While the silence grew, his gaze slowly moved over her as the moon spilled onto her lovely features. Her lips were ripe. Her eyes were innocently wide, and although she was petite, he could see her breasts pressed sensuously against the inside of her white, cotton blouse, the shape of her nipples defined as she held herself stiffly.
“You say that you like horses,” Stephanie said, her voice drawn. “Do they not give you a sense of being, of fulfillment while being with them?”
“Yes, that is so,” Runner said, now gazing into her fascinating gray eyes.
“That is how I feel while with my camera,” Stephanie said, sighing to herself. “While taking photographs I truly feel fulfilled.”
She paused, then added, “I would not venture to deny you the pleasure of your horses, the same as I would hope you would not take it upon yourself to deny me the pleasure of my camera.”
“It is easy to see that you are an intelligent woman,” Runner said, clasping his hands behind him. “So you must know that no Indian, whether it is Navaho, Shoshone, or Ojibway, wants to be exploited by anyone’s cameras. Do you see how impossible it is for me to tell you that I see how your pleasure of a camera compares with mine for horses? Horses are loved by all Indians. Cameras are hated.”
“Are you saying that I will not be able to take photographs in Navaho land?” Stephanie said in a low gasp.
“At this moment, I would prefer not to say,” Runner said, his jaw tightening.
“And when can I expect for you to make up your mind?” Stephanie said, anger welling up inside her.
“In due time,” Runner said. His eyes danced into hers. He found her even more beautiful while she was on the edge of anger. “The Navaho as a whole should decide.”
“I plan to start taking photographs tomorrow,” Stephanie said, stubbornly lifting her chin. “I will not wait for any Navaho’s permission. I have traveled too far not to use my camera.”
“This Navaho will not stop you,” Runner said, admiring her independence. Like his adopted mother, Leonida, this woman was the sort of person who would fight for her rights.
“Why, thank you,” Stephanie said, surprised that he would give in so easily, yet doubting that he truly was. Tomorrow might be a different matter.
It seemed that the moonlight was affecting them both. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel the vibrations of some unseen power moving between them.
She shuffled her feet nervously, her heart pounding as he took one step closer to her, his dark eyes almost hypnotic in their steady stare.
“Do you mind being called the ‘White Indian’?” she blurted, trying to find something to say that could fill the sudden, strained silence between them.
“I pay no heed to the ignorance of those who feel they are ostracizing me by labeling me a ‘White Indian,’” he said thickly. “In truth, I am always quite proud of any reference to my being Indian.”
“You lived in the white community for enough years to become attached to their ways,” Stephanie said softly. “Do you ever hunger for the ways of the white man?”
Runner thought for a moment. Then he placed his hands at her waist and yanked her against his hard body. “E-do-tano, no, I haven’t,” he said huskily. His steely arms quickly enfolded her. “Not until I saw you.”
Everything happened so quickly then, Stephanie’s head began to spin. His mouth closed hard upon hers. She clung to him as he kissed her deeply and passionately, with a fierce, possessive heat.
For the moment, Runner cast aside his dislike of her being a photographer. All that he saw when he looked at Stephanie was a woman. A lovely, alluring woman, who he could no longer resist.
Sweet currents of warmth swept through Stephanie, leaving her weak. She had not been prepared for the intense passion his kiss was arousing within her. The euphoria that was filling her was almost more than she could bear. She felt his hunger in the seeking pressure of his lips. Without thought, she began to answer his kiss with a need that rose up inside her. It was so deliciously sweet, she clung even harder to him.
Licking flames were building dangerous fires within Runner. He ground his mouth into Stephanie’s lips. His hands made a slow, sensuous descent along her spine. His hands clasped her rounded bottom through her skirt and molded her slender, sweet body against him. His breath quickened with a yearning. He wanted her fiercely.
Then his heart made a wild jump and he drew quickly away from her as someone nearby cleared his throat to reveal their presence.
Trembling, left shaken with desire, Stephanie tried to control her breathing as she stared wild-eyed at Damon standing close by in the darkness with a mocking smile on his lips.
