pray Sassy remained sure-footed as the trail turned slippery and more treacherous by the minute.
Not until the path leveled out and the canyon floor rose up to meet them did Roxanne release the breath she’d been holding and push the hair out of her face to glance behind her.
Cetan descended, easing his way down the last few feet of the narrow trail. Rain dripped from the edges of Pierce’s cowboy hat, his face set in stone beneath the brim.
“We’ll be lucky to find the foal in this,” Roxanne called out as Pierce reined in beside her.
“We’re here, we might as well try.” His heels pressed into his horse’s sides and he headed north along the base of the cliffs rising up beside him.
Her head down, Roxanne wished she’d taken time to grab a cowboy hat at the Thunder Horse Ranch. Hers had been lost earlier in her wild ride to get away from the shooter. She could barely see through the rain running down her face. Sassy fell in step behind Cetan, seemingly content to let the larger horse lead as they pushed forward.
Roxanne followed the man she’d sworn to hate for the rest of her life. Weak and tired from the long ride and the injuries she’d sustained from being shot and thrown, she did something she swore she’d never do again. She let the tears she’d been holding back for two months, mingle with the rain coursing down her cheeks.
If Pierce looked behind him, all he’d see was a pathetically wet woman with water streaming down her face on the back of a bedraggled horse. He would never know she cried.
After riding in the torrential downpour for several hundred yards, Pierce’s horse tossed his head into the air and took off.
Startled by the sudden movement, Sassy danced sideways.
Blinded by the rain in her eyes, Roxanne scrubbed a hand across her face and peered ahead.
Several yards in front of Pierce a blurry shadow darted toward the shallow river cutting through the center of the narrow canyon. The foal? She could only hope so. Because if it was the shooter, she didn’t know what she could do to protect herself.
Roxanne dug her heels into Sassy’s flanks. The horse leaped forward as the sequence of events unfolded before her.
With one hand, Peirce held the reins, while his other hand reached for the rope hanging from the side of his saddle. His arm rose high above his head, the rope swinging in a wide loop. When Pierce launched the lasso, the ring dropped over the head of the small horse that appeared too young to be weaned.
Pierce’s horse dug his hooves into the slippery soil, sliding forward with the force of the foal’s tug on the rope.
As soon as the two beasts came to an unsteady halt, Pierce dropped from his saddle and raced toward the filly.
Roxanne reached them at the same time, slipping from her horse’s back to the ground. She stumbled, regained her footing and ran forward, flinging her arms around the filly’s neck to add her weight to Pierce’s hold until the frightened animal calmed.
Pierce spoke to her in a deep, monotone voice, whispering the words of his forefathers, the Lakota language rolling smoothly off his tongue.
Not only did it soothe the frightened animal, it helped steady Roxanne’s racing heart.
The foal finally settled, eyes still wide, nostrils flaring, body quivering, her ribs expanding with each frantic breath she took. At least she didn’t try to break free of Pierce and Roxanne. A fierce surge of triumph filled Roxanne. Despite everything that was wrong—and increasingly dangerous—in her life, at least they’d managed to do this. They’d found and caught the foal, which felt like the first thing that had gone right in her life in way too long.
With the lighting flashing above the canyons and the thunder booming against the rocky cliffs, Roxanne stared across the filly’s neck at the man she’d once loved. Their gazes met and held.
Sometime during the struggle with the young horse, Pierce had lost his cowboy hat. Black hair lay plastered
Max Wallace, Howard Bingham