Thank you so much for still reading this! ~ Sara

She didn't sit with him long after he finished eating, but backed out the front door, swinging it shut behind her. This Travis was something different, unlike anyone she'd met before, which wasn't saying much since her experience was limited. Still, something about him was disturbing. The feel of him was dangerous, like a wild animal cornered and ready to fight. Going around the corner of the cottage, she walked slowly toward the shack nestled at the edge of the trees, thinking.

The man called Travis had nothing with him but his clothes, and they had been in bad shape. Torn jean pants, stained with blood. A faded green shirt, in bad need of stitching. The boots she'd pulled off his feet had seen many miles since their last polish and were down at the heel. No gun, no hat, no horse. Unusual for a western man.

Considering the raw skin around his neck, Faith knew it was the mark of a hanging. She had seen two in her life, one a horse thief in Santa Fe, the other a rustler who was caught on the neighboring 33 Connected. This man Travis had been hanged recently, and by either luck or grace, had escaped. Now he was on the run, probably from those who wanted to kill him. Why or who was none of her affair, her only concern was the slim chance they would trace him here.

Resting the shotgun next to the door after glancing back at the cottage she pulled his dry clothes from the line strong between buildings. He was tall, but not uncommonly so, perhaps just over six foot. Rich blue eyes were the shade of the cornflowers that grew near Bluebird meadow. Much of his skin was brown, tanned from years of hard living and the trail. Despite the wariness of his features, he was young.

She correctly guessed he was near her own age. Thick and full, his deep mahogany hair was almost coffee colored. With large hands, long straight fingers, thick arms and broad shoulders, he was powerfully built. Instinctively, Faith knew his muscles weren't for show. He knew how to use them, and often did.

No single feature about him was particularly striking, but with them all together, Travis was a man who was surprisingly attractive.

Last night he'd moved with the easy sureness of a woodsman, quiet like an Indian on the hunt. She knew he'd not sat atop a horse his whole life. If she hadn't been born to these hills, she never would have known Travis was here. The thought soured her fleeting good mood. No man should be able to sneak up on her.

Faith had worked hard on her senses, sharpening them until she could see the slightest change in her valley. From a misplaced blade of grass to a fallen leaf. Even the air smelled different when something foreign came in. Shaking out the garments she caught up the shotgun and walked back to the cottage.

Travis was still at the table when she came in and tossed his clothes to him. The boots she dropped at the door.

"You can dress there," she indicated the empty room. "We'll head out as soon as you're ready."

With a quick nod he disappeared behind the closed door, grateful to have privacy. He had not been convinced she'd give it to him. Some bitter and painful memory was riding her hard, and she wasn't about to trust him as far as she could throw him. Not that he blamed her. A stranger sneaking around at night was a suspicious thing, even if he meant no harm.

Pulling on his clothing, his features hardened into disdain, noting the shabbiness of them. He'd been poor before, but this was new level of low. Being flat broke, everything he owned on the back of his appaloosa, there wasn't a blasted thing he could do about it. Tucking in the shirt behind his belt, it was mildly pleasing to have to suck in a bit. Faith served up a fine meal, and it'd stick to his ribs for a while.

Attempting to comb his hair with his fingers, he stepped back into the front room, only to stop abruptly. The woman he called Faith was at the window, her hat in the same hand as the shotgun. Like him, she was running her fingers through the thick softness of hair so pale it was almost white. The sun from beyond the window lit her up like a halo. She glowed.

Sensing she was not alone, she instantly replaced her hat, settling it low over her brow. It was not embarrassment he sensed from the action. Something darker tormented her. He didn't move as their eyes met, his hands relaxed and loose, held slightly away from his body.

"I'm real obliged to you, Faith. I'll not forget your kindness."

"I'd rather you did forget." Lips curling a little, she snorted. "Put on your boots, day's wasting."

Without waiting to see she whirled and left the cottage. Through the window he watched as she strode quickly toward a small group of horses. Stomping into his boots, Red was impressed as she walked up to a muscled buckskin, slipping a bridle over his head. The big horse lowered his nose to let her, standing motionless until she was done.

The stallion's mane and tail were jet black, with faded black socks reaching up his legs. Other than snorting loudly, the stud didn't protest the leather straps. Leaving him, Faith moved toward a paint mare talking quietly. She fastened the bridle in place and stroked the horse's forelock gently. The paint was long legged with powerful lines of muscle.

