With a rustle of yards of gray silk, Tillie swept away through the crowd, leaving Tess to stare after her in consternation. Her final words could mean several things, and Tess wasn't about to let down her guard completely against Tillie Peterson. The other woman might show a spurt of independence now, but once back in the folds of the Guild, she would be expected to follow the rest of the membership sheep.

  She did miss the companionship of other women, though, she admitted to herself. A shared cup of coffee while they hashed over the past weekend's activities. A women-only night now and then at someone's apartment, complete with mud treatments for their faces and giggling sessions in front of the mirror as they tried out various hairstyles. A good gossip over a bottle or two of wine—who was seeing who, and how on earth were they ever going to find a decent man among the bunch of losers who asked them out.

  She'd missed that after she became engaged to Robert. Every free moment she could spare from her busy work schedule was spent with her fiancé, attending social functions with the New York elite—and a lot of moments she really couldn't spare, too.

  But despite Tillie's tentative thrust of friendship, she couldn't bring herself to believe that she would find much in common with Clover Valley's women. They had already labeled her Stone's mistress.

  Her eyes searched the room for Stone until she saw him come through the schoolhouse door with Rose clinging to his arm. The picnic basket he carried belonged to Rose—the same one Rose had brought with her from her cabin. Tess narrowed her eyes when the blonde pretended to stumble on an uneven spot on the pine floor. She clung even tighter to Stone's arm as she giggled and looked up at him with fluttering eyelashes.

  "Since I haven't been able to get close enough to claim that dance, maybe I can escort you out to get your supper basket, Miss Foster."

  Tess rose to her feet and took Doc Calder's proffered arm. "I'd be delighted, Doctor," she said with a smile. "But I wouldn't want your wife to scratch my eyes out when she finds me with her handsome husband."

  Doc Calder chuckled and patted her hand. "Mandy's helping the women set things up. And she knows I've been wanting to talk to you. In fact, she's the one who saw you going into the newspaper office and mentioned it to me. We have our living quarters above my office. Let's stop a second so you can meet her."

  Doc Calder steered her to the far end of the tables now lining one wall and toward a petite gray-haired woman. The moment the woman turned at her husband's greeting, Tess could feel the love flowing between the two people. Mandy Calder had no reason to doubt her husband's fidelity, and Tess immediately regretted her flirtatious remark to the doctor.

  "I'm so glad to finally get to meet you. Miss Foster," Mandy said as she took Tess's hand. "Ed's told me so much about you, and we think the world of Stone and the children. Maybe now that your ankle's healed, you can ride in for a visit once in a while. I don't get out much while Ed's off here and there tending his patients. Someone has to keep the office open."

  "I'd really enjoy that." She felt an instant liking for the doctor's wife. "And please call me Tess."

  "Of course. Now you two better go get your basket in here. The men need to put something in their stomachs to counteract that whiskey they've been sneaking outside to sample."

  Doc Calder took Tess's arm again and led her toward the doorway. Though she caught a flash of pale blue at the edge of her vision and saw Rose unloading her picnic basket onto the already fast-filling table, she gratefully realized Stone was no longer at Rose's side. She and the doctor threaded their way through wagons and buggies until they reached Stone's wagon, but she didn't see Stone anywhere. Maybe he was visiting that hidden whiskey keg, she mused.

  She hadn't caught any hint of whiskey on his breath during the one dance they had managed to steal for themselves, though. As always, there was a tang of mint intermingled with the smell of his aftershave. She had noticed that his evening beard already shadowed his face, but it only made him that much more handsome.

  Too bad the dance had been a fast-paced square dance. The only time she could properly touch those broad shoulders in that perfectly tailored black coat was during the swing-your-partner calls. She really needed to remember to tell him how wonderful he looked in that white shirt and string tie. Of course he looked just as good without any shirt at all. And she preferred him in the snug-fitting denims he wore at the ranch to the looser dress pants matching his jacket.

  "Uh..."

