Two chapters for the weekend, then I'll have one week off. Happy reading and enjoy your weekend!!

Sara

Miles away in her secluded home spread, Faith sat by the pool of water, brushing out her hair and thinking. The days seemed incredibly dull somehow, slow now that Travis was gone. In the brief time he'd been here, he'd left a deep impression. She thought of him often, and though angry at herself about it, couldn't stop either. The way his smile came so easily, how those cornflower blue eyes danced with secret humor – what did any of that matter now?

Slapping at the water angrily she jumped to her feet. He was gone, and he was not coming back. Plenty of time had passed for him to find the pouch of gold coins. Coins she'd deliberately placed there for him to see. A test of sorts.

What kind of man was Travis Rivers really? When he'd spoken of the treasure, a light of excitement had gleamed in his eyes, but not greed. In briefly talking about his life as a gunfighter, an edge of wistfulness had crept into his tone, not triumph. It had piqued her curiosity. So she'd let him take some gold with him, just to see what would happen when he found it.

Enough time had passed, she was certain by now he'd discovered the pouch. That he hadn't returned immediately told her one of two things. He couldn't because of those on his trail, or he meant to do so when it was to his advantage. Of course, he might not come back at all – what did she really know of his mind?

"Darn it," hands on her hips, she glared at nothing, brow puckered in a scowl. "Maybe I ought to have just let him go without giving him anything. He's not my problem."

The trouble with that thinking was, she'd already involved herself in his business. By taking sides in that shootout with the posse. By killing men that had invaded her land, hunting down a man because of – what? Considering that, Faith paused. She didn't really know why Travis was wanted by those men.

Sighing, the back of her skull throbbing faintly, she shook her head in frustration. This was exactly why she never wanted to get involved with folks! It complicated her life in ways she could never anticipate!

Moving up the path toward the cottage, she paused when the herd of mares in the distance all lifted their heads. Stopping, Faith's hand dropped to the big pistol at her waist as she watched them. Tails swishing, ears stiff, the horses stared for long moments before relaxing, but Faith didn't have that luxury. An uneasy feeling was building in her chest.

Going swiftly to the cottage, she took up the rifle just inside the door, assuring herself the chamber was fully loaded. Footsteps soft, she headed out in the direction the herd had been looking. Abruptly deciding to make a wide loop, she made her cautious approach from the opposite side. Staying low, moving quietly through the shadows of brush and trees, Faith edged nearer to where she figured the source of interest was. Going to one knee, keen gray eyes studied the terrain, the skin on her back prickling.

The air here felt wrong. Tainted. Nostrils flexing, a sick bile crept up her throat as a nearly forgotten odor filtered in. Warning bells rang in her mind as she scrambled back, rifle up in readiness, heart thudding hollowly. Where was he?

Frantically searching the brush and shadows, knowing he wouldn't be fool enough to approach directly, Faith scoured the forest for sign. He had to be here. Somewhere. Roy would not risk coming back unless he had intentions that were far less than honorable.

Staying nearly flat to the ground, she finally found the place he'd been watching from. A sheltered spot in a thick grove of sycamores, hedged in with granite boulders and brush. A single cigarette lay in the grass, rubbed out but left in the open. A warning? Chills snaked down her back.

"If I catch you, Leroy Diggs," she whispered thickly. "You're a dead man."

Studying the valley from that vantage, she realized he hadn't been able to see the beyond the slope where the pool was. Or the front of the cottage. Only the back windows, the horses, and the shack. Then she knew. He'd come back for the treasure.

"Too bad," a wicked smile curved her lips. "It's not here, Roy. If you do happen to find it, you better hope I don't see you first."

Moving back toward the valley floor, the lingering tension in her back and shoulders faded. Roy had gone. She would've known he'd come if she hadn't been so blasted preoccupied thinking about Travis! Rubbing her temple, Faith had a sudden need to just make sure all was as it should be. If she came across Diggs, well, it would be the last time for one of them.

