She clung to him, a gentle peace engulfing her.
Starved after their time of intense lovemaking, Shane and Melanie sat before a roaring fire in his parlor, feeding each other fruit and cheese. "If only everything in life could be just as it is at this moment," Melanie said, her face flushed with happiness. She fed Shane a piece of apple, then accepted a grape as he slipped it between her lips.
"Life could never be like a fantasy," Shane said, his eyes wavering. "There is too much ugliness to contend with. Always."
Melanie moved closer to Shane. "Shane, please tell me how things went at the Indian village," she said, her smile fading. "Were you in danger? Did anyone see you steal the horses and pelts? Shane, how did you do it without getting shot?"
"Everyone was asleep except for Blue Blos-
som," Shane said, picking at the cheese and placing small bites in his mouth. "She watched as the pelts were stolen from Gray Falcon's dwelling. Upon arising the next morning, she would also know that Red Raven and I were also responsible for stealing the horses."
Melanie's heart skipped a beat. "Shane, if she knows, she will surely tell Gray Falcon! Aren't you afraid of what he might do in return?"
"Yes, Blue Blossom will tell," Shane said, frowning. "She will have no choice. She is Gray Falcon's woman. But it was enough that she did not awaken him the moment she saw us in the dwelling. For Cedar Maid's sake, she let us leave without awakening Gray Falcon, and warning him of our presence."
"But, Shane, what can you expect him to do?" Melanie persisted, clutching his hands.
"In time, he will arrive to make wrongs right for himself," Shane said, slipping his hands free. He moved to his feet and leaned an arm on the fireplace mantel, staring down into the fire. "Until then, I will not worry myself over it. There is already too much burdening my mind and heart."
Hearing the sadness in Shane's voice, Melanie pushed herself up from the floor. She crept an arm around his waist and cuddled close to him. "Are you thinking about Josh and how he behaves toward you?" she asked, gazing raptly up at him.
"That and so much more," Shane said, nodding.
"I am appalled by Josh's attitude," Melanie
said, anger flaring in her eyes. "But now he's gone, and good riddance!"
She swung around and grabbed Shane's hands, urging him to face her. "Shane, let me teach you everything," she said breathlessly. "I will teach you to read and write. I will show you everything that I know about running a cattle farm. We both have a lot to prove, not only to Josh, but also to my brother. Let's show them both just how wrong they are about everything."
Moved by Melanie's continued devotion to him, Shane smiled softly down at her. "You have done so much for me already," he said thickly. "How can I ask any more of you?"
"Shane, don't you see?" Melanie said, sighing. "It is not only for you, but also for myself. I love you. I want you to be happy. If you're happy, I'm happy!"
"Melanie, I already know much about reading and writing," Shane said. "In my youth, I picked up those skills when trappers and traders came through the village. And as for learning about cattleI am of the outdoors. Early in life I learned everything about animals in the forest. Cattle should be no different."
Melanie laughed softly. "Longhorns are quite different," she said. "Tomorrow we shall ride among them. I will point out the differences. You will see just how far and wide your land stretchesland that your father bought and labored over, just like my father. At the beginning, it was not easy for either of them."
She eased her hands from Shane's and went to a window and drew back a heavy drapery. Looking out onto a moon-splashed land, she felt an emptiness assail her that she had become familiar with since her father's death.
"Our fathers labored so hard all of their lives and then they had to die," she said, stifling a sob. "It isn't fair, Shane. It seems that's the way it is in life. The parents work hard, then the children benefit."
She swung around and looked at Shane as he moved to her side. "Shane, let's enjoy life while we can," she said, her voice drawn. "One never knows about tomorrow. I hate to think what will happen when Josh comes back."
"He is my brother," Shane said hoarsely. "I am his. One day we will be of one heart and one mind. Until then, it is he who has to overcome the feelings that torment him. My heart is free of hatred for him."
Melanie jerked with a start from Shane's arms when the longhorns in the near pasture began to bellow loudly. She questioned Shane with her eyes, then drew the drapery aside again, to peer through the darkness. "Something is spooking them," she said. She watched some of the longhorns begin to move around restlessly, their long, curved horns picking up the shine of the moonlight.
