Desert Angel Read Online Free PDF

of those who have departed this world, then his spirit will be joined to them and he’ll miss the joys of life.”
    “And if a man does something that causes another’s death?”
    Breed shrugged and looked toward the horizon. “If a man spends his time looking at the past, he can see all of the mistakes he has made. The future doesn’t tell us which decisions are correct for ourselves and for others, only the past does that. But a man can’t live in the past, he can only learn from it.”
    “I’ve learned that women don’t belong in the West. It’s too harsh, too ruthless for them.”
    “It is women that make the homes, bear the children, give a man the gentleness he needs to find peace. If the women don’t come here, it will make the Indian happy, for without women the white men will return to their homes in the East.”
    “That’s not going to happen. The white men are here to stay.”
    “And so are their women.”
    “I’ll never ask another woman to endure this life.” Jim turned and looked at the land spread around him — his land. “This is what I want for my life, but I’ll never ask another woman to make my dreams hers.”
    “All women aren’t the same. Some crumble at the slightest difficulty, while others grow stronger. Some scream at the sight of a snake, while others shoot its head off and cook it for supper.”
    “For a man who was raised by the Indians, you know an awful lot about white women,” Jim commented.
    “Was I speaking of white women?” A slight grin tilted one side of Breed’s mouth. “I thought I was talking about all women, of which I know very little. Any man who claims to know a lot about women is a fool. They are creatures put on this earth to make a man’s life both heaven and hell.”
    The sound of an infant’s angry cry drifted on the breeze. Jim’s gaze turned toward the mourners who were gathered at the house. They had moved far enough away to give him some time alone to mourn. Only Breed had dared to infringe upon that solitude.
    “She was sent to you for a purpose. Be grateful for the blessing she gave before her death.” In the Comanche way, Breed was careful not to say Melanie’s name. “Right now that purpose sounds unhappy.”
    “A life replaced with a life,” Jim said quietly.
    “She walked with the spirits, but held onto this world long enough to give you the greatest gift a woman can give a man.”
    Again the infant’s cry drifted to them. “Thank you, Melanie,” Jim said quietly, this time not concerned that another heard his words. “Thank you for the gift of my son.”

     

 
     
    THREE
    “You gotta do somethin‘,” Hank stated firmly. Jim climbed from his horse, tired, dirty, and hungry. The sound of crying filled the evening silence. Roundup was well underway, in spite of the fact that he was spending more time at home than on the range. He knew that he owed it to Breed that things were going so smoothly. If only the foreman was as handy with a newborn!
    “Get a woman in here or somethin‘. I ain’t no mammy,” the old man grumbled.
    “See if you’re still a wrangler,” Jim replied with little sympathy. “Take care of my horse, and I’ll see about the baby.”
    “Hell yes, I’m still a wrangler,” Hank bristled. “I may be old, but I ain’t dead yet. There ain’t a horse around that I can’t handle.”
    Jim climbed the steps to the house and found Woods walking around in big circles in the kitchen, the baby cradled awkwardly in his arms. If he hadn’t been so tired, Jim would have smiled when he realized that the old man was humming a song that Jim recognized as one the cowhands sang at night to the cattle. It worked well to soothe the cattle, but didn’t seem to be having any effect on his infant son.
    ” ‘Bout time you got home, boy. Where the hell you been?” Woods sounded so much like a disgruntled wife, that this time Jim had to smile.
    “Been looking for strays,” Jim offered. “What have you been up to