Tales of Western Romance
by
Madeline Baker
Smashwords Edition
Tales of Western Romance
Presented by Western Trail Blazer
Digital ISBN: 978-1-4660-7364-7
(Includes a Special Bonus Section from Amanda Ashley)
Copyright © 2011 Madeline Baker
Cover Art Copyright © 2011 Laura Shinn
Produced by Rebecca J. Vickery
Design Consultation by Laura Shinn
Smashwords License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with other people, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this ebook without purchasing it and it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The stories in Tales of Western Romance are works of fiction. Though the names of actual locations may be included, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author, except where actual historical facts are related. Similarities of characters within to any person, past, present, or future, are coincidental, except for the inclusion of actual historical figures.
Tales of Western Romance
Stories included are:
Catch the Lightning – In this sequel to Chase the Lightning, the legendary white stallion Relampago carries a suicidal woman back through time to help a wounded man.
Capture the Lightning – A woman on vacation at a dude ranch becomes lost in a storm and is rescued by Relampago. But it seems the cabin he returns her to is far from the one she left, in time that is...
Passion's Promise – An Indian maiden in charge of a prisoner must fulfill her duties, then watch him die at the hands of her people. Or does fate have other plans?
Reckless Destiny – Daniel Blue Hawk yearns for the old days and succeeds in traveling back in time. Will a woman, a tribe of Cheyenne, and unknown danger change his life forever?
Ms. Baker hopes you enjoy the free story she has included
from Amanda Ashley:
The Music of the Night
Macie Jenkins decides her life isn’t worth living only to be transported through time on the back of a legendary white stallion.
The horse takes her to a wounded man, Ace Bowdry, who needs her help.
Will Macie find something, or someone, worth living for after all?
Catch the Lightning
Prologue
The great white stallion grazed on a patch of sun-warmed prairie grass, long white tail swishing an errant fly. The Apache called him a spirit horse; the Cheyenne called him a ghost horse because of his pale color. But Relampago was both, and neither. For hundreds of years, he had wandered the shadowy path between the past and the present, saving countless lives, bringing lost souls together.
Ears pricked forward, the stallion watched the old man and the boy stroll toward him.
“Is that him?” the boy asked, pointing. “Is that the spirit horse?”
“Ai, that is Relampago.”
“Tell me the story, grandfather.”
“You have heard it many times before.”
“Yes, but I’ve never seen the ghost horse,” the boy said, excitement evident in his tone and in the way he hopped from one foot to the other. “Tell me again.”
Smiling indulgently, the old man began. “It started in a time long ago when one of our brave warriors went out to face his enemies. Surrounded by the bodies of his slain comrades, he lifted his war lance high overhead, his death cry riding on the wings of the wind as he waited for death to find him.
“His enemies laughed and made rude gestures at him. They were certain the warrior would die that day. That when night came, they would sing of the Apache’s death while they danced, his scalp and those of the other slain Apaches dangling from their scalp poles.
“The Apache warrior watched his enemies impassively as he chanted softly, his prayer for deliverance wending its way up to the Great Spirit, even as the warrior set his face toward death. ‘Hear me, Usen, grant me courage that I may die well.’
“As he prayed, a sudden stillness fell over the land. The wind moaned through the tall prairie grass. Curling fingers of thick gray mist rose up from the ground.
“The Apache warrior fell silent. Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed as he saw a stallion emerge from the gathering mist.”
“Relampago!” the boy exclaimed, clapping his hands.
The old man nodded. “The very same. The stallion’s hooves echoed like thunder, striking lightning from the earth as it galloped toward the warrior. Sunlight danced over the stallion’s dazzling white coat, glinting like liquid silver in its flowing mane and tail. A thin black scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning, adorned its right flank.
“The warrior’s enemies fell back in superstitious awe as the ghost horse approached, but the Apache warrior stood his ground. The eagle feathers tied in his hair fluttered in the rising wind.
“The stallion slowed as it drew near the warrior, then stopped to paw the ground. Grasping the stallion’s mane, the warrior swung onto its back, and with a wild cry, he and Relampago rode through the midst of their enemies toward freedom and into myth and legend.”
“But Relampago’s not a myth,” the boy said. “He stands here before us.”
The old warrior smiled. “He is here today. Tomorrow, he may be gone.”
Chapter 1
It was eleven a.m. on a rainy Saturday morning in January when Macie Jenkins decided her life was no longer worth living. Her parents and younger sister had died in an automobile accident six months ago. Her best friend in the whole world had married a computer programmer and moved to Japan. Her boyfriend left her for his secretary. Last month, the Collie she’d had ever since she was a little girl had gotten lost in a thunder storm and never returned. Last week, she lost her job due to the ongoing economic slump. And this morning, she found her two-year old goldfish belly-up in the tank. It had been the last straw.
