Chapter Two

Startled by the child’s question, Cole gaped at her, forgetting for a moment the disembarking folks. A split second later, yelling and whooping directly in front of his wagon spooked the team into half-rearing and jerked Cole’s attention back to the street.

“Watch out!”

“Whoa, there! Whoa! Mind your team, mister!”

Cursing, Cole sawed back on the reins, finally bringing the agitated mules under control. Immediately he jumped up and called out to Joey, “Take the reins, son. Willy, keep a hand on your sister.” Waiting only to see that the boys jumped to do his bidding, Cole dismounted as nimbly as if he’d been on his gelding. Hurrying around to the front of the wagon, he found himself confronted with a knot of gawking onlookers. Looking from one upset face to the next, he asked, “Was anybody hurt?”

“Not as much as they could’ve been, young feller,” an old codger barked out, pointing to a young woman off to Cole’s right. “You danged near ran down this here little lady. You’re lucky all your team trampled was her belongings.”

Accepting the deserved chastisement, Cole looked in the direction the bewhiskered old man pointed. And found he couldn’t look away. He forgot the old man, along with the rest of the bystanders, because … there she stood at the front of the crowd. An arresting woman … tall, slim, black-haired, dressed all in green from her hat to the hem of her mud-splattered skirt. But it was her eyes that captured his attention, that took his breath away. He’d never seen eyes the green of hers, eyes that gleamed all the more for being set in such a pale face.

Cole instantly realized that he’d put that look on her face and so roused himself to inquire, “You all right, miss?”

She blinked, as if startled by the sound of his voice. Then, staring at him for a moment too long, she finally said, “I am. I’m fine. I just need my knapsack.” She pointed to the trampled earth under his team’s hooves. “It’s under there.”

Cole nodded at her, hypnotized by her voice. Low yet melodic, it played over his skin like a soft spring breeze. Frowning now at his school-boy thoughts, he said brusquely, “Let me get it for you.”

Turning, taking hold of the nearest mule’s bridle and, with Joey’s help, urging it back until the woman’s ruined bag came into view, Cole bent over and hauled it out of further harm’s way. He straightened up and offered it to her. A look of dismay settled on her features as she reached for it and hugged it to her bosom. Her actions prompted Cole to speak. “I’m right sorry this happened. I can pay you for the damage done if you—”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head, which caused the feather on her hat to dance nervously. Then, glancing about, as if only now aware of the crowd and how they pressed in around her, she sent Cole a wide-eyed—and fearful—look. “No,” she repeated. “Thank you, but it’s okay. I’ve got my property, so I’ll just be on my way.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cole replied, tipping his Stetson’s brim to her, but with his mind busily assessing her reaction and wondering at it. “You sure you’re okay, that’s there nothing I can do for you?”

Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m fine. And there’s nothing anybody can do for me. I mean, I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m fine.”

More than curious now, Cole nodded at her. “If you say so. You know best, miss.”

Her chin came up, revealing a slight quiver there. “Yes. I do, don’t I? I do know best. Thank you.” With that, she turned and shouldered her way into the crowd, which parted for her and then closed around her, blocking her retreat from Cole’s sight.

Once she was gone, and the crowd began dispersing, he shook his head and turned back to the wagon and the kids. She was acting mighty strange, he thought as he hauled himself up onto the buckboard seat and settled in next to Lydia. Turning to the little girl, Cole asked her, “What’d you think about all that, Miss Lydia?”

The ringlet-crowned child shrugged her shoulders as she turned her face up to him and said, “Her was more scared than me.”

Cole found himself nodding and agreeing. “Yeah, she was.” Then, to himself, he added, But scared of what? Or who?

*   *   *

Only recently had Kate become afraid of approaching darkness. Because of the horrific events back in New York, she now associated the long shadows of day’s end with that of Mr. Talmidge’s appearance at the bedside, his face bloated with a mixture of hatred and desire for her. Even now, in this wide-open faraway place, the early evening shadows creeping up on her took her back to that bad place.

No! Gritting her teeth, she fought back the wrenching sobs that threatened to overtake her. Instead, she forced herself to concentrate on the practical, on her present predicament. And a mighty big one it was.