Her face flamed with embarrassment, and then an intense anger swept through her. She wanted to slap him, but stood her ground, for her knees were still too weak to move, even in defense of herself.
She looked over at Runner, expecting him to say or do something. When she saw the utter hate in his eyes as he stared at Damon, she realized just how much Runner detested the rancher.
She gasped and took a step backward as Runner brushed suddenly past her, loosened his stallion’s reins from the hitching rail and swung himself into his saddle. She wanted to cry out for him not to leave, but her words seemed frozen in her throat while he rode off in a hard gallop.
“He ain’t fit for the likes of you,” Damon said, drawing Stephanie’s gaze quickly back to him. “Now, for example, take me. I’m more your kind. I live by the rules of the white people. When I take you to bed, you won’t have to worry about what Injun wench I may have been with the night before. I don’t like the savages, so’s I don’t touch ’em.”
“Don’t fool yourself into thinking you are ever going to take me to your bed,” Stephanie said, inching away from him. “I don’t know why Adam has made your acquaintance. I see you as nothing but vile.”
Damon took a quick step toward her and grabbed her by a slim wrist. He yanked her against him and glowered down at her. “I don’t like being talked to like that, especially by a woman,” he said between clenched teeth. “I think you need to be taught a lesson or two, and I’m just the gent to do it.”
Damon crushed his mouth to Stephanie’s, in a wet, slobbering kiss, and her insides grew cold with disgust. She tried to wrench herself free, but he tightened his grip.
Panic seized her when he started lowering her to the ground.
She pushed at his chest. She kicked at him. But none of this stopped his attack.
He threw her to the ground and then loomed over her, leering.
She struggled to get back to her feet, but he was too quick, spreading himself atop her, his mouth again assaulting hers with hard, bruising kisses, one of his hands groping beneath her skirt.
Her one wrist left free, Stephanie saw no other choice than to draw her derringer from its small holster and hold its barrel against Damon’s chest.
“What the—?” Damon gasped, recoiling at the feel of the gun. He moved to his knees and stared blankly at the derringer, stunned that Stephanie had the nerve to pull it on him.
“Put that thing away,” Damon said guardedly, moving slowly to his feet.
“Get out of here and leave me alone,” Stephanie said, slowly standing, though wobbly.
When Damon did not venture to make a move away from her, Stephanie leveled the derringer at him. “Now, Damon, or by God I will pull the trigger,” she said, her voice a low hiss.
“I think you would,” Damon said. He took slow steps away from her. He held his arms out away from himself, as a way to show her that she had gotten her message across. “Just lower that thing, Stephanie. I meant you no harm. I was just havin’ a little fun.”
“You call that fun?” Stephanie said tersely. She motioned with the firearm. “Go on. I’ll take my leave only once I know you are back inside your house. I can see now why Runner shows such little trust in you. You have surely given him and the Navaho many reasons not to.”
“What I do ain’t no
ne of your business,” Damon said, stopping to leer at her. “And don’t you go tellin’ Adam what happened here. We’re partners. We’ve got things to do.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Adam said as he ran toward Stephanie. “Is this why you asked me to stay in your house while you had something to get done in the corral?” He gasped as he discovered the derringer being held at Stephanie’s side. He gave it a lingering look, then gazed at his sister and saw the fear and anger in her eyes as she stared over at Damon, then he turned toward Damon himself. “Is my sister that business you spoke about? She’d not have her gun drawn on you if you hadn’t caused her trouble.”
“Like I told her,” Damon said, shrugging, “I was just havin’ a little fun. I see now that she ain’t got no sense of humor.”
“Sense of humor?” Stephanie said, her voice breaking. “Adam, he would have raped me if I hadn’t drawn the gun on him. His . . . his . . . filthy hand was already up my skirt. He . . . forced . . . me to kiss him. He even forced me to the ground.”
“It’s only because I found her kissin’ the Injun,” Damon said, again shrugging. “I just thought she might share some of that lovin’ with me after Runner left.”
