His shoulder length blond hair was being tossed about by a light breeze. He wore cowboy boots, blue jeans, and a denim shirt. Over these were a duster...also being tossed about by the wind. Crossing his back was the empty holster for a rifle and a sheathed katana. The rifle for the holster was held in his left hand. His finger was on the trigger, though at the moment the rifle was pointed toward the ground. The man's face was unlined, yet there was an aura of age about him. It was his eyes. She offered a dreamy expression. "I love hearing you call me that."Inez had decided to change her name the instant we first addressed the topic. Many women with her professional aspirations might not have done so. "When it comes to things like that, I'm old-fashioned and traditional," she had declared, "and I'm taking your name. End of story. I don't even have to think about it for a second."I couldn't resist teasing her a little. "You'll have people asking you all the time, 'How did you manage. More

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