Exhausted, her spirits low, she dropped her muddy, torn knapsack to the ground as she sank down on an abandoned wooden box under a blackjack oak tree. She called the tiny square seat under her the only welcoming thing she’d found all this long afternoon, since she’d stepped off the train only to be almost trampled to death. That memory sent a shiver frittering along her nerve endings. But it wasn’t the memory of the rearing mules that had her shaking again. No, it was the dark eyes of the big, square-jawed man whose team she’d walked in front of.

Again she saw him looking her up and down … and giving her that considering stare, one that said she couldn’t hide her secrets from him, a look that had made her turn tail and run from him.

Since then, things had only gotten worse for her. And the way she saw it, it was all her fault. Why, she wanted to know, hadn’t she at least suspected there might not be even one empty bed in a frontier town thronged with would-be settlers like herself? Couldn’t she have, on the days-long train ride it’d taken to get out here, at least guessed what it would be like? Not that knowing would have stopped her or changed her plans. No, she’d had no choice but to continue her journey, what with the ticket bought and her money supply dwindling. But even so, she had no right to be so surprised and upset to find that even that ornery Mr. Simms was right. There must be over ten thousand people here, like he’d said, waiting to make the run.

Kate shook her head. Talk about town had it that every border into Oklahoma country was just as crowded as Arkansas City. And Mrs. Jacobs had been right, too. Meaning, what chance did she, a lone woman afoot, have of beating mounted riders to a suitable claim? Why, she hadn’t given much credence on the train to the men’s bragging on whose horse was the fleetest and on how they planned to get first to the choicest land. She’d listened with only half an ear, as tangled up in her own fears and troubles as she’d been for most of the way here. But now she understood, and all too painfully well, why the run was referred to jokingly as “Harrison’s Hoss Race,” after the new president.

It was all true. The land run, the race for her future, only days away, was already lost to her. Why? Because she probably wouldn’t even survive until then. Right now, she couldn’t even see to her most basic needs. Such as money. She had none left, after paying for a meager supper at a cot hotel’s dining room. A place to sleep? A humorless chuckle escaped her. She was sitting on it. And work? There was none to be had anywhere. Nothing to keep her body and soul together until the blasted run. Which was a real run. An actual race, with the best land going to those with the fastest horses.

Now where was she going to get a horse? It’d taken her all day just to find this wood box to sit on. And she’d thought it would all be so easy. Just get here, was all she’d been able to think. Just get here and you’ll be fine, she’d promised herself. Well, here she was … and she wasn’t fine. If she didn’t come up with another plan, and soon, she and her baby were as good as dead. A plan, she firmly told herself, that wasn’t as silly as the picture she’d had in her head of simply stepping up to the land-office window and picking out her parcel of land from a map.

A wave of overwhelming futility crashed over Kate with a suddenness that swamped her remaining courage. And robbed her of hope. She buried her face in her arms and began to cry, sobbing quietly with all the desperation in her soul. She didn’t care about all the folks walking by, either. Nothing mattered—

“Lady, can I help you in any way?”

Kate jumped, quickly wiping at her eyes and cheeks as she looked up. She sucked in air. It’s him. The man whose mules had nearly trampled her. And here he stood now, a hand outstretched to her, as if he meant to touch her. She shied away from the contact and managed to stare up into his face. “I don’t need any help.”

He pulled his hand back and stood up straighter, staring down at her. “That may be. But I keep hearing different. Talk around town and out at Walnut Creek camp says you’re all alone. Got no place to sleep. Been looking for work you can’t find.”

Kate’s heart thumped erratically. Folks are talking about me? Must be. And apparently he, for one, was listening. Again she had the sense that he knew her whole life, that he could see into her soul. Somehow she knew she had to put him off the scent right here and now. “Talk’s cheap, mister. But true or not, like I said … I don’t need any help from you.”

His expression clouded. “I see. Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you. But I … well, I was passing by and heard you just now.”

Mortified that he’d find her in this state, Kate struggled for control, which made her voice sound high and tinny, even to her own ears. “Well, you’re right about that. It was me … as you can plainly see.”

He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t have to. Because somehow his standing there in front of her, so tall and in control, only made her feel more guilty for having been so unprepared to take care of herself. Just as that realization came to her, he spoke again. “Is it true, the talk? About your not having a safe place to sleep?”

