.”

“Did you get a good look at him?” he had asked, wishing for something to do. 

“Sure did,” Jeb had gasped, trying to suck in enough air.  “He was Indian, I think.” Then, with a final sigh, he whispered so soft that Gage almost missed it, “Just a kid.”

The next couple of days had seemed to fly by with so much activity that nothing really made since, except his father’s last words and the knowledge that an Indian kid was out there, running from a crime that he had tried to cover up by making it look like another’s. 

Memorizing the prints made by the killer’s horse, Gage said his goodbyes and left.  The Colton ranch lay near the Rio Grande, and, due to the hard work of panning for gold in California, was something of which to be proud.  But, shouldering the responsibility of managing such a large spread would just have to wait.  The deceased rancher’s eldest son was not certain why he left to follow the trail of the fast gun that had ended his father’s life, but trail him he did. 

Years ago, he might have been on the gunman’s trail, so as to silence the kid, forever, but not anymore.  He was now a Christian, and even though he was not quite sure what he would do when he found his father’s killer, he knew he was not bringing harm to the man. 

He had been in nearly every town since San Antonio, and the information he’d gathered, so far, was not much to go on.  Besides killing Jeb Colton, the half-breed gunman was reported to have killed two card cheats down in Mexico and a bar tender in San Antone, and rumor was that the kid was very fast and deadly accurate.  Speculation was that the kid was still looking for someone, but as for whom, well, no one seemed to know. 

When he had asked around, folks had had differing opinions on the kid’s appearance.  Some said he was over six feet tall with long hair and a beard.  Some thought he was little and scrawny with greasy hair and an ill-kept appearance.  Mostly, however, no one really knew what the man looked like; they all said he was a young, Indian brave who either never spoke, or had very little to say for himself.

And now, after being in Tombstone for nearly two days, no one seemed to have any more ideas as to the kid’s whereabouts, than he did.  However, he was no less determined than when he had started out on this quest down in Texas.

Figuring it was time to move on; he had just decided to go back to his hotel to pack his saddlebags, when he overheard a conversation between two men that attracted his immediate attention.

“Hey, Harry,” one of the men asked, “What was ye a-thankin’ ’bout, callin’ that kid out like that? I mean, seein’ as how he ain’t done nothin’ to ye, reck’n ye ain’t got no reason to kill ’em.”

“No reason to kill ’em!” the other man exclaimed in outrage.  “Why, I reck’n his bein’ a injun what thinks he’s gooder’n us white folks is good enough reason, Bob! I’m gonna kill ’em tomorra.  Jest ye wait and see!”

“But I heard he’s a real fast gun and don’t never miss what he aims at.  What if’n?…”

Harry did not allow his brother to finish.  “How bad can it be, Bob? I mean, come on! He’s just a kid and a breed at that! I’ll have him dead afore ye kin blink an eye.  Now, are we gonna git inside out-a this heat and play a game-a cards ’r stand out here and chit-chat all afternoon?"

In an instant, Gage recognized the twosome standing in front of the Silver Dollar Saloon.  Both men had shown up at a time in his life that he did not care to remember.  He had hoped never to lay eyes on them again, and seeing the pair so soon after his own father’s death, he felt a cold lump of dread settle in his gut.  He did not know why the Baker brothers were so far south, but he could not help but think that trouble would be the end result.  Knowing both men as he did, he knew they had spent most of the last three years in either Colorado or Wyoming, and now, he wondered if they were speaking of the very man who had seemed to elude him for the past several weeks.  Praying he would not be recognized, he approached the two men, and inquired, “Don’t mean to interrupt you, gentlemen, but what might be the name of this kid?”

Harry frowned at the man who stood a good four inches above him.

“What’s it to ye, Stranger?” He asked.  He wasn’t sure he liked strangers listenin’ in on his private conversation.

“Just curious,” Gage said with a lazy calm that he did not feel.

Harry’s frown deepened.  He’d not said ten words to this tall stranger, yet he disliked him already.  “The kid ain’t been botherin’ ye, too, has he?” He pried.

Fixing the smaller man with a determined look in his clear, blue eyes, Gage prompted, “The kid’s name?”

“The breed never said what his name was,” Bob said quickly, before Harry could open his big mouth and possibly get them in to more trouble than necessary.  “Folks jest calls him the breed.”

“Why is that?” Gage asked, not taking his eyes away from Harry’s oily countenance. 

“Cause he looks like a half breed,” Harry answered incredulously, wondering if the tall man was possibly a few cards short of a full deck.

“And,” Gage concluded “you’re going to kill him tomorrow.”

“Yip! Sure am! Come high noon tomorra, he’ll meet me right here in front of the Silver Dollar, and I’m gonna kill ’em dead,” Harry bragged, growing more self-confident as the questioning leaned toward him and not the breed.

“Well, I reckon I’ll be moving along,” was all Gage said as he continued his stroll down the rough board sidewalk.  Something just did not seem right about the situation and, feeling that cold lump of dread grow larger, he intended to figure it out before moving on.  Perhaps this was the break for which he had been searching. 

As the man left, Harry and Bob looked at one another in puzzlement.  Turning toward the double doors of the saloon, Harry asked, “What ye s’pose that stranger be a-wantin’ to know ’bout the breed fer?”

“Why, that waurnt no stranger,” Bob said, glancing over his shoulder at the retreating form.  “That was Gage Colton.  Ye know, the gunfighter we met up with back in ’76?”

A thoughtful look came over Harry’s face.  As he sat down at one of the scarred card tables, he said, “So it is, Bob.  Do ye reck’n somebody’s hired ’em to git that breed?”

“Wouldn’t know,” said Bob.  “But, I can tell ye one thang! If’n Colton’s after that kid, then I kind-a feel sorry fer ’em; Colton’s good with that gun, and he always was a mean ’un! Fact is I was a-gittin’ kind-a worried a minute ago, cause ye wouldn’t shut of ye mouth.  What if’n ye’d made Colton mad? Don’t know ’bout ye sometimes, Harry.”

“Know what ye mean, ’bout Colton bein’ a mean ’un,” Harry agreed.  Shuffling a deck of cards, he finished, “I member how he never showed no mercy to those he went after.  But, ye’d nothin’ to worry ’bout.  I could’ve took care of that kid and Colton, too, with one hand tied behind my back!”

