When Passion Calls

He twirled the end of his narrow mustache as he tried to figure out what Shane was transporting. If he didn't know better he would think it was traps! He had seen Trapper Dan carry the same sort of bundle on his horse.

"Trapper Dan!" he said, gasping. He took a shaky step forward and leaned against the support

post at the front of the saloon. "I've got to get to Trapper Dan and warn him about Shane. Even about Melanie! Now that Shane won the poker game, he sure as hell won't be leaving these parts. He'll be here now until hell freezes over!"

His mind fuzzy from alcohol, Terrance stumbled from the sidewalk. He laughed nervously when he came near to being trampled by a horse and buggy as its owner swung it away from him, just in time. His hands trembling, his knees weak, Terrance grabbed his horse's reins from the hitching rail and tried to place a foot in the stirrup. Each time he tried, his boot slipped out again.

"God damn it all to hell," he muttered, trying to force himself to focus his full attention on the stirrup. He laughed throatily when he was finally able to get his foot in.

He pulled himself up into the saddle and straightened his back. He teetered dizzily, then managed to get his horse out among the other horsemen. Not wanting to take the same route that Shane was taking, he took off in another direction, hoping he could get to Trapper Dan first.

If not, who was to say what would happen? Who would die?

He smiled crookedly. By damn! Maybe Trapper Dan would get the best of Shane! This could be the best way yet to rid himself of that half-savage!

"Yes," he whispered. "It could really happen! Trapper Dan's killed many a man in his time. One more won't matter none!"

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Melanie drew her hair back and secured it with a ribbon, then slipped into her buckskin riding attire. The waiting had become too intolerable! She wanted so badly to go into St. Paul and learn the results of the poker game, but she couldn't because Shane had adamantly told her he did not want her to.

So, while she had this time to kill, she would make good use of it! It wouldn't take her long to get to Trapper Dan's. She would plead her case, pay him well, leave, and surely be home before Shane returned.

She did not want to let herself think about the possibility of Josh being the victor. If he was, Shane would lose everything again. That would be unjust, for Shane had just been given his rightful place in lifethe way it should have been since he was four years old.

To lose it all again would be worse than unjust!

Chapter Thirty

Trapper Dan's cabin was within view through the trees. Shane dismounted behind a thick cover of brush and secured his reins, then moved stealthily on toward the house, breathing shallowly. One hand was on his knife sheathed at his waist; the other grasped his slim rifle firmly.

Moving to the back of the cabin, hugging the wall with his back

, Shane listened for voices in the cabin. All that he could hear was some hammering.

Taking a quick step he went to the window and quickly scanned the inside. His eyes lit up. Trapper Dan was alone. He was absorbed in repairing traps. It would be easy to slip into the house and shoot the bastard.

But that would be too simple. Shane had other

plans for him. He wanted him to suffer slowly while he died.

The sound of someone singing from somewhere close by drew Shane's quick attention from the trapper. He followed the sound with his eyes and got a glimpse of the Indian woman in the nearby river. She was immersed in the water, all but her head. She was taking her morning bath.

This made things much simpler for Shane. He had worried about her welfare. Now he had the chance to warn her, to make sure she did not get in the way of whatever might transpire here if Shane's plans went awry.

Moving back into the forest, taking a wide circle around where the cabin's clearing reached into the forest, Shane crept to the river's edge. He hid behind a tree as the woman left the water and slipped her buckskin dress over her head. Then he made a dash for her and had his hands clasped over her mouth before she had time to cry out with fright.

Drawing her backside against the front of himself, pinioning her there as he held his hand firmly over her mouth, Shane leaned his mouth to her ear. "I'm not going to harm you," he whispered. "I have come to help you. After today you won't ever have to look at that damn trapper's face again, much less be obedient to his wishes. Nod your head if you understand that I am your friend and have no intentions of hurting you."

Her wet, glossy black hair smooth and sleek against Shane's face was reminiscent of Cedar Maid's beautiful hair. The thought of Cedar Maid

made him more determined to carry through with his plan.

The trapper would die slowly. And painfully.

The woman nodded her head. Shane removed his hand from her mouth. She turned wide, dark eyes to him as she swung around to face him.

"Who are you?" she asked, seeing something familiar about him, yet unable to put her finger on what, or why.