Arizona Caress: She Feels The Heat Of His Hot Embrace
Page 45
1861
Gray Eyes was weary. For five days now, the ten-year-old boy had survived alone in the wilderness as he'd searched and prayed for a vision from the heavens—a message that would show him the path he was to follow for the rest of his life, a message that would give him the power he needed to become a brave and fearless warrior. But the days and nights had passed without the desired revelation, and despair had begun to grow within him. The fear that his father's blood was a curse upon him that would prevent him from fulfilling his vision quest tormented him. Many of his friends had already received their visions, some in as little time as a day. Yet here he was, still praying and still waiting.
Night came and swallowed the earth, and once again Gray Eyes was alone in the darkness. Settling down beneath the warmth of his blanket, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His last thought as he drifted off was that maybe the next day would bring the knowledge he so desperately sought.
The snarling sounds of the savage battle echoed through the night as the ravenous wolves battled the sleek, well-fed mountain lion. The lion was the intruder. For months now it had been stalking the wolves' land and preying upon their game. Food had grown scarce now, and winter would soon be upon them. To save themselves, the pack had to drive the powerful invader from their ancestral territory. There was no avoiding the confrontation any longer.
The mountain lion's pale fur shone white in the moonlight as it fended off its desperate assailants. The monster cat had claimed this land by right of might and would not give it up. With deadly accuracy, the lion struck blow after bloody blow. His defense against the pack proved lethal as he inflicted mortal wounds against the all-but-conquered wolves.
Though bloodied and nearing death, the pack did not, could not, retreat. Starvation drove them as they continued to attack the greedy beast that had stolen by brute force all that was theirs. There would be no honor in retreat; there would be only death.
Driven by hunger, the wolf warriors moved in closer. The largest of the pack was crouched low, ready to leap for the lion's throat when a haunting howl echoed in the distance. It was an eerie sound unlike any they'd heard before—a call that expressed without words the agony of their souls.
Wolves and mountain lion paused to scan the jagged cliffs around them, searching for the one whose cry had stopped the fighting. They caught sight of him then and stared in awe at the mighty wolf standing high above them on a narrow, rocky outcropping. His head was thrown back as he howled his haunting song, and his coat glowed like silver fire.
As if aware that the bloodshed had stopped, the silver wolf turned his shining eyes to the scene below. Making his way fearlessly down from the heights, he moved to stand between his kind and their sworn enemy. Time seemed to stand still. The pack felt the peace of his presence and slipped away into the night.
The lion remained, alone with the silver wolf. It eyed him cautiously, then sensing no threat and believing its power now uncontested, it let out a roar of victory before turning its back and bounding away.
The carnage ended, the silver one returned to the ledge, surveying the land below. From on high he could see that peace reigned—for now. There would be no more deaths that night, and in celebration, he threw back his head and gave vent to the thankful song in his heart.
As if drawn by the silver wolf's call, another wolf, a female, appeared in the clearing. Her coat, too, was the color of moonbeams. She saw the silver peacemaker and climbed to him. Coming to his side, she joined in his haunting song, her voice blending with his in the night.
Across the valley in his small, secluded encampment, Gray Eyes watched and listened. He'd been awakened by the sounds of the fight, and excitement had filled him as he'd realized what he was seeing. Though he was only half Cheyenne, his heart was true and his motives were pure. His white blood had not cursed him. He'd been given that which he'd sought. He'd been given his vision.
Gray Eyes faced to the east and began to pray. His prayers of thanksgiving were fervent and lasted throughout the night. When at last sunlight erased all vestiges of darkness and fear from the land he loved, he stood and lifted his arms to the heavens. Calling out in a loud, strong voice, Gray Eyes declared, "I am Silver Wolf!"
As if destiny intended it, a wolf's cry echoed back to him from across the valley.
Silver Wolf gathered his belongings and began the long trek back to his village. When he'd begun his quest, he'd been a boy, with conflicts in his soul that had haunted him. Now, as he returned to the village, he was a man—a man at peace with himself.
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After working as a department manager for Famous-Barr, and briefly as a clerk at a bookstore, Bobbi Smith gave up on career security and began writing. She sold her first book to Zebra in 1982. Since then, Bobbi has written over 40 books and 6 novellas. To date, there are more than five million of her novels in print. She has been awarded the prestigious Romantic Times Storyteller of the Year Award and two Career Achievement Awards. Her books have appeared on numerous bestseller lists. When she's not working on her novels, she is frequently a guest speaker for writer's groups. Bobbi is mother of two sons and resides in St. Charles, Missouri with her husband and three dogs.
Bobbi has been awarded the prestigious "Storyteller of the Year" Award from Romantic Times Magazine and has attained positions on the New York Times, USA Today, Waldenbooks, B. Dalton, Walmart and K-Mart bestseller lists. The foreign rights to Ms. Smith's books have been sold to China, France, Germany, India, Israel, Italy, Russia and Sweden. Smith's current publisher is Amazon. Bobbi has written two faith-based contemporary novels, Haven and Miracles, under the pseudonym Julie Marshall.
BY BOBBI SMITH
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CAPTIVE PRIDE
DESERT HEART
DREAM WARRIOR
THE LADY AND THE TEXAN
TEXAS SPLENDOR
WANTED: THE HALF-BREED