Openin' my eyes with a yawn I slowly rolled over. The air outside the warmth of the buffalo skin Ranse had given me was extremely cold. We'd been on the trail for over a month, an' it had been snowin' for the last three days, a steady, thick white curtain of frozen water. Glancin' over to where Ranse lay sleepin' buried beneath a bear skin, I sighed quietly.

Since leavin' Tahoe, things had taken a turn for the worse. Ranse was not really a talker, an' despite myself, it seemed like ever' time I opened my mouth I said somethin' foolish. Now, I was kinda childlike, an' for a girl of near seventeen, I reckoned that could make a man more'n a little frustrated. Not knowin' how to be other than what I was, how could I not be wonderstruck by everythin'?

Ranse had been patient at first, but I could see him growin' more irritated by my endless questions an' curiosity. After a dark scowl an' refusal to answer my last one I gave up an' quit talkin'. From the lake to where we camped now, I'd not spoken more than a handful of times. Ranse spoke less. It had been the quietest two weeks I'd ever spent in the company of another human bein'.

Frownin', I looked up at the ceilin' of the cave we'd taken shelter in when the storm hit. Ranse had to take care not to crack his skull on the ceilin', but it was deep with plenty of room for the horses in the back. Idly wonderin' how long the storm would last got me to frettin' how much longer our food would hold out. It wasn't like game was easy to catch in the snow.

"Hungry?" his voice startled me. I glanced over sharp, but the bundle had not moved. It was the first time in weeks he'd started the talkin'.

"You awake?"

"I heard you moving around," he sat up slowly, his eyes alert though his face was tired.

The thick blackness of his hair was disheveled an' I found it somewhat appealin' but tried not to stare. He worked hard to make sure we were provided for, had plenty of firewood, an' were protected from the chillin' winds that scoured the landscape about us. I found myself admirin' his way of quiet control an' authority. I felt safe.

"What we got left?" Clearin' my throat, I indicated our supplies.

"Enough to last if we can get fresh meat," he shifted forward to put a thick log on the banked fire, watchin' to make sure it caught. "There's coffee, bacon, beans, potatoes, onions, flour, and another bag of dried apricots."

"We gonna make out alright?" I tried to sound brave but a slight tremor stole into my voice.

"Sure." He sounded so assured that I did not hesitate to believe him. "Storm's breaking up, so I'll go hunting after breakfast."

While I got snow to melt for coffee and set about breakfast, Ranse went back to the horses, speakin' soft, rubbin' them down with a burlap sack. They enjoyed the attention, nickerin' to him, nibblin' at his sleeve. He only came back to the fire when the coffee was ready. As usual, it was a silent meal, neither of us lookin' at the other. The air was full of things left unsaid, thoughts that shoulda been expressed but weren't.

As soon as he was finished Ranse stood an' pulled on his thick sheepskin coat an' leather gloves. After checkin' the rounds on his rifle an' the cylinder in his pistol he put on his hat. Tuckin' the bit under his arm to warm the metal, he saddled the stallion before askin' the horse to take it. He didn't say a word to me until he'd left the cave an' swung into the saddle.

"Stay inside, Miss Lilli, I'll be back soon."

"What if somethin' should happen to you?" Gusts of wind cut through my clothes, an' I shivered.

"There will be nothing you can do for me but stay alive." His voice was slightly less than patient. "Don't leave the cave."

Noddin', I watched him disappear into the deceptively varied white landscape. I had no right to worry over him a'tall but I found myself prayin' he came back safe. With time on my hands now, I got busy cleanin' up breakfast then curried the mare an' chestnut gelding, speakin' gently to them. I could tell the mare was bored of bein' cooped up, but both she an' I had to be patient. Full of restless energy, I decided to straighten up the place a little.

It was rummagin' through the empty burlap sacks that I found it.

Breath froze in my lungs, my heart forgettin' to beat as my knees gave way, sittin' me down hard. Fingers shakin' bad, I picked it up, starin' through tears. It was an old Navy Revolver, a large-caliber percussion pistol made by Mister Sam Colt himself. The six shot cylinder held .36 caliber bullets, boastin' a long seven an' a half inch barrel. A weapon of heft, it weighed two pounds, ten ounces, an' I knew every curve an' length of steel.

