Whitefire by Fern Michaels Page A

whispered as she closed the door behind her.
    Again they embraced fondly. Katlof stepped back, staring down into her eyes. “I’m sorry for my tirade back in the fortress,” he said gruffly. “How like your mother you are. You have the same fiery Mongol temper and the same gentle persuasiveness.”
    â€œWas she beautiful, Father?”
    â€œYou have only to look in the mirror to see the beauty of your mother. Because of you, your mother is always with me,” he said tenderly.
    Katerina threw herself into his arms, burrowing her head into his broad chest.
    His words, softly spoken, were barely audible. “How I love you, child, you’re my life, my reason for being. Without you I would have nothing.”
    Tears welled in the amber eyes. “I’ll never fail you again, Father.”
    Â 
    Spring was everywhere. Most evident was the farmland, where the ground, now softened by the thaw, left the earth ready for the plow. Cossacks could be seen with plow straps draped around their shoulders as the Cosars that were fit only for farming pulled the primitive plows forward.
    The village bustled with activity as each Cossack performed his tasks. There were farmers, hunters of game, lumberjacks, and the women who worked in the homes and helped in the field. The remaining Cossacks tended the famed Cosars.
    Katerina and Katlof spent their days in the barn with the mares, watching the miracle of birth. The birthing made her feel clean and near to God as she watched the foals leave the shelter of their mothers’ wombs, bringing a closeness between her and her father that was renewed every year at this time. As they watched, the attachment expressed between mother and foal engulfed them also. Katrina looked at her father with love-filled amber eyes as he enfolded her in the crook of his arm. She felt safe and secure, out of harm’s way. Safe from the Mongol for the moment.
    As the weeks passed, the steppe was again a playground for wild game and birds. The young fillies and colts frolicked and ran along with the wild inhabitants through the short grass and budding flowers. Katerina adored watching the horses when they were on the plain, running like the wind, testing their spindly legs, and at the same time strengthening them. When she could stand it no longer, she would leap on Bluefire’s back and race along with the colts and fillies.
    Each day as new foals were born, Katerina and Katlof were in attendance. “It looks like an especially good year for selling stock. Except for one or two sickly colts, we haven’t lost one horse, and with the proper attention, the two sick fillies will be up and around again,” Katlof said quietly.
    â€œFather, let me nurse the two sick colts. You know how they respond to me; let me take care of them!” she begged.
    â€œIf you want to spend that much time with the animals, of course you may tend them. But as you know, it’s a full-time task which must be done with much love and patience,” he stressed.
    â€œJust trust me,” she said confidently.
    â€œVery well, Katerina.”
    Every day and every night for weeks, Katerina hand-fed the colts and tended to their every need, sleeping in the barn at night to make sure nothing went awry. Almost a month to the day, they were up on their legs, kicking up their heels with the urge to run. Katerina led them from the barn to the open steppe, where they disappeared like the wind. She had done well; her father would be proud. She had the Kat’s touch. As she gazed after them, she noticed a streak of white flash by. It was Whitefire, prancing and running with his offspring. Busy with the ill horses, she had forgotten it was time for Whitefire to perform stud service. The stallion would stay in Volin for two months, and then Stepan would take him back to the Carpathians.
    Leaving the barn, Katerina looked toward the compound and saw it filled to capacity with the mares selected