"So be it." Softly calling to the black mare, Faith met the horse halfway, jumping up bareback, without even the benefit of reins. Of all the horses, the black mare was the least tolerant of restraints, but was willing enough to be guided by knees and gentle hands in her thick mane.

Urged into a fast gallop, the pair raced to the far end of the valley then up into the wooded slopes. Taking a thin game trail, they climbed above the tree line and out onto steep rocky ledges of the mountain peaks. Having been this way several times now, the mare needed no direction from her rider, and Faith let her choose her own pace. One misstep could send them both tumbling down the steep slope.

Cresting the ridge they hugged the mountain side, still keeping to the game trail. At one point, the path widened out onto a flat, grassy meadow overlooking the country below. Walking the mare to the edge, Faith checked along her backtrail to make certain nothing was following. Satisfied, she urged the mare along. Soon the sun would tilt toward the west, drawing the daylight below the horizon in its wake.

On the far side of the mountain the path gradually inclined upwards, opening onto a small ledge that overlooking the vast mountain range behind Wildcat. Tucked back into the mountain was the short cave entrance. Sliding off the mare Faith studied the ground for new tracks. Only the lion's prints were visible. Moving carefully to the entry, she bent, softly calling out.

"Hello...it's only me." From the depths of shadows inside, a faint stirring caught her eye. "Hey girl."

A deep rumbling purr greeted Faith as the large cougar padded forward, amber eyes burning with delight. Her head was looking gaunt, tufted ears ragged, flanks thinner, but that came with age. The she-cat was well past her prime. Pausing long enough to rub against Faith, she went straight to the mare, reaching up to bat playfully at the horse's muzzle.

While they were greeting one another Faith slipped inside the cave, quickly going to the back wall. The dust on the rock floor had no foreign prints. Kneeling, she rolled several large boulders aside, looking behind them. Covered in thick layers of dust were five large trunks, two feet tall by two feet deep by three feet wide. Lifting the lid of one, Faith looked down at the nest of gold coins. Even in the faint light inside the cave they gleamed and sparkled.

Dipping her hand into the sea of precious metal, letting them clink through her fingers, a faint scowl darkened her brow. What about this made people so crazy? Was it the fact this was supposed to be treasure money, or was it the large amount that had men combing the country for it? Just how had it come to be hers in the first place? Too many questions without answers made her skull ache.

Shutting the lid she scooped some dust off the floor, scattering it over her fingerprints on the lid then replaced the boulders. Leaving the cave Faith dusted off any boot tracks from the ledge then called to the mare. The black horse blew noisily from her nostrils then pranced over to Faith, tossing her head, eyes flaring. Ears laid flat the lion made a low growling sound. The young woman smiled in understanding.

"I know, that wasn't long enough. Next time."

Pulling herself onto the horse's back, they headed down the trail, taking it as quickly as was safe. Hitting the rock studded slope going downhill they slid more than walked to the bottom. Displaced rocks spewed a thick cloud of dust that settled over them like a blanket. She sneezed at the same time the mare did, and both shook their heads. Stretching out into a slow gallop back to the valley, the mare whinnied loudly at the other horses as they drew near.

Despite knowing her secret was safe and untouched, Faith was restless. Unsettled. On top of her worry over Diggs' reappearance, Travis' face kept resurfacing in her mind. Feelings she didn't understand, or trust were bubbling within her, leaving her anxious.

Deciding to exchange mounts, she asked the buckskin to carry her, heading to the pass that led straight down the mountain range. On top of everything, today was a bad day to start with. Old feelings stirred within her heart, faint echoes of memories she did not have. As it had for the last sixteen years, the restlessness guided her from home, back toward the scene that had changed her life forever. It was the anniversary of a day that she could not recall.

Urging the buckskin faster, Faith quickly left her home quickly behind. Gun strapped to her waist rifle in hand, she felt no fear of being caught out on her own. With the way she was feeling, anyone who started trouble with her would find themselves standing at the Devil's gate with a lead invitation.

