He felt the clash of her will on his, even like flint against steel, whenever they spoke, and he began to wonder what spark would start a fire. It made him think of a game of poker, in a way, for he never knew what the next instant would place in his hands while the cards of chance were shuffled and dealt. Tired? There was a subtle, scoffing challenge hidden somewhere in that word.
"No, but I don't intend to go any farther from Drew."
Her smile grew more pronounced; she even looked to him with a frank amusement, for apparently she would not take him seriously.
"If I were you, he'd be the last man I'd want to be near."
"I suppose you would."
As if she picked up the gauntlet, she turned squarely on the bunk and faced him.
"You're going to hit the trail in an hour, understand?"
It delighted him—set him thrilling with excitement to feel her open anger and the grip of her will against his; he had to force a frown in order to conceal a smile.
"If I do, it will be to ride back toward Drew."
Her lips parted to make an angry retort, and then he watched her steel herself with patience, like a mother teaching an old lesson to a child.