Mostly a deep chocolate brown, broken by irregular patches of white, her hide glistened in the sun. Finished, Faith called to them, and they obediently followed her back toward the cottage. The reins draped loosely over their withers. Seeing him in the doorway, her eyes squinted against the sun.

"You know how to ride bareback don't you?"

Nodding, he stepped off the porch, sizing up the horseflesh. They were beautiful animals.

"You got somethin' against saddles?"

Her shrug was careless.

"No. The horses do. Don't use them unless I have to. You ride the buckskin. Start out in front. I'll follow."

"Has he ever been ridden?"

"A few times."

"By a man?"

"What's that have to do with it?" Her voice developed an edge, so he lifted a hand in peace.

"No offence, ma'am, but I'm bigger than you. If he ain't carried that much weight before, he might not like it."

"So?"

"Are you lookin' forward to seein' how well I can stay on should he turn into a whirlin' dervish?"

"Not particularly." Gray eyes were piercingly intense, almost challenging. "Don't you dare hurt him. If he bucks you off, you get off. I'll talk him around."

"You'll talk him..." words fading at the utter seriousness staring back at him, Travis nodded. "Sure. Whatever you say."

"Don't patronize me, mister."

"I'm not."

"Then get on."

Moving toward the stallion, Red kept calm. This was the strangest situation he'd ever been in, and as yet he'd not worked it out in his mind. Holding one hand out to the buckskin's nose, his other hand gently took the reins. Other than laying back his ears, the big horse didn't move or object. Planting his hands flat on the wide back, he did a jumping mount, swinging his leg over as the horse sidestepped, tossing his head.

Settling, Travis patted the muscular neck soothingly.

"Easy now, boy. We're alright."

"Head up toward that tall peak there," Faith used the shotgun as a pointer, her features blank. "Keep the tree line to your left."

Without a word he started off, the horse moving under him with a sure foot and easy gait. There was no resistance to his kneed directions, or the guiding hand on the reins. Instead, he could feel the fire in the creature between his thighs, the power surging just beneath the surface. In a flat-out race, Travis began to wonder just what the buckskin was made of. A better piece of horseflesh he'd rarely seen.

The sun tilted toward the highest point in the sky as they made their way from the cottage. Up along the high-altitude trees, they followed the ridges up into the mountain peaks. A faint game trail led them up into granite country and scrub brush. Rounding a corner Travis came suddenly to a halt, the slopes of the mountains converging right in front of him, a wedge almost too small for him to fit through the only way to go.

"Keep moving, mister." Her voice came quiet behind him. "You ain't off my land yet."

"Tight squeeze."

"You'll make it."

"Don't seem like you use this trail often."

"That a fact," her tone made him look, finding her expression grim. "Mister, you start stalling, I'll figure you're up to no good."

"Easy on the trigger, ma'am. I'm peaceable." A flash of memory brought another face to mind. Intense eyes beneath a wide brimmed hat, a warm, gentle smile. 'Not everyone is like Diggs,' she told herself, trying to relax.

"I'm...I'm not used to having someone around, and...I don't like it." Gritting the words out was bitter, her features scrunched. Red almost chuckled. She resembled a child that had just sucked on a lemon for the first time. The very grownup shotgun in her hands kept him from laughing.

"Don't care much for other folks myself, Faith." His admission made her look up, surprise swirling through her eyes. He grinned. "I always seem to end up in hot water, so I reckon it's best to keep to myself."

"Must be your peaceable temperament," she retorted drily, indicating the bandage around his neck. Red's eyes went cold, his smile fading.

"A peaceable man is just as likely to push back as a mean one...once his backs against the wall."

Starting the buckskin, Travis steeled himself against the close quarters and rode on. He had no liking for tight spaces. The high walls stretched far overhead, throwing the narrow pass into deep shadow. Occasionally his elbow or knee brushed the rock barrier. There wasn't even enough room to half-turn to look over his shoulder.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief when they reached open ground again, he gave the buckskin it's head. The big horse scrambled up a slight incline into the sun. Behind him, he heard the mare doing the same thing. Looking back, it was surprise to find the entrance gone, seeming to vanish. Faith watched him with careful eyes.

