Only 03 - Only You

against the skyline.
    He never rode into a narrow canyon if he could avoid it. If avoidance was impossible, he slipped the thong on his six-shooter and rode with his repeating rifle across the saddle. Often during the day he would retrace part of their back trail, find a vantage point, and simply watch the land for any signs that they were being followed.
    Unlike most men, Reno rode with the reins in his right hand, leaving his left hand free for the six-gun that was never beyond his reach, even when he slept. Every night he checked his weapons for trail dust or moisture from the afternoon storms that swirled through the peaks.
    Reno didn’t make a fuss about his precautions. He didn’t really even notice them anymore. He had lived alone in a wild land for so long that he was no more aware of his skill at it than he was of his skill in riding the tough blue roan he called Darlin’.
    Eve didn’t think the mare was anyone’s Darlin’. She was a hardy mustang with the temperament of a wolverine and the wariness of a wolf. Should anyone but Reno approach the mare, she flattenedher ears to her skull and looked for a place to sink her big white teeth into flesh. With Reno, however, the mare was all nickers and soft whuffles of greeting.
    Darlin’ was constantly testing the breeze for the scent of danger. At the moment her head was up, her ears were pricked, and her nostrils were flared as she drank the wind.
    Out in the sunlit meadow a bird called sharply and cut aside to fly into the forest. The silence that followed the bird’s retreat was total.
    Eve didn’t wait for Reno’s signal to go into hiding. As soon as the bird veered aside, she reined Whitefoot deeper into the cover of the forest and waited. Breath held, motionless, she watched the meadow through the screen of aspens and evergreens.
    A solitary mustang stallion walked warily into the clearing. The half-healed wounds of a recent fight were clear on the horse’s body. He lowered his muzzle into the creek and drank, stopping every few moments to raise his head and sniff the breeze. Despite his wounds, the stallion was fit and powerful, just coming into his full maturity.
    Compelled by the young horse’s muscular beauty, Eve leaned forward in the saddle. The faint creaking of leather carried no farther than Whitefoot’s ears, yet the stallion seemed to sense her presence.
    Finally the wild horse drank again, looked up, and walked slowly away from the stream. Soon he began cropping grass. His vigilance didn’t end while he ate. Rarely did a minute go by that the stallion didn’t pause, lift his head, and test the breeze for enemies. In a herd his constant checking wouldn’t have been necessary, for there would have been other ears, other eyes, other wary horsesto scent the breeze. But the stallion was alone.
    It occurred to Eve that Reno was like the mustang stallion—ready for battle, wary, trusting nothing and no one, completely alone.
    Eve sensed movement behind her. When she turned in the saddle, she saw the catfooted blue roan coming through the forest toward her.
    A breeze wound through the evergreens, drawing a sigh from their slender green needles. Whitefoot stirred, made uneasy by the scent of the stallion on the wind. Silently Eve stroked the gelding’s neck to reassure him.
    “Where are the packhorses?” Eve asked in a low voice as Reno rode alongside.
    “I left them tied up the trail a piece. They’ll raise a fuss if anything tries to creep up on us from that direction.”
    Reno stood in the stirrups and looked across the meadow. After a moment he settled back into the saddle.
    “No mares,” Reno said quietly. Beneath his mustache, his lips shaped a thin smile. “From the looks of his hide, that young stud just learned the first lesson of dealing with women.”
    Eve looked questioningly at Reno.
    “Given a choice between an old stud that knows where to find food and a young stud so crazy for a woman that he doesn’t know which end is up,” Reno drawled, “a female will take the old stud and comfort every damned time.”
    “A female that trusted the promises of every young stud with rutting on his mind wouldn’t last through the winter.”
    “Spoken like a true woman.”
    “Imagine that,” Eve shot back.
    Unwillingly, Reno smiled. “You have a point.”
    Eve looked at the stallion and then back at Reno,remembering what he had said as he pocketed the emerald and gold ring he had taken from her finger.
    “Who was she?”