Adam looked quickly over at Stephanie. “You were kissing Runner?” he asked, slowly smiling.
Stephanie lowered her eyes, her cheeks hot with a blush. “Well, yes,” she murmured. Then she raised angry eyes at Damon again. “Runner and I were kissing because I allowed it. As for Damon . . .”
Adam’s heart was hammering inside his chest, but not because of being repelled over Damon having taken advantage of his sister. Adam saw that his plan to see Stephanie and Runner together had begun to happen. He wanted to shout hallelujah, but instead had to pull himself together and give Damon the scolding that was expected of him.
“Damon, I’d think twice before doing a crazy stunt like that again,” Adam said sternly. “If not, you’ll have me to answer to.”
Adam smiled slyly as he looked over his shoulder at Stephanie, then back at Damon. “But I think my sister can take care of herself, don’t you?” he drawled. “You see, Damon, there’s something I forgot to tell you about my sister. She might be petite and pretty, but she’s been taught not to let any man mess with her if she doesn’t want him to.”
Adam looked over his shoulder at Stephanie. “Ain’t that right, sis?” he said, laughing softly.
Stephanie smiled sweetly as she slipped her derringer back into its holster at her waist.
Chapter 8
Shall I love you like the fire, love,
With furious heat and noise,
To waken in you all love’s fears,
And little of love’s joys?
—R. W. RAYMOND
As the heat of the day diminished with the setting of the flaming sun, a welcome breeze sprang up. The branches of ocotillo bushes stirred, as if to beckon night in.
A shadowy figure was riding through the twilight. He lay low over his horse, his raven-black hair blowing in the wind. His eyes were intent on a stray buckskin horse that he was pursuing, its hooves scattering dirt, grass, and sand as it thundered across the land ahead of him.
Thunder Hawk made no sound as he sank his moccasined heels into the flanks of his steed, a tall dappled gray with a black mane and tail and four black stockings. His horse stretched into a swifter run, its stride long, beautiful, and even.
Thunder Hawk swayed easily in the saddle. His one hand held the reins firmly, his other held a rope.
It was hard to resist roping just any horse Thunder Hawk found that strayed onto Navaho land, no matter whose it might be. He needed many to take to his secret corral in a hidden canyon, where he kept those that he was saving to use as a bride price.
A man’s importance was judged by the number of horses he owned, and by the number he gave away to win the hand of the woman he loved and wished to marry. Although neither his parents nor his brother knew it just yet, he had plans to take a bride, and soon.
Thunder Hawk sank his knees into the sides of his horse and slapped the reins, realizing that the buckskin was wearing out. He could see how it nervously shook its head back and forth. He could hear its snorts. And he could see the white ghostly breath coming from its nostrils, blowing steam into the air, gathering around the steed in the accumulating frosty shadows of night.
Thunder Hawk plunged his horse into a hard gallop, its thrashing hooves plowing up a boiling cloud of dust. Gaining ground, he lifted his rope, readied into a lasso. He began swinging the rope overhead, breathless now as he came closer and closer to the gelding.
In one throw, he had the lasso around the gelding’s head. Straining all of his youthful muscles, he yanked back. When he finally managed to get the horse to stop, he reined in his own steed to a quavering halt.
Dismounting, Thunder Hawk moved cautiously to the captured gelding. When he reached it, he realized that it was definitely not one of the horses that ran in wild herds. This horse belonged to someone. It had already been tamed for riding. It even nuzzled Thunder Hawk’s hand as he offered it to him.
“And so whose are you?” Thunder Hawk whispered.
As the gelding pawed and stamped nervously, Thunder Hawk moved slowly around the animal, noting its black mane and tail, checking it for a brand. When he found the brand, a capital D overlapping a capital S, he smiled.
“Damon Stout’s,” he said. “Did you find the loosened poles?”
He patted the gelding’s neck and admired it. He smiled, for he knew the worth of the horse. It was short-coupled and deep-chested with a heavy-muscled sturdiness.