It was my Pa's gun. I'd watched him shove it in his waistband when he an' Raff left for help. There was the peculiar scratch Jed had put in the steel barrel one day by accident. Pa had whipped him good for it. None of us were to touch his revolver, ever.

"Pa," it sounded strange to my ears. "What become of you an' Raff?"

Lost in memories, I sat there until a shiftin' shadow caught my attention. Lifting my eyes, I watched Ranse riding back with a butchered buck across the saddle. Lookin' down quick, I felt anger like I'd rarely felt before, an' of a sudden I was filled with the heat of rage. Stiffly getting' to my feet, my shoulders bunched, muscles tight. That fully loaded Navy colt was heavy in my hand, my finger around the trigger.

Ranse had his back to me when I approached him, untying the stag. The loud click of the hammer bein' drawn back turned him, them black eyes sizin' me up in a single glance. They darkened, but he didn't move. With a calmness that was maddenin' he looked down the silver barrel of the revolver.

"Well?"

"Where'd you meet them?" the anger in my voice surprised us both, an' I could tell he realized I was deadly serious.

"Indian Territory," it was said without hesitation or apology an' I almost pulled the trigger right there, but forced my finger to keep still.

"Why would you kill them? They was on their way fer help! Pa had a wife an' five children at home, he was tryin' to protect us!"

"I didn't kill them." Ranse held his ground, lookin' right into my eyes, his voice level. "There were two men, one older, one younger, maybe father and son?"

"He'd never-a given up this piece 'lessen he was dead!" the strength of my voice echoed in the cave, an' behind me the horses shifted nervously, not likin' it.

"He was dead, the boy too, but not by my hand," that smoked honey tone urged me to believe him, but I resisted, holdin' onto my anger.

"Why should I believe you? What reason do I have for not pullin' this trigger?" the loss of my family was resurfacin' with all the pain an' grief that I'd thought I'd left behind long years ago. It was like losin' them all over again.

"You have no reason to trust me, except that I've never lied to you," his voice was soft an' frank. "I had no reason to kill them and let them lie in the sun for buzzards."

I blanched at the thought of Pa an' Raff left out for scavengers. The stone walls around my heart began to crack an' topple.

"I buried them Miss Lilli, I found their bodies, and I buried them. I was alone and low on ammunition, so I took the weapons I needed to survive. I had no way of knowing who they were or where they'd come from, and I did not have the time to backtrack them." Our eyes held as he spoke, an' I resented beginnin' to believe him.

"Who killed them then? What happened?"

"The boy had a busted leg, and they both looked like they'd been without food and water for a long while. They probably got lost and disorientated, the land kills people too, Miss Lilli."

Tears threatened to spill an' I lost the grip on the revolver feelin' it slip from my fingers as I began cryin'. Ranse moved like a cat, snatchin' it outta my hand an' takin' the bullets out, but I was beyond carin'. Pa an' Raff were dead! I always knew it, but while there was no proof, I had hope, but now that hope was gone.

"You never knew did you," Ranse spoke softly as he came to my side. "About your father and brother?"

I could not form the words due to the tremblin' of my lips, but I nodded, snifflin'. How long had they survived before death called to them? I didn't want to think about it, but somehow it was all I could wonder about. Had they outlived Mama?

"There would have been nothing you could have done to help them, Miss Lilli." Calm, patient, Ranse studied me. 'They made a hard choice with little hope of success, but they did it willingly."

Turnin' with a sudden gasp I moved away, not wantin' to think of Pa an' Raff dead, not wantin' to have to remember I was without home an' family. I could not bear to think of Pim, Bess, Ben an' Annie, captives in some Indian village, raised to be like them. Ranse came up behind me, his hands warm on my shoulders as he turned me about.

Through my tears I saw the look in his black eyes, full of softness that I'd not seen before. His fingers were gentle on my cheeks as he wiped away the tears as they fell. When he smiled at me I felt my lips move in response.

"Stop crying, Miss Lilli, it's not fighting fair," was his gentle command.

"Fightin' fair?" through my tears I was confused.

