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On her last day in Santa Fe, Meade had told her he would be leaving the army soon, but she didn’t even entertain the idea that he was already gone.

Despite the way he’d ignored her letters, she knew in her heart that he wouldn’t have left New Mexico without contacting someone at Rancho Verde to inquire about Skylar, if nothing else.

At the desk in the front hall of the hospital, she asked about him and was told that Major Ashford was in the wards. A solicitous young corporal ushered her into a spartanly furnished consultation room off the hall, and after she refused his offer of a cup of tea, he disappeared.

Corporal Engberg hurried upstairs and located Meade as he was about to enter the officers’ lounge. “Major Ashford! A moment, please.”

Meade stopped and looked at the corporal. “Yes?”

“There’s a lady to see you downstairs, sir. She’s waiting in the consultation room.”

“A lady?” Meade asked, unable to imagine who would be calling on him.

“Did she give her name or give you her card?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Engberg said hesitantly. “I forgot to ask.” He started to add that she was a very beautiful lady, but he didn’t think the major would approve of his comment.

“It’s all right, Corporal. Return to your post. I’ll see to it.”

As he made his way downstairs, buttoning his tunic as he went, Meade decided that his mysterious guest was probably the wife of the soldier he’d been treating. A supply wagon on its way from Fort Waring had overturned, crushing the man beneath it. By the time he’d been brought to the hospital, gangrene had set in, and Meade was being forced to discharge him; the army had little use for one-legged sergeants. His wife had been sent for, naturally, and had undoubtedly arrived.

147

Constance Bennett—Moonsong

[ e - r e a d s ]

With that explanation fixed in his mind, Meade was understandably taken aback when he opened the door and found Rayna standing at the window.

The morning light spilled in, creating a golden halo around her, and Meade suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Damn it, why does she have this effect on me? he thought irritably, and on the heels of that question came another: And what the hell is she doing here?

In a few days he would be out of New Mexico completely, with hundreds of miles between himself and Rayna Templeton, which would, logically, leave him no choice but to forget about her. Now she was here, probably because she’d remembered that he was leaving the army and she just wanted to stir him up again for spite.

When Rayna turned at the sound of the door, it finally occurred to Meade that something could be wrong. He hurried toward her, wishing he could read the odd expression on her face. “Rayna, has something happened? What are you doing here?” he demanded.

It wasn’t the greeting she had hoped for, but she knew better than to take offense at his brusqueness. His attitude did help her quell the impulse to fly across the room and embrace him, though. “That kind young corporal obviously mistook me for a lady and offered me a place to wait while he went to find you.”

He sighed with relief. If she was joking with him, nothing could be drastically wrong. “I meant what are you doing in Santa Fe? Is Skylar home yet?”

Rayna’s face fell. “No. Things have gotten worse. Have you heard that the Apaches on the Mescalero reservation are being transferred to the Rio Alto?”

“Oh, good Lord,” Meade muttered, lowering his head in disgust. Would the idiocy of the Washington bureaucrats never end? He raised his head. “No, I hadn’t heard, but I’ve been exceptionally busy. I presume Skylar is on her way there now.”

“That’s right. And I’m going to Arizona to get her.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Crook hasn’t answered any of our letters. I can only assume that they have gone astray or he just doesn’t give a damn.”

“If he had received your letters, he would have done something,” Meade assured her.

“That’s neither here nor there,” Rayna replied tersely. “I’m sick of waiting.

As soon as I leave here, I’m heading for Fort Apache. Colonel McLeash says that to the best of his knowledge, Crook is still there.” She didn’t go on to say that if Crook refused to help her, she had plans of her own. She trusted Meade after a fashion, but he was a military man. He’d probably see it as his duty to report her.

148

Constance Bennett—Moonsong

[ e - r e a d s ]

“Rayna, you can’t possibly make a journey like that,” he argued. “The train can take you only as far as Holbrook, and then it’s ninety miles through some of the most ungodly mountain terrain you’ve ever seen.”

Rayna nodded. “The Calderos. Yes, I know.”

“And do you also know that there’s no stagecoach route through the mountains because there’s nothing south of them but reservation land? The only trails are ones that were forged by army supply wagons, and those are dismal at best.”

He was treating her like an idiot, and she didn’t like it. “Of course I know it. I plan to hire a guide in Holbrook.”

“Oh, that’s delightful,” Meade said grandly. “Trust your welfare—not to mention your virtue—to a complete stranger.”

“I can take care of myself, Meade. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Yes, in the bosom of your nurturing, loving family on a ranch where your father is king and no one would dare lay a hand on his royal offspring. If you go to Holbrook, you’ll be totally alone, and no one’s going to care one jot that your father owns one of the largest ranches in the New Mexico Territory.”

Rayna fought down her exasperation. “Meade, a ranch is not a convent, and I have been off the property once or twice. It might surprise you to know that before the railroad arrived, I participated in a number of cattle drives on the Goodnight Loving Trail.” Well, one drive, actually, but she didn’t want to retract her statement.

Meade was appalled. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, but I am. Believe me, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Be that as it may, you can’t make a trip like this unescorted. It’s unthinkable.”

“Then what do you suggest? Shall I let my sister rot on the Rio Alto?”

“Write another letter!”

“I am sick to death of writing letters. My father’s sick of it, too. He collapsed yesterday when we learned the news about Skylar.”

Meade took another step toward her in concern. “Is he all right?”

“I believe so. I pray so. But the point is, our family can’t take any more of this, Meade. I have to do something.”

Meade turned away, more impatient with the situation than with Rayna.

She was right. Something had to be done, but he couldn’t let her risk her life on a dangerous trip like this. After a long moment he turned back to her, knowing he was going to regret his impulsive decision.

“All right. Can you wait two days before beginning?”

“Why should I? I can be in Arizona long before then if I take the next westbound train.”

“I know, but tomorrow is my last day as an officer of the United States Army, and I have already booked passage to Holbrook Friday morning. I’m going home, and I see no reason why you can’t make the trip with me.”

149

Constance Bennett—Moonsong

[ e - r e a d s ]

Rayna was stunned. “Friday? You were planning to leave the territory on Friday?”

She looked . . . hurt, Meade realized, but he tried to insulate himself against it. “That’s right. As I told you weeks ago, I’m anxious to get home.