"My gawd, Henry!" Tom cried. "You ain't seriously sayin' you'd keep her here?" A flush crept up Henry's neck. "Of course not." Rachel glanced uneasily at her husband, then back at Tom. "How long would it take for you to round up men and get back?" "I figger a day, ridin' hard and barrin' trouble. It'd give us a fightin' chance, Henry." Tom shrugged. "She wouldn't have to stay there for an unbearable long time. Hunter is bound to start ruttin' after some purty little squaw sooner or later and forget Loretta. Just a matter of waitin' him out." "And if the Indians return before you get back?" Not a trace of color showed on Rachel's lips. Henry shoved his trencher to the center of the table. "You just git out your beads, woman, and pray that don't happen."