When Passion Calls

The cowhand reined in his horse and jumped to the ground, holding the scarecrow out before him. "Seems this was used to start the stampede," he said. "I found it close by the broken fence."

Shane took the scarecrow and examined it, then threw it to the ground and stomped away. He placed a foot on the lower rung of the fence and folded his arms across the top rung as he stared unseeing into the night.

Melanie went to him and touched his arm gently. "We knew it had to be something like that," she murmured. "Stampedes like this don't get started for no reason."

"I doubt if it will ever end, Melanie," Shane said, his voice breaking. "It just wasn't meant for me to come here. The cowhands were right to leave. I guess I should, also."

"Shane," Melanie said, gasping. "Don't talk like that! You can't leave. Do you want to let whoever is doing this to you win? You can't want that, Shane. You can't!"

Shane dropped his foot to the ground. He turned to Melanie and grasped her shoulders. "Go home, Melanie," he said flatly. He nodded toward her cowhands. "Take your cowhands with you. They've done their job. It is appreciated. But now I need time alone. To think."

"Shane" Melanie protested.

"Melanie, go home and get your rest," Shane said, his jaw firm. "Tomorrow is another day. You have your own responsibilities on your farm. You need the proper rest to perform them."

"Shane, I'm afraid to leave you alone," Melanie said weakly. "You're acting as though you're ready to give up. Please don't leave tonight, Shane. Please?"

"Just go home, Melanie," Shane said.

Melanie stepped back away from him, numb. She knew that she had no choice but to leave. It was obvious that no arguing with him would change his mind. She had to take the chance that once he thought all of this over very carefully, he would know that he could not give up. The battle had just begun!

She instructed her cowhands to go home and get some sleep. She took another lingering look at Shane, then rode away, carrying with her an aching heart.

Shane watched Melanie until she was out of sight. Then he walked past the fenced-in land, out to the pasture where longhorns lay dead beneath the moonlight. Some of the carcasses of the steers were as flat on the ground as if their hides had been peeled off and staked out. They had fallen or got knocked down, and hundreds of hooves had trampled over them.

He looked at the fence. He would see that a new one was erected all across his land! It would be made out of logs, not rails! It would be laid ten feet high between heavy posts sunk deep into the ground. Heavy log buttresses would brace the

fence all around from the outside. It would be a pen nothing could break down!

The bawling and lowing of the longhorns that had survived the ordeal was tremendous and drew Shane's thoughts back to the present. The sad refrain of the cattle was almost an extension of the sadness he was feeling in his heart. He had so badly wanted to make his new life work! Not only for himself, but also for Melanie.

But thus far, the odds were against him.

Someone hated him too much to let any of this work!

But who?

Chapter Twenty-two

The early morning sun cast its golden light upon the land and the lone horseman riding in a slow canter through the forest.

Shane had spent a restless night, nightmares causing him to awaken in beads of cold sweat. He had awakened feeling no better about life than when he had gone to bed after the stampede. He saw all of his attempts to adapt to the white man's life as useless, and thus far anything but pleasant. He had decided that for at least this one day he would leave his white man's life behind him and pretend that he was a part of the Chippewa again. He had slipped into his fringed buckskin breeches and moccasins and was now in search of a most perfect, private place in which to pray to the Great Spirit, to ask for strength and faith in himself!

He rode endlessly onward. The farther he got from his farm, the better. Today he must not have any connections with the white man. He must clear his mind and heart to pray. He would not even allow thoughts of Melanie to disturb what he must achieve today!

Serrated silhouettes of evergreens were reflected in a lake just ahead. Shane rode to the lake and dismounted close to it, looking around, admiring the serenity. Across the way, the early light of dawn glinted off wind-bent trees in a quiet cove. He heard nothing but the quiet splash of water as it coursed its way over sprinklings of rock that jutted up out of the lake.

''Yes, this is where I will spend my day," he whispered.

Dew sprinkled Shane's moccasins as he went to the embankment and bent to rest himself on his haunches. He looked around once more, then smiled. He had found the perfect place to pray and meditate. He had not found such a place of peace since he had left Canada.

Raising his arms above his head, Shane turned his hands palm-side-up and spread his fingers. He raised his eyes to the heavens and closed them. Taking several deep breaths, he began to pray.

But his eyes were drawn quickly open again when he heard something that was disturbing his first moment of prayer. It was the rattle of traps. A trapper was approaching.

Springing to his feet, Shane ran to his horse and led it behind a thick cluster of cedar trees. After securing it so that it would not wander along after

him, Shane moved stealthily from tree to tree in the direction of the sound of the traps. He had to see where the trapper was placing the traps so that he would not lead his stallion into one when he left the lake. If Shane had to part with his horse, it would be like parting with his own soul!