As the noon hour of the next day drew near, the street in front of the Silver Dollar began to empty, but it was not due to a lack of curiosity.  In fact, those souls who were brave enough were finding vantage points along the street in order to watch from a distance.  They were hungry for something new to gossip about, but they were not stupid; no one wanted to get in the way of a stray bullet.

Among those brave souls, standing just inside an alley across from the saloon, stood Gage Colton.  The last thing he wanted was to see bloodshed, but he felt he needed to see who this kid really was.  Something in him seemed to be shouting that he was right; he was finally going to get a look at the one he’d been following since Texas.  Trouble was, what would he do if his instincts were correct?

Seeing Tombstone’s notorious Sheriff, Wyatt Earp, making his way toward the alley where he stood, he greeted him by asking in a low voice, “You planning on doing something about this fight?”

Earp gave the younger man an incredulous look, and answered, “No.  Baker’s a cardsharp, who cheats more often than not! I figure if he’s stupid enough to challenge that kid to a gunfight, he’s stupid enough to get his self killed.  And the kid… Well, from what I’ve heard that kid can take care of his self.”

“You’ve heard of this kid before?” Gage asked.

“No,” Earp answered, “not until last night when somebody told me Baker had called the man out.  Sides, if I tried to stop every gunfight in town, I’d be doin’ it from now till dooms day!”

Turning away in disgust, Gage wondered what the purpose was in having a town sheriff, when he did not seem inclined to keep the peace.  He wondered why no one seemed concerned that lives were at stake.  Did anybody care what became of either man? Would anyone have a funeral for the one who would be unlucky enough to be too slow at the draw? He seriously doubted it.

Uppermost in his mind was the kid’s identity, or rather, was he the same man who had murdered Jeb Colton? There were no forth-coming answers to his many questions, but one thing he knew for certain, was that there was bound to be trouble, no matter who was left standing when the smoke began to clear.

When the sun had finally reached its highest peak in the sky, he could see Harry, pistol resting in its holster on his hip, walking slowly down the left side of the street.  Glancing to his right, he saw the kid on his way to meet his opponent.  The two met about twenty feet apart in the middle of the street.

In the ominous hush that had seemed to fall over the town, Harry’s voice could be heard loud and clear, as he taunted, “Are ye sure ye don’t wanna back out, breed? Wouldn’t want any of your Injun blood contaminatin’ this here street, if’n it can be helped!”

Concentrating on the kid’s appearance, Gage almost missed the quiet reply.

“It isn’t my blood that will be contaminating the street; it’ll be yours, Mr.  Baker.  Are you sure you want to die today, because we could just call it off and…”

“Cocky little whippersnapper, ain’t ye!” Baker said, a little cockily himself, but he was unable to hide the note of nervousness that kept him from meeting his opponent’s eyes. 

“You’re a fool,” the kid said in disgust.

“What’s that? What did ye call me, there, Boy?” Baker asked, nastily, resting his right hand on his gun.

“I called you a fool,” the kid answered, still not bothering to raise his voice.  “If you’re wanting to shoot it out, then let’s quit all this talk and get on with it.”

Hearing something in the kid’s voice that made the little hairs on his arms stand at attention, Gage narrowed his gaze and studied the man more closely.

His voice had not been loud, nor was it familiar, yet it sounded more like a woman’s than that of a young man.

He had no more time to wonder about it, however, for at that moment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Baker begin to draw his weapon.  But, he had no time to cock it, before the kid’s bullet hit him between the eyes, and the unused gun fell to the ground along with a very dead Baker.

As long as he lived, Gage would never forget the look on the kid’s face at that instant.  Shock and horror seemed to mingle with a very feminine expression—the beginning of tears.  Then, like a curtain, an expression of cold indifference fell over his face, and, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just taken place, he turned to leave the scene, pistol still in hand.  It was all over in a matter of a few moments.

For a split second, silence ruled the spectators.  Then all at once, a mass of people began to flock toward the middle of the street.

Paying no heed to those around him, Gage stepped in to the street, and without stopping to analyze his reason, began following the tall, slender figure out of town; he just could not let this kid walk off without finding out his identity.  Behind him, he could hear shouting as folks were undoubtedly removing the lifeless body from the street.  A few were trying to get close to the kid, too, but the cold expression on his face and the fact that he still held his pistol at the ready, kept everyone from getting too close, except Gage.  Just as they passed the last buildings in town, he heard amidst all the shouting, Bob’s voice promising his brother that he would “git that no good injun fer this.”

When they were finally clear of town, the kid stopped, reholstered his gun, put two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.  Immediately, Gage could see a beautiful appaloosa running toward them.  The kid reached for the horse’s reins, but before he could mount, Gage said, “Hold up there, boy.”

When the kid turned to face the voice behind him, Gage managed to hide his surprise, but barely; his first impression of the kid had been correct.  This was no man standing before him.  Instead, he found himself staring in to the face of a full-grown woman, and a very beautiful one at that.  She wore a wide-brimmed hat that hid most of her face.  Masking most of her features, this hat was probably the most important part of her outfit, for it caused others to not think twice about her appearance.  Her jet-black hair was twisted into a thick braid down her back.  He could see that she had a dark complexion, a full mouth, and a chin that seemed permanently tilted at a stubborn angle.  He tried to determine the color of her eyes, but the brim of her hat shadowed them, along with the rest of her features.  Of average height, she wore men’s, blue denim pants that showed well her Slim waist and her long, shapely legs.  The blue shirt and fringed buckskin jacket that she wore were well placed over broad shoulders, and were intended for the purpose of hiding her more feminine curves, but they fell woefully short; she was most definitely a woman.  Instead of boots, she wore calf-high leather moccasins.  Most intriguing about her attire, Gage thought, was the gun belt buckled securely about her waist, with her pistol resting in its holster on her right hip.  From what he could see of her hair and complexion, she did look as if one of her parents were Indian, and it was no wonder so many had mistaken her for a young boy for she truly did look the part.  But how could they not tell she was a woman just by looking at her?

“I suggest that you stop staring and start explaining, Mister.  I don’t have all day.”

Gage’s eyes returned to her face.  Wishing that he could see the expression in her eyes, he asked the first thing that came to his mind.

“Who taught you to use that gun?”

The question surprised her, but quickly masking her expression, she said, “That isn’t any of your business.”

Taken aback by her cold manner, he said, grimly, “No, I guess it isn’t at that.  I only wanted to suggest that you stop trying to kill everyone you come in contact with.  You can’t solve problems by ending the lives of others.”

