In a Cowboy's Arms. Rebecca Winters

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      Sadie’s father, Daniel Corkin, had been convinced there was oil to be found somewhere on his eighty-five-acre ranch. His raging obsession and jealousy of the Bannock luck, coupled with his drinking and suspicions about his wife’s infidelity, which were totally unfounded, had driven Eileen away. When she’d filed for divorce, he said he’d give her one, but she would have to leave eight-year-old Sadie with him.

      Terrified that if she stayed in the marriage he’d kill her as he’d sworn to do, Eileen had given up custody of their daughter, forcing Millie Henson, the Corkin housekeeper, to raise Sadie along with her own child, Liz.

      Zane also knew Mac and Millie Henson were saints as far as Sadie was concerned, and she felt she could never repay their goodness and devotion.

      It was their love that had sheltered her and seen her through those unhappy childhood years with an angry, inebriated father who’d lost the ability to love. The Hensons had done everything possible to provide a loving family atmosphere, but Sadie had suffered from acute loneliness.

      Once, when she was fifteen, there’d been a mother-daughter event at the school. Never really understanding how her mother could have abandoned her, Sadie had been in too much pain to tell Millie about the school function and had taken off on her horse, Candy, not caring where she was going.

      Eventually stopping somewhere on the range, Sadie, thinking she was alone, had slumped forward in the saddle, heaving great, uncontrollable sobs. With only her horse to hear, she’d given way to her grief, wondering if she might die of it....

      * * *

      “WHAT’S SO TERRIBLE on a day like this?”

      Sadie knew that deep voice. Jarod Bannock.

      She lifted her head and stared through tear-drenched eyes at the striking, dark-haired eighteen-year-old. She knew two things about Jarod Bannock. One, his mother had been an Apsáalooke Indian. Two, every girl in the county knocked themselves out for his attention. If any of them had succeeded, she didn’t know about it—although he was a neighbor, her family never spoke of him. Her father, whose hatred knew no bounds, held an irrational predjudice against Jarod because of his heritage.

      “I miss my mother.”

      Jarod smiled at her, compassion in his eyes. “When I miss mine, I ride out here, too. This is where the First Maker hovers as he watches his creation. He says, ‘If you need to contact me, you will find me along the backbone of the earth where I travel as I guard my possessions.’ He knows your sadness, Sadie, and has provided you a horse to be your comfort.”

      His words sent shivers up her spine. She felt a compelling spirituality in them, different from anything she’d experienced at church with Millie.

      “Do you want to see some special horses?” he asked her. “They’re hard to find unless you know where to look for them.”

      “You mean, the feral horses Mac sometimes talks about?”

      “Yes. I’ll take you to them.”

      Having lost both parents himself, Jarod understood what was going on inside her better than anyone else. Wordlessly he led her up the canyon, through the twists and turns of rock formations she’d never seen before.

      They rode for a good five minutes before he reined to a stop and put a finger to his lips. She pulled back on Candy’s reins and waited until she heard the pounding of hooves. Soon a band of six horses streaked through the gulch behind a large, grayish tan stallion with black legs and mane. The power of the animals mesmerized her.

      “You see that grullo in the lead? The one with the grayish hairs on his body?”

      “Yes,” she whispered breathlessly.

      “That’s his harem.”

      “What’s a harem?”

      “The mares he mates with and controls. Keep watching and you’ll see some bachelor stallions following them.”

      Sure enough a band of eight horses came flying through after the first group. “Why aren’t they all together?”

      “They want control of Chief’s herd so they can mate with his mares, but he’s not going to give it to them.”

      She darted him a puzzled glance. “How do you know his name is Chief?”

      “It came to me in a dream.”

      Sadie wasn’t sure if Jarod was teasing her. “No it didn’t.” She started laughing.

      The corner of his mouth twitched. It changed his whole countenance, captivating her. “He has a majestic bearing,” he continued, “like Plenty Coups.”

      From her Montana history class she knew Chief Plenty Coups was the last great chief of the Crow Nation. “Where do these horses come from?”

      “They’ve lived here for centuries. One day Chief will be mine.”

      “Is that all right? I mean, isn’t it against the law to catch one of them?”

      A fierce expression crossed his face. “I don’t take what doesn’t belong to me. Because he’s young, I’ll give him another two years to get to know me. He saw me today, and he’s seen me before. He’ll see me again and again and start to trust me. One day he’ll come to me of his own free will and eat oats out of my hand. When he has chosen me for himself, then it will be all right.”

      Sadie didn’t doubt he could make it happen. Jarod had invisible power. A short time ago she’d thought she was going to die of sorrow, but that terrible pain had been lifted because of him.

      * * *

      THAT WAS THE transcendent moment when Sadie’s worship of Jarod Bannock began in earnest and she’d fallen deeply in love.

      For the next three years Sadie had spent every moment she could steal out riding where she might run into him. Each meeting became more important to both of them. Once he’d started kissing her, they lived to be together and talked about marriage. Two days before her eighteenth birthday she rode to their favorite spot in a meadow filled with spring flowers—purple lupine and yellow bells. Her heart exploded with excitement the second she galloped over the rise near Crooked Canyon and saw him.

      His black hair gleamed in the last rays of the sun. Astride his wild stallion Chief, he was more magnificent than nature itself. The stamp of his Caucasian father and Apsáalooke mother had created a face and body as unique as the two mountain blocks that formed the Pryor Mountains on both sides of the Montana-Wyoming border. Through erosion those mountains had risen from the prairie floor to eight thousand feet, creating a sanctuary for rare flora and fauna; a private refuge for her and Jarod.

      She’d become aware of him as a child. As she’d grown older, she’d see him riding in the mountains. He’d always taken the time to talk to her, often going out of his way to answer her questions about his heritage.

      His mother’s family, the Big Lodge clan, had been part of the Mountain Crow division and raised horses. They were known as Children of the Large-Beaked Bird. Sadie never tired of his stories.

      He told her about archaeological evidence of his ancestors in the СКАЧАТЬ