All
things are possible…
Feeling suddenly naked and vulnerable, he headed for the
barn. After putting the horse in a stall, he lit the lamp that hung from one of
the rafters. He stood there for a long time, his heart racing as though he’d
just run a marathon, his thoughts chaotic.
Kelly. One touch and he wanted two. He held her hand and
wanted to smother her with kisses.
Damn! Gold or no gold, he had to get away from here. Away
from her.
He dragged a hand through his hair, remembering the beating
he’d gotten from Melinda’s father. Of course, Frank Kershaw hadn’t done it
himself. Oh, no. He’d hollered for his two hired bodyguards and they’d beat the
crap out of the boy who’d dared lay a hand on his little girl. They’d broken
his nose and a couple of ribs before they were done. Lee had wondered how
Melinda’s old man would explain it all to the police, but no explanations had
been necessary. The cops hadn’t even blinked. They’d listened to Kershaw’s
story, readily accepting his word that Lee had raped his daughter without
provocation, cuffed Lee’s hands behind his back, read him his rights and shoved
him into the back of the police car.
Even now he could remember the humiliation of that night.
Melinda’s tears, her mournful sobs as she accused Lee of dragging her into the
bungalow and raping her. He could remember the smiles of anticipation on the
faces of the two bodyguards as they backed him into a corner, the sounds of
their fists striking his face and body, the smell of his own blood and fear,
the stench of their sweat as they worked him over, the look on Kershaw’s face
as he handed them each a crisp one hundred dollar bill for their trouble.
“It’s over. Forget it.” Lee muttered the words aloud,
knowing he’d never forget it as long as he lived.
“Lee?”
He whirled around at the sound of her voice.
Kelly paused, her hand on the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean to bother you, but…” She shrugged, a faint smile flitting over her face.
“I went for a walk and I seem to have locked myself out of the house and I was
wondering if you could…”
Her voice trailed off and she felt a rush of color flood her
cheeks.
His eyes narrowed ominously. “And you knew I’d be able to
pick the lock, since I’d done it before.”
Kelly bit down on her lip. Of course, that was just what
she’d thought, only it sounded awful when he said it aloud.
“I… Never mind. I’ll…”
“Forget it,” he said brusquely. Hands clenched into tight
fists, he swept past her.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, but he didn’t seem to hear her.
Needing time to compose herself, she spent a couple of
minutes glancing around the barn. She hadn’t been inside since Lee moved in.
The floor had been swept clean. An assortment of tack hung from pegs on the far
wall; there were several bales of hay and straw piled in a corner, along with a
half-dozen bags of sweet feed. Her grandfather’s saddle, cleaned and oiled, sat
atop a wooden sawhorse. An old cardboard box held an assortment of curry combs
and brushes
She walked down the aisle that separated the stalls. Dusty
whickered softly and she paused to rub the gelding’s nose. Glancing at the
stall across the way, she saw that Lee had made a bed of sorts in the stall;
the adjoining stall served as his closet. She saw a few shirts draped over the
partition, an extra pair of boots, a couple pairs of blue jeans, a well-worn
black hat. But what held her eye was the war bonnet hanging from a nail. Made
of black-tipped eagle feathers that trailed to the ground, it was a thing of
rare beauty, tempting her touch.
Giving Dusty a final pat, she crossed the floor and entered
the stall, letting her fingertips glide over one of the feathers. And into her
mind came an image of Blue Crow astride a black and white paint pony. He was
dressed in a clout and moccasins, his face streaked with war paint, a feathered
lance in his right hand. And a war bonnet on his
things are possible…
Feeling suddenly naked and vulnerable, he headed for the
barn. After putting the horse in a stall, he lit the lamp that hung from one of
the rafters. He stood there for a long time, his heart racing as though he’d
just run a marathon, his thoughts chaotic.
Kelly. One touch and he wanted two. He held her hand and
wanted to smother her with kisses.
Damn! Gold or no gold, he had to get away from here. Away
from her.
He dragged a hand through his hair, remembering the beating
he’d gotten from Melinda’s father. Of course, Frank Kershaw hadn’t done it
himself. Oh, no. He’d hollered for his two hired bodyguards and they’d beat the
crap out of the boy who’d dared lay a hand on his little girl. They’d broken
his nose and a couple of ribs before they were done. Lee had wondered how
Melinda’s old man would explain it all to the police, but no explanations had
been necessary. The cops hadn’t even blinked. They’d listened to Kershaw’s
story, readily accepting his word that Lee had raped his daughter without
provocation, cuffed Lee’s hands behind his back, read him his rights and shoved
him into the back of the police car.
Even now he could remember the humiliation of that night.
Melinda’s tears, her mournful sobs as she accused Lee of dragging her into the
bungalow and raping her. He could remember the smiles of anticipation on the
faces of the two bodyguards as they backed him into a corner, the sounds of
their fists striking his face and body, the smell of his own blood and fear,
the stench of their sweat as they worked him over, the look on Kershaw’s face
as he handed them each a crisp one hundred dollar bill for their trouble.
“It’s over. Forget it.” Lee muttered the words aloud,
knowing he’d never forget it as long as he lived.
“Lee?”
He whirled around at the sound of her voice.
Kelly paused, her hand on the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean to bother you, but…” She shrugged, a faint smile flitting over her face.
“I went for a walk and I seem to have locked myself out of the house and I was
wondering if you could…”
Her voice trailed off and she felt a rush of color flood her
cheeks.
His eyes narrowed ominously. “And you knew I’d be able to
pick the lock, since I’d done it before.”
Kelly bit down on her lip. Of course, that was just what
she’d thought, only it sounded awful when he said it aloud.
“I… Never mind. I’ll…”
“Forget it,” he said brusquely. Hands clenched into tight
fists, he swept past her.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, but he didn’t seem to hear her.
Needing time to compose herself, she spent a couple of
minutes glancing around the barn. She hadn’t been inside since Lee moved in.
The floor had been swept clean. An assortment of tack hung from pegs on the far
wall; there were several bales of hay and straw piled in a corner, along with a
half-dozen bags of sweet feed. Her grandfather’s saddle, cleaned and oiled, sat
atop a wooden sawhorse. An old cardboard box held an assortment of curry combs
and brushes
She walked down the aisle that separated the stalls. Dusty
whickered softly and she paused to rub the gelding’s nose. Glancing at the
stall across the way, she saw that Lee had made a bed of sorts in the stall;
the adjoining stall served as his closet. She saw a few shirts draped over the
partition, an extra pair of boots, a couple pairs of blue jeans, a well-worn
black hat. But what held her eye was the war bonnet hanging from a nail. Made
of black-tipped eagle feathers that trailed to the ground, it was a thing of
rare beauty, tempting her touch.
Giving Dusty a final pat, she crossed the floor and entered
the stall, letting her fingertips glide over one of the feathers. And into her
mind came an image of Blue Crow astride a black and white paint pony. He was
dressed in a clout and moccasins, his face streaked with war paint, a feathered
lance in his right hand. And a war bonnet on his
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