AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"No, I am not eager for anything at this moment," Shane said, his voice quiet. "I am filled with sadness."
Flying Wing, the old brave who had accompa-
nied Shane from the village, rode up to Shane and Red Raven. He frowned down at Red Raven. "It is time to go," he said. "We have many miles to ride through the darkness. Let us begin now."
Shane and Red Raven turned and faced each other, then Shane tore the braided buckskin strips from his neck and waist and tossed them to the ground. "My mourning is over, as is my old life," he said. He pointed toward Red Raven's horse. "Go. Do not look back. Go now."
Red Raven swallowed hard, then spun around and hurried to his horse. Looking straight ahead, he urged his horse away in a strong gallop.
Shane placed a hand on his heart and doubled it into a tight fist. He looked up at Flying Wing, for a moment gazing at the old chief sitting on his saddle of blankets. "Farewell, old friend," he said, then turned his back as Flying Wing rode away from him.
To busy himself, Shane began gathering firewood. This was as close as he would get to his father's house tonight. He was not quite ready to test his father's or brother's feelings. Surely they thought he was dead. Would it not be the same as seeing a ghost when they first caught sight of him?
Perhaps it would be best if he did not even go to them.
He would take the full night to ponder his best course. Nothing was ever gained by making hasty decisions.
In a matter of minutes Shane had a fire burning. He looked at the river. He was hungry. He would spear a fish with his knife and fill his stomach,
hoping that would help fill the emptiness that he felt inside him.
Once a fish was caught, Shane knelt down beside the fire. But something kept him from cooking the fish. The strange bellowing and moaning of the longhorns drew him back to his feet and to the very edge of the butte, silhouetting him against the blazing sunset.
He looked down at the restless animals. They seemed to be an extension of his own restlessness. At this moment he was straddling two worlds, torn between two life paths.
Melanie brushed her horse eagerly. The day spent in St. Paul had been inspiring. She had showed both Josh and Terrance that she knew how to transact busine
ss as skillfully as any man. They hadn't known that she had studied the ledgers beforehand, familiarizing herself with the cost of cattle.
"Their eyes almost popped out of their heads when I quoted the cost of shipping the longhorns," she whispered. "They could hardly believe it when I told them that it costs about a dollar a head to ship an average herd from New Orleans to Minnesota."
The bellowing of the cattle drew Melanie's attention from her bay gelding. Placing the brush on a shelf, she left the barn and went to stand at the fence, viewing the animals. Some cows were chewing their cuds; others were licking their calves.
She could almost smell the cattle's strong, good,
and wholesome breath. She could hear the placid moos with which each calf was greeted as it came through the gate from the calf pen to suck from the cows.
Then Melanie looked out at the big pasture. Restless longhorns were tossing their heads high in the air, bellowing and nervously swishing their tails back and forth. It was as though they smelled something in the air that was not familiar to them.
But what?
Melanie inhaled deeply, tensing when she smelled a slight trace of smoke, the kind that came from an outdoor fire. Shielding her eyes with her hands to keep the rays of the bright sunset from blinding her, she looked up at the butte in the distance. She gasped and took a shaky step backward when she saw the silhouette of a lone man atop the butte, smoke spiraling up from a campfire behind him.
"Who could that be?" she whispered harshly. "Why is he alone and staring down at the farms?"
She glanced over her shoulder at her home. Terrance had left only a short while ago to spend the evening drinking and gambling in town. He had left before supper. Except for the cowhands, who were occupied with their evening chores, and the household servants, Melanie was alone.
She looked past her farm, at Josh and Jared's house. Josh had accompanied Terrance into town, and she would not trouble Jared with the news that a stranger was closely observing their adjoining lands.
"That leaves only me," she said, turning her
eyes back to the butte. "I'll go and investigate myself. With my rifle I should be safe enough."
She frowned when she discovered that the man was no longer in view. But the smoke spiraling upward from the fire was proof enough that he was still there.
"I will go," Melanie said, hurriedly bridling and saddling her horse. She slipped her rifle into the leather gun boot at the horse's side, then swung herself up into the saddle.
The wind was becoming cool as the sun dipped low behind the distant hills. Hiking her fringed skirt above her knees, Melanie urged her horse into a gallop. Her hair whipped across her shoulders, then around her face. Her white cotton blouse was not heavy enough to ward off the chill that engulfed her as she reached the dampness of the forest and began climbing the gentle incline that led to the butte. The scent of the fire grew stronger, intermingled with the fragrance of cooking fish.
