by John Benteen
“You have to,” Sundance said. “Every time you look at them in England, remember the Nez Percé. Just as, every time one of them sees a spotted stallion, he’ll think of Lady Bucknell.”
“Jim,” she whispered, and she went to Moon Rising and stroked his head. He took it gently, nickering softly.
“Neither the mare nor the filly is Moon Rising’s get,” Yellow Wolf said. “Later, if she wants fresh blood for the line, she can bring it from Lapwai.” Then he whirled his mount and rode back toward the herd.
Doris watched him go. The sun was going down behind the mountains. In its last rays, the spotted, varicolored horses grazing on the canyon floor were as vivid as so many jewels. A mare raised her head and nickered, an Appaloosa stallion whinnied, pawed the earth and neighed,
The sound echoed from hill to hill as Sundance and Doris turned away and went up the canyon to where their robes were spread.
The Sundance Series
Overkill
Dead Man’s Canyon
Dakota Territory
Death in the Lava
Taps at Little Big Horn
The Bronco Trail
The Wild Stallions
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