«Neither did I,» Whip said. «But here I am.»

«And here you’ll stay. The passes are closed every way but the south.»

«I know. I came in that way. Damned cold on the desert now.»

Whip dismounted and shook Caleb’s hand.

«Where have you been for the past three months?» Caleb asked.

«Here and there,» Whip said, shrugging. «I got as far west as that big canyon where the Rio Colorado lies like a silver medicine snake at the bottom of a deep gorge.»

«Hell of a place, from what Wolfe tells me.»

«It will do,» Whip agreed. «I chased sunrise all the way around that canyon’s edge until I found myself back where I started from. Wild, lonely country, every inch of it.»

«Come on,» Caleb said. «Willow should be finished putting Ethan to bed by now.»

Whip hesitated.

«If you’re thinking of riding off to the high country,» Caleb said, «think again. The passes have been closed for months. They won’t open again for months.»

«I know. That’s why …» Whip’s voice died.

«That’s why you came back? You know you can’t get to her?»

Whip grimaced. «Yes.»

«Just as well,» Caleb said. «Last time we saw Shannon, she —»

«You saw her?» Whip interrupted instantly. «When?»

«Just before the passes closed.»

«Did she finally get smart and stay with you?»

«Nope. She wouldn’t even stay for a cup of coffee.»

Whip frowned. «Was she looking for me, then?»

«After a fashion,» Caleb said sardonically.

«What in hell does that mean?»

«I’ll tell him,» Willow said from the doorway. «Come on in, Whip. Shannon left a message for you.»

«Is she —» Whip’s voice dried up. He swallowed visibly. «Is she, uh, all right?»

«‘All right’ as in ‘not pregnant’?» Willow asked with false sweetness.

A red that had nothing to do with the cold wind appeared on Whip’s cheekbones.

Caleb took the reins from Whip’s hand and headed for the barn.

«Don’t take too many chunks out of his hide,» Caleb said to Willow over his shoulder.

«Why not?» Willow retorted.

«Shannon will want some to nail to her cabin wall.»

«Don’t worry.» Willow’s smile was all teeth and not one bit of comfort as she turned away. «Whip is a big boy. There will be plenty of hide to go around. Come inside, brother dear.»

Whip looked at Caleb’s retreating back and then at Willow’s. With swift, hard strides he followed his sister. When they were inside, he shut the door and grabbed her arm.

«Tell me straight up, Willy,» Whip said in a flat tone. «Is Shannon pregnant?»

«If she is, she didn’t mention it to us.»

Whip’s breath came out with a harsh sound.

«I didn’t think Shannon would come here unless she was pregnant,» he admitted.

«Is that why you’re not halfway to China? You were worried that Shannon might be carrying your child?»

«I don’t know why I’m not halfway to China,» Whip said, his eyes bleak, haunted. «I only know that I’m not.»

Compassion softened the angry set of Willow’s face. She could sense her beloved brother’s unhappiness as though it were her own. With a sigh for Whip’s untamed, restless soul, she touched his sleeve gently.

«Come to the kitchen,» she said. «I’ll pour you some coffee. I’ll make up a batch of biscuits, too. You look like you could use a good meal.»

«I’ll settle for bread, if you have it. I’ve kind of lost my taste for biscuits. They remind me too much of …»

Whip’s voice trailed away. With a weary curse he lifted his hat, ran his fingers through his pale hair, and tossed the hat onto the kitchen table. Automatically he pulled off the bullwhip, hung his jacket by the back door, resettled the bullwhip on his shoulder, and sat down.

With eyes that reflected too many memories, Whip watched his sister go about the homey rituals of stirring up the fire, pouring coffee, and slicing bread. If he looked through nearly-closed eyes, he could pretend that it was Shannon moving around the kitchen, fixing supper, bringing him warmth and food with her own hands.

But it wasn’t Shannon, and Whip knew it all the way to the bottom of his painful, seething soul.

There was a rustling sound and a thump at the back door, as though someone had brought firewood and stacked it outside. Then the door opened and Caleb walked in with a pair of saddlebags thrown over his shoulder.

Whip didn’t even look up from his coffee.

Caleb shut the door and glanced at his wife. Willow shook her head slightly. Caleb almost smiled. He had guessed that Willow would be too tenderhearted to tear much of a strip off Whip’s thick hide.

Caleb, however, wasn’t.

«You said Shannon left a message for me,» Whip said. «What was it?»

Willow looked at Caleb.

«You forgot your change,» Caleb said sardonically.

Two saddlebags thumped heavily onto the kitchen table.

Whip glanced at them without interest. Then his eyes narrowed and one hand shot out. Muscles corded in his arm as he lifted the joined saddlebags, testing their weight.

He hissed a word that made Willow flinch.

«That tears it,» Whip snarled, letting go of the saddlebags. «Of all the stupid —»

«Did that gold come from Shannon’s claims?» Caleb interrupted.

«What damned difference does it make?»

«To me, none,» Caleb retorted. «It made a hell of a lot of difference to Shannon, though. The difference between being a widow and a whore.»

Whip uncoiled out of the chair and slammed into Caleb, pinning him against the kitchen wall in a single wild rush.

«God damn you, she isn’t a whore.»

«Whip! Stop it!» Willow cried, grabbing one of her brother’s arms.

Caleb stared into the quicksilver violence of Whip’s eyes and smiled almost gently.

«Hell, I know that,» Caleb said. «But if you’d feel better trying to beat the same words out of me, we can do a turn or two around the back yard.»

Whip stared at Caleb’s level, compassionate eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped back.

«Sorry,» Whip said, looking at his hands as though he had never seen them before. «I’ve been on a hair trigger, lately.»

«Then you better sit on your hands for a few minutes,» Caleb suggested dryly. «I’d hate to have my brisket parted by that damned bullwhip of yours.»

Slowly, Whip sat down.

«The long and the short of it,» Caleb said, «is that Shannon came here riding one fine racing mule and leading another. She had a hellhound as big as a pony at her side.»

«Prettyface,» Whip said.

«If you say so,» Caleb muttered. «Looked to me more like the north end of a southbound burro. Anyway, Shannon got off her mule and asked me to take the saddlebags. As soon as I did, she peeled the saddle off the first mule and put it on the other.»

Whip frowned. «Sounds like she was in an almighty rush. Something must have been wrong. Really wrong.»

«Same thought occurred to me,» Caleb said. He hesitated. «Do you know some women by the name of Betsy and Clementine?»

Whip shot a look toward Willow, who was fussing over some stew she Was warming up for him.

«I don’t exactlyknowthem,» Whip said in a voice that went no farther than Caleb’s ears. «I’ve never even met them. They live around Holler Creek. They’re, uh, saloon girls, if you take my meaning.»

«Yeah, that’s what I thought.»

«How did you hear their names?» Whip asked.

«Shannon mentioned them.»

«What!»

Caleb took a deep breath and hoped that Whip had a good grip on his temper. If the two of them got into a fight in the kitchen, there wouldn’t be enough left of the room to make breakfast in.

«Seems that someone named Murphy told Shannon that her gold couldn’t have come from Silent John’s claims,» Caleb said.

«Murphy! Damn his blood-sucking soul! I figured he would just take the gold and shut up.»

«According to Shannon, you figured wrong on something else, too,» Caleb said.