Eddy smiled, took her hand, and bowed over it before he turned to introduce her to his companion, a plump woman of thirty with black hair, red cheeks, and vivid blue eyes.

«Mrs. Moran, this is Mrs. Sorenson. Rose, this is the young woman you’ve been hearing so much about for the past three weeks.»

Willow looked startled. «Three weeks? But I’ve been in Denver less than three hours!»

Eddy grimaced. «Since the darned telegraph went in, loose talk travels so fast it makes a man dizzy. We’ve been hearing about a beautiful southern lady and her five blooded horses since you climbed on the stage in St. Joseph and tied your horses on behind.»

Rose stood and took Willow’s hand in her own calloused ones. She patted gently. «Pay no mind, Mrs. Moran. Out West a body don’t have much to talk about but rumors. Anything outside the ordinary sets us to buzzing like a kicked-over beehive.»

Willow saw the kindness in the other woman’s face, and the lines of sadness as well. It was a sadness Willow had seen in her own mother’s face, after war and widowhood left her with nothing to look forward to but the illness and death that soon overtook her.

«Don’t worry, Rose,» Caleb said, coming up behind Willow. «Any girl who is chasing a handsome young stud like Matthew Moran all over God’s creation must be used to being the butt of gossip.»

Rose’s laugh sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Smiling, she held out her hand to the dark man who towered above her.

Though Caleb had been careful to stay out of Rose’s bed since he had introduced her to Eddy a few months before, Caleb still enjoyed seeing Rose when he came to Denver. He admired the widow’s combination of grit and humor, and the way she had managed to keep all five of her young children and raise them without a man to support her. If the discreet contributions of a few men had helped in the three years since Rose’s husband had died, Caleb didn’t think less of Rose for it. The money went to her children’s care, rather than to silks and fancy horses.

Caleb swept off his hat and bent over Rose’s fingers with the grace of long practice. The courtly ease of his gesture silently told Willow just how little Caleb respected her. The man had excellent manners, yet he had never once removed his hat in her presence, much less bowed over her hand in greeting.

«I thought you said you didn’t know mybr — husband,» Willow said, her voice as cool as the silk folds of her skirt.

«I don’t.»

Willow’s dark amber eyebrows lifted. «Then how do you know Matt is handsome?»

«I’ve never known a girl to chase an ugly man unless he was rich. Is your husband rich?»

«No,» she said instantly, thinking of the gold strike Matt had found and was trying to protect. «He hasn’t a dime.»

But Caleb wasn’t listening. He was turning away from Willow, offering his hand to Rose’s escort. «Hello, Eddy. Glad to see you back on your feet. I thought that green-broke stud had been the death of you.»

«Damn near, er, darn near was,» Eddy said, taking Caleb’s hand gingerly and then sitting down with obvious relief. «My right hand and leg are stillkinda numb. Next time I’ll let you shake the kinks out of that horse.»

«No thanks. If I were you, I’d unload that stud the same way you got him — in a poker game. He has a flashy golden hide,» Caleb’s glance went to Willow’s hair, «but he’s mean as a snake underneath. Even if he throws yellow colts, you’ll never be able to trust them. Bad blood is bad blood, no matter how pretty the wrapping.»

Willow told herself that Caleb wasn’t insulting her, he was simply making conversation about a horse. She was still telling herself that when Caleb turned away and made such a prolonged fuss over seating Rose once more that Eddy started to struggle to his feet to assist Willow.

«Please don’t get up,» Willow said in a low voice when she saw Eddy’s difficulty. She sat down quickly. «I’m quite capable of seating myself.»

«Thank you, ma’am.» Eddy sighed and muttered unhappily, «Since that stud threw me, I’m a damned poor excuse for a man.»

Willow smiled and spoke too softly to be overheard, wanting to spare Eddy’s pride. «The quality of a man doesn’t change due to age or injury. You have been the soul of gentleness and helpfulness to me.»

Caleb’s acute hearing caught every word Willow said. He gave her a narrow look, but saw only compassion in her expression, rather than the flirtatious sidelong glances of a woman bent on seduction. Frowning, Caleb took the last chair in the informal lobby grouping. He had expected Willow to wait imperiously to be seated like the spoiled southern lady she was. Instead, she had seated herself and at the same time graciously eased Eddy’s embarrassment at the injuries that kept him from leaping to his feet and aiding her. Reno’s fancy woman was turning out to be a surprise.

Caleb didn’t like surprises. He had seen too many men die with a look of surprise on their face.

«Did you have any trouble coming West?» Rose asked, turning expectantly toward the younger woman, obviously eager for conversation.

«It was quite an adventure,» Willow admitted with a rueful smile. «Matt’s letters mentioned the Mississippi, but until I stood on its banks at sunset and saw it burning like a great golden sea, I never realized how big the river really was, or how powerful. When we crossed the next day, it was like riding an unruly horse.»

Rose shuddered. «I recollect it. Scared me near to death when I crossed it years ago, and my husband waited until low water. If you crossed in May, that devil river must have been brawling along.»

«It was. Trees bigger than wagons were being tossed around like jackstraws. When one battered old oak crashed into the ferry, some horses were knocked overboard, but we were close enough to the far shore that they swam to safety.»

Silently Caleb remembered his own crossing of that great, roiling barrier called the Mississippi. He had been only five, but the size of the river had thrilled him more than it had frightened him. Echoes of his own exhilaration came to him both from his memories and from Willow’s husky voice telling him that she, too, had gone eagerly into the river’s wild embrace.

«How was the stage ride?» Rose asked. «I been thinking of going East, but I swore I’d never walk it again andI’spect I’ll be dead before a railroad makes it this far West.»