"Neat trick," he offered, to which she shrugged.

"I didn't do it." Her gaze flicked away then back as it turned sheepish. "Sorry for what I said back there. It's none of my business what your troubles are, and I shouldn't have judged, or assumed. I'm not used to needing manners."

A dark brow arched as he started to smile. Suddenly uncomfortable, she looked away. His chuckle was so soft she almost missed it.

"I can't rightly blame you, Faith. What else could you think of a fella caught slippin' around in the dark? With a rope burn necktie to boot?"

"Thank you."

"It's me that rightly ought to be thanking you." Seeing how she shifted uneasily on the mare, Travis instantly changed the subject. "How much farther?"

"A few miles." Her shoulders relaxed a little in response to the shift in conversation. "There's a cold spring just beyond that boulder. We can water the horses and push on."

She indicated a boulder that was almost a mountain on its own, jutting from the earth with a faint resemblance to a crouching cat. Red suddenly knew exactly where he was. Twisting to face her, he kept his voice steady.

"You live on Wildcat Mountain?"

"Wildcat Mountain?" Confusion was in her eyes. "You saw where I live."

"Do you have any idea what people say about this place?" Almost shaking from the shock of it, Travis faced her. "Haven't you heard the rumors? The stories?"

"Folks talk. What they say doesn't much matter to me unless they figure to come calling without an invitation. Wildcat Mountain, or not, it's my home. Let them call it whatever they want."

"Most folks believe Wildcat is a legend," he explained. Every story he'd ever heard flashed through his mind as he tried to stay calm. "A gold mine, double eagle coins, a robbery, murder – everyone involved with the treasure vanished almost twenty years ago. How have you not heard of it? It's the biggest mystery in these parts!"

Her eyes had gone flat, her shoulders stiff. Not everyone vanished.

By her expression he suddenly knew she was done talking. Swinging the paint in next to him Faith grabbed the reins from his hands.

"You can make the rest on foot. You keep going, mister, an' don't stop until you cross the creek that's full of fool's gold. Some call it Gold Water creek. That's the boundary. Believe me, I'll know if you stop shy of it, and I'll give no other warnin'."

Not about to argue with the shotgun trained at him, Red slowly swung from the horse, stepping carefully around to face her. Her gray eyes were alert, and he thought he saw a flicker of pain in them. He couldn't account for it but backed carefully away before lowering his hands. About to thank her for her odd form of hospitality, loud voices suddenly echoed off the rocks around them, freezing the words on his tongue. Spinning around his heart beginning to pump blood quickly through his veins.

Time was up. They had found him. Again!

"Faith," his whisper was soft. "If you go now, they won't see you."

"Why should I worry about them? You're the one they want."

"For now," cornflower eyes met hers. His mouth was firm. "I don't figure some of them to be respectful of womenfolk."

Startled, she stared at him, a frown darkening her features.

"Are...you trying to protect me?"

"Can we talk about this later?" His deep voice dropped as echoes of the approaching riders got louder. "You need to go. Now."

"What about you?"

"I got myself into this. I can get myself out, I reckon."

"With what?" She pointed out in a murmur. "You don't have a gun."

"Don't worry about me." He was growing subtly desperate. What was wrong with her? Did she not understand the danger she could be in? "Faith, for the love of God, would you just go?"

"What does He have to do with this?"

"Faith!" It was a snarled hiss as he took a step toward her. "Get going!"

"You won't get very far on foot," her practical response made him want to scream in frustration. "No matter how fast you run, a horse is faster."

"That's my problem. Now, could you-?" Cutting off, he jerked around, hearing the distinct sound of hooves striking rock. How close were they?

"Travis," her somber tone yanked his eyes to her. "Tell me the truth. Does the law want you for something?"

"Yeah," standing straight and uncompromising, he didn't flinch. "But it was self-defense. I'm not a murderer."

Briefly studying his features, Faith realized he was telling the truth. That meant that whoever was after him intended to hang a man without real justice on their side. That made her mad.

Without another word Faith tossed the reins to him. Travis caught them, leaping onto the buckskin's back in one smooth movement. He followed her lead as she headed off to the north, keeping the paint at a slow pace that would not make noise. Selecting their route with infinite care, they left as little trail as possible. He felt his esteem for her go up a notch, this girl had sense, and grit.