  Doc Calder cleared his throat, and she shook herself back to the present when she realized they had been standing by the wagon for at least a minute. She started to reach for the picnic basket, but Doc Calder spoke again.

  "As I mentioned, Tess, Mandy saw you go into the newspaper office. I guess maybe you were checking out that little matter we started to discuss in my office."

  "I was. And I intend to talk to Stone about it just as soon as I can."

  "Let me explain to you what it means... "

  "I'm perfectly capable of understanding that report from the territorial legislature," she interrupted. "A first-year law student could read that legal mess."

  "But most women couldn't."

  "This woman can," she replied with a grim set to her lips. "The bottom line is that all the previous homesteads have to be proved up before the new land rush next month if they're in the last year of their five-year period. And they've slapped a new tax on the lands that has to be paid on prove up."

  "That's right," Doc said admiringly. "And the prove up is..."

  "Stone doesn't have any problem complying with that. He has a home built and a barn. He even has most of his acreage fenced, though I can't recall if that was one of the old prove-up clauses."

  "Old?" Doc mused with a quirked eyebrow.

  "And he certainly has enough stock on the homestead," she hurried to say in an attempt to distract Doc from her slip of the tongue. "All he has to do is pay that tax assessment."

  "That's where the problem might be," Doc explained. "Not only to Stone, but to some others in the territory. You see, a lot of the settlers are land rich and cash poor. Most of them, though, have had a chance to be forewarned of the new laws and the plan for the tax. Since Stone doesn't even know about it yet, and since the deadline's coming up pretty fast..."

  "If you two are done discussing my private business, I think we'd better get back in there and eat before we start home, Tess. Flower and Rain have to be up early."

  Her eyes flew to the shadowy figure she now saw standing beneath a nearby cottonwood. Stone stepped out into the moonlight, and she stifled a gasp as she caught the deadly glint in his eyes and the strained line of his normally full lips.

  "Stone, we..." She lifted a hand toward him, but he turned away abruptly.

  "I'll see you inside," he tossed over his shoulder.

  "Damn his pride," she muttered. "He could at least discuss things with me."

  "Men's business," Doc Calder said to her. "We don't like to worry pretty heads with financial matters."

  "Yeah." She turned her eyes back on the doctor. "Women in this time are just supposed to be pretty ornaments that drop a baby for their men at least once a year. Well, let me tell you. Doctor, one of these days women are going to vote and hold down a lot of jobs you men seem to think they're not smart enough to do now. They'll run some of the biggest companies in the United States!"

  "Mandy and I never could have any children," Doc said in a soft voice. "Even with all I learned about healing to become a doctor, I never could give her that."

  The fire died inside Tess, and her anger was defused. "I'm sorry. I apologize. I didn't know."

  "No reason you should." Doc Calder gave a shrug and picked up the picnic basket. "And, unlike most men in this time, I make sure Mandy knows all about my finances. She keeps the books for my practice and knows to a penny how much we owe and who owes us what—not that much of it will ever be collected. However..." He patted his pudgy stomach. "We never worry about food. Even if a lot of people are short of cash to pay for their doctorin', they make it up by sharin' their gardens with us—and meat at butcherin' time."

  Somewhat abashed, she slipped her hand beneath Doc's elbow and walked with him back toward the schoolhouse. "It's different with you, though, Doc. You and Mandy are man and wife. I guess Stone had a right to be angry about my discussing his private affairs, but surely he'll accept some help from me if it becomes necessary."

  "Don't count on it. A man like Stone's got too much pride to let a woman bail him out of a jam."

  "That's not pride—that's mule-headedness." She snorted. "But... maybe there's a better way."

  Doc gazed down at her with a questioning look, but she only winked at him and urged him on through the door. She took the picnic basket from him and headed for the end of the table where Mandy stood. While she shoved aside dishes to make room for her own food, she whispered to Mandy and received the elderly woman's agreement to slip away for a private talk as soon as the men were fed.

  "I'll take Pa's plate to him, if you want, Tess."