Kate tensed—the last thing she needed was some stranger, a man, concerning himself with where she’d sleep. “No, it isn’t,” she assured him. “And I do have some place to be. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” With that, she came to her feet and grabbed up her knapsack, holding it close to her chest. Wide-eyed and slowly backing away from him, she stared at him. He suddenly loomed larger, seemed to float toward her. Kate swallowed, tasting her fear … and the danger.

Before a few months ago she wouldn’t have seen this trap, at least not as vividly as she did now. “Leave me alone,” she warned him, feeling herself slip toward panic. “I’ll scream. I swear I will.”

“Whoa. Hold on there, lady,” the man protested, holding up a cautioning hand. “There’s no need to scream. I don’t mean you any harm. I was just asking, that’s all.”

Kate stopped where she was—pressed against the tree trunk at her back—and stood her ground. “Well, now you know. I have a place to sleep. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

“You’re right. Like I said, I’m sorry I bothered you. I just thought that—Well, never mind.” The man then took his leave of her and tipped his hat as he turned on his boot heel and stalked away.

Slumping with relief, Kate watched his retreat, telling herself she wanted to make sure he didn’t double back on her. After a moment, though, she realized she was noting his broad shoulders and his long-legged stride that was rapidly putting a respectable distance between them. But it wasn’t until he stepped up onto the boardwalk that fronted Summit Street’s wooden buildings, and rounded the corner, out of her sight, that Kate exhaled the breath she’d been holding. That was a close call, she told herself, now heading back to the wooden box she’d been sitting on until a moment ago.

But she’d no more than squatted back down on her perch before her conscience went to work on her, accusing her of sending away the only helping hand that’d been held out to her since she stepped off the train. But his offer was one she couldn’t accept, she argued right back. For one thing, he was a man and a stranger to her. For another, from what he’d said, she was already the subject of gossip about town. What then would folks think if she suddenly took up with him? Why, they’d think the worst. And she’d deserve it.

Because there was just no telling what was involved in his offer to help her. What might he want from her? Maybe nothing. Maybe he truly was only a kind man thinking to help a woman in need. There was a time in her young life when she would have believed that. But not anymore. Harsh experience had taught her to be wary. Suspicious. Not so trusting. And even now, those same emotions had Kate sitting up taller, had her feeling stronger. But just as suddenly, she slumped, knowing the reasons she’d just given herself weren’t the only ones for sending the man away.

She’d also pushed him away because … he was him. Why, he’d fairly taken her breath away earlier today when he’d jumped off that wagon and come to stand in front of her. He was quite easily the handsomest man she’d ever seen. So tall, dark, and muscled. And such feelings, so startling and unsettling to her after what she’d been subjected to by Mr. Talmidge, scared her. It was that simple. Hadn’t she been shaking like a leaf after their set-to this afternoon? And no, it hadn’t all been from fright, either. The truth was, the man’s nearness shook her up. And that was enough of a reason to send him away. She wasn’t studying any man now. She had her baby to think of.

Dismissing the man from her thoughts, Kate recalled Mrs. Jacobs and her brood of hungry kids. If only she could find the kind woman and her mister. She’d swallow her pride and take them up on their offer of shelter and food. But where in all this people-clogged madness could they be? Out at that Walnut Creek camp she’d been hearing about all day?

She pivoted on her wooden box, away from the town’s center, until she could see the trees that sheltered the camp. They were most likely out there. But did she dare try to find them, now that it was getting dark? From what she’d seen today, the creek was among a thick stand of trees. Anything could happen to a woman alone out there. And probably would.

With that fear holding her firmly in place, Kate’s slump deepened, had her resting an elbow atop a skirt-covered knee and rubbing tiredly at her forehead. What was wrong with her? Was it the growing baby that kept her tired, hungry, and sick? And full of tears? Then, as if just the thought of crying could bring on a jag, Kate felt her chin tremble and her eyes fill. Blinking rapidly, sniffing, she swiped at them. Why, now I’m just being plain silly. There’s not a thing—

“Get up. You’re coming with me.”

Kate jerked around. And froze. It was him. Again. Gulping back her tears, she silently stared up at him. Why, he’d walked right up behind her—and she hadn’t even heard him. Her heart pounded in her throat. She couldn’t even speak, she was so terrified. All she could do was … be afraid.

