Wild Desire

“That’s magnificent, Runner,” Adam said, seeing his plan slowly falling into place. He clasped an eager hand on Runner’s muscle-tight shoulder. “It is good to be with you again, my friend. I never thought it possible.”

“Times change,” Runner said, his voice drawn. “But most of all, people change.”

He reached up and eased Adam’s hand from his shoulder. “Tonight, Adam,” he said, purposely not using the term “friend.” He saw Adam as anything but that. He could see that the boy of his youth was now a scheming man.

Runner turned to Stephanie as her eyes locked with his. “Tonight, Stephanie,” he said, then swung his horse around and rode off beside his father.

After Runner and Sage were some distance from Stephanie and Adam, who were now riding in the opposite direction from them, Sage turned angrily to Runner. “You are going to Damon’s ranch?” he said, glowering at Runner. “Do you not see this as foolish? There is much bad blood between the Navaho and Damon. You know that he is suspected of stealing Navaho horses.”

“That is exactly why I am going to his ranch,” Runner said, smiling at his father. “Do you not see? I can sneak out to Damon’s corral and check the horses. I know all of our People’s steeds as well as one knows his best friend.”

A slow smile moved on Sage’s lips. “I have raised a clever, intelligent son,” he said, his smile erupting into a pleased laugh. A wizened man, his movements were spry with vigor and his eyes were shrewd and twinkling.

“Then you agree to my going?” Runner asked, riding tall in his saddle, the wind lifting his long hair from his shoulders. “I never wish to disobey, Father.”

“Go, but be warned, my son, against having feelings for the white woman,” Sage growled out. “Always remember the importance of looking forward to a future of raising Navaho children in your hogan, not white.”

“Father, I am white, am I not?” Runner said guardedly. “Do not I represent our People of Navaho, even though by birthright I am white?”

“By saying this, are you telling your father that you do have eyes for the woman called Stephanie?” Sage said, his jaw tightening.

“It is too early to know or to say,” Runner said, turning his eyes from Sage, fearing they would betray what he was trying to hide from his beloved, adoptive father.

“Be careful with your heart and to whom you give it,” Sage warned. “I see much treachery in Adam. Who is to say that his sister is not the same?”

Runner turned to Sage. “She is not of his blood kin,” he said, in defense.

“That is so,” Sage said, nodding. “One other thing, Runner. See if Adam is solely responsible for this thing he calls a private spur.”

“It is as good as done,” Runner said, smiling over at his father, realizing that his father had not pursued the question of ownership of the private spur with Adam on purpose. He knew that his son would get him enough of the answers.

They rode onward in silence, their horses urged into a hard canter.

Runner’s thoughts were on his father’s warnings and remembering his own reservations about the white woman. Thus far, no woman, white or Indian, had caused him to take a lingering, second look.

Not until now.

Not until Stephanie.

In this one case, he might have to go against the wishes of his Navaho father and follow the rulings of his heart, yet he would proceed with much caution.

He frowned when he recalled again why she was there: to bring a camera into the land of the Navaho. This could be why he felt that he should not allow his feelings for her to become stronger.

He hoped that he would not be forced to make the choice between this woman and his people.

The sun was streaming through the window of the private railroad car, splashing golden light on the plush furniture and reflecting like sparkling diamonds in the long-stemmed wineglass that Adam was turning in his fingers. The train’s engine had been abandoned by the engineer and workers. They had taken their horses from the cattle car and had ridden off to seek their own amusements back at Gallup, at a place called the “Big Tent.”

“Stephanie, you were magnificent,” Adam said, laughing. He stretched his long, lean legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “Absolutely stupendous. If not for you, Runner would have gone with his father and would not have accepted the invitation to Damon’s ranch.”

Stephanie was at the window, illumined by a beam of sunlight. She gazed out at the mountains in the distance, only half hearing Adam, still under the spell of Runner’s midnight-dark eyes and the mystery of this man called the “White Indian.”

“Stephanie?” Adam said, turning to look at her. “Did you hear what I said? You’re one clever sister. If not for you, Runner wouldn’t have agreed to go and meet with us at Damon’s ranch. Don’t you see the value in that? If I can sway Runner over to our side, he’ll persuade the Navaho to accept my private spur. It’s apparent there is a mutual trust and respect between Sage and Runner. Sage will do as his son suggests.”

Adam’s mention of Runner drew Stephanie’s thoughts back to the present and her brother. She turned and looked at Adam. “What was that you said about Runner?” she murmured.

/> “Aw, nothing,” Adam said, shrugging. He set his wineglass aside on a table. “It seems you’d not hear me, anyhow.” He smiled wryly. “He’s in your blood, isn’t he? You’re falling for Runner, aren’t you?”

A heated blush rose to Stephanie’s cheeks. She avoided Adam’s knowing stare and walked smoothly across thick carpeting, past grand, overstuffed chairs. She hurried into the smaller adjoining rooms that served as her bedroom and darkroom.