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“Keep your voice down,” Jed said. Even though their tent was two hundred yards from the other tents and closer to the horses than the camp itself, he always worried about being overheard by any guests, since the topic of conversation was generally them.

Her eyes blazed in the semidarkness. “You’re breaking every damn rule you’ve ever told me about,” she said. “You’ve got something going on here or else you’ve just lost your damn mind.”

He started to speak but she cut him off.

“Never leave the guests to tend the fire at night,” she said. She lowered her voice and added a low drawl to mimic his cadence as much as possible. “Gently encourage the guests to take their socializing to the tents and wait them out if necessary so you can secure the camp and make sure there’s no food or anything around to draw animals in, then put the fire out with water. Then do a walk-around to double-check the night checklist. Last, make sure the animals are fine.”

He hated when she mocked him.

Which didn’t stop her. She said, “Never encourage alcohol consumption. We may want a nightcap of our own in the tent before we turn in, Dakota, but never drink in front of the clients or encourage them to do so.

“Never antagonize a paying guest and promote rancor among the group, Dakota,” she said. “Be the facilitator to smooth out any disagreements. Be on everyone’s side, or lead them to think you are. Be a benevolent dictator, but more the former than the latter. The whole experience gets poisoned if resentment is left to linger.”

He held up a hand to interrupt her but she was on a roll.

“Never fraternize with the guests until the last night, Dakota. Keep a professional distance so they respect you. You are the captain of the ship. Maintain a little mystery about you, so they’ll listen when you tell them something. Be professional at all times. Don’t become one of them, Dakota. Never let your guard down to the clients, Dakota,” she said, angry.

Then she leaned forward and backhanded him on his shoulder. Before he could react, she said, “So what do you do, you hand them a bottle! Then you sit with them and get them all stirred up about taking a new route. And what is this about water levels bein’ up so we can’t stay on the trail, Jed? Where in the hell did that come from?”

He sat back and glared at her although he was a little taken aback. “Keep your voice down,” he said through clenched teeth. “And where do you get off talking to me like that?”

“I’m using your own words,” she said.

He said, “This is my trip and my company. I’ve been keeping a close eye on the creeks we crossed and the level of the lake all day while you emptied your head and tugged your mules along. You would have seen the same thing I did if you’d been looking. And keep the hell in mind I don’t need to clear every decision with you. Keep the hell in mind this is my outfit and my risk and you’re the hired help.”

She reacted as if he’d slapped her. She said in her own voice, “Is that all I am to you?”

He was sorry he said it because he still needed her. But he didn’t take it back. He could tell she was trying not to tear up. No matter how tough she talked or acted, he thought, she was still just a damned girl.

He knew what her next move would be. Furiously, she started clawing at her sleeping bag, gathering it into a ball she could carry away.

This wasn’t their first fight, but he sensed the cold edge of finality creeping in unless he headed it off.

“You can still sleep here,” he said calmly.

“Bullshit,” she hissed, backing away on her hands and knees toward the door of the tent. “You can sleep alone. I don’t even want to breathe the same air as you tonight.”

It was the word tonight that made his shoulders relax and his stomach unclench. Tonight meant she didn’t consider the rift permanent.

He chuckled, then said, “Do whatever you have to do, darlin’. Just don’t let any of the guests see you.”

“Fuck you, Jed.”

He quickly sat up and reached over and cupped her chin in his palm, forcing her to stop and look at him. “Don’t escalate things out of proportion,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me a little bit.”

“Why should I?” she said, but he knew she was softening.

“Have I steered us wrong before?”

She paused, then said, “Not much up to now.”

He laughed, and felt the tension in her dissipate a little. He said, “Before you go, did you complete your job tonight?”

He knew her slavish obligation to her duties would further override her anger. She was like that.

Dakota jerked her face away from his hand, sat back on her haunches, and dug into her coat pocket. He figured she was as angry now at her own caving in as she was at him.

She threw a handful of cartridges in his lap. They landed heavily and he picked one up. He said, “Three-fifty-seven Magnum. Did you find any more? A box of shells?”

She shook her head.

“And you left the gun, of course,” he said. “So he might not even know you unloaded it.”

She just glared at him.