He got out several cartridges and placed them in a neat row on a flat rock. They looked good there, ready for business. He put the Winchester down and sat back, watching the Indians moving about the fire, near the spring. Thoughts of the women went through his mind. That Consuelo was a fine figure of a woman. Give a man a time in bed, but for staying quality, day in and day out living, she wouldn't hold a candle to Miriam Stark. He thought of the strange feeling that had risen within him when he sat his horse in the darkness outside the canyon, knowing there was someone near, even knowing that someone was a woman and desirable. It made no sense, but there it was. He had known. One of the Apaches was looking up the slope. He had a feeling, that warrior did ... he had him a hunch. Maybe Taggart's attention had drawn their attention. He waited, watching without looking directly at them. The Apache had stepped out from the rest now and was looking up the mountain. Taggart knew he could not be seen ...