Working like smooth pistons, the stallion's powerful legs pumped hard, stretching out and back fluidly. He could run for miles without tiring. Splashing through the shallow part of Rattler Creek they went up the rocky slopes of Saddle Ridge then down the other side to the wide-open land. Sprawled to the far horizon, she could see trees dotting the rolling green grassland.

Asking the stallion to go faster, her fingers tightened in his mane as he responded with a surge of new speed. Nostrils flaring, horse and rider drank the wind as he took flight. Hair blown straight back, wind streaming over her cheeks, Faith felt as if she had wings.

Slick with lather, the stallion was blowing hard when she finally asked him to stop with a gentle tug on his mane. Sliding from his back Faith took a few steps, her eyes fixed to the ground. Metal parts from an old wagon were partially buried in the dust, aged evidence that life had once been here. This is where it happened.

Rifles thundered in her mind, the sharp bark of pistols hammering back. Gray eyes shifted slightly, beyond the bones of horses. Thirteen red flowers had grown there. Red flowers that had bloomed right before her eyes.

Discovering this place the first time had been an accident but the horse skeletons and ruined wagon had triggered ghosts of feelings. She'd started having nightmares after that. Since then, she'd come to this place every year, hoping against hope to remember something.

Dropping slowly to her knees, Faith reached out as though she could touch them. This is where is all went so terribly wrong, where her life forever changed. Why couldn't she remember? Frustrated, she slammed her fists into the earth, slowly swaying forward until she was doubled up on the ground.

"I want to remember who I am!" No one answered her muffled shout, no ghosts rising to explain the tragedy. As it had been her entire life, silence was her only companion.

After a while, something nudged her arm, startling her from the dark reverie. Sitting up, unaware of the tears on her cheeks, Faith rubbed the velvety nose at her shoulder.

"Sorry my friend, I don't know what's wrong with me." Large, intelligent eyes regarded her fondly as he nibbled at her sleeve, tugging on the cotton. Faith giggled, pushing to her feet. "Alright, alright...no more moping. We should head-"

They reacted to the sounds at the same time. Riders. Heading toward them and moving steady. The beat of multiple hooves matched that of her heart. Plucking the rifle from where it had fallen, she blew it free of dust, working the lever to make sure it would fire correctly.

Refusing to panic, Faith considered her options. There was nowhere to hide out here so if she ran, she'd be in plain sight, even in the deepening twilight. Running always triggered a chase response anyway, so without somewhere to hide, it was foolish to try it. That left waiting, or riding on as though she were going somewhere. Action always seemed the better course.

Pulling herself up on the stallion's back she started him off, taking a course that would hopefully parallel the approaching riders. Keeping the buckskin at a steady trot, she told herself that this was an innocent meeting. Not something cooked up by Diggs to trap her. The idea put her on edge, and she was instantly sorry she'd thought of it.

"Blast him."

Before long the riders were close enough to identify, and she relaxed. They were cowhands from the nearby ranch, 33 Connected. Good, decent men that had never given her any trouble. In fact, during their infrequent encounters, the hired hands had gone above and beyond to be respectful and kind. When they spotted her, they reined in and hailed, turning to approach.

Setting casually, her hand dropped to her hip in a relaxed fashion, but her fingers were on the handle of her Smith & Wesson. Old habits and demons still had a firm grip. It would not hurt to stay cautious.

"Howdy ma'am! Haven't seen you in a coon's age! Thought you mighta up and left the country!" This was from Kelsey Stubbs, foreman of the outfit. He was the most jovial among them.

She recognized Tim Ritter and Diamond Phipps also, regular hands and quiet men. Tyler sat off to one side, looking at her with a hidden smile on his lips. She ignored him on purpose to avoid smiling back.

"Mr. Stubbs," Faith acknowledged with a curt nod. "What's the news?"

"Nothin' on this side of the mountain yet, but I hear there was trouble in White Rock a few days ago."

"What sort of trouble?"

"Man by the name of Ludlow was shot dead in the street. He's a hired gun from Texas. Talk is he tangled with Red Rivers and lost."

