Wild Desire

“And I admire that in you,” Runner said, his lips moving into a soft smile. “And I am sorry that I allowed my bitter feelings about Adam to come between us.”

He paused and again stared straight ahead, into the distance. “You see, my feelings for Adam run deeper than those of my father,” he said thickly. “I resent Adam for being here with plans that will put more hardships on the Navaho. But it is the friendship that we had as children that bothers me. Through the years I had hungered to be with my friend Adam again. My mother told me more than once that it would happen.”

He paused and gave Stephanie a sour look. “She was right,” he said flatly. “I have met Adam again. But it is not how I expected it to be. I had hoped to have the same friendship with him, as I did as a child. Now I see how foolish I was to hope that a man living in the white world could remain as one with my heart, whose world is, and has been for so long, Navaho.”

“I wish it could be different,” Stephanie said softly. “But don’t you see? Nothing can change it. Please, Runner, don’t let this tear you apart.”

“How can I, when I do not know where he is, or what he is doing?” Runner said, his voice drawn. “If he stayed the night with Damon, who is to say what those two might be plotting against the Navaho? We are sure that Damon steals our horses. If he could, he would steal all of our land and run us off into the mountains. If Adam is allying himself with Damon Stout, he is no better than a thief who steals from a hardworking, beautiful people.”

“It was never my brother’s intent to harm your people,” Stephanie said. “The Santa Fe Railroad has been given permission by the United States Government to move further into Navaho territory. Yes, Adam is the cause for this private spur. And, by right, he can do it. But he also wanted to make things right with the Navaho. He doesn’t want trouble, only acceptance.”

“As you can see, that has been denied him and the railroad tracks are still being laid,” Runner said in a low voice.

Stephanie thought back to earlier and realized it had been the sound of the work gang pounding with their pickaxes and sledgehammers outside her private car that had angered Runner more than the mention of Adam’s name. To Runner, who allied himself with his father’s feelings about the railroad, each spike buried deeply into the ground was as though it was being lodged into his heart.

“Runner, I wish there was something that I could do, but there isn’t,” Stephanie said, reaching a hand to his arm. “Darling, I hope you don’t grow to resent me, too. My photography means the world to me. And Adam has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with it. I promise that I will never photograph anything that you don’t want me to.”

“Do not be so hasty with your promises,” Runner said, giving her a guarded look. “I can see that your love for what you do runs deep. There are many tempting sights you might want to photograph that I will deny you. Who can say whether or not you will be able to resist temptation?”

Stephanie’s eyes widened and her throat went dry. She had to wonder if Runner had a specific place in mind that she would certainly want to photograph. It frightened her to think that she might want to go back on her promise. Already she had found the beauty of the West a palpable force. And she knew that there must be more alluring sights that she had not yet experienced. She had traveled far from Wichita. How could she not want to see it all and take back as much as she could to share by way of her photographs?

“You are suddenly quiet,” Runner said, frowning over at her. “Why is that?”

“Runner, I never want to hurt you,” Stephanie said quietly. “I hope that I have the willpower not to do anything that will cause you to hate me.”

“You will find that so hard to do?”

“I love what I do.”

“If you had to choose . . .”

“You wouldn’t ask me to, would you?”

“I doubt that I would dare to,” he said, frowning, then slowly smiled over at her.

“I do love you so much,” Stephanie said, sighing with relief.

Runner was just about to reply when an approaching rider drew his attention away from her.

Stephanie leaned forward in her saddle, hand on the saddle horn, disbelieving the sight before her eyes.

“Adam?” she whispered, paling.

She drew a tight rein as Adam’s horse thundered toward her and Runner. Where was her brother’s shirt? she wondered to herself. And where were his boots? It was as though he was fleeing for his life.

“Adam!” she screamed at him as he rode past.

He looked back at her only long enough to give her an angry stare, and then he glared at Runner.

Stephanie saw the viciousness in Adam’s face and knew that if looks could kill, Runner would be dead.

“Stop!” Stephanie shouted after him, turning in the saddle to watch him ride away, his horse stirring up dust and plants beneath the sting of his pounding hooves.

“Adam, good Lord,” Stephanie screamed after him. “What has happened? Please stop!”

Runner reached over and placed a hand on her arm. “Let him go. It is obvious that he wishes to have no part of either one of us this morning.” He smiled cunningly. “It seems he has gotten himself into trouble. I hope it was at the hand of my father.”

“Surely you don’t want any harm to come to my brother,” Stephanie said, turning startled eyes to Runner.