The Tracker by Mary Burton

probably looked like a rat that had been dragged out of a flooded mine shaft.
    Ellie sighed. She was being foolish. If she did catch a chill and got sick, Rose wouldn’t have anybody. “Fine.”
    Nick shrugged. “You’re not doing me any favors.”
    She sat on the crate by the front door, unlaced her boots and set them side-by-side next to the door. She peeled off her wet stockings. Her skin puckered with the damp cold.
    The idea of a hot bath tempted her so.
    “Do you have anything else to wear?” he said. He set another pot out in the rain to collect more water.
    “Annie gave me a dress.” She’d never put on the store-bought garment. There’d been enough times she’d touched the fabric and dreamed of wearing the dress, but the occasion had never seemed special enough.
    She went inside to the trunk at the base of her bed and opened it. She pulled out the simple blue calico. The material felt soft and the fabric smelled clean and fresh instead of like bacon grease and biscuits.
    Nick set the second pot of rainwater on the stove. It would take a half hour before the two pots were fully heated—time enough to brush the tangles from her hair.
    From the chest, she dug out the ivory comb Annie had given her and then sat by the stove, soaking up the warmth into her chilled skin. She started with the ends of her hair, knowing it would take her a good half hour to work her way up through the tangles.Lord, if she’d only been blessed with straight hair, her life would have been a dozen times easier.
    Nick sat with his book and opened it. He turned a page and her gaze was drawn to his long fingers. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the dark hair of his forearms.
    A strange warmth spread from her belly through her limbs. Just looking at this man put her senses on alert.
    This was bad. Very bad.
     
    F RANK HUDDLED under a horse blanket as the rain pelted him. They way he figured it, he was about five days from the town of Thunder Canyon. There he’d get some real grub and find out if anyone had seen Ellie. The good thing about that red hair of hers was that folks rarely forgot it. He sure hadn’t.
    Water dripped from his nose and he shifted, burrowing deeper under the blanket. He’d been on the move since the night he’d shot Monty and he was getting damn tired of the hard living and the loneliness.
    And the truth was, he missed Monty. Since they was kids, they’d been two peas in a pod. There’d been many nights that he sorely regretted killing him. If he hadn’t been so mad, he might not have shot him. But when he’d found out that Jade and Monty had run off with the gold, he’d gone a little crazy.
    Now his temper had cooled. And he knew deep down Monty wasn’t bad. He was just a fool. Nothing had been right since Monty had met Jade. Jade had figured out what he’d liked and from then on had led him around by his Johnson. “Poor, dumb clod,” Frank muttered. He hugged his blanket tighter.
    Fact was, it was his fault Monty had met Jade. He’d been the one who had insisted they stop by the Silver Slipper when they were in Butte. Frank had a fondness for the redhead who’d worked in the kitchens. He’d never had the nerve to talk to her, but he liked being close to her. Her lily-white arms and the freckles on her nose warmed his heart. He liked it especially when she cooked those apple pies in the fall. He could close his eyes and imagine just for a moment that he was home in Missouri. In those days, his mama and pop were still well, and life was simple and clean.
    Monty had met Jade at the Silver Slipper. And from the moment she’d got her hooks into him, it had been all downhill.
    And now he was alone.
    A cold chill shuddered down Frank’s spine.
    He closed his eyes and pictured Ellie. She had eyes as green as moss, though you had to look close to see them. She always kept her head down. Though she didn’t talk much, he’d heard her speak to Adeline. Her voice had been as clear as