Cassie

Warmth deserted her face and her mouth went dry. If the Indians were only interested in the food, torching the wagons would only ensure they would follow the deep tracks of the pack mules. She wanted to talk to Bordeaux about it, but they were moving too fast and conversation was impossible. No one spoke. The only sound was the muffled sound of hooves in the sand and the occasional clink of a harness. Even the animals were quiet, as if they knew danger lurked in the darkness.

By dawn they had left the wagons far behind. They paused at a water hole that bubbled up between some rocks. It was barely enough to water a mule at a time. The morning was getting hot by the time they managed to water the mules and fill their canteens.

As Cassie mounted, she frowned at Bordeaux.

"We lost a lot of time waiting here. Do you think the Indians will catch up?"

He shrugged. "They'll have to wait for water, the same as we did. This is the last water hole for a long time." He squinted at the sparkling white dunes. "If they're still following us."

"Do you think they may have given up?"

His smile was wry. "They've got mules to eat now, why would they want to follow us?"

She stared at him. Was he being sarcastic, or was he still miffed about the losing the mules? She turned the horse and followed his mule up a dune, reining in at his side.

"If you think they're not following us, then why are we pushing the animals so hard?"

"I didn't say they weren't following." He gazed down at her quizzically, a twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe you'd like to stick around here for a while to see if they show up."

She grimaced. "Not really. But if they don't want our food, why would they follow us?"

"If they left the reservation because they were hungry, why would they be out here? No, it wasn't our food they were after - it was mischief." He kicked the mule into motion and started out across the sand.

Cassie followed, eyeing the dunes suspiciously. Were the Indians out there watching right now? She shuddered as she urged the bay closer to Bordeaux.

The white sand reflected the hot sun back at them until they were dripping with perspiration. Cassie removed her hat and fanned her face. The artificial breeze provided only temporary relief. She replaced the hat to protect her searing scalp. Ahead, Bordeaux rode erect and alert. How could he remain so composed? Of the others, only Pete seemed to be paying any attention to their peril. His eyes constantly roved over the dunes and his rifle lay across his lap, ready for use.