"I'm sure it's nothing," Shane said, yet not convinced himself. He knew that he had many enemies and most were the sort that would resort to most anything to get even with him. There was his brother, Josh; Melanie's brother, Terrance; and Chief Gray Falcon.
But of all of the enemies that Shane could name, there was one who did not even know that he existed. Trapper Dan! It was Shane who hoped that their paths would cross. Shane had a debt to pay!
"I've got to leave, Shane," Melanie said, gathering up the dishes from the floor. "I'll look around outside and see what the disturbance is as I go."
Shane walked with her to the kitchen, where she placed the dirty dishes in a basin. Then she walked, arm-in-arm with Shane, from the house and to her buggy. The longhorns were no longer uneasy. The night was quiet, except for a slight breeze that whispered through the trees.
"I'll come bright and early tomorrow," Melanie said, standing on tiptoe to give Shane a soft kiss on the lips. She giggled softly. "You should be fit as a fiddle in the morning. You no longer have to sleep on the bed, though I would prefer it to the floor, myself."
"I'm going to accompany you home," he said, tilting her chin with his forefinger. "Things are much too quiet now."
"Darling, I'll be fine," she said, slipping away from him. She stepped up into the buggy and reached for the reins. "Now you just go back inside and get that good night's rest, for tomorrow I have lots planned for you."
She wheeled the horse and buggy around and
began to ride away, but then turned with a start when she heard a horse soon following behind her. When Shane rode up beside her and gave her a stern look, she smiled warmly at him, glad that he continued to prove to her just how much he did care about her.
Chapter Seventeen
White, fluffy clouds filtered the morning's first light along the rugged fence corraling the vast range. Pistols hanging low in holsters belted at his waist, Terrance stood on his porch, leaning against a tall column. Lifting a bottle of whiskey to his lips, he gulped down several mouthfuls, stinging his throat and then his gut. He peered across the land at two horses riding together and cursed low beneath his breath, recognizing Melanie and Shane as the riders.
Just as he had suspected would happen, the two were inseparable. Shane had succeeded not only at taking over most of the Brennan estate, but Melanie as well. Couldn't she see? He had blinded her with his wild charm! She'd been suckered in by him, hook, line and sinker!
Taking another drink, Terrance staggered down the steps. His footsteps were heavy in the dust of the road as he moved toward the stable. He ignored the watchful eyes of the cowhands as they busied themselves with the duties of the day.
''What'cha gawkin' at?" he shouted, finally realizing that he was being stared at. "Haven't you ever seen someone drunk before?" He motioned with the bottle toward the stable. "Someone get in there and ready my horse. I'm almost out of whiskey. I've got to ride into town and get me another bottle. If there's any of you ready to argue that point, speak up now or forever hold your peace!"
He laughed throatily, taking the last drink of whiskey from the bottle. Hiccuping, he pitched the bottle up into the air and quickly drew his pistol and fired at it. He cursed when he missed.
Spinning the pistol back into its holster, he reached
for his horse as it was brought to him.
"Sir, I don't think you're up to ridin' today," the cowhand said, looking guardedly at Terrance as he tried to fit his foot into the stirrup, only succeeding at falling down on the ground.
"I didn't ask your opinion," Terrance said, rising to his feet, trying again. "I got people to see." He swung his hand toward the cowhand. "Give me a hand, dammit."
Shakily, he finally managed to get in the saddle. Slumped over, he rode away, taking another lingering look at Melanie and Shane. "Yes, siree," he mumbled. "I've got people to see. . . ."
«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»
Melanie's horse was moving in a slow, easy canter alongside Shane's as they rode across the wide pasture that separated Shane's land from Melanie's. Attired in a dark riding skirt and a white, long-sleeved cotton blouse, her hair drawn back and tied with a ribbon, Melanie clung to her reins. Giving Shane occasional troubled glances, she knew that he was aware of how the cowhands now under his employ had treated him earlier that morning when they left their bunkhouses. Their eyes cold, their footsteps heavy, they had gone on about their business as though he wasn't there. None had treated him with respect, gossip obviously having spread amongst them that Josh had left and that Shane was now in charge. To them, Shane was an Indian-lover. They acted as though they might get dirty by getting near him.