Willow hesitated, then admitted, «The coach bucked and lurched, the driver cracked his whip and swore constantly, and the noise of the wheels was enough to wake the dead. In fact, after a few days on the stage I began to wonder if Hell wasn’t served by the Holladay Overland Mail & Express Line.»

Rose smiled. «It must have seemed strange to a gently raised girl.»

«Not as strange as all that land and no trees,» Willow said. «Not one tree. The stage stations were dug into hillsides and roofed with sod. Matt had told me about it, but I thought he was exaggerating.»

Eddy laughed even as he looked at Willow and shook his head. «Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Mrs. Moran.»

«Oh, you did,» Willow agreed. «When I found your name in my father’s, er, father-in-law’s correspondence and wrote you about finding Matt, you were most discouraging.»

«Must be every bit of six hundred miles from St. Joseph,» Eddy said. «That’s a long, hard trip for a young woman alone.»

«It’s a long ride for anyone, but I had my horses. My Stallion Ishmael is more comfortable than any stage seat. When it wasn’t raining, I rode. Some of the passengers had it much worse than I did. They had no horse to ride and no money to pay for extra overnight stops to rest from the ride. I met several poor souls who were making the trip in half the time I took.»

«Why didn’t you wait for your man to come and get you?» Rose asked. Then she half-laughed, half-smiled, and flushed. «Lord, listen to me! I’m sorry, Mrs. Moran. I’m so hungry for news of anything east of Denver I forget my manners. Lots of folks that come here don’t want to talk about what they left behind, or why, or even what their name was back home.»

Before Willow could answer, Caleb said coolly, «Don’t fret about pretty manners, Rose. Mrs. Moran is such a fancy southern lady that she doesn’t expect much in the way of polish from people out here.»

«Caleb Black!» Rose said, astonished. «What’s got into you? You’re not the kind to care which side a man fought on, long as he had grit enough to fight. And your manners are better than any man’s — East, South, or North! Leastways, they used to be good.» She turned toward Willow and patted the younger woman’s hand. «Don’t mind Cal. He’s just funning you. He don’t hate southerners. My goodness, Eddy is from Texas!»

«Wouldn’t matter if Cal did hate southerners,» Eddy said. «Mrs. Moran’s a Yankee gal. West Virginia, the part that declared for the North.»

Caleb gave Willow a narrow-eyed look. «Then why did you tell me you lost the war?»

Willow told herself that she shouldn’t answer, but it was too late. She was already talking, her words as clipped and cold as Caleb’s had been.

«Our farms were in the border area,» Willow said. «When JohnnyReb came calling, we were called Yankees and everything that could be eaten or carried off was. When Yankees came calling, we were called JohnnyRebs and everything that could be eaten or carried off was. During the war my father was killed and my mother died of a broken heart. All but five of our horses were stolen or ‘requisitioned’ by one side or the other. Our crops were burned and our trees were cut down. We lost our farms one by one until nothing was left, not even a kitchen garden. Tell me, Mr. Black — in what way was I on the winning side of that glorious war?»

«So that’s why you come West,» the widow said quickly, trying to interrupt the fierce currents of emotion she sensed between the tired young lady and Caleb Black. «You’ll feel right at home in Denver, dear. Lots of folks out here just walked away and left it all behind them like a snake shedding old skin. That’s what the West is for, starting over when everything else goes wrong. Are you and your husband going to take up ranching?»

Willow dragged her glance away from Caleb’s bleak, whiskey-colored eyes and focused on Rose. She would like to have told the amiable widow the whole truth, but Matt’s letter had been quite blunt about not trusting anyone with the map he had sent. Most people were decent and honest in their day-to-day lives, but a gold strike tested even the best friendships. That was why Matt had written home in the hope of finding one or more of his brothers to help him dig gold. When the letter arrived, the Moran brothers had been scattered from London to Australia.

Willow, however, had been available.

«Whatever Matt does,» she said finally, hating to lie even by omission, «I hope to raise horses. Ishmael is a fine stallion. My four mares have been bred with equal care.»

«Where will you settle?» Rose asked.

«I haven’t decided. The homestead laws allow a woman to —»

«Homesteading!» Eddy interrupted. «Mrs. Moran, you can’t be thinking of homesteading. You’re much too fine a lady to ruin your hands working this stubborn western land. You let your man take care of you.»

«You’re very kind,» Willow said, «but I’d rather depend on myself. Men are so easily distracted. Wave a flag in front of them, or whisper about gold or adventure, and off they go, leaving their women to fend for themselves and the children the men were so eager to create in the first place.»

Rose gave Willow a startled look, then laughed aloud. «Ain’tit just the God’s honest truth! My Joe was as good a man as they come, but when a neighbor set off into those devil mountains four years ago, sure he would find gold, Joe went along and never mind the four little ones hanging on my skirts and the one waiting to be birthed. The neighbor come back coughing blood. My Joe never come back at all.»

«I’m sorry, Mrs. Sorenson,» Willow said, her voice low. «It was hard enough for me with just Mother to take care of. I can’t imagine what I would have done with four children and a babe, too.»

«Oh, ’tain’tall bad, dear. Men are notional creatures, but charming all the same. Life without them would be a poor thing to live,» the widow said, smiling at Eddy. «No one to hold the yarn while I wind it into balls. No one to fix a stubborn pump so I can wash my hair. No one to walk out with when the moon is full and the air smells of lilac. No one to smile when I come into a room.» Rose laughed softly. «And no one to run to when thunder comes and scares the living daylights out of me.»