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“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.