He did not go on, for her anger was very apparent, not only in her facial expression but also in the torrent of words that spilled forth from her lips.  Who did this man think he was, anyway.

“My actions and the reasons behind them are none of your concern, Mister…”

“Gage Colton,” he supplied.

But, paying him no mind, she finished, “So you can just turn your body around and March yourself back to town unless you’d like to end up like that man in the street.  I can provide the service, you know.” This last was said as the fingers of her right hand brushed suggestively against the butt of her pistol.

Gage continued to stare at the angry woman.  Her cold manner, along with the knowledge of her skill were enough to send anyone packing, but he was not thinking of the previous events in town; his mind was on the expression he had seen on her face when she had killed Harry Baker.  Where was the horrified girl? He knew she had to be hiding behind the cold woman who stood before him.

Finally, he said, “I’ll go back to town, but you might want to think about leaving this place.  They might come looking for you, seeing as how you just killed Harry…”

“I know who I killed,” she said, allowing her hand to rest fully on her gun.

Taking the threat for what it was, he gave her a long look, sighed, then turned toward town, still wondering about the interesting woman behind him.  He had no doubt she would carry out her threat…he didn’t know too many men or women who could draw and fire as fast as she had, but he could not understand why a young woman felt the need to go roaming the countryside, posed as a half-breed gunslinger.  How could he have ever thought, for one minute, that this woman might be the man he’d been trailing? Then, thinking on her peculiar behavior, he realized that there was more here than what met the eye, and he felt that he hadn’t seen the last of the woman, who shot in cold blood as if she was used to it.

Watching the tall figure walk back toward town, Shewana Christy sighed with resignation.  So, she had finally met the infamous Gage Colton.  She had heard all about him, but had never laid eyes on him until now.  Or, had she?  Oddly enough, he looked familiar.  Then, as the name registered, her heart dropped in to her stomach and her knees nearly gave way beneath her; Gage Colton, the eldest son of Jeb Colton!

For an instant, the awful terror that had plagued her these last few weeks, washed over her in waves.  What was she going to do now? Had he come looking for her? Or, was it just an accident—bad luck, perhaps—that she had had the misfortune to run in to him. 

Finally telling herself to get a grip, she mounted her horse and gathered up the reins.  She wondered if Deric could have sent him to come looking for her.  If so, was her brother just concerned at her continued absence, or had the news of Jeb Colton’s death reached Wyoming?

She had heard, once, that Colton had come clean, that he was no longer a gun for hire, but one could never tell.  In any case, the more miles between her and Gage Colton, the better.  Most assuredly, she needed to get out of Arizona, and fast.

As he neared the spot where Baker had breathed his last, Gage saw that the people’s reaction to the previous events seemed to be dying down a bit.  Seeing a crowd of men gathered in front of the hotel where he was staying, he paused before entering.  Turning to face the crowd, he saw Bob Baker waving his hand at him.

“Some of us men are a-ridin’ out in the mornin’ to brang that breed back here and give him what he deserves.  Harry ain’t the only man he’s kilt, ye know.”

“Yeah,” said another man, whom Gage did not recognize.  “Since he’s probably wanted by the law anyways, we figured on a-hangin’ him ourselves.”

"And,” Bob continued, “We’re a-wantin’ to know if’n ye’d like to come along and help out.  We could use us a good tracker, and ain’t nobody had as much experience as ye have.”

“No thanks.  I have other plans that can’t wait.”   Giving the men a disgusted look, Gage entered the hotel.  As soon as the door to his room was closed, he sighed.  Seeing his Bible lying on the dresser, he reached for it.  Something about what had just happened was not right.  The way the men outside talked, the person they thought was a man, had killed more than once, and was wanted by the law.  Granted, the woman had killed a man today, but could she have murdered as much as Bob Baker and the others said? More to the point, could the woman who, more or less, had threatened to shoot him, be the very person he had been trailing? If so, had she been the one who had killed his father, or did she have an accomplice? The question that was uppermost in his mind, was why.  Knowing that something had to be done about the whole thing, but uncertain of what, Gage bowed his head and said a quick prayer.  “Heavenly Father, you know all about this woman, and you also know her motives behind her actions.  I pray that if it is your will for me to intervene in some way, that you give me the wisdom and courage that is needed.  Help me, Lord, to witness to this girl who seems so troubled, and I’ll not forget to give you all the praise for it.  For, it is in Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.”

Raising his head, he ran his fingers through his dark, brown hair and felt at peace about his decision.  A smile of thankfulness crossed his face as he remembered just how far God had brought him, since those long-ago days, when he’d been a man who’d killed for the sport of it, as well.  He’d never thought twice about putting a bullet through a man’s heart, until a day in November five years previously when Maggie Scott had told him about Jesus.  Since then, he’d made a complete turnaround with his life.  He still sported a gun, but only fired the weapon in self-defense or when defending others.  Due to an accident that same year, which had damaged his right arm, he now wore his pistol on his left hip, instead of his right.  It had taken long hours of practice for him to be able to draw and fire his gun with his left hand without shaking, but somehow, he’d managed it.  Thus, one watching him today, would never have guessed that he had ever been a right-handed man.  And now, wherever he went he never passed up an opportunity to share God and His love of others.  He had fully dedicated his heart to God, and he knew that if it was the last thing he did, he’d save this woman’s life and tell her about the unconditional love that could even change the heart of a ruthless gunslinger.  So, with peace in his heart and a determined glint in his eyes, Gage began to pack his saddle bags and ready himself for what he was to do to follow his Heavenly Father’s command.

As the last rays of sun began to disappear in the west, Shewana pulled her mount to a stop and looked around.  There really was no way to conceal herself and her horse, out here in the open, but she could not help wishing that a tree would suddenly pop out of the ground at her feet.  No one had followed her from town; at least she did not think they had.  Shoving her doubts to the back of her mind, she dismounted, hobbled the appaloosa and began to make preparations for bedding down for the night. 

When she had a good fire going, she put coffee on to brew and some beans and bacon on to cook.  If someone was following her, they would surely see her fire, but she had to eat, and she also needed to keep warm during the night.  Besides, she could shoot well.  Hadn’t she proved that fact, just a few hours before? Sure she had, and she could prove it again if necessary.  Of course, she hadn’t wanted to kill Harry Baker, but the man hadn’t really given her a choice; it was either kill or be killed.  And, here in the West, if you carried a gun, you were expected to use it.  Still, she knew Baker would haunt her dreams, just as Jeb Colton did.