"You pulled a gun on me, I should be angry."

"I thought...it was only," unsure of what to say, I stopped, wipin' my face dry.

"One thing you should know, you point a gun at a man, you're taking cards in a man's game. Aim at me again, and I'll treat you no differently than a man." His honey tone was laced with stone, an' I realized he was warnin' me.

"You'd shoot me?" despite myself I was stunned. Would he really?

"You can't have it both ways. I won't treat you like a respectable woman but have to watch my back at the same time. Pick up a gun with the intention of pointing it at me, be ready to pull the trigger." His voice was flat, no anger, no bitterness, just cold an' matter-of-fact.

It sparked a response in me I didn't know I had.

"If'n I ever have need to point a gun at you again, Ranse, you'll not have to wonder if I'm pullin' the trigger or not!"

For a long moment we looked at one another, less than two feet separatin' us. He cracked a grin, chucklin'.

"You're full of fire, Miss Lilli, no mistake about that!"

"And you are hard with your words, but I reckon I know where I stand," I spat back, not really angry anymore.

Seemin' to realize his hands were still on my shoulders, Ranse dropped them like I'd burned his palms. He broke eye contact an' turned away, goin' back to the appaloosa, strippin' the horse of gear an' rubbin' him down good before lettin' him join the others. I watched with a poundin' heart, again feelin' like I been tossed aside, counted as less than desirable.

Why did it matter? Who needed the trouble of love out in the wild savage land anyway? Wasn't tryin' to stay alive problem enough?

The eight point buck Ranse had shot would feed us for a long while, so I helped build up a large enough fire to begin makin' a simple supper. We made do with black, bitter coffee, pan biscuits with gravy, an' venison steaks. Ranse rubbed the meat liberally with salt to preserve them an' wrapped them in the buck's hide. In this weather, they would freeze quickly and stay good for days. After we ate, he sat back, pullin' out a pipe an' carefully packed it with tobacco. A smolderin' twig from the fire lit it. Then he sat back to smoke an' watch me clean up.

It made me plum nervous to have him watchin' me so, his black eyes followin' every move I made, missin' nothin'. I felt my face begin to flush an' kept my head down, afraid that he'd take notice an' tease me for it. If he did see, Ranse said nothin' until supper was cleaned up, dishes put away an' I was fixin' to offer him another cup of coffee. Knockin' the ashes into the fire he tucked the pipe back inside his vest pocket.

"You set out a fine spread, Lilli."

Startled, I glanced up at him. Though he'd complimented me a time or three before, he rare used my given name alone. The sound of it on his tongue sent shivers through me.

"Thank you," managin' not to spill it, I refilled both our cups before retreatin' to the far side of the fire. His eyes were on me, but I couldn't force myself to meet them. Takin' a slow sip of coffee he spoke casually.

"Your cheeks are cherry red again,"

At his words I instantly put a hand to my face, feelin' the flushed skin. It was hard to breathe, somethin' between panic an' excitement squeezin' my lungs.

"You shouldn't speak so to me," I protested softly, shy an' uncertain. He considered that while he took another swallow of coffee.

"Your lips say that, but your eyes are telling a different story."

The thunderin' inside my breast was painful an' I couldn't meet his gaze. What was I supposed to say to that? Was he teasin' me, or did he mean it? Did I even know my own mind well enough to want him to notice me? There wasn't an answer to any other those questions, so I sat mute.

"I heard once that eyes are the windows to the soul," Ranse commented softly, his smoked honey tone rich an' smooth.

"What do you want from me?" it was all I could think to say, an' against my will I found myself lookin' right into his soul. It was a deep, bottomless pit.

"Don't ask the questions you don't want the answers to," he warned me quietly.

My heart leap into my throat at his implication. Scared, but feelin' the need to defend my virtue, my shoulders squared.

"You ain't doin' nothin' unless I'm of an obligin' frame of mind!" Though my chin lifted in defiance, I felt less conviction than I let on.

Ranse kept his eyes on mine, an' I saw flames begin to burn in them, but not like any I'd seen before. His expression changed slightly, makin' me feel like I'd just become prey.

"Don't put challenges to me, Lilli,"