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Shane rode alongside Melanie as she rode away from the threatening beast. "Terrance gave the bull a name because he is fond of it?" he asked, forking an eyebrow at Melanie.
"On the contrary," Melanie said, laughing. "He hates that bull. Many a time Terrance has been cornered by it and the cowhands have had to go to his rescue. There seems to be some bad blood between my brother and that bull. I'm not sure why."
"Well, as I see it, it's because the bull is a good judge of character," Shane said, his eyes gleaming.
Melanie giggled, realizing that Terrance deserved Shane's comment. "As for the other longhorns," she said, looking at the innocent ones that stood peacefully around her and Shane. "I
would say that unless frightened, they are safe enough to be around. When not eating, they are bellowing, moaning, or making some other ungodly noise."
She gestured with a hand toward a new calf staying close to its mama's side, grazing dew-covered grass. "No wild animal, or domestic either, that I know of, has as many vocal tones as the longhorn," she said. "A cow has one moo for her newborn calf, another for when it is older, one to tell it to come to her side, and another to tell it to stay hidden in the tall grass."
Melanie gestured with a gloved hand toward the fence. "This is where our acreage meets, Shane," she said. "Our farms are divided by this fence. Shane, did I say something wrong?" she asked, having seen a sudden coldness enter his eyes.
Shane's eyes followed the split-rail fence that staggered across the land, dividing it. Although he had been born white, his Indian instincts made him hate anything associated with fences. Fences not only divided the land, they also caused confusion in the hearts and minds of wild animals. Since fences were now sprouting up all across the land, many animals had been denied the Chippewa. This made Shane sad, yet he knew that this, as so much more, was something the Chippewa had grown to endure.
But he had to remind himself that he was no longer a part of the Chippewa. He had returned to where he rightfully belonged. He was a white man. He had to live by the white man's rules!
"It is nothing," Shane said, wheeling his horse around and riding away.
Melanie watched him for a moment, then rode after him. She was learning not to question his reasons for his sudden, withdrawn behavior. She knew that he was wrestling with the side of himself that was being forced into change. In time, she hoped, he would never again have cause to feel bitter or torn.
She followed him up the gentle slope of land to the butte, then drew rein beside the river, where he quickly swung himself out of his saddle.
Dismounting, Melanie went to stand beside Shane at the water's edge. Her eyes followed his gaze. She crept a hand into Shane's, joining him in watching a phantom-voiced loon as it swam gracefully through the water, then dove to a great depth to find food.
Lifting its heavy body from the water, it flew only a short distance and settled on the grassy embankment. The loon had short legs, located far back on its body, making it clumsy. It waddled awkwardly to a nest of dried grass and weeds and squirmed down onto two, bluish-gray, mottled eggs.
"Isn't that beautiful?" Melanie whispered, sighing. "If only life could be that simple for us, Shane. The loon truly has no worries in the world except for looking after her eggs."
Shane placed his hands on Melanie's waist and drew her around to face him. "Melanie, soon that will change for her," he reminded her. "Soon she will be responsible for two offspring. There are
always predators waiting to steal away those who are most dear to a mother's heart."
"You are speaking of yourself and what happened to you, aren't you?" Melanie asked softly.
"Yes, and I am also speaking of Trapper Dan," Shane said solemnly. "He's out there somewhere. Melanie, surely I will get the chance to make him pay for all that he has taken from me. If only I knew where to begin looking!"
Melanie swallowed hard as she looked up into his troubled eyes. She had forgotten about having seen the trapper in St. Paul. But, even if she had remembered, she had vowed not to tell Shane! It was in Shane's best interest that he never discover that the trapper was anywhere close!
"Just forget about him, Shane," she said, slipping into his arms, hugging him tightly. "Please forget about him."
"Never," he said, then lifted her chin with a forefinger and lowered his mouth to her lips. "But if it were ever possible for me to forget, it would be because of you."
He kissed her with a soft, sweet passion, then walked her back to her horse and helped her into the saddle. She watched as he mounted his own horse, hoping that one day all of his pain would be gone. Should she tell him about Trapper Dan? If he were able to rid himself of the torment of that man, wouldn't that lessen the burden he carried around inside his heart?
No, Melanie still could not find it within herself to tell him. The dangers were too many.
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Terrance walked through the hotel lobby, ignoring the stares of the fancily dressed women who brushed past him. Grabbing hold of the bannister, he moved clumsily up the staircase. He squinted and cursed beneath his breath. He had drunk too much alcohol to be able to focus on anything. He watched his feet as he lifted them from step to step, finding even that effort almost too hard to manage.
But he had to go to Josh. He had to get Josh to listen to reason! Josh had to help rid their lives of Shane. He was letting Shane get off too easy!
Finally reaching the second floor landing, Terrance stumbled along the corridor that was faintly lit by candles in sconces along the wall. He moved slowly, checking the room numbers on the doors, then smiled when he found the one he was searching for. Without knocking, he began fumbling with the doorknob and finally managed to get the door open. Laughing drunkenly, he fell into the room, then steadied himself and looked Josh square in the eye as Josh lay on the bed stark naked, a beautiful redhead beneath him.
''Whoops!" Terrance said, teetering. "Seems I've interrupted something." He bent closer, seeing the woman's eyes growing wide with embarrassment. "Do I know you, ma'am?" he asked, idly scratching his brow. "It don't seem like I've had the pleasure."
Josh looked good-humoredly up at Terrance. He looked no more sober, himself, with his thick stubble of golden beard and his hair all tangled and twisted. He reeked of alcohol. His eyes were