When she had finished the last bite of her supper, she stood and began to prepare to settle down for the night.  Stretching out on her bedroll, she stared up at the millions of stars above.  It was a clear night, and she’d be able to manage by herself, if trouble should come.

Unbidden, the image of Gage Colton came to her mind.  He was tall, she remembered, with dark hair; she was not able to make out the color, because of the hat he’d worn.  Nor, had she been able to determine the color of his eyes, because the brim of that hat had hid them.  He had worn a black Stetson that in spite of being dusty, looked fairly new.  The white, cotton shirt he’d worn had long sleeves, which was not unusual, but most men rolled the sleeves up in this heat; Colton had not.  He’d had on a pair of faded Levis, and a pair of leather boots that also appeared rather new.  But, where was his gun? Surely, a notorious gunman, such as Colton wouldn’t have been caught dead without his trusty peacemaker at his hip, and yet, she had seen no sign of a weapon on his person.  There were rumors, of course, but no matter what she had heard about Colton’s new way of life, she’d have to see a change before she would believe it.

When the full moon had reached its zenith in the star-studded sky, Gage knew it was time to make his quiet disappearance from Tombstone.  The night sun above cast enough light on the earth below for him to see perfectly.

After saddling the black stallion, which had been his constant companion for the last three years, he made certain that his saddlebags, bedroll, and rifle were securely put in their proper places.  Then, in one fluid motion he was astride the energetic horse and gathering the reins.  He and the horse made barely a sound as they retraced the steps he’d made earlier when following the woman.  It took a considerable amount of time to find her; she must have ridden hard to get this far from Tombstone.  Upon reaching her little campsite he dismounted.  She was asleep on a blanket with the horse hobbled nearby.  Quietly, he removed his pistol from its holster.  Pointing the gun at her head, he purposefully cocked it.  She reacted as if he had pulled the trigger.

In a blur of motion, she was crouching on her knees and pointing her own gun at him.  Quickly, before she could fire at him, Gage shot the gun out of her hand.  With a short cry of pain and surprise, she grabbed her numbed right hand with her left.  When she finally looked up, she saw that the gun was still trained on her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could form the words, he said with quiet command, “Pack up your stuff.  You’re coming with me.”

Eyes growing wide with incredulity and not a little fear, Shewana thought about refusing, but one look down the barrel of his pistol, and she decided to humor him, for the moment.  Without a word, she made to do his bidding.

After saddling her mount, she rolled up her blankets and secured them to the back of her saddle.  Then, she slung her saddle bags on either side and went to remove the hobble and store it and the rope.  When she was ready, she turned and said, matter-of-factly, “You’re Colton, the man who followed me out of town today, aren’t you.”

Gage knew she was not asking for a reply, but he answered just the same.

“I am.  Now, go get that gun and bring it to me.”

Shewana glanced around, and finding her gun, picked it up and made to examine it, hoping it wasn’t damaged beyond repair.  However, there was not enough light for her to be able to tell how bad the damage was.

Seeing her hesitation, Gage prompted, “Bring it here.”

She looked up and seeing his gun still trained on her, walked slowly to where he stood.  The pistol in her hand was probably no use to her, but she still did not want to give it to him.

“I’ll just put it in my saddlebag,” she began hesitantly.  “It needs repaired before it can be used again.”

“Not a chance,” he replied, reaching for the gun.  “You give it to me; that way I can be sure you won’t use it on me.”

“But…”

Not allowing her to protest, he took the pistol from her and motioned for her to mount up.

When she was mounted, she turned to give him a look that said louder than words, what she would like to do to him.  As she watched, he dropped her gun in one of his saddlebags, mounted his own horse, and studied her in the dim light from the now dying campfire and the full moon above.

“We’re going to follow the trail until I decide it’s safe to stop,” he informed her.  “You ride ahead of me.”

Opening her mouth to ask him what he’d do if she took off without him, she caught the gleam of metal, as he once again, raised the barrel of his gun.

“And,” he answered her unasked question, “if you try to run off, I’ll either shoot you or that horse.”

For just a moment, Shewana wanted to run, or shoot him, or… Or, cut his throat, or something to make this odd, yet nevertheless awful nightmare go away.  Instead, she turned in her saddle and rode at a respectable pace before him.  She didn’t know if he would carry out his threat, but she wasn’t willing to take that chance.

After riding hard for a time, Gage slowed his horse and pulled him to a stop.  Shewana followed suit, wondering all the while what he was doing.

Paying her no mind, he dismounted and studied the prints of the appaloosa in the dust of the trail.  He did not want to believe what his eyes were telling him, but the cold truth lay before him; the prints were the same as the ones he had followed all this time.

Giving the woman a hard look, he said, “I don’t know who you are, yet, and I don’t know exactly what’s going on.  But, I plan to figure it out, one way or another.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Those prints left in the dust by your horse,” he explained, “They only confirm my earlier suspicion about who you are.”

At his words, Shewana’s heart jumped up in to her throat.  She had sort of hoped that he had been sent by Deric to find her, but it appeared he had trailed her because of his father’s murder.  She had tried to be very careful, staying off the well-used trails, covering her tracks when she could, but if he recognized her horse’s prints… Well, how was she supposed to have known there was an expert tracker hot on her trail? Well, so what if he had been following her! She didn’t really have anything to worry about; her gun wasn’t the only weapon she owned, after all.  She could get rid of him any time she wished.

This fashion of riding hard before giving the horses a breather continued throughout the night.  It was not until the first streaks of dawn were appearing in the East that Gage slowed his horse for the final time that night.  Pointing toward a natural depression in the desert terrain just a few hundred feet from the trail, he said to the woman riding before him, “We’ll rest there for a while, but in order to get to it we need to cross the pile of rocks over there.”

The place was overgrown with dense underbrush; it was not the best place to conceal him, the woman and the two horses, but out on the open plains, it was the best he could hope for.

Shewana glanced dubiously at the pile of rocks.

“That looks pretty dangerous,” she commented, urging her mount toward the pile of rocks in question.  “What makes you think those men won’t follow us this way?”

“After we’re across and hidden as well as we can be,” he answered, “I’m going to try to disguise our tracks.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Wait and I’ll show you,” he replied, gently leading the way across the treacherous footing.