Trying to lighten his mood, Melanie swung her horse closer to Shane's. Where there were no cattle grazing, pink and white lady's-slippers graced the land, delicate in their loveliness. The sun was rising high in the sky, puffs of clouds scudding along the horizon.
"It's a beautiful day to be on horseback, isn't it, Shane?" Melanie asked. Her gaze moved over him. In his new dark, coarse breeches that fit against his muscled legs like a glove; a blue plaid shirt that was half unbuttoned in the front, revealing a froth of golden chest hair; and boots all shining and new thrust into the stirrups, wasn't he handsome?
His long blond hair was shining like summer wheat in the sunlight and was drawn back from his tanned face, hanging loose to his shoulders. His eyes were so blue, they seemed to be an extension of the sky.
With his gentlemanly demeanor, his politeness, he seemed the sort that anyone would trust at first sight. He was so clean and upright, how could anyone mistreat him? Why did there have to be so much injustice in the world? So many prejudices?
Shane did not respond. His jaw was tight, his eyes cold.
Sighing heavily, Melanie reached a hand to his arm. "Shane, I know how you must be feeling," she blurted out. "I'd feel the same. But those cowhands are fools. Don't let them get under your skin. If I know Josh, he's spread hatred among them purposely. He'd do anything to get you to leave. Please don't let him succeed."
"Tell me about the longhorns, Melanie," Shane said, ignoring her comments about the cowhands. He had known there would be obstacles in this new way of life. But that did not make the hurt sting his heart and insides any less when he came face to face with it.
But he would overcome it all.
To survive, he must.
His father had shown confidence in him by leaving him in charge of so much. He could not let him down! Shane believed that when a loved one died, they were not truly gone. Their spirits lingered somewhere overhead, observing. Just as the old chief watched Shane from somewhere, his true father was watching him now, also. Perhaps his
father was holding his precious wife's hand in the hereafter, both observing the son they had loved with all of their hearts.
Melanie would not be put off all that easily. She wheeled her horse around and blocked Shane's further progress. "Damn it, Shane," she said, squaring her shoulders angrily. "Those men are under your employ. Don't let them get away with this. Let them know that you are the boss or give them their walking papers!"
Shane grabbed Melanie's reins from her and glared at her. "Woman, I know that you mean well," he said flatly. "But let it be. I will fight my own battles in my own way. Do you understand?"
Melanie flinched as though she had been slapped. Color rushed to her cheeks and tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She grabbed her reins back from Shane, gave him a hurt stare, then rode away from him, her horse's hooves a sullen thunder against the ground.
"Melanie!" Shane shouted, riding after her. When he caught up with her, his eyes were apologetic. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have scolded you. I do know that you mean only what is best for me, but darling, there are some things you cannot teach a man. Self-respect is one of them!"
A strange sort of pain centered around Melanie's heart when she heard Shane's pleas. She had been wrong to become angry with him. That was the last thing he needed at this time. Her fingers tightened on the reins and her horse slowed to an easy canter again.
"Shane, I'm the one who needs to apologize," she said, brushing a tear from her eye. "I was insensitive to your feelings. Darling, I'm so sorry."
"Let us not talk any more of feelings today," Shane said, reaching over and cupping her chin within the palm of his hand. "You say you want to teach me about the longhorns. I am eager to learn."
"And I am perhaps too eager to teach you?" Melanie said, smiling weakly up at him.
"Only because your love for me is strong," Shane said, leaning to brush a kiss against her brow. He drew away from her and looked across the vastness of the land dotted with grazing longhorns.
"The longhorns came from a place called Texas?" he asked, admiring anew the animals with the glistening, curved horns.
Feeling as though everything was back in proper perspective again, Melanie relaxed her shoulders. She circled a hand on the pommel of her saddle and rested it there. "Yes, they are from Texas," she said, smiling. "They are trailed to New Orleans, and on up to Minnesota Territory by boat." She paused as she turned her attention to the cattle. "Longhorns are a profitable business. The meat sells at three cents a pound."
