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family I have left in the world. I can’t spend the rest of my
life wondering what happened to him, wondering if he’s dead or alive.”
    Matt felt a tug at his heart as he looked at Lacey, her
cheeks stained with tears, her hands bound with a bloody rag, her eyes wide and
pleading. How could he refuse her? She had saved his life, after all. What if
it was his father the Indians had taken? Wouldn’t he move heaven and
earth to try to rescue him? Why should Lacey Montana feel differently just
because she was a girl?
    With a sigh, Matt gave in. “All right, Lacey. I’ll help you
look for your father. We’ll start at first light.”
    “Thank you, Matt,” she said sincerely. “Will you untie me
now, please?”
    “No.”
    “No?”
    “No. I think I’ll rest a mite easier knowing you can’t pick
up and leave in the middle of the night.”
    Lacey ranted for several minutes, calling Matt Drago every
vile name she could think of, but he refused to change his mind, and in the end
she sank down on her blankets and fumed in angry silence. The gall of the man!
Tying her up like she was some kind of criminal.
    Her eyes blazed with silent fury when he solicitously
covered her with a blanket.
    “Sleep tight,” he murmured, and smiled when she stuck her
tongue out at him.

Chapter Three
     
    Matt Drago dismounted and studied the ground, his eyes
narrowed in concentration. The trail was three days old, but still clear. The
Indians were moving at a slow but steady pace, always heading south. Royce
Montana was still on foot. Still alive. So far.
    Matt frowned as he swung back into the saddle. They were on
a fool’s errand, he thought darkly. Even if they found the Indian camp, they
had little chance of rescuing Lacey’s father. They had no weapons other than a
knife Matt had found on one of the dead lawmen, and he was doubtful if one man
armed with a knife and one little bit of a girl would intimidate the Indians.
The Apaches were as hard as nails, ruthless as a cornered lobo. They had little
respect for anyone or anything that was not of the Dineh , the People, as
they called themselves. Their men were among the most savage, the most warlike,
of all the tribes in the Southwest. They had little regard for horseflesh and
often ran a horse to death, then ate the carcass. Only children seemed to hold
a soft spot in Apache hearts, and the Indians welcomed young ones of any race
into the tribe, treating them as their own. Apache women owned the lodge and
all its belongings save for her warrior’s weapons. She raised the children, and
she often fought at her husband’s side, as valiant and fearless as her man.
    Matt shook his head ruefully. He had been a fool to agree to
take Lacey after her father and yet, he had been like putty in her hands. One
look into those wistful brown eyes and he had been hooked and helpless. She was
so young, so damned innocent. So vulnerable.
    They rode for several hours, not talking much. Lacey rode
behind Matt, her arms around his lean waist. She tried not to touch him any
more than necessary, but every now and then her breasts rubbed against his
broad back. Once, she dozed off, only to wake with her cheek pillowed
comfortably on his back. Embarrassed, she had straightened up immediately. She
thought she heard him chuckle softly as she pulled away, but she couldn’t be
sure.
    He was a hard man, she thought, hard and unforgiving. She
had expected him to bury the dead men before they left the site of the
slaughter, but he just shook his head when she suggested it.
    “They never did me any favors,” he had said laconically.
    “But—”
    “But nothing. My arm’s sore as hell as it is. I’m not gonna
make it worse by digging a grave for those bastards,” he had explained coldly,
and then he had grinned at her. “Besides, the wolves and the vultures have to
eat, too, same as the worms.”
    Matt reined Cinder to a halt shortly after noon, and while
he took care of the horse, Lacey prepared a quick,