Neither horse seemed pleased with the idea, but with gentle urging from both riders, they finally made it down in to the underbrush, that from the trail above, looked like nothing more than an overgrown thicket of twigs, dead branches, and dangerous thorny bushes, which it actually was.

After dismounting he said, “We’ll be safe here, for now.  Then when I’m sure that the Tombstone Posse is long gone, we’ll go on.”  Hobbling his stallion, he continued, “You’re probably getting a little hungry.  I know we both have some water, but I can’t give you much to eat right now.  If we eat beef jerky, it will hold us until those men are too far away to see our fire.  Besides, to set a fire in this brush, would kill us all.”

After dismounting, she took a long drink from her own canteen.  Realizing she was no longer held at gunpoint, she fumed, “Who do you think you are, Colton, and what do you think you’re doing?”

Not giving him a chance to answer she continued, “If you don’t have a good explanation for what you’ve done, then you’re a dead man.”

Gage recognized her threat for what it was, but he could not stop a smile from crossing his face at the way she looked when she was angry.  Her chin jutted out even more, her cheeks were flushed, and if he could look in to her eyes, he just knew they’d be flashing.  Strangely enough, he was delighted that she had remembered his name.  For just an instant, they just stood there, staring at one another.  Then, on an impulse, he reached out, and removed her hat, and suddenly found himself drowning in a pair of blue eyes, he’d never expected to see again.  Those eyes, which were the color of a midsummer sky, could only belong to one person, and he’d been right, they were flashing.  Gage hadn’t seen those eyes in years, and had never expected to see them again.  Yet, he recognized her immediately.  However, none of his thoughts and emotions showed on his face.

Snatching her hat from his hand, she prompted, “Well? You gonna answer me or not?”

Stepping back, at her sudden words, he asked, “What was the question?”

Giving him a thoroughly disgusted look, she placed her hat back on her head, and replied, “I want to know what’s going on!”

“Some of the folks of Tombstone did not take to well to the death of Baker,” he answered.

“ Baker’s brother, and some others are heading out a posse this morning to look for you and bring you back.  They are planning on hanging you.  Not only that, but I think you have some explaining to do, yourself.  You don’t think I could stand back and let them harm a woman, do you?”

For just an instant, she paused in thought.  Apparently, from what Colton said, she figured there was no immediate reason for concern; Bob Baker was nothing but a card cheat, and she said as much.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Colton, seriously.  “Baker might be a card cheat, but he’s out for revenge.  Even if his brother had not just died, he’s a crooked somebody you don’t want to mess with.  Besides, for all you know, Earp might be heading up that posse, and if he is, then you’re luck’s about out…  That is, if you don’t stick with me.”

“Who’s Earp?”

“Sheriff of Tombstone, and someone you don’t want to face, alone.”

Not wanting Colton to know how anxious she was, she challenged, “What makes you think I’d let them hang me?”

“Have you ever had the law after you before?”

“What business is it of yours?” she spat.

“Since I witnessed that little scene back in Tombstone, I’m making it my business.”

“It’s like I told you yesterday, my actions and the reasons behind them are none of your concern!”

In a tone that left no room for disputes he said, “Whether you like it or not, your actions and the reasons behind them are my concern.  I believe that God has placed me in your path to protect you and that’s what I’m going to do.  Now, you keep an eye on the horses.  I’m going to go see what I can do to keep those men from finding us down here.” And, so saying, he picked up a large stick and walked toward the place where their horses’ tracks left the main trail.

As Shewana sat among the dry twigs and branches, she intermittently kept an eye on their mounts and her abductor, while slowly chewing on the strip of beef jerky that had been given her.  Although she tried to relax, it proved to be impossible.  That man could try a saint’s patience with his arrogance.  Who did he think he was, anyway, shooting her gun right out of her hand, which she knew was going to be sore for days! And holding her at gunpoint! And using his god as an excuse for his actions, well… It was ludicrous! And what did he mean by saying she had some explaining to do?  Well, she did not plan to explain anything to anyone, especially him!  If anyone had any explaining to do, it was Mr.  Gage Colton! Oh, she knew why he’d removed her hat; he wanted to look her in the eye, but was she mistaken, or had there been something there in his eyes? Could he have recognized her? She did not know how he could have known who she was; she knew that even though she had heard his name mentioned in and around Cheyenne for years, she had never seen him before.  Had he seen her somewhere before and she not know it?

Glancing around, she realized that for the first time since last night, she was not being watched.  Colton’s back was turned, as he leaned down to brush at the sand with the stick that he had carried with him.  It seemed that his concentration was fully on the task at hand.  Could this be the chance for which she had been waiting?

Slowly, she stood to her feet and swallowed the last bite of beef jerky.  Glancing once more at Colton, she stealthily began to walk in the opposite direction.  If she could just get far enough away before he turned around, she would soon be free.  As for her horse… Well, the appaloosa would come running at the slightest whistle from his mistress.

When she had reached the edge of the undergrowth, she stopped and quickly looked behind her; she saw nothing.  Was it safe to whistle for her horse?

Suddenly, in the hush of the morning, there was a metallic click that stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Down on your belly,” a voice commanded coldly from behind her.

When she made no move to comply, the voice came again and this time it was steely sharp.

“Woman, get down! Now!”

Astounded at his arrogance, she started to turn around and give him a piece of her mind.  However, before she could complete her turn, something hit her squarely in the back, and without warning, she tumbled to the ground.  She tried to scream, but her assailant had his hand clamped firmly over her mouth.  His other hand cupped her face, protecting it from the prickly ground beneath.

“Hold still, woman,” Colton whispered crossly in her ear.  “Do you want those men to know we’re here?”

At that, Shewana stopped her struggling.  What did he mean? She had not seen anyone.

As soon as she was quiet, he explained in a whisper.  “I saw a cloud of dust coming from the general direction of Tombstone and figured it was those men coming for you.  They’ll be here in a minute, so I suggest you keep still, unless you want me to hand you over to them.”

At his words, her heart dropped in to her stomach.  Then, she heard it; the sound of horses, galloping nearer.  She listened as the men drew near and stopped.  They seemed to be in no hurry as they studied the ground in front of them.  They were so close, she could hear them clearly.

“What d’ye make a-that, Bob?” one voice asked.

“Jest ye give me a minute, Pete,” Bob answered.  “I gotta git a better look.”

There was a shuffling sound, then, “Hey, Bob.  Looks like they jest up and disappeared.”