With a shake of her head, Macie turned away from the living room window. Now that the decision was made, she felt a curious sense of peace. How to do it, that was the question? A knife was too messy. She didn’t own a gun. Sitting in the garage with the engine running seemed too creepy… Sleeping pills, of course—that was the best way. A handful of pills and she would just fall asleep, leaving no messy corpse behind. And how fortuitous that she’d had her prescription refilled just yesterday.
Tomorrow, she thought, she would do it tomorrow. But today, ah, today she would indulge in all the things she had been avoiding. She would have a big bowl of warm chocolate pudding topped with a banana for breakfast. A Big Mac, fries, and a chocolate malt would make a perfect lunch, and for dinner, pasta and garlic bread, with a pint of decadent chocolate fudge brownie ice cream for dessert.
While stirring the pudding, Macie contemplated leaving a suicide note, and decided against it. No one she knew would really care why she had done it; most wouldn’t even realize she was gone.
When the pudding was cool, she poured all of it into a large bowl, sliced a banana on top, then sat at the kitchen table and savored every deep rich bite. Good thing she was dying tomorrow, she thought with a wry grin, since she had just shot her diet all to hell.
She spent the next hour finishing the book she was reading, then she cleaned her house from top to bottom. After all, she didn’t want whoever found her body to think she lived like a slob.
Lunch was pure heaven. The cheeseb
urger was perfection itself, smothered in cheese and onions. She lingered over every French fry, even the little crusty ones at the bottom of the bag. The chocolate shake was a creamy delight.
While fixing dinner, she listened to her favorite Fifties oldies. When dinner was ready, she lit a fire in the fireplace and ate in the living room while watching MASH reruns. She grinned ruefully as she savored every bite of spaghetti. Six months of hard work at the gym, wiped out in a single day.
By seven, the rain turned into a thunder storm. Lightning slashed the skies, thunder rocked the heavens, a ferocious wind rattled the doors and windows. She had always loved a storm. What better way to spend her last night than out walking in the rain? One thing for certain, she wouldn’t have to worry about catching a cold.
After pulling on her favorite Grumpy sweatshirt and an old pair of cowboy boots, she went outside. For a moment, she just stood there, her face lifted to the lowering skies. Was anyone up there? Was there life after death? Were her parents waiting to greet her on the other side, or was death the end of everything?
Tomorrow, she thought. She would know the answer tomorrow. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and then, with no particular destination in mind, she started walking. It was kind of spooky, strolling along in the dark with the storm raging overhead. She glanced over her shoulder from time to time, making sure the lights from the house were still in sight.
A flash of lightning split the iron-gray skies, disclosing a…What was that? Macie stared at the shape that seemed to be emerging from the clouds. Was that a horse, she thought, startled, and then laughed out loud.
“You’re losing it, Macie,” she muttered, and let out a yelp when her feet suddenly went out from under her and she found herself falling head over heels down a muddy slope.
A shrill cry rose in her throat, ending in a groan as she slammed into a boulder at the foot of the hill.
And then everything went black.
* * * * *
Cold and wet, Macie woke with a groan. For a moment, she simply lay there, her eyes closed against the pain, her whole body aching. Why was she so sore, she wondered, and then, in a rush, it all came back to her. She had fallen down the hill at the far end of the property. If she had any luck at all, she thought glumly, the fall would have killed her.
With her eyes still closed, she took inventory and decided that, even though she hurt from head to foot, nothing was broken.
With a sigh of relief, she opened her eyes. She frowned at the thick gray mist that rose up from the ground in front of her, let out a startled gasp when a white stallion materialized out of the mist. It was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. Even in the dull gray light of the overcast evening, the stallion’s white coat gleamed like liquid silver. A thin black scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning, adorned its right flank.
“Hey, boy, what are you doing here?”
There hadn’t been any horses in the area since Macie was a little girl. Most of the barns and corrals had been torn down, replaced by RV parking and swimming pools.
At the sound of her voice, the stallion lowered its head and nudged her shoulder.
Taking a deep breath, Macie grabbed hold of the stallion’s mane and used it to steady herself as she gained her feet.
“So, what’s your name? Snowball? No. Thunder? No.” She ran her fingertips over the scar on the stallion’s flank. “Lightning,” she murmured. “I’ll bet that’s your name. And you fell out of the sky, didn’t you? Or maybe I’m hallucinating and you’re not really here. But I’m going to call you Lightning, just the same.”
The stallion’s head bobbed up and down, its dark intelligent eyes meeting hers, almost as if he understood her words.
“You don’t know it, horse, but you came along at just the right time. Thanks to you, I won’t have to walk up that slippery hill.”
Macie didn’t know where the stallion had come from, but somehow, she knew that it had been ridden before. Grasping the stallion’s mane, she swung onto its back, and nudged its flanks with her boot heels. When she clucked softly, the horse turned and trotted up the hill.
