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“Would you say that he has brought us peace?” Runner said, turning to Stephanie.
Speechless, she gazed at him for a moment, then flung herself back into his arms. “I would hope that you could say that I have brought something into your life besides pain and hardships,” she murmured. “Runner, I cannot ever think of an existence now without you.”
Their lips came together in a sweet, lasting kiss, then Runner took Stephanie by the waist and lifted her into her saddle, then swung himself onto his own horse. “Somehow, we will manage to work things out so that we can always be together,” he said softly.
&n
bsp; “I want nothing more than that,” Stephanie said.
She followed him as he led his horse into a slow lope down a winding path away from the canyon, the moon once again hidden behind dark clouds.
A cigar in one hand, a whiskey bottle in the other, Adam took a long, deep swallow that emptied the bottle, then set it on the table beside him. He set his cigar aside in an ashtray, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. He was still upset over having been forbidden ever to see Pure Blossom again. He had to find away of protecting her when he put his plans in motion against the Navaho. Even if he had to go so far as to hide her away in his private car, so be it. Now that he had found such a love, there was no way that he would deny himself. Fires burned in his loins just thinking about her.
A light tapping sound at his door drew his attention away from his reverie. “Stephanie?” he said to himself. “What the hell would she want this time of night?”
When he tried to get up, he discovered that he was light-headed from the whiskey. He stumbled out of the chair and walked in a weaving, staggering fashion to his door. Squinting into the darkness, he swung the door open, then gasped with surprise when he found someone besides his sister standing there.
“Pure Blossom?” he said, his eyes widening. He blinked them slowly. “Am I imagining things, or are you truly standing there?”
“I have come to you,” she said, throwing herself into his arms. “I could not stay away.”
He wove his fingers into her lustrous, long hair. “But your father,” he drawled drunkenly. “You know you are going against your father’s wishes. . . .”
“To be with you, yes,” Pure Blossom said, gazing raptly up at him. “It is not the first time I have gone against his wishes because of you. How can he expect me to obey him?”
“Darling, how did you know which train car was mine?” Adam said, drawing her into the room, closing the door behind them. “What if you would have knocked at my sister’s door, instead of mine?”
“Then I would have excused myself and come to yours,” Pure Blossom said stubbornly.
“You are a daring, beautiful woman,” Adam said. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her to his bed. “I think I have to give you some sort of payment for your trouble in coming here, don’t you?”
In the cold darkness of the private car, they laughed, giggled, and touched. Their moans filled the dark spaces with passion’s bliss.
Chapter 17
Hurt no living thing,
Ladybird nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wings,
Nor cricket chirping cheerily.
—CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
Fort Defiance
The distant hills were shaded in purple and gray. The sunlight was like liquid gold as it poured its glorious, morning light across a landscape of bronze and green. Damon had discovered only a short while ago that several of his horses were missing. It didn’t matter to him that he had originally stolen them from the Navaho: any horse was his horse when it was stolen from his corral.
His arrival at the fort had awakened everyone before the morning reveille. He impatiently paced the floor as he waited for the Indian agent, Alfred Bryant, to come into his office so that a complaint could be lodged. He had also asked for an audience with Colonel Scott Utley.
Damon felt that surely between these two important men, something could be done about the damn thieving Injuns. He wanted the Navaho run off from the Arizona Territory, and along with them, their mangy sheep. He wanted the land for himself so that he could bring cattle in from Texas. With Adam’s financial backing, Damon saw a future for himself paved in gold.
Heavy footsteps behind him caused Damon to stop pacing and turn and glower. “It’s about time,” he drawled as the agent sauntered sleepily into the small, dark office. “If you’d tend to business instead of sleepin’ till noon, I wouldn’t have to be here lodgin’ complaint after complaint against the Navaho.”
“What is it now?” Alfred yawned, his rusty-red mustache quivering. The suspenders that only moments ago had been hanging lazily on each side of his waist were now being slipped over his shoulders. “My God, Damon, don’t you ever sleep? Every time you come here to pester me with your complaints about the Navaho you do it at the crack of dawn.”
Damon found it hard to hold his temper under control. With angry eyes, he waited as Alfred moved in a slow, lazy saunter and sat down behind his desk. He glared at Alfred. To Damon, the agent resembled a chicken with his long, scrawny neck and oversized Adam’s apple. His nose was long and pointed, his eyes so narrow you could scarcely see their color.
