Wild Desire

He had been right. More than one horse was missing. Over the last several nights, someone had helped themselves to his horses.

Damon drew a tight rein. His ranch hands stopped and circled around him.

Damon sucked on a cigar that was no longer lit. He looked from man to man. “You know what’s got to be done, don’t cha?” he growled out.

“Raid Sage’s horses,” one of his men said, laughing boisterously. “I kind of like it that he’s become a thief. It’s put a bit of excitement in my life besides whiskey and women. It’s got me goin’ again.”

“You think Sage did this?” another cowhand piped up. “He seems to have more sense than that.”

“It’s either Sage or Runner,” Damon said, glowering. “But then, of course, there’s always Thunder Hawk.”

He sank his shiny spurs into the flanks of his horse, causing it to rear, then thundered off beneath the moonlight.

“Come on, gents, we’ve some horses to steal,” he shouted, laughing into the wind.

Still fuming over the afternoon’s outcome, Adam was perched on his horse on a high butte that overlooked Sage’s village. He hadn’t gone straight home. He was too angry at Sage, and even more upset when he had seen Stephanie leave the Navaho village with Runner.

But when he just as quickly remembered why this could work in his favor, he had not followed them. He hoped this would give Stephanie a chance to grow closer to Runner, and he, in turn, to her. Adam would allow them to become involved, short of marriage.

He would never allow Stephanie to become a part of this savage tribe. She would be on that damn train with him when he left Arizona, to return to their hometown of Wichita, Kansas.

His attention returned to the valley below. He leaned over his horse and peered through the velvety cloak of night at some activity at the far end of Sage’s pole corral.

“Why I’ll be damned,” he said to himself, laughing. “Would you look at that? It’s Damon and his ranch hands. They’re stealin’ horses from Sage.”

He watched until they rode away, feeling confident in Damon as his ally. It was smart of Damon to steal the horses right now, to help draw attention away from Adam and his own personal plans.

“Yep, he was smart to think that one up,” Adam said, still chuckling.

Then he stiffened and his hand went to the rifle in the gun boot as he saw movement elsewhere, on a slight rise of land just beneath the butte he was on. His heart skipped a beat; it was Pure Blossom, Sage’s beautiful daughter.

His pulse raced as he slid from his saddle, took his horse behind some bushes, and tethered it to a low limb. As quietly as possible, he began moving down the side of the slope, knowing that he would not pass up this opportunity to be with the pretty lady that had stolen his heart the moment he had laid eyes on her. The sound of her soft voice singing wafted up to him through the soft velvet of night as he moved stealthily onward, his heart pounding, quite taken by the sweetness of the voice, and by the lady herself.

He listened intently as he moved gradually closer . . . and closer . . .

On bended knees, her eyes heavenward, Pure Blossom poured her feelings from her heart, in song. She invoked the voice of Thunder from above, the voice of Grasshopper from below, asking the spirits of the earth around her for their blessings.

She stopped with a start and listened to the crackling of a branch behind her. Moving slowly to her feet, she turned and waited and watched.

When Adam stepped into view, Pure Blossom gasped and took a step back from him. She recalled the angry words her father had exchanged with this handsome man and knew that any feelings that she might have for him were wrong and dangerous.

He was dangerous.

Yet she could not deny her feelings. Her knees were trembling. She felt an odd queasiness at the pit of her stomach that felt wonderfully sweet. She could not deny the throbbing of her heart, or the wild desire she felt for Adam as he stepped closer to her.

“I did not mean to disturb your song,” Adam said, stopping only an arm’s length from her. He feared going closer; he desired her so much his whole insides ached.

Ah, but she was beautiful. Frail, yet so pretty it made his heart bleed with need of her.

“You did not disturb my song,” Pure Blossom said in correct English, which she had learned in the white man’s school. “I was finished.”

“Isn’t it dangerous for you to be here alone?” Adam dared to ask, not wanting to put any more fear of him in her heart than was already visible in her eyes.

“Perhaps,” Pure Blossom said weakly. “My father would say that it was not wise for me to be with you.”

“You have no reason to be afraid of me, ever,” Adam said quietly. “Please remember that my quarrel isn’t with you. It’s solely with your father—and Runner.”

“Why must there be problems between you?” Pure Blossom said, relaxing somewhat. “If you had come to our land for peaceful purposes, I would be free to. . .”