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knees, and she held a small bucket in her arms.
    Instinctively Boone pulled up on the reins and put his hand to the brim of his hat.
    “Howdy, ma’am.”
    Startled, she lurched away from the tree and started running down the path as if the devil himself were after her.
    “Ma’am …” Boone called. “I’m sorry I scared ya.”
    The woman was no more than fifty feet away from him when she tripped and went sprawling face down amid the twigs and leaves in the path. The bucket flew from her hand, spilling the wild raspberries she had been gathering. She lay in a tangled heap, exposing white legs and heavy black shoes.
    Boone dismounted and hurried to her.
    “Ma’am? Ma’am, are you hurt? I’m sorry I scared ya.”
    She turned over, hastily covered her legs with her skirt and cowered from him. Twigs were caught in her hair. Her face was scratched; her lips trembled. She looked at him with large, frightened eyes.
    “Can I help you pick up the berries?” Boone took the two steps necessary to reach the bucket and began picking the berries up off the ground. He glanced at her when she got to her knees and then to her feet.
    Boone was surprised to see that she was not a young girl in spite of her small stature. She had the rounded figure of a woman whom he judged to be somewhat older than Annabel. Her amber eyes blended with her face and hair. Her mouth was soft and open as she gulped in air.
    “I’m afraid we won’t find all the berries that spilled,” he said, not looking up.
    Out of the corner of his eye Boone could see the ragged hem of her dress and the heavy-soled shoes that laced up over her ankles. As he stood to hand her the bucket, it occurred to him that she hadn’t uttered a sound, not even when she fell.
    “I’m from over at the next place.” He raised his hand to point in that direction.
    She lifted her eyes. They were large, fringed by lashes golden and thick. Boone looked into their depths for what seemed to be only an instant, but it was much longer than that. She turned her head suddenly. Boone’s eyes followed hers and saw a man on a mule hurrying toward them. He recognized the old black felt hat worn by the neighbor who had been spying on them.
    “What’re ya doin’ out here with ’im?” he shouted angrily as he neared. “Get home! Now!”
    Boone could almost feel her fear. She tried to dart around him and bumped into him with the bucket. She paused as if to apologize, then jumped when the man shouted at her again.
    “Tessie! Get!”
    Like a frightened doe, the woman scurried away and disappeared into the brush that grew along the path. Boone stepped into the saddle and looked steadily at the man, who was not much more than a boy. He was skinny, with narrow shoulders and long arms, and glared at him like a cornered wildcat. His furious eyes were set close together and his brows met across his hawklike nose.
    “What ya doin’ on our land?”
    “Just passin’ through.”
    “Ya got no right bein’ here.”
    “I’m from the place north of yours.”
    “I know where yo’re from.”
    “Sure you do. You’ve been watchin’ us.” Boone was losing his patience. “Why didn’t ya come on in … like a decent neighbor would?”
    “Bullshit!” the boy snorted. “Ya try and get next to Tessie an’ ya’ll get yore head blowed off!” He moved the mule nearer to the mare and she danced away.
    “What the hell ya talkin’ about? I never saw the woman until now. I scared her and—”
    “She knew ya was comin’ through here, didn’t she?” He jutted his head toward Boone and let his hand rest on the rifle in the holster on his saddle.
    “How would she know that? I’ve never seen her before. Now get the hell out of my way.”
    “Or what?”
    “I’ll jerk ya off that mule and mop the ground with ya!”
    “Mouthy, ain’t ya?”
    “I can take care of myself, if that’s what ya mean. We want no trouble with ya. We already know ya got a still in the hills. It’s no business of