tenderness in his eyes tested her determination. She wanted to throw


herself into his arms and never let go.




"Yes? " she asked quietly.




"Do you love me? " He squeezed her thigh until she finally answered


him. "I won't lie to you, Cole. Yes, I do love you, butţ" He cut her


off. "How many other men have you told you loved them? " "I haven't


told any other man that I love him." He grinned. "Good. That's all I


wanted to know." There was a definite swagger in his gait as he walked


away. She watched him swing up into his saddle. He took the reins,


rode to her side, and then, before she could ward him off, his hand was


behind her neck and he was pulling her toward him. His mouth took


absolute possession, his tongue thrust inside, and he kissed her


passionately.




When he finally lifted his head and saw the bemused look in her eyes,


he nodded with satisfaction. "Listen to me, woman. That's how I want


to be kissed every morning. I want a whole lot more than that, but


we'll start with a kiss."




"For how long, Cole? " She didn't realize she'd spoken the thought


aloud until he answered her.




"For the rest of our lives, and yours is going to be real short if you


keep having such crazy thoughts."




"You can't possibly know what I'm thinking."




"Sure I can, " he boasted. "It's like looking in a mirror." He shook


his head in self-deprecation. "My brother Adam used to tell me I'd get


it all back."




"Get what back? " "My attitude, " he answered. "I'm the one who never


wanted any strings, and it's galling to know you feel the same way."




"I do feel that way, " she cried out.




"All you're doing is striking first."




"And what does that mean? " "You're so certain I'll leave you, you're


taking action first and leaving me. Isn't that right? " He wouldn't


give her time to answer, but plunged ahead. "Well, I've got news for


you, baby. That isn't going to happen. I'm not going anywhere, and


neither are you. I meant what I said. It's forever, Jessie, and I


seem to recall you gave me the same promise." She didn't believe she


could be any more miserable than she was at this very moment. Memory


served her well, and she knew that even the most fervent promises were


empty. He loved her now, yes, but in time he would change his mind.




"I don't want you to stay with me because of what happened. I asked


you for one single night, and you gave me that."




"Are you going to thank me now? " His tone suggested she not comply.




"It's time to go.




" "You're trying my patience, " he whispered.




He didn't say another word to her for almost an hour. He kept looking


back over his shoulder to make sure she was all right, and she noticed


that his expression grew more hostile with each glance.




She knew she had hurt him, but it was for the best to end it now. She


told herself she was simply protecting herself and her son, because if


she opened her heart to him, she would be giving him the power to


destroy her. She couldn't take that chance. Yet, thinking about life


without him made her miserable, and she didn't know what to do to stop


the ache. She hated being afraid, and loving Cole terrified her


because it meant she would have to trust him.




Why, oh, why, hadn't she considered all the ramifications before she


attacked the man? Because, she wanted to know what it felt like to be


loved. Dear God, what had she done?




"Jessie, we did it all wrong." She stared at his back, her heart


already shattering, while she waited for him to tell her he had finally


come to his senses.




He didn't turn around as he explained, but took the lead down the last


slope that led into the town where they would catch the train.




"We had our wedding night before our wedding. We just did it


backwards, that's all. If there's time, we'll fix that when we get to


town."




"How do you plan to do that? " "Find a preacher." Her mouth dropped


open. "I'm not marrying you."




"I'm not asking."




"Good, because I . . . " "I'm telling you we're getting married. You


made that decision when you gave yourself to me last night." He let


her hear the anger in his voice, but he was careful not to let her know


how worried he was. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought


he was scared. Loving her shook him to the core, and he didn't know


how to make her understand that his love was real . . . and forever.




"Caleb . . . " "I'll be a good father."




"I won't subject him to heartache. He'll become attached to you, and


then . . . " She didn't go on because of the scathing look he shot her


over his shoulder.




"There's something I think you'd better know about me."




"What's that?




" she asked.




"I always win." ţthe one hundred twenty-three passengers on the train


headed south, only one person happened to be looking out the window at


the precise second that Marshal Cooper was thrown over the trestle into


the water, but one passenger was quite enough. Mildred Sparrow, a spry


woman of advanced years and a sedentary disposition, was seated on a


hard wooden bench in the rear car with her husband, George, at her


side. He was slumped against her, sound asleep, and was using her


shoulder as a pillow.




Mildred was quietly admiring the lovely view one second and screaming


like a madwoman the next. She was so distraught she could barely tell


her husband what she had just witnessed. George didn't believe her.




Insisting she'd dozed off and imagined that a man was hurled to his


death, he opened the window and stuck his head out to have a look


himself.




He didn't see anything. Mildred wouldn't be hushed, though. She


caused quite a scene, and the only way the porter could get her to stop


screaming was to promise to stop the train and investigate. He too


believed that Mildred had let her imagination run away with her.




The train came to a screeching halt about a quarter of a mile from the


nearest town. The conductor led the curious across the dry, barren


land to a hill overlooking the lake. More than twenty men and women


were in his entourage, and all of them doubting Thomases. More would


have ventured out if they hadn't been afraid of the possibility of


stepping on a rattlesnake.




The conductor was out of breath by the time he reached the top of the


hill. He looked down, let out a startled gasp, and whispered, "Dear


God, it's true." The group stood with their heads bowed in silent


prayer as they watched a fisherman drag a body out of the lake.




Black Creek Junction was a quiet little town in the middle of an


isolated and desolate stretch of land. There wasn't a tree or a bush


or a flower for as far as the eye could see. The sunsets were the


town's only vanity. Each day as the sun descended, orange shards of


light struck the red clay soil and the western sky exploded in color,


giving the appreciative audience the illusion that the horizon was on


fire.




Those who stood in the town square swore that they could see flames


dancing across the land. It was a spectacular sight, made even more


magical when old man Towers felt up to playing his fiddle. The


townspeople told newcomers that they had actually seen flickering


flames keeping time to the fiddler's tunes.




Grace was transfixed by the magnificent sunset and was watching the


phenomenon from the train.




Though reluctant to pull her away from the window, Daniel had to be


practical. "We only have an hour to eat and stretch our legs, " he


reminded her.




The mention of food reminded her how hungry she was. She put on her


gloves and her hat and followed him down the corridor.




"Do you wear your gloves everywhere you go? " he asked.




"A lady must always wear her gloves in public." He smiled as he shook


his head. She was so very proper all the time, ridiculously so, and


sweet . . . Lord, but she was sweet. He wondered how proper she'd be


in bed. The second the thought popped into his head, he pushed it


aside.




"Do you think you'll be able to eat a little something? " she asked.




"Has your stomach settled down? " "Quit fussing over me. I'm fine. "


Dinner was being served inside a two-story way station on the outskirts


of town, about half a block from the depot. Daniel hadn't even stepped


off the train when he was summoned.




"Marshal Ryan? " He turned and saw a heavyset, bowlegged man running


toward him. "Yes? " he said as he put his arm across the opening so


Grace would have to stay inside the train.




"I thought that was you, being so tall and all. The porter gave me a


good description of you. My name's Owen Wheeler, and I'm the sheriff


in this here town. Folks who know me good call me by my nickname,


Bobcat.




You can too if you want, " he added as he shook Daniel's hand. "It's a


right pleasure to make your acquaintance."




"What can I do for you, Sheriff? " Bobcat spotted Grace behind Daniel,


tipped the brim of his hat, and said, "Howdy, ma'am."




"Hello, Mr. Bobcat."




"Just plain old Bobcat will do, " he explained. "Don't need a mister'


in front of it."




"How did you ever get such a nickname? " she asked, her curiosity