She was miserable. She'd never been a beauty. Her freckles and her size had ruined any hopes of that, but she'd always been attractive. She hated looking ugly in front of this man. He obviously begrudged the effort it had taken to save her and take care of her. She'd never see a woman with singed hair, but the picture her imagination conjured up was pretty grim. She probably looked worse than a half-drowned buffalo calf.

Daisy consoled herself with the knowledge she didn't find him attractive either. He had nice eyes and a n.o.ble forehead, but the beard ruined everything.

"Do you have a mirror?"

"You don't need one."

"I want to see what I look like."

He didn't answer, just fed her more stew. She tried again.

"I need to change my bandage. It's too tight."

"I'll do it."

"I can. I feel much better now."

"No."

He got up. She was so stunned at his point-blank refusal she almost failed to notice he was taking away the delicious stew. "I'm still hungry," she said.

"You've had enough."

Daisy could hardly believe her ears. n.o.body had ever refused her food or told her she had had enough to eat.

"You only gave me a small bowl. I'm practically starved."

"You haven't eaten in more than twenty-four hours. You shouldn't eat too much at once."

"I should think I'm the best judge of when I've eaten too much."

He didn't turn back. He wasn't even going to discuss it with her. Obviously her opinion didn't matter. He was worse than her father. At least he'd never tried to starve her. She wanted to yell at this man, to give him a piece of her mind.

But even as Daisy opened her mouth, it struck her that while Tyler did expect her to do exactly what he wanted, he was taking care of her. He didn't expect her to do any work. He wouldn't let her when she tried. She'd never met a man who didn't expect a woman to do everything for him. He even took care of Zac.

This was new to Daisy. She'd have to think about it, but the hot food had made her feel tired and sleepy. The thought of a nap was very inviting. She was very quickly losing the energy to do anything but let Tyler do what he was going to do anyway.

"What time is it?"

"About five in the afternoon," Tyler said. He poured some clear liquid from a little bottle into a pan of warm water. He reached for some long strips of cloth. "Lie very still," he said as he sat back down next to her. "This may hurt a little."

"What did you put in the water?" Daisy asked.

"Disinfectant."

Tyler held her head off the pillow as he unwound the bandage. Zac practically stuck his face in hers to get a look at her wound. "It doesn't look too bad to me," he observed. "It looked a whole lot worse yesterday."

It did hurt. Whatever he used as a disinfectant had a painful sting, but he seemed to be trying to be gentle. She wondered if he had ever been around a woman for more than five minutes. He certainly acted like a man unfamiliar with their ways.

She wondered if he cared to learn.

"Is it going to leave a scar?"

"Yes."

"A bad one?"

"You can cover it with your hair."

In two or three years when it grows back! She could imagine herself with half her hair singed to the scalp, the other part of her head covered with a huge, red scar. She almost burst into tears. She'd probably scare little children. No man would want to talk to her, much less marry her.

"I want to go home," she said, weighed down by all the calamities that seemed to be descending on her. Things would somehow be better if she could just get home, away from Adonis and his perfection, from Big Feet and his absolute certainty he knew what was right for her. She wasn't strong enough to stand up to them. At least not now.

"You can't go anywhere," Tyler informed her "You're so weak you'd fall out of the saddle."

"Tyler had to ride with his arms around you all the way up the mountain or you'd be in some ravine right now," Zac told her.

"He had his arms round me?"

"How else was he supposed to keep you in the saddle? Tie you to the pommel?"

Daisy felt the color rise in her cheeks. She didn't know why, but knowing she had ridden in Tyler's arms, their bodies in prolonged intimate contact, caused her more embarra.s.sment than Zac's remark about sleeping with her. That had shocked her, but she didn't quite believe it. This stunned her because it was the most obvious explanation of how they brought her to the cabin. She closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to look Tyler in the face.

"Somebody ought to sew your mouth shut," Tyler said to Zac.

"I don't understand--"

"Just get me that tin of ointment."

Daisy kept her eyes closed. She listened to Zac's halting footsteps as he crossed the room and came back.

The ointment was cool and soothing. It didn't smell very good, but she didn't care. She just hoped Tyler would finish quickly. She wanted to turn to the wall and never look him in the face again.

She didn't know why she should care what this man thought of her. He was taciturn to the point of being rude. He acted like taking care of her was a duty his conscience wouldn't let him shirk. The sooner she left the better for both of them.

"Keep still. I need to rebandage your head."

Daisy opened her eyes and glared at him. "What are you going to do if I don't? Tie me to the bed?"

"If I have to."

Daisy decided he meant it. She sat still while he began to wind the fresh strips of cloth around her head. He kept on doing it until she felt certain she must look like a mummy.

"That's probably too thick, but I wanted to make sure it was thick enough to protect the wound," he said. "I'm not good at this. I don't get hurt much."

"He never gets hurt at all," Zac remarked, a slightly peevish tone to his voice. "I've been shot, fallen down a mountain, and barely escaped a rock slide getting here. He's never had so much as a skinned knuckle."

"Then why does he have a bandage on his hand?"

"He got it--"

"I got it when the killer came after you the second time," Tyler said.

Just when she was able to get angry at him, he made her feel guilty. "I'm sorry. I'll lie as still as a mouse."

"If you think mice are still, you ought to see this little critter that lives in the woodpile," Zac said. "He--"

"I don't think Miss Singleton wants to hear about mice," Tyler said. "Hike up that shirt so I can get a look at your side."

