butterflies.
"I didn't miss, major. Had I intended to kill the cat, it would now be dead. An Indian will only kill for food, unless he is forced to kill to defend himself."
"What would have happened had your shot not frightened the cougar away?"
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "A cougar, like an Indian, will only kill for food."
Kane moved away from the boulder and sat down on his bedroll, trying to relax. He owed his life to Miss Deveraux, but he could think of no way to express his thanks. For the most part, she ignored him. Looking across the camp to where his three companions were talking together, he realized he was experiencing the chance of a lifetime. How many white men had had the chance to travel with three Indians? And he would soon meet Man-gas, whom very few white men had ever seen.
One of the Indian men was talking softly to the girl, and Kane heard her laughter. Suddenly he wished he could join in their conversation. He wanted to get to know them; he would like to have their friendship. He knew what the girl must think of him, but he was not really as bad as she thought.
Standing up, he walked across the camp to where the girl was sitting on a rock. She was listening intently to one of the old men and was smiling at whatever he was saying to her.
"The white man is not so bad, Maleaha. It is my belief that he speaks out of inexperience, rather than out of malice," Lamas said to her.
"You may be right, but I do not like him very much," Maleaha said.
Lamas laughed. "I think you like him well enough. Wait and see."
Maleaha shook her head. "When we return home, I never want to see him again."
Kane sat down on the rock beside Maleaha, and she slid him a sideways glance.
"Tell me about Mangas, Miss Deveraux," he said coolly. "I would like to know what kind of man I will be dealing with."
The two Indian men seemed to fade away as she turned her full attention on the major. Why did he have to be so handsome? She noticed the way his blue uniform fit snugly across his broad shoulders, and the way his pants hugged his long, powerful legs. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked into his beautiful silver eyes, eyes that she was sure could see into the very depths of her soul.
"I have not seen Mangas since I was thirteen. That was four years ago."
So she was only seventeen, a mere child, and yet she was bright and intelligent. He supposed Indian women matured faster than white women did. She would not be so sure of herself if she were put up against a woman dressed in silk, moving among the polite society that he was used to, he thought sadly.
"Mangas was very kind to me when I was a child," she continued. "Even then he was strong and powerful, and my grandfather was grooming him to be chief after his death. I found Mangas to be very kind and gentle."
Kane heard the reverence in her voice, and he felt anger. "It was not a kind and gentle man who raided the ranches and stole their livestock, Miss Deveraux."
Maleaha looked at him with returned anger. "Major, had it been a white man who raided the ranches, he would have received a trial before you condemned him, and yet you judge Mangas guilty without benefit of a trial."
"It has to be Mangas, Miss Deveraux, the evidence points to him."
Maleaha stood up and put her hands on her hips. "If you accuse Mangas of these deeds to his face major, you will die. I doubt even I could stay his hand should you speak so rashly to him."
"Why have you not seen him in four years, Miss Deveraux?" Kane said, ignoring her warning.
"I have been away, major," she told him as she walked over to the campfire and began removing the rabbit from the spit. They all ate in silence, and afterwards Kane lay down on his bedroll, thinking he would never win the girl's approval.
The next two days they rode hard and took so many twists and turns that Kane knew he would never be able to find Mangas's camp on his own. No words passed between him and Maleaha until the afternoon of
"I didn't miss, major. Had I intended to kill the cat, it would now be dead. An Indian will only kill for food, unless he is forced to kill to defend himself."
"What would have happened had your shot not frightened the cougar away?"
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "A cougar, like an Indian, will only kill for food."
Kane moved away from the boulder and sat down on his bedroll, trying to relax. He owed his life to Miss Deveraux, but he could think of no way to express his thanks. For the most part, she ignored him. Looking across the camp to where his three companions were talking together, he realized he was experiencing the chance of a lifetime. How many white men had had the chance to travel with three Indians? And he would soon meet Man-gas, whom very few white men had ever seen.
One of the Indian men was talking softly to the girl, and Kane heard her laughter. Suddenly he wished he could join in their conversation. He wanted to get to know them; he would like to have their friendship. He knew what the girl must think of him, but he was not really as bad as she thought.
Standing up, he walked across the camp to where the girl was sitting on a rock. She was listening intently to one of the old men and was smiling at whatever he was saying to her.
"The white man is not so bad, Maleaha. It is my belief that he speaks out of inexperience, rather than out of malice," Lamas said to her.
"You may be right, but I do not like him very much," Maleaha said.
Lamas laughed. "I think you like him well enough. Wait and see."
Maleaha shook her head. "When we return home, I never want to see him again."
Kane sat down on the rock beside Maleaha, and she slid him a sideways glance.
"Tell me about Mangas, Miss Deveraux," he said coolly. "I would like to know what kind of man I will be dealing with."
The two Indian men seemed to fade away as she turned her full attention on the major. Why did he have to be so handsome? She noticed the way his blue uniform fit snugly across his broad shoulders, and the way his pants hugged his long, powerful legs. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked into his beautiful silver eyes, eyes that she was sure could see into the very depths of her soul.
"I have not seen Mangas since I was thirteen. That was four years ago."
So she was only seventeen, a mere child, and yet she was bright and intelligent. He supposed Indian women matured faster than white women did. She would not be so sure of herself if she were put up against a woman dressed in silk, moving among the polite society that he was used to, he thought sadly.
"Mangas was very kind to me when I was a child," she continued. "Even then he was strong and powerful, and my grandfather was grooming him to be chief after his death. I found Mangas to be very kind and gentle."
Kane heard the reverence in her voice, and he felt anger. "It was not a kind and gentle man who raided the ranches and stole their livestock, Miss Deveraux."
Maleaha looked at him with returned anger. "Major, had it been a white man who raided the ranches, he would have received a trial before you condemned him, and yet you judge Mangas guilty without benefit of a trial."
"It has to be Mangas, Miss Deveraux, the evidence points to him."
Maleaha stood up and put her hands on her hips. "If you accuse Mangas of these deeds to his face major, you will die. I doubt even I could stay his hand should you speak so rashly to him."
"Why have you not seen him in four years, Miss Deveraux?" Kane said, ignoring her warning.
"I have been away, major," she told him as she walked over to the campfire and began removing the rabbit from the spit. They all ate in silence, and afterwards Kane lay down on his bedroll, thinking he would never win the girl's approval.
The next two days they rode hard and took so many twists and turns that Kane knew he would never be able to find Mangas's camp on his own. No words passed between him and Maleaha until the afternoon of
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