They watched together as cows and calves were cut from the main herd for branding.
"It takes a special pony to separate the cows and calves," Melanie explained. "The best cutting ponies are so alert and intelligent, their riders have little need of reins. As soon as the cowhand shows
the pony which calf or steer he wants to cut, the horse's ears begin to twitch and its eyes stay glued on the animal being chased toward the branding iron. It knows what it's doing."
Shane watched as the branding irons were heated to a red-hot glow. Two men on horseback roped a calf by the hind legs and dragged it toward the fire. Working in teams, others wrestled the calves to the ground. Each calf was branded on the ribs and dehorned; the males were castrated.
This continued, the cowhands taking turns roping, branding, cutting, and earmarking.
Melanie and Shane rode among the longhorns, looking them over carefully. "On our farm, we castrate the calves only every other year," Melanie further explained. "In alternate years, all the males are left to breed."
She nodded and gestured with a hand. "As you can see, a quantity of Hereford bull yearlings have been placed among the longhorns," she said.
"Do you ever worry about stampedes?" Shane asked, seeing the fierceness in the eyes of some of the larger animals.
"That is the only true disadvantage of raising longhorns," Melanie said, frowning. "They have an extraordinary wildness about them that makes them nervous, easy to stampede."
She drew her reins taut, stopping her horse. "Do you see that longhorn over there?" she said, pointing one out. "His thick horns, set forward as they are, can be as sharp as any knife."
Shane studied the animal, his jaw set. Of all the longhorns he had seen, this one seemed the most
untrustworthy. Mighty-antlered and wild-eyed, the bull even now seemed to be challenging Shane and Melanie for the right to the land that it grazed on. Its coarse-haired coat was a glossy dunnish-brown merging into black with white speckles and splotches on its rump, and a washed-out copper line down its back. It was tall, bony, flat-sided and thin-flanked, and grote
squely narrow-hipped. Its length was so extended its back swayed, its big ears were carved into an outlandish design. Its horns were most threatening in their size.
"Several bulls have taken up with our cattle and have become quite domesticated," Melanie said, watching this particular bull with care. "But this is not one of them. This is the one that Terrance has named Wild Thunder. I would suggest we ride on. I don't like the gleam in his eye."
Shane rode alongside Melanie as she rode away from the threatening beast. "Terrance gave the bull a name because he is fond of it?" he asked, forking an eyebrow at Melanie.
"On the contrary," Melanie said, laughing. "He hates that bull. Many a time Terrance has been cornered by it and the cowhands have had to go to his rescue. There seems to be some bad blood between my brother and that bull. I'm not sure why."
"Well, as I see it, it's because the bull is a good judge of character," Shane said, his eyes gleaming.
Melanie giggled, realizing that Terrance deserved Shane's comment. "As for the other longhorns," she said, looking at the innocent ones that stood peacefully around her and Shane. "I
would say that unless frightened, they are safe enough to be around. When not eating, they are bellowing, moaning, or making some other ungodly noise."
She gestured with a hand toward a new calf staying close to its mama's side, grazing dew-covered grass. "No wild animal, or domestic either, that I know of, has as many vocal tones as the longhorn," she said. "A cow has one moo for her newborn calf, another for when it is older, one to tell it to come to her side, and another to tell it to stay hidden in the tall grass."
Melanie gestured with a gloved hand toward the fence. "This is where our acreage meets, Shane," she said. "Our farms are divided by this fence. Shane, did I say something wrong?" she asked, having seen a sudden coldness enter his eyes.
Shane's eyes followed the split-rail fence that staggered across the land, dividing it. Although he had been born white, his Indian instincts made him hate anything associated with fences. Fences not only divided the land, they also caused confusion in the hearts and minds of wild animals. Since fences were now sprouting up all across the land, many animals had been denied the Chippewa. This made Shane sad, yet he knew that this, as so much more, was something the Chippewa had grown to endure.
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