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double-crossed his partners way back when Jimmy Estes found that first vein of silver, and he’s spent his whole life double-crossing people. Daddy used to just sort of shake his head when folks would tell him that Nek was stealing, cheating—even killing—to get what he wanted. I really don’t think Daddy believed the stories. But he believes them now.”
    Hawker put his empty mug on the floor and settled back, looking into the fire. Outside, the wind had freshened. It moaned through the high peaks and rattled the windows. Hawker pulled the goose-down quilt up over his chest. “I’m glad you came and helped me,” he said. “I would have frozen to death out there.”
    â€œDon’t talk anymore,” Lomela said. “I’ll get some warm soup in you come morning. We need to build your strength back up. You’ll still be feverish for a while, so you best sleep here by the fire. If you need anything, just call out. I’m a light sleeper. I’ll hear you.”
    The vigilante let his head sink deeper into the pillow as he stared into the fire.
    Soon, he was asleep.

four
    He awoke with his teeth chattering, sweat beading on his forehead, trembling uncontrollably.
    The fire was now just a mound of glowing embers. The cabin shifted in the wind, its timbers creaking. The moon had disappeared, leaving a silver halo above the snowy peaks to the west. Hawker knew it was very late.
    He threw back the blanket and found the wood-box. The plank floor was like ice beneath his feet. He knelt before the fire and fitted two sections of splintered wood into the coals before his back turned to water and his lungs began to labor in the thin air. He tried to catch himself, but couldn’t in time. He sprawled across the floor with a whoof .
    Then Lomela was beside him, clucking and cooing, scolding him for being up. She cradled his head in her lap and rubbed his hands briskly, trying to warm him. She wore a granny nightgown of brushed cotton, and Hawker pressed against her, colder than he had ever been.
    â€œYou purely do have a fever. How long have you been shaking like this?”
    â€œI-I-I don-don-don’t know.”
    She pulled him back to the rug, hugged her body close to his, then dragged the blanket over the two of them. “Here, this ought to warm you. No, don’t say anything. Just go to sleep. That’s what I’m fixing to do.”
    Hawker awoke later. He didn’t know how much later. He was no longer shivering, but that was not the reason he had awakened. The woman was still beside him, her comfortable body fitted against his. Her leg was thrown over his thigh, and he was aware of a gentle warm pressure against his right knee. The woman’s left hand was moving in a circular motion over his bare back, while her right hand nuzzled the hair on his abdomen. There had been a subtle change in her body tone, some deep, primal change of which Hawker was aware on an animal level.
    He stirred against her, lifted one hand, and brushed the hot weight of her breast accidentally.
    Lomela’s moan was like a sob.
    He felt the gentle pressure against his knee increase, a pressure that grew hotter and damper with each second. Hawker touched his palm to the woman’s slowly writhing buttocks, sliding along the soft curvature of her waist and ribs. He wrapped her hair in his fist and pulled her face to his, surprised at the eagerness of her lips, the hunger of her tongue.
    â€œI’ve been so long without a man,” she whispered in long exhalation. “Don’t know what came over me. Being near you felt so good. But it ain’t fair, you being sick—”
    â€œI’m feeling better,” Hawker whispered back. “See?”
    Lomela’s laughter was more a feral growl. “You purely do feel healthy. Real healthy. I may feel a fool come morning, but right now I just don’t care. A woman shouldn’t have to go so long without