He stood there in front of her, his thumbs hitched in the gun belt that rode low on his narrow hips. There was no doubt in her heart, from seeing the way he wore it, that he knew how to use the huge Colt revolver holstered there. “I said … you’re coming with me, ma’am.”

“I’m not going anywhere—”

“Fine. Then you can sit here and wait for all those men over at the saloon to get good and liquored up and come looking for you.”

Kate’s gasp was accompanied by her swiveling atop her box until she was staring in the direction of the saloon. Loud music, loud chatter, and laughter spilled out of the bar … along with several lurching, singing men, among them that horrid Mr. Simms from the train.

“You can see it’s like I said, ma’am.”

Kate pivoted back around to look up at the stranger in front of her. “I was passing by there,” he said, “heading for the general store, when I heard them talking about what a fine figure you cut in that green dress. They aim to see what’s under it. So, the way I see it, the choice is yours. You can come with me. Or you can wait here for them and their … tender mercies.”

His words froze her insides. The way she saw it, what he offered her wasn’t salvation, but a choice between death sentences. Finally, she found her voice. “How do I know that you’re not … just as bad?”

That got a humorless chuckle from him. “Well, I don’t guess you do. All I can tell you is … I didn’t have to come back. But I did.”

Kate realized that was true enough, but still … “Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”

“I have my reasons,” he said. And that was all.

Not the least bit comforted, Kate could only stare up at him. Until a horrible thought occurred to her. “Are you the law?” she blurted out. “Am I under arrest for loitering? I saw the signs about not—”

“I’m not the law.” With that, he leaned over and took hold of her arm. His hand on her arm, even through her clothing, was warm … but his grip was unyielding. Kate tensed, wanting to pull away, but sensed that if she tried, he’d only grip her harder. Then, as he hauled her to her feet, still holding on to her, but bending over to pick up her much-maligned knapsack, he asked, “Is this box yours?”

Kate took the knapsack from him and clutched it to her heart as if it offered protection. She then looked back down at her perch, the box he’d just asked her about. “No, it’s not mine. Well, yes, I guess it is. I mean, it was just sitting there.”

Sliding his hand down to her elbow, he bent again to pick up the box. Straightening up to tower over her, he looked into her eyes. “Now, I take it you’re of a mind to accompany me, right? You won’t be screaming or anything?”

Kate knew she ought to, but she thought about the drunks over by the saloon … and weighed their intent against this man’s hand on her. She hated it, but the truth was … right now she had to trust somebody. And as he said, he hadn’t had to come back for her. She made her decision. “I won’t be screaming. But just so we both know, I’m coming with you only because I don’t have any choice.”

He nodded, his dark eyes sparking with some emotion. “Fair enough,” was all he said as, still holding on to her, he set them in motion, away from the crowds and the drunks on Summit Street. And toward the crowds of families out at Walnut Creek camp.

Kate breathed a little easier for that, having already figured that was where the decent folks were. Decent folks who wouldn’t let a man harm a woman, folks who would come to her aid. And besides, maybe she could still find the Jacobs family once they got out there. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

That stopped him. “Do with you?” He stared down at her, his expression that of dispassionate granite. Kate had all she could do not to cringe. Then, tugging on her arm, he hauled them out of the flow of the foot traffic on the walking path where they’d been, and said, his voice low, “What exactly do you think I’m going to do with you?”

Kate’s heart knocked against her breastbone. Too afraid to speak, she looked up at him, not feeling any more safe for realizing that despite her height, she barely came to his shoulder. Finally, she managed to say, “I … I don’t really know. Like I don’t know where exactly you’re taking me. Or what your intentions are when you get there. Or even who you are. And I think, under the circumstances, I have the right to know those things. Or to scream for help.”

A huff of breath left him. He shook his head and kept on walking with her. “All right. Fair enough. I’m taking you to my wagon, where three kids are waiting. My intentions are to make a proposal to you. And my name is Cole Youngblood.”

When he said his name, Kate forgot about the wagon, the kids, and the proposal part. Cole Youngblood? Her blood ran cold. Mr. Talmidge’s hired killer. Servant talk below stairs had spread this man’s reputation, along with those of the other killers their employer hired from time to time. But especially of this man. Even back East, chilling tales were told of his feats and exploits. And now, here he was, holding on to her arm and leading her away into the night.