Faith felt her heart quicken at the mention of his name and frowned.

"Red Rivers? The gunfighter? Last I heard he was in New Mexico."

"Not no more ma'am. Word about is he's got a price on his head and all the local hombres who think they're salty enough are out to take him down."

"There's a price on his head?"

"Yeah, he finally killed the wrong man. Word is he got braced by a tinhorn in Tucson and shot him clean. Twenty witnesses to it, but the hombre was related to a big rancher who cried foul. Judge was in the rancher's pocket, so he sent a marshal to arrest Rivers. They had some words, long story short, he lit out leavin' the lawman with a cracked skull. Been on the run ever since."

"That's too bad for him. I hope he leaves the country quick. Fast or not, one man cannot face a whole country of armed men." There was murmured agreement to her statement, but Faith didn't want to talk about it anymore. Tipping her hat toward Stubbs she squeezed her legs, urging the buckskin into a trot. Tyler nodded to her as she passed him.

"Good night, happy trails!" she called back as an afterthought.

If anyone replied to her it was lost on the wind. Her mind was whirling with anxious thoughts. Travis was a wanted man. Every hired gun and bounty hunter in the territory would be after him, especially if a large reward was involved. Where would he go, what would he do?

Of the stories she'd heard of Red, he was not a man to run from a fight. When pushed to it, he brought the war right to their doorstep. He was more than capable of pushing it right between the teeth of his enemies, forcing them to swallow it. But one man against so many?

She now knew he'd been on the run for a while, staying one jump ahead of those wanting to kill him and collect the reward. What would he do? Flee the country, leading the chase farther west? Or would he make his stand here somewhere, fighting to the last. She didn't know him well enough to say, but if his reputation was correct, those men who wanted his hide were in for the fight of their lives.

Turning the buckskin for home, Faith carefully left no trace of her passing. The entrances to her home must remain a secret. Though most of the passes were easy enough to find, they indicated very little use. That alone had kept Wildcat safe from intruders for many years. The few foolhardy that had found it never returned to tell her secret. The treasure was safe if no one knew where to find it, and that meant she was safe too.

As the sun dipped fully below the western horizon, Faith's mind again turned to a vivid pair of deep blue eyes. His smile. The shiver that traced her spine when he looked at her. Irritated she violently shook her head.

"Stop it right now! He's not the kind of trouble you need!" It didn't quite convince her, though.

That night, sheets rustling softly against her skin, Faith tossed restlessly in dreams. Dark eyes looked into hers, a faint whisper echoing in her ears...

"Go home baby, go and don't look back. You have to keep it safe, keep it secret and you will survive. Don't stop until you get home. Promise me,"

"I promise Mommy." Trying to nuzzle into comforting arms, firm hands stopped her, pushing her back-

Tears squeezed out from behind her lids as she moaned softly, her head turning on her pillow. Thundering rifles echoed in her mind, the acrid smell of gun powder burning her nose. Flinching in her sleep, she rolled over. It was hot, so hot, the air thick with dust and the dank smell of trampled grass. Ponies snorted, neighing anxiously, their hooves stomping against the ground.

It grew louder and louder until it pounded like thunder - Faith jerked from sleep, gasping. Rain pelted heavily against the windows, rolling claps of thunder cracking overhead. Moaning, she rubbed her forehead, disturbed and restless.

Getting out of bed, she plucked her nightgown off the end of the mattress, slipping it on as she moved to the front room. Makings for a fire were in place and soon a comfortable blaze was going. Going to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, her thoughts were jumbled and upsetting. Always on this day, she dreamed of one specific moment, an event that her conscious mind would not reveal to her. Dreams brought tendrils of memory, but once awake, they slipped away like mist and she could not quite remember.

Once the coffee was ready Faith poured herself a cup and settled in next to the fire, pulling a book off the mantle above the fireplace. It was her favorite book and she had read it many times over, the pages worn and faded. For the first time, it bothered her that she could not remember who taught her to read, or where the book came from.

It was going to be a long night.