“Considering the decisions he’s made, I’d say that’s a pretty accurate assessment,” she replied hotly.

“Oh, why don’t you go back in there and tell him that? I’m sure that’ll make him relent.”

“Damn you, Meade Ashford, don’t you understand what’s happened here?”

“Yes, I do. Quite well, in fact. You’re angry at Whitlock and you’re taking it out on me.”

“Well, who else am I going to take it out on?”

She had a good point. “You’re right,” he said calmly, spreading his arms wide. “Fire away.”

His feeble attempt at humor was Rayna’s undoing. Her failure and the devastating repercussions it was going to have, not only on Skylar but on their father as well, came crashing down on her. A sob of anger and anguish caught in her throat, and tears flooded her eyes. “Oh, God, Meade. What am I going to do? How do I tell Papa? What if he dies?”

“He won’t die, Rayna,” Meade said gently, pulling her into his arms as he’d longed to do so many times since he’d met her. To his surprise she didn’t pull away but instead lowered her head to his chest and let the tears spill out.

He held her close, trying to ignore his body’s intense and immediate reaction to having her pressed against him. The fact that he shared her concern and understood her sorrow only enhanced the sensations.

Be paternal, Ashford, he told himself sternly. After all, you are old enough to be her father. Well, nearly old enough. The twelve-year chasm that separated them was far too wide for either of them to cross. Unfortunately he couldn’t make himself feel paternal or even brotherly about Rayna Templeton.

He crooned comforting words to her, and to his great relief—and disappointment—she quickly regained control of her emotions. She allowed him to hold her until her sobs had subsided; then she pulled away. “I’m sorry,”

she said, still not fully in command of her breathing. “I’m not normally a weepy female.”

“I would never have mistaken you for one,” he said charitably, hoping it would alleviate her embarrassment. For the first time, Meade noticed that a number of soldiers on the parade ground were watching them. He encouraged Rayna to allow him to walk her back to the hotel, and she didn’t argue.

“What will you do now?” he asked as they moved down the walkway.

Rayna tried to collect her thoughts. “Go home, I suppose, and write to General Crook.”

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“I’ll make some inquiries this afternoon and see if I can find out where he’ll be making his headquarters.”

“Thank you.” She glanced up at him, but her eyes darted away quickly. She was too embarrassed about her ridiculous bout of weeping to hold his gaze.

“If you like, I’ll write a letter to Crook that you can include in your packet to him. I campaigned under the general during his first tour in Arizona, and I’m certain he’ll remember me.”

Rayna sighed. She didn’t deserve his kindness. “It seems that whenever I’m not cursing you, I’m thanking you. I am already deep in your debt, Major, but I won’t refuse this favor.” She fell silent a moment as they walked. “Do you think Crook will help me?”

“I’m positive of it, and you should be, too. General Crook is one of the most fair-minded men I’ve ever met. He’ll be as outraged about this as Whitlock was apathetic. But, Rayna . . .” He hesitated until she looked at him expectantly.

“This is going to take some time. Crook will act the moment he receives your letter, but there’s no telling when your dispatch will catch up with him.”

“Is that your way of telling me to be patient?” she asked without rancor.

“Yes.”

“Patience doesn’t come easily to me.”

“Neither does restraint nor prudence, but you’re going to need all three to get through this ordeal.”

Rayna didn’t have enough fight in her at the moment to be offended.

Instead, she felt an overwhelming surge of guilt wash through her, and she averted her face, looking across the street without seeing anything that was transpiring there. “Is this my fault?” she asked, her voice small and far away.

Meade wanted to take her into his arms again. “No, Rayna. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

“But if I hadn’t gotten angry—”

“It still wouldn’t have made a difference,” he insisted. “Nothing you could have said or done would have changed Whitlock’s mind. He is a pompous ass even on the best of days. Calling him one didn’t make it less than true, nor did it change the outcome of the meeting.”

She gave him a weak but grateful smile. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better, but I appreciate it.”