Stiff with fear, yet still marching along at the hired killer’s side, Kate’s desperately plunging thoughts worked in circles around themselves. What should she do? Jerk her arm out of his grip and run away? He’d only catch her. Besides, where could she run, if she did get away? To the sheriff—who had his hands full, along with the army of cavalry sent in by the president, with keeping order among ten thousand people bloating his small town? How accommodating would he be for one lone woman?

Not at all, Kate realized. But finally, her thoughts began to sort themselves out, unraveling enough to become logical and thus calm her some. This gunslinger doesn’t know who I am. Or I’d already be dead. He could have shot me out there by that tree, off alone like I was. But he didn’t. So maybe Mr. Talmidge hired another of his paid killers to come after me. And not this man. Which meant that maybe the safest place for her was, unbelievably enough, with him. Especially when the real hired killer came looking for her. And she knew one would.

So, she was thinking, if she stuck by Cole Youngblood now and got to know him, maybe even became useful to him in some way—she shied away from thinking in what way—then maybe he could come to respect her. And if that happened, then she could take him into her confidence, tell him what had really happened. Why, he might even take her side and help her, when the time came. It sounded crazy, she knew, but really … why not? He’d stepped in now, this evening, to help her. Or so he’d said. She still didn’t know yet if he was telling the truth.

Kate glanced over at Cole Youngblood. Could she trust him? Did a hired killer have a heart? And what could he really want from her? For that matter, what did she have to offer him? She knew. Only herself. But she wasn’t about to be offering herself to a man, any man, anytime soon. Maybe not ever again. Not that he’d want her, whether she wanted him or not. Because she was carrying another man’s child. Sudden anger swelled Kate’s heart. So what am I supposed to do? Continue to be pulled around by the hand by every man who takes a notion that he needs me? But only until he’s done with me and decides to do away with me?

Sure, she could allow that to keep happening. Or she could put a stop to it and start living her life on her own terms. Wasn’t that the notion that had gotten her this far? Yes, it was. And so she would. She didn’t know what this hired killer wanted with her—something about kids and a wagon and a proposal—but one thing she did know was, no matter what it turned out to be … it’d be on her terms. Because, push come to shove, she could just walk away. Nobody had her tied up in his bedroom right now. Or would ever again. Because she was a free woman. And a free woman she would remain.

There. Now she felt better … even being pulled along by a man who, as the legends had it, had ice water running through his veins. Again she glanced over at him, furtively noting now—against her will—just how handsome a man he was. Dark eyes and hair, high cheekbones, clean-shaven, a full pleasing mouth. Well, handsome he may be, Kate fumed, but that doesn’t change a thing. Mr. Talmidge was a handsome man, too—and it hadn’t stopped him from being heartlessly cruel.

Just then, Kate stumbled and pitched forward over a huge exposed rock hidden in the grassy edge of the wagon path. Cole Youngblood saved her from falling by whipping an arm around her waist and steadying her against his side. “Whoa, there. Easy. Watch your step.”

“I’m fine,” was Kate’s terse answer as she shrugged out of his embrace and stepped back, away from the feel of the man’s hard-muscled body against hers. Then she just stood there … scared yet defiant, her senses alert to the growing yet dispassionate clanking and groaning of the big wagons now passing by within mere feet of where she stood. Alert to the sweating scent of the plodding teams of mules hitched to the schooners. Alert to the cramped closeness of the hungering humanity flowing around her like a strong wind current. And … alert to the forbidding presence of the hired killer facing her.

Who narrowed his eyes, considering her as if she were some curiosity he couldn’t figure out. Then he shrugged. “You don’t look fine, but if you say you are … then, fine.” Without another word, he turned and left her there. Along with the hundreds of other folks sharing the path with them and intent on the same destination, he walked on toward the tree-sheltered camp.

That surprised Kate … that he’d left her standing there. She was free to go. She truly was. She didn’t have to follow him. He wasn’t making her do so, that much was plain. She looked back toward town. Remembered the drunks. And pivoted to see Cole Youngblood’s retreating figure being swallowed up by the crowd. Her mouth quirked as she considered the hard realities, the tough choices, that were her life. But again she did the sensible thing, the only thing she could.