“Oh, git serious, Clay,” Bob said.  “They didn’t jest up and disappear like they was ghosts.  Ye know folks don’t do them kinds of things.”

“Well,” a new voice asked, “Then how ye splain how them horses’ tracks jest ends right here? I mean, they didn’t go on and they didn’t turn either way.  I mean, it looks like they jest…"

“I knows how it looks,” Bob interrupted, hatefully.  “But, they probably are still ahead of us.  Maybe the wind was blowin’ so hard that it blowed the sand over the tracks ’r somethin’.  Sides, ain’t nobody but a crazy man what would cross them rocks over there!”

There was some more arguing, but finally they all agreed to keep going.  They remounted and road off noisily.

When the sound of their horses could no longer be heard, Gage released the woman he had been holding and stood to his feet.  Reaching a hand down to help her stand, he said, “When they’re out of sight, we’ll get out of here.  You all right?”

Allowing him to assist her to her feet, she answered in a shaky tone, “I…I’m fine.” Then, angry with herself for showing such weakness, she asked, “Who do you think you are, Colton? Do you get some kind of weird pleasure out of scaring me with that Colt of yours?

“My Colt seems to be the only thing that gets your attention,” he said.

“Well, you didn’t have to sneak up on me like that.”

“I wouldn’t have had to sneak up on you, if you hadn’t run off like you did.  For that matter, if you had stayed where I put you, I would not have had to tackle you like that; you wouldn’t have been visible where you sat.  As it was, I’m surprised they didn’t see you.  You were just about to walk right in to them.”

“Well, if thanks is what you’re after…”

“I don’t care if you’re thankful or not,” he interrupted.  “I just wanted you to know how close you were to being hanged, that’s all.  Now, come on.  I can’t see them anymore.  We need to get out of here.”

For the second time that morning, she paid him no mind.  She even turned away from him and took a step in the direction she had been going before he had tackled her.

Almost wishing that God had chosen someone else for this particular job, Gage sighed.  Reaching out, he grabbed Shewana by the arm and spun her around to face him.

“You were going the wrong way,” he said, conversationally.  “Our horses are that way,” and so saying, he gave her a slight push toward their mounts.

When it looked as if she might resist, he just calmly pressed the barrel of his Colt against the small of her back and commanded, “Walk.”

When they reached the horses, he said, “We need to get going.  Those men probably think we are headed for Benson or Tucson.  We’ll stay clear of both towns, then head on into New Mexico.  By the way, what’s your name? I know for a fact that it isn’t Breed.”

If the look on her face was any indication, he might not get an answer, but he was determined.  He had longed to put a name to the eyes that had haunted his dreams these last six years.

“What if it is breed?” she asked, reaching for her canteen.

Smiling, he met her gaze and said, “If that is your given name, then so be it.  Since I refuse to call you Breed, I reckon I could call you, Darlin’.”

She opened her mouth to tell him just what she thought of his idea, but finding no words, she shut it again.

“It’s Shewana Christy,” she finally said, in defeat, then took a long drink of her water.

He was a bit surprised; he knew that her family must have lived in or near Cheyenne at least that was what he had assumed.  Could she really be related to the Christy’s of The Bar C?

Feeling his insides tighten with trepidation and unease, he asked, “Any relation to Deric Christy?”

Wondering if he already knew the answer, she replied, “He is my half brother.”

Replacing her canteen where it hung from her saddle, she asked, “What is your destination, anyway?”

“I’m headed for Cheyenne,” he replied.

As he made preparations for them to leave, he questioned, “What about you? You’re headed toward some particular place, aren’t you?”

Mounting her horse, she said, “I have not decided, yet.”

It was a lie, but there was a good reason for it.  She had ended up in Texas, only to find that one of the two men she was searching for had left for Wyoming a few days before she had arrived, and she had no intentions of telling anyone what she was doing.  Since he was headed for the same place, he would no doubt run into Deric and tell all he knew.  Deric and his wife, Pamela had no clues to her whereabouts and Shewana hoped to keep it that way.

Reaching for her reigns, she added sarcastically, “But I don’t guess it really matters whether or not I had any plans.  Now does it?”

“Well, since you aren’t certain of your destination,” Gage said, figuring she had lied, “you’ll stay with me until I’m sure those men have either given up their search or I lose them on the way to Cheyenne.”

“What makes you think so?” she asked.

Mounting his stallion, he gave her a determined look.  When he had her full attention, he said in a tone that left no room to argue, “Look, Miss Christy, not only is it dangerous for you to travel alone, you’re wanted by the law.  In case you have not realized, there are men looking for ou as we speak.  It’s a miracle that you’ve gotten along this far without getting caught.  You may have fooled many people into thinking that you are a young man, but you did not fool me.  The two things you have going for you are, Wyatt Earp doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the men chasing you, and you have me.  Now, either you ride along side me to Cheyenne on your own horse and not make a fuss or I tie your bottom to the saddle and gag you until we get there.  Although I’m not fully certain of the reason, God’s will is for me to protect you and that’s what I’m going to do.”

She sighed.

“He sounds like my brother,” she thought to herself.  “All that crazy talk about God and his will.”

Aloud, she said, “Ok, Colton, but, mark my words, you’re going to regret every minute of the whole journey.”

“Maybe,” he said calmly, “but I’m thinking that you’re not going to enjoy it either.”

Hearing an odd tone in his voice, she asked with caution, “What are you talking about?”

Gathering up his own reigns, he answered, “When we get to Silver City I’m buying a few dresses and you’re going to dress like a lady.”

She could not have been more surprised.  Who did this man think he was, anyway!

Taking a deep breath to try and calm herself, she tried to reply quietly.

“Being a free and independent citizen of the United States of America, I believe that how I dress is my concern and my concern only.”

He tried to hide a grin, and he almost succeeded… Almost.  However, he could feel a twitch at the corner of his mouth.  From her reaction, he figured she was one of those women who believed in women’s rights.  He didn’t disagree that women should have the opportunity to vote, but his views on the subject weren’t any of her business, and he had to say something to show her he wouldn’t stand for no arguing, so, matching her quiet tone, he said, “Being a bit taller and stronger than you and having a faster gun hand, I believe you’ll not argue too much when the time comes.”

At his words, Shewana nearly lost the tenuous hold she had on her anger.  A faster gun!… Oh how she wished she had her Colt 45! She’d show him whose gun hand was faster!  Not finding any words with which to reply, she met his blue gaze with her own.  “If you plan to reach Cheyenne before the snow flies, we’d better ride,” was all she could say through clenched teeth.

