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    Corrigan then addressed the youngest of their gathering. “Dogie, are the extra horses rounded up?”
    â€œYessir,” the boy replied, running his sleeve under his nose. “All five of ’em.”
    â€œThen what are you doing standing here?”
    He looked stumped for an answer. “Sir?”
    â€œYou’ve got five minutes to get a horse saddled and your gear loaded, or we’re leaving you behind.”
    The boy’s eyes glittered with surprise and disbelief. “I’m going? I really get to ride with you?” He punched the air, then like a colt with its first taste of freedom, leaped into a full gallop toward the bunkhouse. “Yee-haw!”
    Annie’s mouth fell open, unable to believe her ears. “You’re letting him ride with us?”
    â€œI’m one man short.”
    Annie crossed her arms over her front and retorted, “So you replace him with a boy?”
    Corrigan’s expression went rigid. The men around him looked thunderstruck. An instant later, they mumbled a few excuses, then left her standing alone with six feet, two inches of simmering anger.
    Quietly, he told her, “You laid your cards on the table; now I’m laying mine: if you have any objections to the decisions I make, take it up with me in private. Never do so in front of my men.”
    He spun on his heel strode toward the corral, where Henry and the other men were studying a map spread out atop an upended barrel.
    Overbearing ass, she thought, glaring at his back. The last thing she needed on this trip was a barely weaned kid. What if the marshals caught up to her? Bad enough she had Corrigan’s men riding along—now she had the added responsibility of seeing that a kid didn’t get hurt. Unfortunately, pushing the argument with Corrigan would do nothing but raise suspicion.
    Still, if Corrigan thought she’d put up with his attitude the entire trip, he had another thought coming. She’d take it only so long before she told him what he could do with his horses.
    With jerky movements, she finished loading her gear onto Chance’s back. Just as she fastened the last buckle, the men’s conversation drifted toward her.
    â€œWe’ll head northeast toward the Canadian and follow the river south. The men lost him here, just south of McClellan Crick. My guess is he’s takin’ them into the canyon. There’s plenty of places to hide there.”
    Annie’s hand went limp as she listened through a growing fog. The Palo Duro? Corrigan had never mentioned the Palo Duro. Not once. Not even a hint. Of course, it was logical that the stallion might head into the canyon. The steep ridges and deep ravines offered plenty of safe havens for grazing and roaming and breeding. . . .
    But logic didn’t stop the stuttering of her heart or the sweat from breaking out on her palms. If she’d known. . . .
    â€œSomethin’ wrong, Annie?”
    Her gaze snapped to Mr. Henry. “That’s Comanche land.”
    â€œNot anymore,” Corrigan stated. “The Rangers rousted them out last year.”
    The news came as a surprise to Annie. She’d expected it might happen one day, but it still seemed impossible that the Indians could no longer call this area home.
    â€œWe’ll still keep our eyes peeled for renegades, though,” Henry said. “No use gettin’ caught off guard. If we’re lucky, the stallion will have found himself a paradise along the river and we won’t have to go that far.”
    Corrigan nodded in deference to Wade Henry’s judgment. “Emilio, Flap Jack, and Dogie, you’ll ride south with me and Henry to the north end of the canyon. Tex, you take your crew along McKenzie Trail, then cut west at the South Fork. Whoever finds the herd first will get a message to the saloon in Sage Flat. Otherwise, we’ll meet up there.”
    Nodding in agreement, the men claimed their