Clutching her knapsack under an arm and holding up her skirt’s hem, she took off after him, finally catching up to him and slowing down to a walk at his side. For his part, he said or did nothing to acknowledge her presence, just kept walking. That was fine with her. She’d learned her lesson. Being too much in her own thoughts right now, when she needed instead to be minding her feet, could have her misstepping again and maybe pitching herself into the muddy ditch to her left. Which meant he’d think he had to help her out. Which meant … he’d have to put his hands on her again.

That thought alone had Kate concentrating on the moment, on her surroundings. And suddenly marveling at the sights and sounds. Not two minutes ago, this people-choked path had seemed overwhelming to her, had made her fear being swept away. But now she pronounced it wonderful and exciting. It was true, she realized, feeling her spirits lift. For, even at this early evening hour, the narrow road she trod—one still muddy from a recent rainstorm, as evidenced by the downed branches that littered the ground—was clogged with an endless parade of would-be settlers in white-canvased wagons, all making their way out to Walnut Creek and the camp there.

Despite herself, her uncertainties, and even her fears, Kate found herself suddenly invigorated by all the hustle and bustle around her. Amazing. A most wonderful sight to see. Uplifting. Finally she recaptured the sense of something outside herself, of an event bigger than her problems. An event that could absorb all these people, a land that could hold them all. A land that was to be her salvation. She must never lose sight of that, she warned herself. Must always remember that.

Just then, the temporary settlement finally came into view, began to take shape, to sort itself out into clusters of campers. The sight of so many families prompted Kate to speak the one thought uppermost in her mind, the one that had nagged her all the way out here.

“Those children you mentioned.” He looked over at her, his hard-eyed gaze like a hawk’s. She swallowed, but managed, “Are they … yours?”

He shook his head no. “My sister’s.”

“Oh. Then she’s here with them?” Everything would probably be okay if another woman was with him.

“No. She’s dead. Same as her husband.”

Comfort fled from Kate, at the same time that a rawboned, skinny dog out on the wagon path suddenly yelped, drawing Kate’s attention, as he shied away from the massive rolling wheels of a particularly large schooner. Unharmed and unbidden, the yellow dog fell into step with Kate and nudged her hand with his wet nose until she let go of her skirt and patted its head absently. She then glanced up at the no-nonsense man striding along at her side. “I’m sorry about your kin.”

He nodded his acknowledgment of her condolences, but didn’t say anything. Kate swallowed, not so easy to do with her throat constricting. This Cole Youngblood was a difficult man to talk to. How was she ever going to get into his confidences?

“What’s your name?”

Kate jumped, felt her heart do the same. Before she could think better of the impulse, she answered. “Kate Chandler.”

He stopped, turned to her. Folks bumped into them, finally moved around them. At her side, the hound dog stopped, too, and sat down. Kate spared it a glance before meeting Cole Youngblood’s gaze. The man’s expression could have been chiseled from marble. “Chandler? Not Candless?”

“No. Not Candless. Chandler. Kate Chandler,” she was forced to repeat, even though she already realized her mistake. With fear running amok inside her, she reminded herself that despite all her rationalizations to the contrary, he could still be the very killer sent to end her life. She needed to remember that. His reaction to her name told her that he was most likely on the trail of someone. But maybe only someone who’d cheated him at cards, for all she knew. Not that she believed that for a moment … given the way he was silently watching her even now.

His somber gaze considered her face, her expression, from all angles. “Where’d you come here from?”

More on her toes now mentally, Kate said, “Kentucky.” It was true. She’d had to change trains in Kentucky to get here to Arkansas City.

“Where in Kentucky?”

Kate blinked. Now, where in tarnation had that train station been? Then it came to her. She blurted it out, along with a little white lie. “Russellville. I have family there. An aunt and an uncle.”

Again he looked her up and down … in much the same way an undertaker would size up someone for a coffin. “What’s a woman like you doing here by yourself?”

Kate swallowed, felt a trickle of sweat run down her spine. “Same as everyone else. I’m here to make the land run.”

His dark eyebrows rose. “The land run? A woman alone?”