Blocking Zac's facile chatter and Tyler's gruff responses from her mind, Daisy wiggled down in the bed until she lay flat. Imagining what she looked like with yards of bandage wrapped around her head made her want to crawl under the covers and stay there. Besides her head hurt, her body felt like it weighed a ton, and she was tired and sleepy. She was also worried about her father and depressed about her hair. On top of that, she was obviously going to have to spend several days locked up in this cabin with Bearded Bigfeet and his court jester. She thought she might go crazy.

The sound of the wind as it whistled through the trees, around the corner of the cabin and under the eves told her she couldn't possibly leave. But surely the snow would melt quickly. It hardly ever snowed in the Rio Grande valley, even in the Sandia Mountains. When it did, it didn't stay long.

But one glance at the ice-encrusted windows told her that whatever it usually did, it was snowing hard outside with no signs of letting up.

Daisy closed her eyes. She was too tired to fight sleep anymore. She wanted to escape. Maybe this was all a bad dream. Maybe she'd wake up and find herself in her own bed in her own home, bearded bigfoot just a nightmare.

But even as she slipped into the welcoming arms of sleep, she couldn't help wondering what he looked like behind that awful beard.

"You think she's playing possum?" Zac asked.

"She's asleep," Tyler replied, "even if she doesn't snore like you."

"I don't snore."

"Not when you're awake." Tyler put disinfectant on Zac's side. The boy winced.

"Take it easy. I'm not one of your d.a.m.ned mules."

"Daisy didn't complain, and her wound is worse than yours."

"Some brother you are, making me out to be a worse than a girl."

Tyler turned his gaze toward the bed where Daisy slept. "Woman," he corrected. No girl could have aroused feelings of such intense physical desire in him. Not even freckles and a bandage could make him forget the softness of the body he held close to him all the way up the mountain. Even now the mere thought of it caused his body to harden.

"I suppose she is," Zac agreed, "especially if she's twenty like she says, but she's nothing like Laurel."

"Laurel has been a mother since she was seventeen. That ages a woman."

"Being Jordy's mother would age anyone," Zac said. "I don't know how Hen talked her into adopting him."

Tyler grinned. "He is a handful."

"A terror's what he is. You finished torturing me?"

Tyler chuckled softly. "I'd like to torture you, just for a few minutes, to see if you have any real guts behind all your foolishness."

"I've got as much guts as any of the rest of you," Zac retorted. "Just because I don't like cows, wandering about in the wilderness, or having crazy gunmen shoot me in the ribs doesn't mean I'm a coward. I just like cities better than the country."

"There's more danger there than in the country."

"What city has blizzards and mountains and people who shoot you and try to burn your house down over your head?"

"I don't get along well with people."

"That's because you don't know how to handle them. I do."

Tyler had to admit that was true. He'd never known how to get along with his own family. He didn't even try with strangers. Though it seemed a contradiction -- one his brothers hadn't failed to point out more than once -- he would happily give up wandering through the wilderness for his dream of owning his own hotels and running them exactly the way he wanted.

He didn't hold it against Madison and Jeff that they had voted against selling some of the family's holdings to give him the money. n.o.body could think of him as the right kind of person to manage a hotel. But neither did he intend to change his mind. He wanted the hotels for himself. As far as he was concerned, his family need not have anything to do with them.

With an inward sigh, he took one last look at Zac's wound. "You might as well go to bed, too. It's going to hurt for a while, but it's fine."

"That's easy for you to say," Zac said, "but you don't have to climb into that bunk with your side hurting like sin every time you move."

Tyler took Zac by the collar and seat of the pants and lifted him into the bunk with one, powerful thrust.

"Good G.o.d!" Zac exclaimed. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"This way the hurt's over quickly."

"Jesus," Zac grumbled. "Being by yourself has made you crazy."

"Go to sleep before I throw you on the woodpile with your mouse."

Tyler picked up the basin and bandages and went over to the stove to clean up. The rest of the deer ought to be thawed soon. He needed to cut some more. But as he cleaned up, he was thinking more about Daisy than the task before him.

He hadn't told her about her father because he didn't think she was strong enough to take such a shock. The longer he waited, the harder it was going to be on her. He didn't know what to do with a grieving female, and it was certain Zac wouldn't be any help.

He never had known what to do with grief. He didn't feel any, ever. He could remember how much Hen suffered when their mother died. To Tyler it meant he had to take over the cooking. The news of his father's death had been a relief more than anything else.

Ever since that day, Tyler had hated his father.

He dreaded having to listen to her cry. It wasn't the crying so much as the feeling of helplessness. He wondered if she would become hysterical and scream and rant, or if she would sit in the corner and whimper quietly hour after hour. He almost preferred the screaming. At least that would be over soon.

Ever since that day he couldn't stand to hear anybody cry.

He remembered how Rose grieved when her baby was born dead. He wasn't sure she had ever really gotten over it, not even after Elizabeth Rose was born. Even George had had a rough time, and George could handle anything.

He couldn't ask Zac to tell her, though he was tempted. That rascal could do it without turning a hair. Maybe he would take Daisy to Laurel. She would know what to say. No, that was cowardly. As much as he dreaded doing it, it was his responsibility.

He was reaching for his coat to go out and bring in more wood when a scream turned him rigid.