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remembered the tales he had heard of her. The charmer. The come-on for fake medicine. For card cheating. The smile had a powerful effect as heat surged through him, lingering where it shouldn’t.
    He stood there, feeling like a fool, rooted to the ground as he tried to control the uncontrollable. It was an unfamiliar experience, and he sensed Braden’s amusement grow stronger. There was a reckless streak in Nicholas Braden that irritated Morgan. He sensed that Braden took few things seriously, whereas he, Morgan, had always taken everything seriously. He wondered which way was the wisest, but only for the briefest of moments.
    He was what he was, and he felt no need for change. “Ten minutes,” he said. “And we’ll be riding out of here, with or without supplies for him.” He nodded his head at Braden.
    The Bradens moved then. Morgan followed them into the cabin and ordered Braden to sit. Morgan didn’t want both prisoners moving around a cabin that might contain some kind of usable weapon.
    Morgan watched intently as Lori packed a bedroll, then took a small metal object from a shelf and moved toward her brother.
    He intercepted her, confiscating the object in her hand. A harmonica.
    â€œSurely you can’t object to that?” Her voice was disdainful.
    Morgan looked over to Braden. “Do you always let her do all your talking for you?”
    Braden smiled and winked at his sister. “She does pretty well.”
    Morgan shrugged, tossed the harmonica to Braden, who caught it easily in his manacled hands. He tucked it into his shirt pocket without comment.
    â€œAnd you, Miss Braden,” Morgan said, turning toward Lorilee. “A violin? Guitar?”
    â€œOh I just sing, Ranger …?”
    â€œDavis, Morgan Davis,” Morgan responded grimly, aware of the challenge in the room. They were both testing him. He didn’t like it one bit. “And, Miss Lori,” he said with some sarcasm of his own, “I think you have five minutes to gather your belongings, or you’ll go just as you are if I have to tie you over a saddle.”
    â€œWhatever you say, Ranger,” she said sweetly, leaving him with the exact knowledge of what arsenic-laced sugar must taste like.
    They didn’t stop until well past nightfall. Even then Morgan was reluctant to bring a halt to their journey. He knew he would get no sleep tonight with the she-cat along.
    He had placed her with her brother on the same horse, and had strung that horse and the pretty little mare on leads. Using the second pair of handcuffs, Morgan had fastened Braden to his saddle horn, giving his hands little room for movement. Lori was seated behind Braden’s saddle, and Morgan knew she must be sore from riding the horse’s backbone. Her head had drooped to the back of her brother’s shoulder.
    The arrangements were not the best, but Morgan feared that if Lori rode her own mare, she would try to get the reins of her brother’s horse and make a run for it. He didn’t plan to give her that opportunity, or any other.
    Morgan found a stream and called a halt. He dismounted and tied his horse to a tree, then took the leg irons from his saddle bags. He went over to Braden’s horse and offered Lorilee a hand, but she refused it, slipping gracefully from the back of the horse.
    â€œStay where I can see you,” he told her curtly. With a movement of his head Morgan ordered Braden down, his hands still locked to the saddle horn. When his prisoner was on his feet, Morgan quickly attached the leg irons before releasing Braden from the saddle.
    Nick Braden said nothing, his face revealing little, but Morgan sensed the anger and tension in him as strongly as if it were his own. He didn’t understand the bitter frustration that pounded at him, the frustration Braden must be feeling. It was almost as if he were in Braden’s mind rather than in his own, and he was feeling a sense of