When Passion Calls

When he heard the creaking of floorboards out in the corridor, his spine stiffened and he slowly reached for his knife that he had slept with under his blankets. Slipping his fingers around the handle of his knife, he began easing his weapon along the side of his body.

Breathing shallowly, he watched the door open slowly. His eyes narrowed when the shape of a man filled out the spaces in the doorway, a man whose outline was defined by the soft lamplight emanating from behind him in the hall. It was Shane's brother, Josh. He had surely just arrived back home after being gone all night, gambling and drinking. Even with the full length of the room separating them, Shane could smell the

powerful stench of alcohol wafting across the room from his brother.

Waiting to see what Josh was going to do, Shane did not move a hair, and the room was still too dark for his eyes to meet and challenge his brother's.

But the feelings were strong without words even being spoken. Shane could hear his brother's heavy breathing. He could feel the hate radiating from Josh and wondered why it had to be that way. Shane had no feelings one way or the other for his brother, for the years had stolen away from him his memories of a brother's love, but he saw no reason why this love could not be rekindled now.

But jealousy was at the root of many a falling-out, even between brothers. Recalling the lawyer's warning that Josh might try to harm him, Shane kept his fingers circled around the handle of his knife. But then his brother turned and stumbled away in a drunken stupor.

Shane perked up his ears and listened for Josh's door to open and close. When it did, he lay his knife aside and rose slowly from the bed. For a moment he hung his face in his hands, recalling the sadness of the previous day. He had lost a father he had just become acquainted with again. What in life was fair? What?

Stepping to the window and drawing aside the heavy drapery, Shane peered across the wide pasture at Melanie's house. At this early hour of morning, she was probably still asleep. Before

going to meet her, he had time to ride into the forest for a time of meditation, to reflect on where he was in life. Although he had Melanie's devoted love and his dying father's assurance that his future was secure, Shane felt anything but comfortable with his new life. His thoughts strayed too often to the life he knew before. Only a few days separated him from what had been. His heart cried out to see Cedar Maid and to ride alongside his faithful companion, Red Raven. How could Gray Falcon have denied him so much? How?

And there was the constant nagging itch to leave everything behind to go and search for Trapper Dan. "Let him have a few more days to feel smug about life," he whispered, his eyes filled with fire. "That will give me more time to anticipate victory over him. Waiting always enhances the pleasure!"

Dropping the drapery back in place, Shane turned to look at the fancy clothes hung across the back of a plush, upholstered chair. They were stiff and cold compared to his buckskins. His buckskins were warm, like a second flesh. He saw no reason not to wear them, at least this one more morning until the other, more casual clothes were ready for him at the shop in St. Paul.

Shane dressed quickly in his buckskin attire, even his soft, comfortable moccasins. Fitting his sheathed knife at his waist, he left the room and moved stealthily along the narrow hallway. He looked toward his brother's closed door, hearing the rumbling of drunken snores. This brother of his had been a disappointment to his father and Shane now understood all too well why! Josh did

not know how to do anything in moderation, especially drinking. When he gambled, did he also do that blindly, carelessly?

Perhaps one day Shane would get the opportunity to teach Josh the art of restraint. He would show him that a man played poker much more s

killfully when he was sober!

Smiling, he rushed down the stairs and outside. Going to the stable, he took his stallion from its stall and patting the horse fondly he saddled it, led it outside, mounted it, and rode away.

The bellowing of cattle drew Shane's eyes admiringly to their long horns glistening in the early morning light. Then his gaze was averted. His heart skipped a beat when he saw someone approaching quickly on a horse, riding up the long lane that led to the house.

"Red Raven?" Shane said, his blood turning cold in his veins when he saw that his friend wore no smile of greeting on his face. He was somber, and streaks of black had been painted on his brow and across his high cheekbones.

Had someone died?

A feeling of foreboding washed over Shane. Red Raven would not have Gray Falcon's permission to come to Shane with any news of their people, for Shane was the same as dead to the new chief now that he had been banished from the tribe. Red Raven had come on his own.

To defy the new chief, the news that he carried to Shane could not be good.

Sinking his heels into the flanks of his horse, Shane sent his stallion galloping hard until he

reached Red Raven. Drawing his reins tautly, he stopped alongside his friend, eying him warily. "My friend, why have you come?" he asked, his voice drawn. "I see much in your eyes that is not good. What news have you brought to me?"

Red Raven, attired in only a brief loincloth and moccasins, a beaded headband holding his coal black hair back from his face, reached a hand to Shane's shoulder. "Shane, nee-mah-tah-bin, it is good to see you," he said. "But I have not come for a friendly visit. You have guessed right. There is much that troubles me."

Shane shifted uneasily in his saddle. "Tell me, Red Raven, what is in your heart?"

"The news is about Cedar Maid," Red Raven said, lowering his hand from Shane's shoulder. He cast his eyes downward. "My bride price was not large enough. She has become another man's woman. She is no longer in our village. She was forced to leave with the man who paid many horses and pelts for her."

Shane flinched as though shot. With trembling fingers, he reached a hand to Red Raven's shoulder and pressed his fingers firmly into his bare copper flesh. "Gray Falcon did this?" he growled. "He traded her off as though she were no more than aa dog?"

"That is so," Red Raven said, nodding. "She is gone."

"Cedar Maid is gone?" Shane said, easing his hand back to his reins, clutching them so hard that the leather bit into his flesh. He squared his

shoulders. "Who was this man who came into the Chippewa village and paid for my sister?"