Wild Desire

Without further thought, Pure Blossom slapped Adam across the face. She laughed when she realized that she had inflicted more pain to that which had already been inflicted on him earlier in the evening by her beloved brother.

“My brother was right to hit you,” Pure Blossom said, scurrying to her feet. She grabbed her blanket from beneath Adam, causing him to fall sideways, almost landing in the fire. She rolled it into a knot and thrust it in a leather bag at the side of her horse.

Then she went back to Adam and spat on him. “That is how this grotesque-looking woman feels about you,” she said, then stamped away and mounted her horse.

Tears flooded Adam’s eyes as he watched her ride away. Slowly, he smeared her spit all over his face, knowing that he deserved it.

Pure Blossom held in the body-wracking sobs until she got far enough away from Adam so that he could not hear, then let her feelings spill out as she finally allowed herself to shed the tears that she felt would never end.

“Adam,” she whispered, choking on the very sound of his name as it flowed across her lips. “How could you? Oh, how could you be so cruel? So . . . so . . . cold-hearted?”

Her parlor flooded with lamplight, Stephanie paced the floor. She wrung her hands as she went to the window and peered into the shadows of the night. Neither Adam nor Runner had returned from Gallup. She had to wonder if that was good, or was it an omen of what may have happened?

Where Runner was concerned, she didn’t trust her brother. On the other hand, Runner was quite capable of taking care of the likes of Adam. Still, she wished one of them would return.

She paced a while longer, then the need for sleep overcame her. Sighing resolutely, she changed into her nightgown. She took the kerosene lamp to the table beside her bed, then climbed in and tried to read a novel.

Her eyes drifted closed. The book fell from her hands as she eased into a more comfortable position.

She snuggled and smiled in her sleep as she dreamed about Runner. They were embracing high on a knoll, alone, with only the wind and stars as their audience.

The air was cool and sweet. The high country loomed against the sky, range after range of mountains, cloud hung, and immense. A stream below was a narrow gleam of a twisting ribbon reflecting moonlight.

Runner stood high on a knoll, his eyes heavenward. He had been there for some time now, meditating and praying. He was not sure how he could accept what he had been told about Stephanie. He was praying for strength. He was praying for his future, which no longer included Stephanie.

Runner began to sing, his voice filled with reverence, with wonder and confidence, calling upon the Voice of Thunder above and the Grasshopper Voice below to guide him.

Runner closed his eyes, binding his mind and will and spirit to the land.

Chapter 23

Could’st thou withdraw thy hand one day

And answer to my claim,

That fate, and that today’s mistake

Not thou—had been to blame?

—ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER

The sun was up, just past the mountain peaks in the distance, and Stephanie had already had her third cup of coffee. She had awakened before dawn, with a sudden remembrance that she had not seen Adam or Runner since their time together in Gallup.

She had also awakened with the deep desire to go to Canyon de Chelley. Ever since Runner had said that because of sacred reasons she must not go there, her curiosity had become more aroused to see it. And not only to see it: to photograph it.

She had decided to ask Adam to escort her there today.

She would get her photographs; she would develop the plates; then she would send them with Adam when he returned to Wichita, and Runner would never be the wiser.

There was no way on God’s earth that Runner would ever see the way these photographs of Canyon de Chelley would be used. Only those who lived hundreds of miles away would be given that chance. Postcards and posters with the lovely pictures of Canyon de Chelley on them that would entice more travelers to ride the Santa Fe than any other railroad line in the country. The Santa Fe would be offering the unique view of the life of ancient Indians.

Shame engulfed Stephanie for even considering deceiving Runner. She knew that he wasn’t being unreasonable in his demands, for she was seeing more and more how the Navaho and other tribes of Arizona Territory Indians had been used and abused. Yet she also saw that progress could boost their earnings. With the arrival of tourists came the opportunity for selling many lovely blankets, tapestries, and jewelry.

How could that be wrong? she argued with herself. With the money earned from selling their wares to the tourists, the Navaho could purchase food and clothing, and they could exchange their ancient ways of tilling the earth for their gardens for more modern farming equipment used by the white people.

“I won’t allow myself to feel badly over what I am about to do,” Stephanie said, setting her empty coffee cup on a table.

She turned and gazed at the small pendulum clock that sat on a shelf over her sofa. “It will soon be seven o’clock,” she whispered, watching the pendulum moving back and forth, ticking away time. “It will take at least two days to get to Canyon de Chelley. I must awaken Adam now so that we can get started.”