  She turned at Flower's voice to find the young girl standing at her elbow. "I thought you might be planning on eating with that young man who bought your dinner, Flower," she teased. "What was his name? Jess? Jeff?"

  "Johnny," Flower said with a laugh, "And I am, but I thought it might mellow Pa a little if I took him his plate like a dutiful daughter first. Then maybe he wouldn't glower at Johnny and me while we ate."

  "Well, I've got a little making up to do to your pa myself. So I hate to disappoint you, but I really wanted to be the one to wait on him."

  "All right. Johnny and I'll just pretend we don't see Pa glaring. By the way..." She leaned forward. "Pa likes the white meat best."

  "Gotcha."

  A few minutes later Tess carried a brimming plate in both hands as she skittered between the other diners in search of Stone. When she passed the end of the line at the table, she turned to look behind her and saw Rose picking up a heavily laden plate. As well as she knew her own name, Tess was convinced that Rose intended to be the one to get to Stone first. Whirling around, she ran into an unyielding chest and barely managed to keep the food on the plate from sliding to the floor.

  "Whoops!" she said with a gay laugh when she looked up into Stone's face. "I'd sure have hated to offer you your meal off the floor!"

  Stone's lips curved into a smile as he stared down into her eyes. "I'm glad you remembered your place," he told her in a semi-stern voice. "The boss always gets fed first."

  She managed a slight curtsy and offered him the plate. "Your meal, my lord," she said, simpering.

  Stone laughed and shook his head as he accepted the plate. "You don't fit the pattern of an obedient servant, Tess, honey." He slipped his free hand around her waist. "Come on. I'll explain the rules to you a little better while we eat."

  "But I should be helping the women feed the men," she said, saucily tilting her head. "Isn't that one of the rules—the men eat first? I should be standing in the serving line. Besides, I didn't bring a plate for myself."

  "We'll share this one. And you need to rest your ankle before the last round of dancing."

  Stone led her to a corner of the room and settled her on a vacant bench. She instinctively looked around for Rose and saw her glowering at them from near the serving tables. As soon as she noticed Tess's glance, Rose turned a brilliant smile on the nearest man and walked toward him, the plate in her hands extended.

  "Maybe we should check on the kids first," Stone said as he set the food down between them.

  "They're fine. I just saw Flower, and Rain's over there with that bunch of boys his own age, waiting to go through the serving line."

  "Who's Flower eating with?" he asked, frowning.

  "Johnny, of course. Stone, you've got to realize she's growing up. There are going to be a lot of young men paying attention to her."

  "Johnny's all right, I guess," he grumbled. "At least his family's not bigoted about anyone with Indian blood. But I'm gonna be damned careful who I let come courtin' Flower. There's still a lot of whites who think an Indian woman is only good for one thing."

  She gasped as a flash of anger stole through her. "That's ridiculous! Why, if I hear anyone talk like that, I'll... I'll..."

  "You'll hear it," he promised. "And probably a lot worse. Hell, we fought the Indians for two hundred years. I was in a few skirmishes myself when I was leading wagon trains. You don't think that kind of enmity is going to just disappear, do you? Just because the slaves were freed in the South didn't assure them a comparable standing with the whites. And we've stuck the Indians on reservations, kept them separate from us. How can we ever hope to integrate the two cultures that way?"

  "In my time we've got laws against prejudice."

  He raised an eyebrow. "And can your laws legislate a person's mind and emotions? I suppose everyone stops and pages through his non-prejudice handbook before he makes a crude remark to someone of another race."

  "No," she admitted. "We've still got a lot of disparity among the races, and even hate groups. I don't know if it will ever get wiped out. Oh, Stone, I don't want Flower to have to go through that."

