In that glance, Wes met his stare in the moonlight and what he saw chilled the air. The man’s eyes were tombstone gray, void of all kindness. Wes had seen men in the war with hate-fevered eyes and a few with a lust to kill reflected in their stare. But Wes would bet his last twenty-dollar gold piece that this man didn’t hate, he simply didn’t care about anything or anyone in life.

Wes didn’t take his gaze off the girl in the cage as he asked the driver, ‘‘You the preacher talking about her tonight?’’

‘‘Naw.’’The man rested his withered arm against the wagon. ‘‘I’m just hired to get her here. The Rangers who found her gave her over to the reverend I work for parttime. No family would claim her. Can’t say as I blame them. A woman who’s caught like that living out in the wild… She’d be better off dead.’’

He took another drink. ‘‘She fights us like a wildcat when we pull her through the crowds. Preacher’s even tried to beat the devil out of her while a whole congregation watched, but there just ain’t no helping her.’’

He slammed his fist against the slats as if to keep back a wild animal. ‘‘She’s a lot of trouble. I liked it better when the preacher did a traveling magic show. You wouldn’t believe the act he had. He could disappear with you standing right beside him.’’ The driver finished off the bottle. ‘‘ ’Course, it don’t pay like preaching does.’’

The man lifted his empty bottle, then moved onto the boarded walk. ‘‘Get near her at your own risk,’’ he warned. ‘‘I’ll be right back.’’

Wes glanced at the woman huddled like a wounded animal. She might be acting as part of the scam, or she might be insane. Either way, she’d fill the offering baskets.

An open carriage, flanked by well-armed guards, pulled to a stop between Wes and the street lamp. In sharp contrast to the chained creature in the alley’s shadows, a young woman dressed in white stepped from the carriage. She was tall and walked like a queen. Her every movement spoke of breeding and wealth.

For a moment Wes could only stare. Angela was a woman who expected the world to stop and notice her entrance. Individually, none of her features were outstanding, but combined, they created an air about her. He hardly noticed her older sister and mother move from the carriage and flank her like twin generals.

‘‘Evening, Angela.’’ Wes crossed in front of her, guessing she would be angry at him. But his pride wouldn’t allow him to start with an apology. ‘‘I was hoping I’d find you here. We need to talk.’’

She looked straight ahead. One gloved hand pushed back a wayward strand of velvet black hair. Wes had thought she’d be upset about his sudden poverty, but he never thought she’d lose faith in him. All his promises to her would still come true, they’d just take a little longer.

But she wouldn’t look in his direction.She obviously thought her denial of attention would be a punishment worse than death for any man.

Her older sister, Maria, was the only one who faced him. ‘‘She doesn’t wish to speak to you, Weston Mc-Lain, so step aside. You no longer exist in her world.’’

Wes glared past Maria to their mother. ‘‘I need to talk to Angela alone for a moment.’’ He tried to keep the anger from his voice as he turned back to Angela. ‘‘I need to explain.’’ He had to tell this stately woman who had never wanted for anything in her life that he’d lost a fortune and had only himself to offer. He might have barely enough cattle left to feed them through the winter, but they’d make it. They could still start the family he’d planned and, in time, the ranch would grow. ‘‘Nothing’s changed.’’ Surely the strength he saw in her carriage was equaled in her character. She’d given her word and she’d take him as is now without knowing about his plan to be wealthy again in a few weeks.

Maria took a step forward, blocking Wes’s view of the woman he’d hoped to marry. ‘‘You are wrong. Everything has changed, Mr. McLain.’’

‘‘But we-’’

Maria’s anger snapped, sharpening her already angular features. ‘‘You are no longer engaged to my sister. As a former cavalry officer, I assume you will be gentlemen enough not to bother her again.’’

Wes advanced. ‘‘I’ll hear that from her!’’

He was so lost in the hardness of Maria’s words and the coldness of Angela’s stare, he didn’t notice the Montago guards.

The riders were off their mounts and at his side. As he took another step toward Angela, their shoulders closed like a gate, blocking him from passing. He felt the cold press of a gun barrel against his ribs.

Maria smiled as Angela and her mother moved toward the church. ‘‘We have nothing else to say to you tonight-or ever.’’

Wes struggled against the guards. ‘‘But we agreed.She promised we’d be married as soon as I returned. You’ll not stop me-’’

A sudden blow into his midsection ended Wes’s threat.

Moving a step closer, Maria whispered, ‘‘As a rich man, that scar across your face added character; but poor, Angela cannot stand the sight of you. Do not muddy her world with your presence again, or my father will have you killed.’’

Wes jerked against his bonds.

Another blow slammed into his rib cage.

Maria made a motion with her hand as though sweeping away trash toward the alley.

The Montago guards dragged Wes the few feet into the shadows. He fought wildly, angry more at Angela and life than at the men surrounding him. As others advanced, he downed several before two caught him from behind. While they held him, the others took turns plowing blows into his midsection.

Wes took the pounding without a sound. No one in Denton would help him if he called for aid. No one would go against the Montago family. Most would think he deserved such a beating. After all, he, an outsider, had courted a rich rancher’s daughter. He dared to think he could step into the closed circle of ranchers with only his hard work to stake him.

Finally, a blow knocked him against the cage. He crumbled to the ground.

‘‘Stay away from the Montago ranch, Yank,’’ a Southern voice ordered. ‘‘Or the next time you won’t be treated so kindly.’’

Wes tasted blood and felt along his ribs. ‘‘This isn’t over.’’

The guard laughed and kicked Wes hard, folding him over in the dirt. ‘‘Yes, it is.’’

When Wes raised his head again, they were gone.

