Wild Desire

It was important to Adam that he come out the winner.

Adam waited for Runner’s response to what Adam thought he would take as an insult, giving him cause to meet the challenge head-on.

When Adam realized that Runner’s mind was elsewhere, as were also his eyes, he turned to follow Runner’s gaze. He jumped with a start when he saw Stephanie riding on her horse beside a buckboard wagon, upon which lay a pine casket.

“What the hell?” Adam said, circling a hand around his saddle horn. He leaned over the horn as he watched the slow procession, the buckboard wagon rattling up the uneven dirt thoroughfare, bouncing and swaying, Stephanie riding stiffly beside it.

He peered more intensely at Stephanie. He could tell that she had been crying. Her face was red and her lips trembled as though she might burst into another torrent of tears at any moment.

Runner sighed heavily, then nudged his horse with his knees and slowly proceeded on his way.

Adam watched Stephanie for a moment longer, then thrashed his reins back and forth over his horse and took off in a gallop toward Stephanie.

Runner’s heart leapt. He rode after Adam, and just before he reached Stephanie, Runner reached and grabbed Adam’s horse by the bit. “Let her be,” he said as Adam cast him a furious stare. “Stephanie does not need your interference in the duties she is performing for a friend.”

“Friend?” Adam said. “Who? What friend? Stephanie hadn’t been here long enough to make acquaintances, except with you and your people.”

“You are wrong,” Runner answered. “Last night she and I befriended a lonely, sad woman. This morning the woman was found dead.” He paused, to take a dry swallow. “This afternoon, Stephanie is seeing to her burial.”

Adam paled. “How . . . can . . . you have allowed my sister to become involved with a stranger to the extent she feels as though she must see to the burial?” he hissed, leaning toward Runner. He yanked his horse away from Runner. “I shouldn’t have allowed Stephanie from my sight. Not for even one minute. By offering friendships to strangers, who’s to say what diseases she may have been exposed to?” He started to ride away, but was stopped again by what Runner was saying.

“Disease did not kill the woman,” Runner said solemnly. “She was murdered.”

“Murdered?” Adam said, once again paling. “This woman. What was her name?”

“Her name is not important,” Runner said flatly. “Her blood kin is. She was Damon Stout’s sister.”

“My God,” Adam said in a low gasp. “Runner, tell me her name. I’ve never heard Damon speak of any kin. Who was his sister?”

“Her name was Sharon,” Runner said, sinking his heels into the flanks of his horse and riding away.

Adam stared at Runner’s back for a moment, then looked farther ahead. Stephanie had reached the far edge of the town. A shudder engulfed him, then he caught up with Runner again.

“Stop,” he said thickly. “We’re here. This is where I wanted to spend some time with you.”

Runner’s eyes widened as he gazed incredulously over at the “Big Tent.” The loud, boisterous music and laughter wafting from its raised entrance flaps made a burning resentment swim through him. Too many you

ng Navaho braves had gone in there to be taken advantage of. And not solely by evil white men, but also by the gaudy, wild and bawdy women that earned their living there. They not only pushed unwanted drinks on those who were innocent, but also sold their bodies at the price of the young Navaho braves’ horses, or jewelry that these whores took from the braves, priding themselves in showing them off to their friends.

“You bring me to this unholy place and expect me to go inside with you?” Runner said, shifting angry eyes to Adam. “You knew that I would not do this. Why did you bother to waste my time bringing me here?”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Adam said. His eyes danced as he watched a pretty girl making eyes at him as she walked past, her breasts all but hanging out of the low bodice of her flashy dress. “Come on, Runner: Be a good sport. You don’t want me to call you a yellow-bellied coward, do you?” He narrowed his eyes and leaned over closer to Runner. “Or chicken. When we were best friends, nothing could rile you more than if someone called you a chicken.”

“That was then,” Runner said flatly. “This is now. And you can call me what you want, but I do not frequent places that are not good for the youth of my people.”

“I bet I can out-drink you,” Adam taunted, his voice low and guarded. “Come inside with me, Runner. Surely you are curious about why whiskey affects your people so badly?”

Adam straightened his back and tightened his jaw. “I challenge you, Runner, drink for drink,” he said. “If you win, I swear I’ll not bother your people again.”

“I can trust you as much as I trust that ant crawling up your leg,” Runner said, his eyes twinkling when Adam searched for the ant, then swatted it away from his leg.

“Aw, Runner,” Adam said, using the boyhood tactics he had learned so long ago, when he wanted Runner to participate in things that went against Runner’s mother’s teachings. “Come on. Pals do things together. For one day, Runner, let’s forget all animosities and be pals again. I’ll pay for the drinks. Come on and enjoy yourself. See how the other side lives.”

As before, when Stephanie had asked him to come to Gallup to eat in the fancy lunchroom, Runner could not deny that the part of him that was white was curious to experience the way he might have been living had he never been taken in by Sage and Leonida to raise as Navaho.

He felt that just perhaps he could prove something to Adam and at the same time get him to leave the Navaho in peace. If it was at all possible for Runner to hold his liquor better than Adam, he might succeed in helping his father more than he ever could otherwise.

“I will go with you,” Runner said, giving Adam a stern look. “But only for a short while. I must check on Stephanie’s welfare soon.”