The two silent riders made much progress as they crossed many miles that day.  A few miles outside Benson, Gage turned eastward to keep a good distance between himself and the woman and the men from Tombstone.

“Lord,” he prayed, “help me to make the right decisions about direction so we can reach Cheyenne safely and as soon as possible.”

He had not known where he was headed, when he had caught up with her several hours before.  However, when he learned of her true identity, he had decided to take her home.  He thought it not wise to mention this, though.

When the sun’s descent in the western sky was nearly completed he decided to stop for the night.  Dismounting, he said, “This looks like a good place to set up camp.”

After driving a stake in to the ground he began tethering his stallion to it.

Shewana followed suit, and then began to help gather dry kindling to build a good fire.  Finding enough dry twigs was not difficult, since the summer had been a hot and dry one.

When they had the fire blazing cheerfully, Gage retrieved some water for the coffee.  While waiting for the water to boil he began laying out strips of bacon in a frying pan.

Stepping toward the fire, Shewana said, “Here, let me fix supper.  You go get the bed rolls down and see to the horses.”

Giving her a look of surprise, he went to tend to the horses.  She was actually being civil.

In explanation, she only shrugged her shoulders and said, “If I fix supper, I’m sure of its tasting the way I like it.”

In truth, watching him fix their evening meal had bothered her, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it to him.  So she had offered up that lame excuse and hoped he bought it.  He apparently did, for he moved to the horses without a word.

Retrieving their bed rolls, he thought to himself, “Well, what did you expect, Colton?  She wasn’t about to be friendly; not after the way you treated her today.”

He wondered if the whole trip was going to be like this.  He certainly hoped not.  She didn’t seem to take him seriously, and with unease, he asked himself what it would take to scare her enough to trust him.

Later, when all traces of the evening meal were put away for the night, Shewana poured herself a last cup of coffee and sitting down on her bed roll, she suggested, “You know, Colton, you could just ride on out of here tomorrow morning and forget you ever saw me.  I’ll be ok, and…”

“And you know as well as I do, Miss Christy,” he interrupted, “that it is much safer to travel in numbers out in this wilderness.  Also, as I said before, I feel that God has given me the responsibility to see to your safety.  So, whether you like it or not, I am here to stay.”

As she sat there, she thought to herself, he reminds me so much of Deric with all that talk about the white man’s God.  Maybe they shared the same beliefs, since both talk about him as if he has a say in their personal lives.  But did Gage Colton serve the same God as her brother or did he just use that as an excuse for his actions?  She would have to be very careful, for this man, in spite of what he claimed, could prove to be an enemy.  Why, for all she knew, he could even be the man she’d been searching for over the last five years.  That thought made her stomach tighten, for there was also the fact that he was the man who had followed her up from Texas.  With a growing horror, she wondered if he could be both.  Giving herself a mental shake, she forced herself to calm down.  No use stirring up trouble before it presented itself.

For a long while, silence ruled the little camp.  As she lay silently in her bedroll, trying to fall asleep, she fervently hoped the bad dreams would keep away this night.  She had not let on to Colton, but secretly, she was scared.  Was Bob baker as cruel as Colton had suggested?  Would he really hang a woman?  Would Gage Colton be any help at all, or was he all talk?  What did he have planned for her?

Just then, her thoughts were interrupted by a slight sound coming out of the darkness.  Straining to hear, she realized the rustling sound was pages being turned as Colton read his Bible.  Turning her head, she could see him by the light of the dying fire.  It was something her brother did each day, but was Colton really reading or was he only putting up a front.  If he were trying to lure her trust so as to take advantage of her, would he actually go so far as to read the Bible? She did not think so.

After what seemed an eternity, she finally broached the subject that was uppermost on her mind.  “Do you think they have caught on to our trail, yet?”

Gage raised his head and looked at her.  She was barely visible in the dim light, so he was not able to read any facial expression she may have made.

“I hope not,” was his only reply.

Returning his gaze to his opened bible, he wondered if she was frightened as her voice suggested.  No doubt she had a right to be, but why did she insist on hiding it.  As for himself, he was not afraid, yet he was alert to any sign of danger.  His years spent on the wrong side of the law had taught him to keep his eyes watchful and his senses keen.  He knew now that God was protecting him, but he figured that if he let his guard down now, it was his own fault, not God’s.  With this thought, he continued reading.

The psalms had always been a comfort to him and it was to them he turned now, hoping for some comfort and guidance from the Lord.  Leaning as close to the dying fire as he could, he read in the twenty-fourth Psalm, “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.  For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods.”

Suddenly, the phrase, “And they that dwell therein,” leaped out at him.  Shewana, as well as himself, dwelled in the world that God had made.  The earth was the Lord’s and He had control over it.  God was not only in control of the earth, but all those who dwelt therein.  Gage knew Shewana did not serve the only true and living God as he did, but God still was in control of this situation and God knew what He was doing.  He was totally aware of Shewana’s thoughts, feelings, and reasons for what she had done.  Whispering a soft, yet fervent prayer, Gage left the situation in God’s hands where it belonged, and promised to try his best to follow his Heavenly Father’s will.

Closing his Bible, he stood to his feet and went to his saddlebags to replace the well-worn book.  When it lay safely within the leather bag, he pulled out another item and uncoiling it, glanced over to see if the woman was still sleeping.  She was, and so he quietly stepped over to her and stealthily wrapped one end of the rope around her ankle.  When a knot had been securely tied, he knotted the other end around his own ankle; she might throw a fit in the morning, but he was not trusting her, yet.

Bob Baker spat a stream of tobacco juice at the dying campfire.  Glancing around at his few companions he smiled.  He was proud of himself, and had no trouble showing it; he’d been successful in stealing one of Wyatt Earp’s sheriff badges, so he could look proper when he caught the breed.  He had tried to ask Earp to help, but the older man had been too busy to listen.  He had made sure to take time to ask Earp for a badge, but when the Sheriff paid him no mind, Bob took it upon himself to take one.

In a confident tone, he said, “I’m a-thankin that breed is headed fer New Mexicer ’r Californy.  What d’ye say some of us goes to Californy and the others goes to New Mexicer; we could cover more ground that way.”