With great effort, he wrapped his fingers around one board of the cage and pulled himself up. Fighting not to cry out in pain, he held his side and stood in the darkness,knowing no one could see him from the street.

The pain in his body was nothing compared to the wound to his pride. Angela had been part of his dream… the only part that hadn’t died at the Red River when he’d watched two years of work vanish in one stormy stampede. He’d loved the ideal of her, a proper wife and family, though he hadn’t loved her. They would have made a good match. But he’d never have that chance now, for the dream or the woman.

He gripped the slat tighter, his pride forcing him to straighten despite the pain.

Timid fingers moved from within the darkened cage and closed over his.

Wes raised his gaze to the woman on the other side of the boards. Kneeling inside her prison, she faced him. Her chains pulled tight against her wrists so she could touch his hand.

All the anger and hurt left him as she raised her hand and gently traced the scar along his face.

A tear bubbled in her eye and fell, cleaning a streak down her cheek.

Wes opened his hand and let her thin fingers lace through his. The world shifted as her cool palm pressed against his. The broken engagement didn’t matter, or the beating, or even his lost wealth. All that mattered as he looked into dark blue eyes was this creature dressed in rags.

If it cost him his life, this woman would not be pulled through a crowd tonight!

TWO

WES SHOVED AN IRON STAKE BETWEEN THE CHAINand the cage and twisted. Even hurt, his powerful strength rocked the wagon with his effort. There was no time to pick the lock. He knew it would only be moments before someone noticed him and he not only had to get the cage open, he had to convince the poor creature inside to come with him.

Wes glanced at her. She backed as far away from him as she could.

‘‘Now wait a minute!’’a familiar slurred voice shouted from the entrance to the alley. ‘‘Don’t break that lock. Louis won’t like it.’’

Wes straightened, his right hand an inch from his Colt, his left gripping the iron tool. He turned slowly as the driver ran toward him with a full bottle of whiskey in his good hand.

Without warning, the man’s drunken laughter polluted the night air in a breathless hiccuping sound. ‘‘I know you want her, mister.’’ He raised his bottle as if in salute. ‘‘Some men have the taste for a little wild seasoning in their women. I guessed you was one of them by the way you stared at her. She’ll give you a fight for what you take, if that’s what you like. But don’t break my lock. The reverend will make me pay to have it fixed.’’

Wes stepped back, knotting his fists to keep from clobbering the drunk. ‘‘Open the cage,’’ he whispered between clenched teeth.

The driver hesitated. ‘‘I don’t like to do this kind of business till after the service. Last crazy woman we had killed herself one night after the boys from the saloon took turns dancing a few rounds with her. How about you wait until later? Then I’ll give you this throwaway.’’

When Wes didn’t answer,the man raised one eyebrow as if weighing Wes’s worth. ‘‘I’ll only charge you five dollars for the night. I won’t ask no questions, long as she’s back in the cage by dawn.’’ He winked at Wes. ‘‘Ain’t none of my concern what you do with her.’’

‘‘Open the door.’’ Wes fought down the bile in his throat. He felt like he was bargaining with the devil, but he knew time was running out for her. The church bell stopped ringing. It would only be a matter of minutes before she’d be pulled across the street. ‘‘I’ll give you a twenty-dollar gold piece.’’

Wes pulled the last of his money from his pocket and shoved it into the driver’s withered hand. ‘‘I want her unchained. Now!’’

‘‘All right.’’The driver tested the weight of the coin.‘‘I got to get her out anyway. It’s almost time.’’ He glanced in the direction of the church and slipped the double eagle into his vest pocket. ‘‘You can feel of her while I remove the ring from her chains. But you’ll have to wait until after the show to have her. She’ll be all tired by then and not so hard to handle. She’s tiny, but she’s got big, ripe…’’

The cage door swung open, and Wes felt his heart stop in midbeat. Suddenly there was no air, no town, no drunk beside him. All he saw were her eyes staring at him with total hate. The blue depths that had been filled with kindness only minutes ago now were wide with panic and fear. The terror of a child blended with the hatred of a woman as she watched him.

For a moment he hesitated, wondering if she truly was insane and if he’d do her any good by setting her free.Maybe this life, as terrible as it seemed, was better than her dying if left on her own.

She backed away as he and the driver stepped into the cage. Her dress caught in her movements, pulling the material from one shoulder. Bruises were plain even in the shadowy light. Wes closed his eyes. With all he’d seen in the war and since, he wasn’t sure he could bear to know how completely she’d been harmed.

The drunk knelt and began unlocking the ring that held her wrist chains. ‘‘Go ahead, get yourself a good feel. She ain’t going to do nothing but scream and that’ll let them know we’re coming. It don’t matter if you bruise her. She don’t talk none. She ain’t going to tell anyone. Grab you a good handful.’’

Wes took a step toward her.

The creature looked as if she might bolt and run the moment her chained wrists were free. She raised her hands and shook her head wildly.

The driver laughed. ‘‘Go ahead. Slap her a good one to let her know you mean business. There ain’t nothing feels better then getting a tight hold on a ripe woman. Since you paid twenty, I’ll even hold her if you like. That way you can slip your hands up her dress.’’

Without thought Wes swung toward the man. With one blow, he knocked the drunk out the open cage door and onto the ground.

The woman let out a soft cry and covered her face as though she thought she would be his next victim.

Wes backed out of the cage and tapped the driver with the toe of his boot. The man was out cold. Unswallowed whiskey blended with blood and dripped from his open mouth, but his withered fingers still held the bottle tightly.

Glancing into the cage, Wes met her stare once more. She still shook, but no longer looked at him with hate. The fear was there, the panic-but he’d won an ounce of respect in her eyes.