If he had thought she’d believe him, Meade would have protested, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. For the moment all of Rayna’s fighting spirit had deserted her, but he knew she wouldn’t stay down long.

“When are you leaving?” he asked. The hotel was just ahead of them, and he was already dreading their parting.

“Tonight. There’s a train leaving for Albuquerque at six o’clock. I can stay there overnight and be home tomorrow.”

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“You have the train schedule memorized?”

She nodded. “I’ve had two weeks to plan my speedy, triumphant departure.

I hadn’t allowed myself to consider the possibility that I might return home in utter defeat.”

“You’re not defeated, Rayna. Merely delayed.” Meade pulled a pocket watch from his tunic. It was nearly 2:00 P.M. “If you’re leaving at six, I have plenty of time to write that letter to Crook and get it to you at the hotel. I have to stop by the hospital to check on a patient, but I can be back in two hours. Will that be all right with you?”

“Of course,” Rayna said as they stopped at the entrance to the Palace.

“Then I’ll see you shortly.”

“All right. Thank you again, Major.” She turned to the door.

“Rayna . . .”

She stopped and looked at him. “Yes.”

“It really wasn’t your fault. Believe that.”

The gentle look in his eyes was almost more than she could bear. “I’ll try,”

she said, then disappeared into the hotel.

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8

By the time Meade’s two hours had expired, Rayna’s bags were packed and she had nothing to do but pace and think. She had considered sending a telegram to her mother, but delivering this dreadful news in that fashion seemed too cruel. Somehow she and Collie would have to find a gentle way to break the news to Raymond, for once she arrived home there would be no way to continue the charade.

Rayna wished desperately that Major Ashford could come back to Rancho Verde with her. Though she told herself it was only because she wanted a doctor on the scene when she told her father the news, she had to admit that there were other reasons as well. In the last two days the major had made himself almost indispensable to her. He had been kind and helpful, but he had also been a much needed distraction. Most of all, he had bolstered her flagging spirits and given her a strong arm to lean on when she had needed it most.

She knew that he was doing all of this only out of sympathy for Skylar, not because he had any particular affection for Rayna. He’d made his opinion of her clear on more than one occasion and he had a knack for making her angry, but she was going to miss him. Despite their constant bickering, she felt as though she was losing a friend.

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At shortly after four he finally arrived with the letter he had promised.

Though he was late, Rayna hadn’t doubted that he would come. She admitted him to her suite, and once he had handed over the letter she invited him to sit, but Meade had a better idea.

“Let me take you out for a light supper,” he suggested. “You won’t have a chance to eat on the train.”

“Thank you, but I’m afraid I couldn’t eat anything right now.”

“But you could use the distraction,” he said wisely. “It’s better than pacing in here or at the train station until time to leave.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Meade smiled at her. “I’m always right. Haven’t you noticed that?”

He was trying to cajole her into smiling, and it worked. “I’ve noticed that you always think you’re right. There’s a difference.”

“Why don’t we debate this over supper?”

He raised his arm, and Rayna slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Very well. ‘Lead on, Macduff.’”

Meade’s dark eyebrows went up. “You know Shakespeare?”

“I’m educated, remember?”

They adjourned to the Palace dining salon and ordered a light supper that Rayna knew in advance she would barely touch. Meade ordered a bottle of fine Bordeaux wine, and they sat back to await the meal.

“To the return of your sister,” Meade said, raising his glass in a toast.

“Soon,” she added, touching her goblet to his. They drank, and Rayna began playing absently with the stem of her glass. “Major, what would be my chances of getting a letter or package to Skylar?”

“Hmmm. I don’t really know. I can’t imagine that it’s routine for any Apache to receive mail, so I suppose it would depend on how obliging Mr.

Newsome wanted to be.”

Rayna knew that Meade had made a point of explaining Skylar’s situation to the Indian agent. “Perhaps if I sent the package in care of him with a letter begging him to see that Skylar received it?”