  "Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, taking Flower and Rain to raise," he mused. "But the alternative wasn't much better. There's prejudice among the Indians, too, that the kids' white blood would bring out, and Silver Eagle's getting up there in years. He couldn't protect them forever. And I sure as heck wouldn't want my kids in one of the schools springing up for the reservation kids. They cut the kids' hair—stick them in white men's clothes—insist they speak English, and pound every bit of their Indian beliefs out of their heads. The damned fools in Washington think the only way to blend the Indians in with us is to make them as white as they can."

  "There's a way to fight things like that—by sending people to Washington." She leaned forward. "You'd make a good advocate, Stone, especially since you're familiar with the culture. You could make a difference."

  "And who'd run the ranch while I was gone—the ranch that supports me and the kids? The ranch that..."

  Stone abruptly shoved the plate of food toward her and stood. "I'm not really hungry. I'm gonna get some air before the dancing starts again."

  He started to turn away, then glanced down at her with a wry grin. "Sorry. I didn't mean to spoil our meal. Save me at least one dance, will you?"

  She nodded dejectedly and watched him walk away, his hands thrust into his pockets and his shoulders slumped. She yearned to follow him and share his worry over losing the ranch. That must be what he was thinking about as he paced out under the stars. But she had her own plan. Hopefully, it would be a much more sensible solution to the unfair law threatening Stone's ranch than just stewing about it.

  Picking up a chicken breast, she ate it, then stood and carried the still-full plate over to set it with the growing pile of dirty dishes the men were leaving for the women to wash. She caught Mandy's eye and nodded toward the back door of the schoolhouse. The elderly woman immediately rose and followed as Tess walked out the opposite door from where Stone had gone.

  An hour later, Angela gazed down at the scene below her. Sleeping babies lay on blankets spread near the walls. A few of the older children still clung drowsily to wakefulness, determined to take advantage of their parents' tolerance for their delayed bedtime on this one night. More children were already curled up in wagon beds outside. Worn out from their active day, they would wake in their own beds in the morning, never even remembering being carried into their homes.

  A few of the lanterns had been doused so the babies could sleep in the shadows, and Angela watched Tess float around the floor in Stone's arms, a dreamy expression on her face. The square dance caller's voice was silent now. Instead of the energetic, foot-stomping music played earlier in the evening, the fiddler gently plied his bow, accompanied by two guitarists, strumming quiet chords.

  One more dance, probably, Angela thought. A good-night dance to finish an evening everyone hates to see end.

  Dancing looked like so much fun. She'd attended many dances over the millennia of her existence. Every culture had its own style—sometimes purely for fun, and sometimes as part of their worship. The closest she'd ever come to participation, though, had been to tap her foot in time to the beat of an especially lively tune, or sway back and forth in rhythm with a slow, achy ballad.

  "I suppose you're still too danged mad at me to dance with me," Michael said in a gruff voice.

  She glanced at him, where he stood as far away from her as he could on the other edge of the cloud. A mixture of a pout and a little hope filled his face.

  "I don't know if guardian angels are supposed to dance," she said softly.

  "Well, if you don't know for sure, you can't know if there's a rule against it," he said, the pout giving way to the hope. "Listen, they're starting to play the last dance."

  Somewhat shyly, Michael held out his arms, and she glided across the cloud. "I guess just one dance wouldn't hurt," she said as he drew her into the first waltz steps.

  A second later she looked up at him in wonder. "Why, this is nice. You must be an awfully good dancer for me to follow you so easily."

  "Lots of the human spirits I worked with loved to dance, and it sort of caught my fancy, too. I kept up on what the latest dances on earth were by practicing with them every once in a while. You can bet your boots I can cotton-eye-Joe and two-step with the best of them, but I've always loved a waltz."

  "Me, too—or at least I always enjoyed listening to them. The slow dances always seem to survive, don't they? I mean, I've watched the teenagers come up with all sorts of different new dance gyrations over the years. Some of them scandalize their parents, but they always manage to keep the slow dances, too."

  "Uh-huh. There's just something about a nice, slow dance between two people that lets them show their feelings for each other in public in an acceptable way. Look at Tess and Stone. Why, they're almost making love to each other with their eyes."