"Scoot over so I can reach my pack," Ty muttered.

Even if Janna didn't move, the pack was within a long arm's length of Ty-if he were willing to press against her in order to increase his reach. She gave him a sideways look and decided not to point out how close the pack was. Without a word she eased backward and to the side an inch or two.

"More."

Ty's curt command irritated Janna. "Haven't you noticed? There's not much room in this crack."

"Yeah, and you're taking up at least three-quarters of it," he retorted. "Quit crowding me."

"Crowding you? My God, you'd think I had fleas or something," Janna muttered beneath her breath. "Seeing as how you're the one who's been to Ned's saloon recently, you're more likely to have fleas than-"

"Janna," Ty interrupted, his voice threatening. "Move!"

"All right, all right, I'm moving." She pushed herself to the far side of the crevice and hugged the wall as though there were a cliff inches away from her feet. "This better?"

Ty snarled something Janna chose not to hear. A pock-etknife appeared in his hand. He grabbed his pack and began rummaging through it. A few moments later he pulled out a tin can. He punched the point of the blade twice into the top of the can. The second time he rotated the knife, making a wider opening. He handed the can to Janna.

"Here. Drink this."

Janna lifted the can, tilted, sipped and made a sound of disbelief as the thick, sweet, peach-flavored liquid trickled across her tongue. She took two long, slow swallows before she reluctantly handed the can back to Ty. He refused to take it with a shake of his head.

"Finish it," he said.

"I can't do that. Preacher charges a dollar a can for his peaches."

A look at Janna's clear eyes told Ty that arguing over the peaches would be futile. He took the can, drank two small sips and handed it back over.

"Your turn," he said flatly.

She said nothing, but she took the can and drank slowly, savoring each drop. Her undisguised pleasure made Ty smile with the knowledge that he had given her a real treat. He had spent more than enough time on the trail to know how much a person began craving something sweet and succulent after weeks or months of dried meat and biscuits and beans.

The can was passed back and forth several times, and each time Ty swore that the metal became warmer to his touch. He tried not to think about the lips that had been pressed against the rim before his own lips drank. In fact, he was doing fine at controlling the direction of his thoughts until Janna tipped the can up and waited for several seconds for the last sweet drop to fall from the rim onto the tip of her outstretched tongue. The temptation to suck that drop from her tongue with his own lips was so great that he had to turn away.

"Now what?" she asked, holding the can under Ty's nose.

Hell of a question, he thought savagely. Wish I had an answer I could live with.

Using swift, vicious strokes of the pocketknife, Ty cut the lid from the rim, speared a peach half and held it out to Janna. She took the lush golden fruit with her fingertips, ate with delicate greed and waited her turn for another. They traded turns eating until only one piece of fruit was left, a piece that stubbornly eluded Ty's knife. Finally he speared it and held it out to Janna. As she slid the fruit from the knife blade she sensed Ty's intense interest. She looked up to find him watching her mouth. His eyes were a smoky green that made frissons of heat race over her skin. Without thinking she took a bite of the succulent fruit and held out the remainder to him with her fingertips.

"Your turn," she said huskily.

For a long, aching moment Ty looked at the sweetness dripping from Janna's slender fingers. Then he stood up in a controlled surge of power, grabbed his pack and strode out of the crevice without a word.

Chapter Nineteen

A late-afternoon storm had swept across Black Plateau, making the rocks and trees shine as though freshly polished. The slanting golden light transformed the winding meadow into a river of glistening gold. Once Janna would have felt the beauty of the land like a balm over her hungry soul; today she only saw what was absent rather than what was present. Lying on her stomach, using a row of evergreen seedlings for cover, she scanned the length of the long meadow in front of her once more, staring through the spyglass until her arms trembled with fatigue.

Ty didn't bother to go over the land again with his own glass. He knew he would see what he and Janna had seen for the past five days-grass and water and wind in abundance, but no Lucifer standing guard over his herd. Cascabel's renegades had been present, however. They were the reason that Ty and Janna had had to tiptoe around the plateau like thieves, able to get only as close to the mustangs as the tracks they had made yesterday or even the day before.

"I don't understand it," Janna said, finally lowering the spyglass and wiggling backward deeper beneath the cover of the pines that grew right to the meadow's edge. "Even if Lucifer had been caught, wouldn't we at least see some of his herd wandering around? No mustanger is going to want the older mares or the spring foals. Besides, we haven't seen or heard any sign of Troon or any other mustanger since we came up the east trail."

"Except for that flurry of rifle shots yesterday," Ty said. "That didn't sound like the hunting parties we've been hearing. Troon could have run afoul of Cascabel."

Janna frowned and said reluctantly, "I suppose I should scout Cascabel's camp."

"What?" Ty asked, astonished.

"That's how I found you," she explained. "I heard gunfire, ran over, saw where the tracks of two shod horses were crossed by a bunch of unshod Indian ponies. The ponies turned to follow your horses and so did I. Eventually the tracks led to Cascabel's camp. I couldn't get to you right away to free you, so I hid and waited for a chance to help. It finally came when you got through the gauntlet and were still able to run."

Ty thought of the danger Janna had risked to save a total stranger and shook his head in wonder. That deceptively slender body hid a lot of plain old courage, but there was no need to spend it on a swamp Yankee like Joe Troon.

"Is Troon a friend of yours?" Ty asked.

Janna gave Ty a startled look. "Joe Troon? I wouldn't cry one tear at his funeral," she said in a low, flat voice. "In fact, he…"

Her voice died. She didn't like to remember the time Troon had trapped her and started stripping off her clothes before she managed to break free and run. He had spent hours searching for her. The whole time he had yelled just what he would do when he caught her.

The combination of fear and dislike on Janna's face told Ty more than he wanted to know about Janna and Joe Troon.

"Janna," Ty said softly, pulling her out of her unhappy memories, "from what I've heard in towns where I bought my supplies, Troon is a drunk, a thief, a coward, a woman beater and a back shooter. He deserves whatever Cascabel feels like giving to him. Besides, you don't even know if Troon has been captured. He could be back in Sweetwater right now, getting drunk on Ned's rotgut. There's no point in either of us risking our butt to scout a renegade camp for a no-good bit of swamp gas like Joe Troon."

"I know," Janna said. "I just hate to think of anyone caught by Cascabel. He's so cruel."

Ty shrugged. "Cascabel doesn't see it that way. He's a warrior who has stood up to the worst the country, the pony soldiers and his fellow Indians can offer in the way of punishment. He's never given quarter and he's never asked for it. And he never will."

''You sound like you admire him."

There was a long silence before Ty shrugged again. "I don't like him, but I do respect him. He's one hell of a fighter, no matter what the weapon or situation. He has knowledge of how to use the land and his limited arms to his own advantage that many a general would envy."