Only 03 - Only You

entertained.”
    “Especially once they bought you off the orphan train and taught you to ‘distract’ the men and deal the cards,” Reno said roughly.
    Eve’s mouth thinned, but there was no point in denying it.
    “Yes,” she said. “They lived much better after they had me.”
    Reno’s expression told Eve that he had little sympathy to spare for the Lyons’ difficulty in making a living.
    She hesitated, then spoke again, trying to make him understand that the Lyons hadn’t been vicious or cruel to her.
    “I didn’t like what they made me do,” Eve said slowly, “but it was better than the orphanage. The Lyons were kind.”
    “There’s a word for men like Don Lyon, and it sure as hell isn’t kind .”
    Reno lifted the reins and cantered on ahead before Eve could answer. He didn’t trust himself to listen to her defending her whoremaster.
    He was kind and gentle.
    Yet no matter how quickly Reno rode, he couldn’t leave behind the sound of Eve’s voice, for it echoed within the angry silence of his mind.
    They lived much better after they had me.
    I didn’t like what they made me do.
    He was kind.
    The thought of Eve being so lonely that she welcomedthe smallest crumbs of human decency and called it kindness disturbed Reno in ways that he couldn’t name. He could only accept them as he accepted other things he didn’t understand, such as his desire to protect a saloon girl who had been carefully taught to lie, cheat, and “distract” men.
    A girl who trusted him so much that she had slept better in the past few days than she had in years.
    I was just thinking how nice it is to sleep through the night without worrying.
    Reno knew the thought of giving the girl from the Gold Dust saloon that kind of peace shouldn’t touch him.
    But it did.
    T HE mountains receded behind Reno and Eve like a cool blue tide, leaving nothing but the memory of heights where water danced in crystal beauty and trees crowded so closely together that a horse couldn’t walk between. There was plenty of room for horses in the dry washes and on the spare plateau tops where the two of them rode now. There was nothing but room for miles and miles.
    “Look!” Eve said.
    As she spoke, she reached across the small space between her horse and Reno’s, grabbed his right arm, and pointed.
    “There.”
    Reno stared beyond Eve’s fingertip and saw only tawny, curving outcrops of sandstone, like the bones of the land itself pushing up through the thin skin of earth.
    “What?” he asked.
    “Over there,” Eve insisted. “Can’t you see it?Those stone buildings. Is that one of the ruins you talked about?”
    After a moment, Reno understood.
    “Those aren’t ruins,” he said. “They’re just layers of sandstone shaped by wind and storms.”
    Eve started to argue, then thought better of it. When Reno had first told her that they would be riding through whole valleys where no creek drained the highlands and no water collected in the lowlands, she had thought that he was teasing her.
    He hadn’t been. There were such valleys. She had seen them, ridden through them, tasted their sun-struck dust on her tongue. She was riding in one of them now.
    For Eve, the transformed land was a constant source of wonder. In all the years she had read the journal of Cristóbal Leon, she had never truly understood what it must have been like for the Spanish explorers to ride out into the unknown desert, following rivers that grew smaller and smaller until they disappeared entirely, leaving only thirst behind.
    Nor had she imagined what it would be like to look a hundred miles in all directions at once, and see not one creek, not one pond, not one lush promise of shade and water to ease a thirst as big as the dry land itself.
    Yet even more than the lack of water, Eve was astonished by the naked, multicolored, fantastically shaped rocks that rose out of the land. Taller than any building she had ever seen, drawn in shades of rust and cream and gold, the massive, seamless stone formations fascinated her.
    Sometimes they resembled sleeping beasts. Sometimes they resembled mushrooms. And sometimes, like now, they resembled the picture she had once seen of a Gothic cathedral with flying buttresses of solid stone.
    Reno stood in the stirrups and looked over his shoulder. The mountains were no more than a dark blue blot against the horizon. He could have covered them with his hand. The long, dry valleys he had led the way through offered few