Elizabeth Lowell Read Online Free PDF Page B

Indian renegades surprised him. So did the protectiveness he felt toward this particular child. Uneasily it occurred to him that beneath the shapeless old hat and the random smears of dirt, the youth’s face was...extraordinary.
    My God, I
’
ve seen women a hell of a lot less beautiful than this boy. Maybe the men weren
’
t following gold, after all.
    Ty snatched his hand back as though he had been burned. The sudden movement made Zebra shy away violently.
    “That damn horse is as spooky as a mustang,” he said, rubbing his hand against his chest as though to remove the tactile memory of soft skin and delicate bone structure.
    Janna blinked, wondering what had made him so irritable. She wished that he would put his hand beneath her chin again. His palm was warm and firm, his fingers were long and gentle, and it had been years since she had felt a comforting touch from another human being.
    “Zebra
is
a mustang,” Janna said huskily. “When she’s not with me, she runs free.”
    His head turned toward the mare with renewed interest. He studied her carefully, especially her hooves. They had been trimmed by stony ground rather than by a pair of steel nippers. She was sleek without being fat, strong without being big. Nowhere did she show the marks of man—no brand, no ear notch, no shoes, no rubbed places on her hide where bridle or saddle had rested.
    “Do you ride her?” he asked.
    “Sometimes, when it’s safe.”
    “When is that?”
    “When Cascabel isn’t around,” Janna said simply. “He’s been around a lot the past six months, which is why Zebra is so lonesome. I guess the Army is making life hard for Cascabel.”
    “Or Black Hawk is tired of being blamed for Cascabel’s raids and is clamping down,” Ty said. “Black Hawk is a war chief and a leader. Cascabel is a butcher and a raider. Hell, I’m surprised that renegade hasn’t tracked you down and cooked you over a slow fire just for the sport of it.”
    She shrugged off the implicit question. She had no intention of telling Ty that to most Utes she was Shadow of Fire,
una bruja,
a witch who walked with spirits. He thought of her as a boy, which was both irritating and quite useful—especially as long as he was sitting around stark naked while she rubbed medicine into his cuts.
    The renewed realization of Ty’s nudity brought heightened color to her cheeks. It took every bit of her willpower to keep her hands from trembling as she smoothed the herb paste over his skin.
    He noticed the fine tremor in the slender fingers and swore under his breath.
    “Sorry, boy. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gruffly. “Once we get free of Cascabel, I’ll take you to the Army post at Sweetwater. You’ll be safe there.”
    She shook her head and said nothing, concentrating on keeping her hands from revealing the uncertain state of her emotions.
    “Don’t be silly,” Ty said. “You might have survived out here in the past, but it’s different now. The Army has been fighting Black Hawk for nearly three years, since the end of the Civil War. They’ve had a bellyful of fighting Utes. There will be a big campaign before winter. The Army figures to have it all wrapped up by Thanksgiving and to have Cascabel’s ears in the bargain. Between Black Hawk and the soldiers fighting each other, and Cascabel killing everything that moves, it won’t be safe for man nor beast here, much less a boy who’s as skinny as a willow switch.”
    “If it’s so dangerous, why are you here?”
    “Lucifer,” Ty said simply. “I figured this was my best chance. Once the Utes are quiet, every man with an eye for prime horseflesh will be trying for that stallion. Even if no one gets him, sure as hell some money-hungry mustanger will put a bullet through his black head just to get at his colts.” Ty looked at Zebra again. “He sired her, didn’t he?”
    “Yes.”
    “It shows in her long legs and well-shaped head. The barb blood in Lucifer comes through no