Only last night had he been brave enough to get so close to Damon’s pole corral that he could loosen the fence posts. He had hoped that some of Damon’s horses would escape for Thunder Hawk to eventually find, to claim as his own.
“I had hoped for more than one horse to take to my corral,” Thunder Hawk said, running his hands across the horse’s sleek, thick mane. “But for tonight, you will have to do. As it is, I have been gone from home far too long.”
After securing the gelding to his horse for its journey to the corral, Thunder Hawk swung himself into his saddle and once again rode across the land. He kept a lookout over his shoulder, as he did not want to be caught with another man’s horse. At least, not until he obscured the brand that would condemn him as a horse thief.
He especially did not want his brother or father to discover what his nightly hobby had become. He did not yet want to explain about his desire to take a wife. He knew what their reaction would be. He was only seventeen. Their argument would be that he was too young to take on the responsibilities of a wife.
But he had his life and they had theirs. He wanted a wife. He would have one.
After riding for many more miles, Thunder Hawk toiled up a steep slope, the trail swerving between the tall, dark shapes of cedar trees, aromatic in the heat. Proceeding with care, he made his way along a dry stream bed into a narrow canyon.
Hooves clicked over rocks as Thunder Hawk guided the horses carefully between the rocks. It was now dark. The way was hazardous in the murky black of night.
Finally the floor of the canyon lifted and widened. Thunder Hawk came to his private corral on the grassy floor of the canyon. Happy over his latest catch, he led the gelding in with the others, then secured the pole corral and stood and proudly watched his small herd for a while.
Thunder Hawk silently counted the number of horses that were now his. He smiled when he discovered that he had enough to win the hand of Sky Dancer, the lovely maiden of his heart who lived in a neighboring Navaho camp. She was beautiful and petite, and knew well the art of weaving. She would make an excellent wife.
His smile widened and his eyes took on a slow gleam. Marrying Sky Dancer would be convenient to him in many ways. One major convenience was that once he was married, surely schooling would no longer be forced on him. His parents would see that he was a man who was ready to take on the chores of caring for a wife.
<
br /> “They will have no choice but to accept my new status in life,” Thunder Hawk whispered to himself as he swung up into the saddle and began riding back in the direction of his village. “What will be done, will be done.”
He and Sky Dancer would be married before anyone of his village knew or could stop them. Surely no one would try and make him and Sky Dancer take their vows away from each other once they were spoken.
His shoulders squared, feeling important with his ownership of many horses and his plans to take a wife, Thunder Hawk scarcely realized that there was someone else riding in the path of the light of the half moon. His thoughts dwelled on Sky Dancer.
Soon. He would have her soon.
Suddenly Thunder Hawk was aware of the approaching horseman. He swallowed hard, always fearing being caught while on his nocturnal outings. Although tonight’s catch was safely in his secret corral, he could not shake off the feeling of fear that came with running across a stranger in the night. His hand went instinctively to his sheathed knife, then his hand relaxed and his eyes widened when he recognized the horseman.
“Big brother?” he whispered, then rode on ahead and made a wheeling stop beside Runner’s stallion.
“Thunder Hawk, what are you doing so far from home?” Runner asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know that you give both Mother and Father cause to worry when you disappear for so long?”
Thunder Hawk had always prepared himself for such a surprise confrontation. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders with confidence. “Thunder Hawk rides alone at night, the only time I feel the true freedom that my ancestors once knew,” he said solemnly. “Do you not feel it, also, my brother? The feel of the wind? The quiet of the night? And the touch of something invisible all around you in the night? It is these things that bring me out on my horse, alone. And you? Why are you here? What has taken you away from your hogan?”
“There was a council held at Damon Stout’s ranch,” Runner said stiffly. “I was in attendance.”
“You were at Damon’s ranch tonight?” Thunder Hawk said, his eyes widening. Then an icy fear crept over him. Should this have been last night, his very own brother might have caught him sneaking around Damon’s corral, weakening the poles.
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