Rue Allyn by One Night's Desire

ground and shaded patches of snow that would leave a clear trail. She even skirted the drought browned grassy glades that interrupted the forest from time to time. Rather than take the easier route and break a path through the tall grass and wildflowers, she kept to the cover of the trees. The woman was going to a lot of trouble to make certain that no one followed.
    Hardtack and biscuits in the saddle kept his belly from kissing his backbone. The sun was nearly hidden behind the mountains, and the shadows of the pines were long before Wildcat called a halt.
    “Stay here, hobble the horses, and build a fire that won’t smoke. I’ll be back with dinner sooner than you can finish.” She melted into the gloom before he could object. It rankled some to have a woman do the hunting, but it was obvious she knew the territory better than he, so protesting would only show him to be a fool.
    The horses were settled for the night. He’d built a fire ring two stones high to hide the glow from anyone close enough to see and was about to set the kindling alight when she walked into the clearing with two neatly skinned and dressed rabbits.
    Smart woman. Smart and unexpectedly skilled. No gunshots had sounded to reveal their location. He still wasn’t certain he believed the claim that she couldn’t hit anything farther than three feet away. She’d left the skinnings where the wild creatures would devour the evidence. He’d lay odds no sign remained of her passing between the kill site and their camp. A woman that talented might be capable of using those skills to kill a man or steal horses from under the nose of one of Wyoming’s most influential ranchers. But smart as Wildcat seemed to be about her own self-preservation, she didn’t strike Ev as a stone-cold killer, and only the cold ones were that careful. Men, or women, who killed with emotion were rarely careful. Quinn had seen the fire of emotion in Wildcat’s eyes more than once since the gunfight in the canyon. He knew one thing for certain; Wildcat was a passionate woman, and he hadn’t even tasted her yet.
    He shook his head. Where had that thought come from? She was a suspected criminal. He had no intention of tasting her or doing anything else with her. Granted, she was attractive enough to warm a man’s thoughts, but he knew better than to get involved with a suspect. However, knowledge was power, and he wanted to know more about this unique woman.
    He skewered each rabbit on its own spit while she cleaned up and set out her buffalo robe as a bedroll.
    “You’re pretty good on the trail.”
    Wildcat ignored him.
    Okay, compliments didn’t get her attention. She must not be prideful, at least not about her trail skills.
    “How do I know you won’t sneak away in the night?”
    “You don’t.”
    That was better. At least he’d gotten an answer.
    He turned the rabbits so they’d cook evenly. “It’s clear you don’t want me to know where this place is that you’ve got your photographs.”
    Coming to sit by the fire, she shrugged and started a pot of coffee.
    “So how’d you come by these photographs anyway?”
    She leaned forward taking a poke at one of the rabbits. “The meat needs to be turned again.”
    Turning the spits, Quinn smiled inwardly. She sounded mildly irritated. He must be getting to her. “I’ll bet, Wildcat, you know something about photography. I mean why else would you be picking up silver nitrate at the Brown’s Camp mercantile? The Shoshone don’t have a use for it, so it must be you.”
    “Don’t call me that,” she snarled.
    The vehemence of her statement took him aback. “Don’t call you what?”
    Even the firelight couldn’t hide the flush he saw rise on her cheeks.
    “Wildcat.” Her tone was much more moderate, even ladylike. “My name’s Kiera Alden. You may call me Miss Alden.”
    He couldn’t help but laugh. “We aren’t in any snooty drawing room,
Miss Alden
. That kind of formality is real out of place