Kate’s temper surged to the fore—which instantly pleased and comforted her. She’d feared she’d be cowed forever. But apparently not. “Yes, Mr. Youngblood. A woman alone. What’s wrong with that?”

His expression changed, became mocking. “You tell me. You were the one sitting on a box and crying.”

Kate felt her face heat up. Her chin notched up. “Instead, Mr. Youngblood, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”

“Family business.”

And Kate knew somehow that’s all he would say about it. But it was fine with her. She didn’t intend to answer any more of his questions, either. Besides that, she was nearly out of breath from scooting along beside him. But if he noticed her breathing hard, he didn’t care because he again took her arm and set them off along the crowded path. Kate grabbed up her skirt and again had to hop over a rock big enough to trip her. The skinny yellow dog bounded effortlessly over it.

In another few moments, they reached the cover of a stand of black willow and river birch at the creek bottom. Low, overhanging branches further lengthened the evening shadows around them. Lanterns winked on in some of the near wagons. Men gathered in knots, maps spread out before them. Children ran among the wagons and between the different campsites, laughing and hooting. Women chatted over campfires as they tended babies and cook pots.

But still, Cole Youngblood walked on with her. As she passed by the families, Kate expected to feel comforted by their relative closeness. But the feeling didn’t come. How could it … with Cole Youngblood being even closer?

As if he read her thoughts, felt her discomfort, the man stopped and faced her. The yellow hound dog stopped with them. It lay down and rested its large head on its front paws. Kate looked around and saw they were now standing off to one edge of the congested camp under a knot of sycamores, isolated somehow in the forest of humanity around them. She then met the gunslinger’s cold gaze … and refilled her lungs with deep breaths of courage. The good Lord alone knew what would happen now. With no choice but to wait for the man in front of her to speak, Kate renewed her grip on her knapsack, shifted her weight … and waited.

“You need to know,” he stated abruptly, “that it was no mistake I found you just now. I’ve been looking for you off and on for most of the afternoon.”

A jet of fear chased down Kate’s spine. In her mind, there was only one reason why Cole Youngblood would be looking for her. “You were … looking for me? Why?”

Grimacing, as if the answer to her question didn’t come easily to him, he yanked off his Stetson and hit it against his denim-covered thigh, knocking a dust cloud loose from the hat. Even in the long shadows, Kate could see the red line striping his broad forehead where the hat’s band had pressed tightly against his skin. Resettling his hat on his head, he finally said, “Because of the fact that you are here alone.”

Kate’s heart leaped. She thought of the baby she carried. She wasn’t alone. But out loud, and forcing calm on herself, she said, “Yes. I’m alone.”

“And you’re here for some land.”

A sense of wonder, and no small amount of relief, washed over her. He truly doesn’t know who I am. “I’ve said as much, yes.”

“And you have no way of getting it.”

Sudden vexation—Why is everyone so all-fired determined to point that out to me?—caused her to burst out, “Mr. Youngblood, I don’t see how any of this is your bus—”

“I’ve made it my business, Miss Chandler.” Then his eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down consideringly. “How old are you? You don’t look like much more than a schoolgirl.”

Kate bristled. “My age has nothing to do with—”

“It does. The Homestead Act states you have to be twenty-one to claim land. And you have to sign that it’s so. Are you twenty-one?”

Shock widened her eyes. “That’s not true. I would have heard that by now. You’re making that up, Mr. Youngblood.”

His features set in hard lines. “I don’t make things up, Miss Chandler. If you’d gone to the land office today to register for the run, anyone there would have told you the same. You have to be married, if you’re not of legal age. Or the head of a household. Now, are you any of those?”

Again, Kate thought of her fatherless child, of her unmarried state. And of her youth. But still, pride had her wanting to lie to this man, although she realized that it would make no difference. He had nothing to do with the truths of her life. Or the death of her dream of freedom, her salvation. Sudden despair tugged her mouth down at the corners. What was she going to do now? What could she do? “No,” she heard herself say around a sniff of gathering emotion. “I’m none of those things.”

“I didn’t think so.” His quiet words and his soothing tone of voice lulled Kate, softened her into not resisting when he tucked a finger under her chin and raised her head until she peered into his eyes. Some emotion she couldn’t name edged his dark gaze as he said, “I’ll make the run for you.”