Swinging west, she took them along the base of a tall pine tree lined ridge, across a shelf of rock and down into a dry creek bed. Doubling back, staying in the rocky shelves of sand obscured their tracks, they mingled them with the bands of wild horses that wandered here. Keeping an eye on the country behind them, Travis made sure the killers on his trail didn't catch sight of them in the open. What'd he'd do about it he wasn't sure but seeing them first was an advantage.

After some miles, Faith angled them toward the high walls of a rocky canyon, the floor covered in dusty red earth. It was impossible to hide their tracks here, but the slope up was steep. It'd take nerves of steel and a steady horse to do it. Not that the posse wouldn't make it, but it would slow them down plenty.

Silently traveling the length of the canyon, he reined in abruptly as Faith stopped. Swinging her legs off, she slid from the mare, glancing at him. Mimicking her, Travis moved quietly to her side. The country they had just quitted lay wide and open before them. His careful eyes picked out the group of horses that were traveling quickly along the base of the ridge.

"There," he breathed, feeling her nod. Faith had already seen them. His esteem went up another notch.

"Who are they?"

Over time he had come to know the men tracking him. It was easy to pick out the thick, bulky form of Jet Fennell, the small, almost feminine shape of Pat Barnes, and the tall size of gun slick Isaac Ludlow. A few others were in the group, though Rivers did not know most their names. Reputation hunters by trade, gaining fame through killing, and now they were in on the hunt for him. A few faces from Julesburg were missing. It wouldn't be like them to quit, so they must have split up. He'd have to be very careful from now on. Glancing at Faith, he saw her eyes on him, sizing up his reaction.

"Are they the men who hung you?"

"Yeah, plus a few friends." He added drily, "didn't know I was so popular."

She grunted and turned away, walking the paint along the high edge of the canyon walls, unconcerned about being seen. The brush and trees were thick up here. The men hunting him would only look up if they had call to. Red fell in behind her, moving along on silent feet. Dropping rapidly down a steep incline that suddenly opened to a small glade, he paused as Faith dropped the mare's reins, hurrying forward.

Going to her knees next to a large boulder, she thrust her hands straight into the soil, tearing out huge bits, tossing them aside. Whatever she was after, Faith wasn't concerned about covering it up again. The hair on Red's scalp began to prickle. Like that time he was cornered in the dry box canyon by Merl Grindle and his gang. Back against the wall, no way out, no holds barred...that had been an all-out fight for his life.

He had the feeling Faith was getting set for just such a thing.

As he kept watch, she dug at the loose earth, uncovering a cache buried deep the soil. With a triumphant grin, she pulled out a large bundle wrapped in hide. Flipping it open she grabbed up two rifles and tossed one to Travis, then a box of ammunition. Briefly examining the weapon, he whistled under his breath.

"Where'd you get this?"

"Does that matter right now?"

"No."

"Then why'd you ask?" She went back to unwrapping the bundle as he went over the rifle.

It was Mister Henry's .44 caliber rim-fire lever action rifle. Holding sixteen bullets in a spring-loaded tubed magazine, with an extra live round, the rifle was ready to fire. Red was impressed. Taking out a Remington pistol and gun belt, she handed that over as well. Watching as he slung it with practiced ease around his hips, cinched it down, Faith slowly stood up.

Her eyes were dark and steely as she stepped forward. Cocking his head, he met her gaze.

"What?"

"I don't like trespassers, Travis, and I intend to drive those coyotes off my land. I figure you have your own reasons for wanting them gone but let me make this clear." Her gaze never wavered from his. "You turn on me, even for a second, and I'll bury you out here with them."

Smiling was a devilish thing to do, but he was feeling more than a little ornery. Them that hunted him brought the misery about to befall them upon themselves. Pity was wasted on the wicked.

"I'm on your side, Faith. You can trust me."

"I have no intention of trusting you, but you need to understand your options. I'm not partial to you, and I meant what I said."

"Then let me put it this way," his grim smile sent a shaft of butterflies through her stomach. That feeling he was wildly dangerous rose to the surface. "I trust you. If I step one toe outa line, kill me."

"Okay," a spark of danger flared in her eyes. "Let's go hunting."

Okay, so their friendship needs a little work, but nothing draws people together like facing life or death situations :-D