“Sounds like a purdy good idea, Bob,” Clay Johnson said.  “But how will one group know if’n the other group’s found ’em ’r not? Also, what if’n that kid’s decided to fool us all and go hide himself in them there church people in Utah?  What do they call themselves again?”

“Blieve I heard somebody call ’em the Mormons,” Rob supplied.  Then, in desperation.

“Ye don’t thank that breed would hide with religious people? Do ye, Bob?”

“Aahh, Bob,” Buster complained, “Ye ain’t gonna make us go visitin’ any church folks to look fer that kid, are ye?”

“Reck’n ye never can tell ’bout injuns,” Bob answered, “but just in case, better send a couple of you boys to Utah to be a-findin’ out, anyhows.  Reck’n Clay can come with me.  Rob, you and Dave go visit them Mormons.  Charlie and Buster’ll look fer the breed in Californy.”

An audible sigh of relief came from Buster’s general direction.  He did not mind lookin’ fer killers, specially injuns, but he was not plannin’ on askin’ church folks to help.  He was kind of scared that they might try to draft him in or something.

Pete Smith spoke up and said, “Me and Andy kin stay here in Benson.  When one group finds ’em they just let us know and we’ll go tell the other group.  If’n none of us finds the breed afore November, we’ll come back and put up posters.  Even if one group gits on the trail of that there kid, they’ll let the rest of us know, so everybody can help out in a-gittin’ this breed.”

“Hey Pete,” Andy said, “That was good thankin’.  Didn’t thank ye had it in ye to thank so good.”

“Does everybody here agree on this here idea?” Bob asked the group of men.

When all of them nodded he finished, “Guess it be settled then.  Clay kin come with me.  Pete and Andy’ll stay here, and the rest of y’all goes on to Californy and Utah.  Better get some shut-eye, boys.  It’s gonna be a long day tomorra and we’s a-gittin’ started purdy early in the mornin’.”

By the time the first streaks of dawn were appearing in the eastern sky Gage was already building up the fire.  He knew it could take a long time to reach his destination and the more miles he and Shewana covered in a day, the sooner they’d reach Cheyenne.  Pouring himself a cup of coffee he glanced over at his traveling companion, who still appeared to be sleeping.  As e stood near the campfire, drinking the hot, strong coffee and watching the young woman, he wondered at her reasons for venturing out on her own, and so far from home, at that.  How many men had she really killed, besides Harry Baker and his father?  Remembering how she had looked the day she shot Baker, he wondered how she could kill someone without turning a hair.  He just could not believe that she was as heartless as she appeared, especially after seeing that look on her face when Baker had received her bullet.  One would think that with the law after her, she’d do everything possible to lie low, but not Shewana Christy.  Maybe she was not finished yet.  Were all the rumors he had heard, true?  Could she be looking for yet another life to end?  If so, who?  Could she be out for revenge? At that thought, he nearly groaned aloud.  For, if revenge was behind her actions, then this trip was going to be more than he had bargained for.

Slowly, Shewana opened her eyes and stared in confusion.  Where was she?

“Good morning, Miss Christy,” Gage said, noticing her bewildered look.

Her eyes flew to his face, and memory came flooding back.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, stifling a yawn.  “I was hoping it was only a dream.”

Gage chuckled, softly, but said nothing as he refilled his now empty cup with the hot, dark liquid.  Ignoring him, she stretched and sat up.  Then, she noticed the rope still tied around her ankle.

For just an instant, she just stared stupidly at it.  Then, with quick precision, she drew her knife and slashed it away.  Angrily, she replaced her knife and stood to her feet.  She was angry at Colton, but angrier with herself.  How on earth could she have slept while he had tied that thing around her ankle?  When had he done it?  She would never admit it to herself or anyone else, but she was also embarrassed; she should have been more alert.

Averting her face, she stepped to the fire and poured herself a cup of coffee.  She drank the scalding, strong brew as if it was water.

After pouring a second cup, she asked, “Are we going to eat before heading out, or not?”

He pointed to the bacon, frying over the fire, but said nothing.  Shewana just shrugged and took another long drink.

When the food was ready, Gage quickly said a blessing and handed Shewana a plate.  “I don’t know whether those men from Tombstone have picked up on our trail, yet, or not, but I think we should act as if they have.  It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

When she made no reply, he sighed inwardly.  She was certainly making good her promise to make the trip difficult.  For a moment, he wondered if she ever let her guard down, but one look at her and he knew that if she’d ever opened up, it hadn’t been recently and would not be soon.

Shewana knew the only way for her to handle the situation was to take control of it.  Finishing her breakfast, she said, “I’ll make a deal with you, Colton.  I might not run away again,, if you promise not to treat me like a naughty child, who needs constant supervision.”

Gage paused for a moment to glance at her.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Miss Christy,” he said.  “I’ll promise to stop treating you like a naughty child when you stop acting like one.”

She was outraged.  How was she supposed to put up with this man?

“I am not acting like a child!” she said.  “It’s just your man-handling is getting on my nerves.”

He gave her a longsuffering look and just sighed.

“Better get ready to pull out,” was all he said.

Realizing he was not going to take the bait and argue it out, she turned and began to gather up her things for the day’s journey ahead.

Preparing to leave the little campsite, Gage wondered what he had expected.  Just as he did not trust her, she did not trust him.  Well, at least she hadn’t tried to kill him, yet.  And, he fervently prayed, for the safety of them both, that she would not.

When both were mounted, he turned to her and explained, “We’re going to keep heading toward New Mexico, but let’s try to stay clear of the trail.  I have this gut feeling that we’ve not seen the last of Baker and his men and the more we keep out of sight, the better.”

Shewana only nodded, but inside she felt slightly worried.  Could Gage Colton be trusted to backup his word? If they were to run in to trouble, would he protect her, like he promised? It was her experience that no one could be trusted, so she figured that if those men caught up with her, she would be the only one protecting herself.  On the other hand, he had kept those men from seeing them yesterday.  So, in a way, he had protected her.  Of course, he hadn’t needed to shove her to the ground that way, but he had protected her.  Then, she remembered how he had ept her face from hitting the thorns and twigs.  Had that been on purpose, or was it just coincidence?  Did he really care that much? Well, one thing was for certain, she would not need to protect him.  He looked quite capable of taking care of himself, what with his work-hardened body clearly outlined under his cotton shirt and the gun he now wore.

Giving herself a mental shake, she made herself concentrate on the matter at hand.  Now was most certainly not the time to be allowing her thoughts to run away with themselves.