Macie shivered as the rising mist grew thicker, darker, until it blanketed the whole area, so thick that she couldn’t see a thing. Muttering, “I hope you can see where you’re going,” she clung to the stallion’s mane with both hands.
The mist grew thicker as they climbed steadily upward. When they reached the top of the hill, the stallion came to a halt and the mist disappeared.
Murmuring, “What the heck?” Macie stared at the scene before her. Where was her house? Her car? The sidewalk? The neighborhood?
She glanced from right to left. Closed her eyes. Opened them again. The world as she had known it was gone.
“I must have hit my head harder than I thought,” she muttered. Because everything familiar was gone.
She blinked, and blinked again, but nothing changed. Buildings she had never seen before lined both sides of a dusty street. An odd ringing sound filled the air; it took her a moment to realize it was the sound of a blacksmith’s hammer. A number of horses were tethered to hitching posts up and down the street. Women in long dresses and floppy bonnets strolled along the wooden boardwalk accompanied by men in denim pants and leather vests and muddy cowboy boots. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed the hour.
A rumbling like thunder sounded behind her. Startled, Macie glanced over her shoulder to see a stagecoach bearing down on her. She jerked hard on the stallion’s mane, urging it out of the way, sneezed as a cloud of dun-colored dust rose in the coach’s wake.
The stage pulled up at the far end of the street. The driver jumped down from the wagon seat. When he opened the door, a half-dozen men and women climbed out.
Macie stared at them as they gathered their luggage and disappeared into the hotel.
Patting the stallion’s shoulder, Macie muttered, “Where the heck are we?”
Chapter 2
“Where the heck are we?” Macie repeated when a wagon rumbled past, raising another cloud of dust. “And where the heck is my house?”
The stallion, of course, had no answer.
Macie clucked to the horse and it moved out at a brisk walk. She glanced from side to side as she rode down the street, which looked like a set out of every western movie she had ever seen. There were three saloons, a dry goods store, a bootery, a barber shop, and a two-story hotel. The assay office and the post office shared a false-fronted building. The sheriff’s office was located in a red brick building with bars on the windows.
Several men and women stopped to stare at her as she rode past.
It had to be a dream, Macie mused, but if it was, it was the most realistic one she’d ever had. She could feel the breeze on her face, taste the dust. Beyond the last building, there was nothing but open prairie as far as the eye could see. Macie tugged on the stallion’s mane in an effort to turn the horse around, but the stallion kept going.
“Whoa, boy,” she said, tugging on Lightning’s mane again. “I don’t want to go out there.”
But the stallion didn’t stop.
Macie was considering sliding off the horse and walking back to town when Lightning broke into a gallop. With a startled cry, Macie leaned low over the stallion’s neck, her hands clutching his mane, praying all the while that the horse wouldn’t step in a prairie dog hole and break its leg. Or her neck.
The stallion was incredibly fast. Grass, trees, and hills flew by in a blur as the horse raced across the ground until the town was far behind and there was nothing ahead but tall yellow grass and scattered stands of timber.
Just when she was beginning to think the animal would never stop, it slowed to a trot, then a walk, and came to a halt at the head of a shallow draw.
“About time,” she muttered. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she slid off the stallion’s back.
And found herself staring into a pair of dark brown eyes that belonged to a tall, dark man with a gun in his hand, a
knife in his belt, and a dark red stain spreading over the lower half of his shirt front.
Before she could think, before she could speak, the weapon fell from the man’s hand and he pitched forward to land face-down at her feet.
Pressing a hand to her rapidly-beating heart, Macie stared at him. Good Lord, was he dead?
She stood there, staring at him, wondering what to do, even though there was nothing she could do. They were miles from town, and even if they weren’t, there was no way she could lift him onto the back of the horse. Besides, he lay so still, she was sure he was dead.
Macie was still debating her next move when the stallion pressed his nose into her back and gave her a push. She stumbled forward, landing on her knees beside the man. Reaching out to steady herself, she accidentally hit his arm.
And he groaned.
Not dead then, she thought. But she still couldn’t lift him.
Kneeling there, she noticed a pair of saddlebags, a bedroll, and a canteen lying in the dirt behind him. And beyond his gear, the body of a black horse.
Heaving a sigh, Macie gained her feet. Maybe he had something in his bags she could use for bandages.
Rummaging inside, she found a box of ammunition, a sack of what looked like beef jerky, and two clean shirts, one chambray, one white. Feeling like Florence Nightingale, Macie rolled the man onto his back.
Taking her lower lip between her teeth, she unbuttoned his blood-stained shirt, gagged when she saw the bloody furrow plowed along his left side, just above his belt. Had he been shot? She had never seen a gunshot wound before, but that’s what it was, she was sure of it. She wiped away the blood, then saw that the bullet hadn’t penetrated his flesh, just gouged a deep gash along his side.
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