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to know today.
    Dusk crawled across the plain behind Gabe as he secured his horses, retrieved a pair of field glasses from the saddle bags, and made his way to an outcropping of rock some twenty yards to the north. Avoiding a cactus, he lay down and stretched out on his belly. Heated metal ringed his eyes as he gazed through the sun-warmed glasses. Starting at the north end of the settlement, he slowly panned the area.
    The cottonwoods lining the banks of the creek caught his notice right away. They were the first real trees he’d seen in better than a hundred miles. Moving on, he counted five small houses, a barn, a couple sheds, a chicken coop, a pair of camels, and what appeared to be a communal kitchen or mess hall. Abruptly, he jerked his glasses back. “ Camels? ”
    Yep, they were camels all right. What sort of place was this? Pigs he understood, but camels?
    Gabe continued his perusal. Aurora Springs resembled a ranch headquarters more than a town. He spied no stores, no churches. Hell, not even a saloon. What kind of Texas town didn’t have a saloon? Maybe this wasn’t Aurora Springs, after all. Maybe he’d taken a wrong turn in the desert.
    Then his glasses caught a bright flash of orange against a backdrop of pink. A ribbon. A ribbon on a pig. “Nope, I’m in the right place,” he muttered softly.
    Tess’s pig lay sprawled in the shade in front of one of the houses. As Gabe watched, its head slowly lifted and it wrenched to its feet, then plodded across the yard toward the barn where a lanky man stood tossing food scraps from a bucket into a wooden trough.
    Gabe gave the man a quick study. No gun belt. Work gloves poked into a pocket. Well-worn hat. Mid-twenties, he’d reckon.
    So, two camels, one pig and one man so far. How many others?
    Movement at the far north end of the compound caught his notice and Gabe refocused his field glasses. Two women carried a basin and bedding up the front steps of the last house in the row. He recognized one of them from the fair. What was her name? Twitter or Tremble? Something silly like that. A buxom lady, she was dressed in a flowing, patterned robe of purple and red. Instead of the requisite sunbonnet, the woman wore a turban like one of those Swami fellows. But this one was orange.
    Gabe shifted the field glasses away from his eyes and blinked. “Enough to make a man see spots,” he grumbled before focusing once again on the women.
    The other female was much younger. Tall and slender, she wore a normal skirt, shirtwaist, and bonnet, something Gabe found reassuring in the face of the older woman’s flamboyance.
    The females set their burdens down on the porch, then Twinkle—that’s the name—rapped on the door. Staring hard, Gabe saw her lips move, but he was too far away to hear what she said. The women waited a moment, picked up what might have been an empty stew pot sitting beside the door, and departed. They made their way across the yard to the barn where they struck up a conversation with the man Gabe had previously noticed.
    The fellow wrapped a casual, yet possessive arm around the young woman’s waist as he twisted his head and called out toward the barn. An older man stepped out of the shadows. He wore a blue uniform coat and buff-colored trousers. Sunlight flashed off rows of medals lining his breast.
    As the four of them spoke, their heads turned toward the house the two women had visited. Gabe deduced their talk centered on whoever was inside.
    Tess. It had to be her. He felt it in his bones. He’d bet his saddle he was right.
    Summoning his patience, Gabe waited until the small gathering dispersed before slipping down to the village. Furtively, he made his way toward the cabin. Wooden shutters shielded the window on the west wall, so Gabe made his way around to the south where luckily they hung open. Easing up to the portal, he cautiously peered inside. And damned near swallowed his tongue.
    At least she has her clothes on .
    Gabe swallowed a