Chapter One Montana Territory, 1870 She would never, in her long, long life, forget that first sight of him, riding through fresh snow high as the breast of his Appaloosa stallion, with the sky broad and ice blue at his back. Never forget those gleaming golden moments when she thought he was someone he was not. Abigail, her six-year-old daughter, stood beside her at the window, perched on an upturned crate and peering through breath-fogged glass. "Look, Mama, he''s come for us! I told you he would -- isn''t he spectacular?" Evangeline Keating bit her lower lip, tying to diffuse the swell of reckless anticipation and plain fear rising within her. The rider was indeed "spectacular," at least in build; his shoulders looked muscular and broad under his fleece-lined leather coat, his legs were long and straight, and he handled the reins with an easy grace that testified to a deep affinity with horses. She could not make out his features, nor the color of his hair, for he wore a battered hat, pulled down low over his face, no doubt as a protection against the cold wind of that morning when a heavy snow had arrived early, catching the landscape by surprise. She didn''t really need to see him clearly, for she carried his likeness in her reticule, and had studied it over and over again. "Spectacular," Evangeline echoed at last. She was thinking of what would be expected of her, once the ceremony had been performed, and almost, but not quite, regretting her decision to come west and ma