"She wasn't so different from the Cheyenne, was she? So long as we stayed away and left her alone."

"Maybe, maybe it's the way things happen. Nothing stays the same, Tamsin. Not Tennessee, not Texas, and not Colorado. One of these days the wild Cheyenne and the mountain lions will be gone. It will make life easier for some folks, but something special will go out of these mountains with them."

"And the desperadoes? Will they be gone as well?"

"No," he replied huskily. "They'll just change then-hats and wear fancier clothes. Believe me, Tamsin, as long as there are people, the outlaws will be with us."

At dawn, they rode southeast, entering more-civilized country. Tamsin was torn, waiting for a chance to escape, but not wanting to leave the man she'd come to cherish more than her own life.

The canyon widened, and Tamsin guided Fancy close to Ash's gelding. Ash had rolled up his hunting shirt and tied it behind his saddle.

He'd told her he didn't want to be mistaken for a hostile and shot by one of his own kind. With his long, dark hair and sun-bronzed skin, she wondered that anyone would recognize him as a white man.

The buckskins he'd found in Jacob's cabin suited him as well as his long coat and neatly tailored vest and trousers, she decided. Ash Morgan had an unpredictable streak that marked him as a mustang. It could be that no woman would ever bridle his temper or train him to a tame way of life.

"We don't have to do it this way," she said to him. "You could forget the bounty on my head and come to California with me."

Ash didn't answer for several minutes, then stroked his stubbled chin. "It's a fair offer, Tamsin. I've never been that far west, and I've always had a hankering to see the sun set over that rolling blue ocean."

Her heart pitched into the pit of her stomach. "But you won't, will you?" Stubborn. He was as stubborn as a Missouri mule. "Does the reward mean that much to you?"

He scoffed. "You know better than that, woman. Don't be scared. I promised you a top-notch lawyer. I've known Henry Steele for some time. I believe he's an honest man, but in case he's not, I'll make certain you don't come to trial in his courtroom."

"I'm sure that's supposed to make me feel better," she replied. But it didn't. She was terrified of being arrested and dreaded the disgrace of being behind bars. No one in her family had ever been jailed, other than a great-great-grandmother who was suspected of spying on the British for the Americans during the War of 1812.

What if Ash's lawyer wouldn't represent her or wasn't as good as Ash thought? Suppose the jury believed Henry Steele's word over hers?

She was a stranger accused of horse theft and murder, a southerner in Union territory when emotions still ran high from the war. What if Ash was forced to testify against her? If he told them that she had stolen his horse, would that make them think her guilty of the killing?

Tamsin shivered. It was all well and good for Ash to talk about obeying the law and upholding a moral code of right and wrong. He wasn't the one facing a death sentence.

"You know I didn't commit that murder," she said.

"Yes, woman. I suppose I do. I can't figure how the hell you managed to get yourself knee-deep in this much trouble without being guilty as sin, but I believe you."

"It's about time!" She gave a sigh of relief. "Then, if you do believe me, you can understand why I can't go back. Come to California with me."

Ash reined in and stared at her. "Don't be stupid, Tamsin. I'm not going-"

"I'm not stupid. Don't ever call me that again." Atwood had called her stupid, and it had ended any hope of their making their marriage work.

She knew Ash thought she should trust him. In his eyes, he'd never done anything to make her think that he wouldn't keep his word. But she was afraid that he was asking more than she could give.

"I promised you I'd take care of you," he said, reining his horse close to hers. "Stop worrying, and let me do it."

She sighed again. If only it were that easy.

Four days later, on a side street near the Denver courthouse, Ash escorted Tamsin into a freshly painted office. The small gold building with white trim was so new that carpenters were still nailing cedar shingles to the roof. "This is the lawyer I told you about," Ash explained. "Dimitri's the best."

An elegantly dressed, middle-aged man with prematurely gray hair and gold-rimmed glasses peered over the top of a desk stacked high with books. "Ashton? Is that you?" He rose, replaced a quill pen in an inkwell, and came around the desk to meet them.

"Dimitri." Ash extended a hand and the little man shook it vigorously. "I'd like you to meet someone," Ash continued. "Dimitri Zajicek, this is Mrs. Tamsin MacGreggor."

Dimitri nodded, pulled an embroidered handkerchief from his coat pocket, and wiped at the smeared ink stains on his fingers. "It is my honor, Mrs. MacGreggor. Forgive the mess; it's usually far worse, but I've just moved into this office and I haven't had time to complete my customary clutter." The lawyer rattled on as he escorted her to a chair, cleared a small tea table of heaped papers and folders, and produced a steaming silver pot and delicate cups and saucers.

Dimitri Zajicek was a far cry from her Tennessee lawyer, but his manner inspired confidence, Tamsin thought as she sipped the sweetened tea. She hadn't known Dimitri for more than five minutes, and here she was explaining her dilemma without the least hesitation.

Ash stood behind her, his hand on the back of her chair. She could feel his gaze on her, and even though he didn't speak, his being there gave her confidence. "So, you can see that I was afraid to go into the Sweetwater jail," she said. "I'm certain that the sheriff and Judge Steele are both dishonest. And I truly believe that the judge murdered his brother and plans to put the blame on me."

"I can't believe that Henry Steele is that kind of man. But right or wrong, I couldn't take the chance of her being tried in Sweetwater, Dimitri," Ash said. "Can you help us?"

"There was a cowboy, too," Tamsin put in. "I think they called him Broom or Brown. He was there at Steele's ranch the day I heard Sam and Henry argue. Sam became furious with the man when he wouldn't throw Henry off the place. They exchanged words, and Sam fired him. The cowboy threatened Sam. He could have returned later and done the killing."

Ash's face darkened with suspicion. "You never mentioned this cowhand before."

"It didn't seem important. It all happened so fast that I just remembered what Broom said to Sam. I was so sure that the judge was the killer…"

"That you didn't tell me." Ash's knuckles whitened as he gripped the chair back.

"That's certainly something to look into," Dimitri soothed as he continued taking notes. Then he paused and glanced up at Ash. "You did hear that Jack Cannon committed another bank robbery south of Pueblo?"

Tamsin's hand trembled, spilling amber liquid over the side of her flowery blue porcelain cup into her lap.

"No." Ash's features hardened. "I hadn't."

"In Goldsborough. It's a small town, but developing into a mining center. A deputy was killed during the robbery as well as the bank manager and a teller. The Cannon brothers are also suspected of that stage robbery in Pueblo, and at least two bank holdups in Nebraska."

Ash swore softly. "I heard Jack was on the move. A friend told me Cannon murdered a mule skinner and stole his horses. I rode down to Cannon's uncle's old place to see if they'd gone to ground, but I didn't find any sign of them."

"No." Tamsin set the cup and saucer on the table. "Stay out of this, Ash. You promised you'd stand by me if I gave myself up."

A muscle twitched along the length of his left forearm. "I made another promise to Becky that I'd make sure Cannon paid for his crimes."