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discriminating palate. Beneath a bright, unclouded sky she pondered the possibility of starting her own catering service. Of course, starting one’s own business took money, and at the moment the only thing more obviously missing from her life than financial stability was sex. That was the only reason, she assured herself, that Cody Walker’s impetuous kiss had knocked her for such a loop.
    â€œJust look at the way those jeans fit him,” Lynn sighed, interrupting her mother’s thoughts with adolescent adulation.
    Ray Anne Pettijohn, who was pushing a handcart beside her, agreed. Both girls’ gazes lingered upon the fascinating fit of Cody Walker’s backside to his saddle. Their crushes were as obvious as the blinding sun overhead and every bit as scorching to Danielle.
    â€œYou’d do better to judge a man by the size of his heart rather than the cut of his jeans,” she suggested wryly.
    Lynn rolled her eyes at the advice. “You judge ‘em the way you want, Mom, and I’ll judge ’em my way.”
    Danielle bit her tongue. She couldn’t help but wonder just how enamored chubby Ray Anne would be when she discovered their sexy wagon master had confiscated her hidden stash of candy bars back at the rendezvous site.
    Danielle’s new boots chafed almost as much as her daughter’s infatuation with the high-handed Mr. Walker. The only bit of comfort she had derived over the past couple of hours was from the fact that the driver assigned to their wagon was none other than Mollie, the bright-eyed pixie who had so enthusiastically welcomed them aboard. While her own troop inanely discussed the waning appeal of musical groups with bizarre-sounding names and enumerated at length the reasons why their parents should allow them to date at the ripe old age of thirteen, Mollie was busy citing various points of interest.
    The child was as taken with a jackrabbit lippety-lopping across the trail as she was with the prairie dogs lining up outside their holes at her shrill whistle. When a herd of antelope kicked up their heels and left the wagon train eating their dust, Mollie’s laughter rang across the open range like tinkling chimes, her blue eyes sparkling with love for the vast land they were traversing.
    As they slowly wound their way toward the Sweetwater River, Split Rock cast a long shadow over the sagebrushed plains. After just a few short hours of choking down trail dust, Danielle came to understand how that famous landmark had become such a beacon of hope. Eager for a taste of water that truly must have been sweet indeed for those trail-weary pioneers desperate to fill their canteens and wash away the grime of an unforgiving land, she was glad when Cody Walker signaled the wagon train to stop for lunch.
    A short while later he approached their group, carrying two large cardboard boxes.
    â€œHow’s everything going?”
    That low-pitched voice of his sent a string of tingles to every nerve ending in Danielle’s body. Luckily the need to reply was negated by a dozen adolescent voices trilling an enthusiastic response in unison. The fact that he was responsible for making them whittle down their belongings to “regulation size” had done nothing to lessen their infatuation with the romantic figure their wagon master struck in the saddle.
    Cody’s grin revealed two devilishly deep dimples at the sides of his mouth as he queried, “How about you, Red?”
    â€œJust fine,” she lied over the blisters on her heel. “And, by the way, my name is Danielle. I’d appreciate it if you used it.”
    â€œPretty name,” he commented.
    Surprised by the warmth evoked by the remark, Danielle felt oddly empty inside except for the steady rhythm of her pounding pulse.
    â€œBut,” he added with an infectious grin, “Red suits you better, temperament-wise.”
    â€œGo away!” she snarled, clenching her hands into fists at