When Passion Calls

by Cassie Edwards

  Melanie pleaded with Shane with her eyes. "Shane, what can we do?" she asked, all cold from fear inside. "One false move and the longhorn will attack Terrance. My brother won't have a chance!"

  "Inch your horse back slowly," Shane said, guiding his backward. "Then slip slowly from the saddle. Right now the longhorn isn't even aware that we're here. His eyes are on Terrance only."

  Melanie followed Shane's lead. They moved

  their horses back a safe distance, then slipped slowly from the saddles. Daphne stayed put, too afraid to move.

  Shane lifted his rifle from the gun boot on the side of his horse. "Melanie, I'm going to have to kill the longhorn," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "I know," she said, moving to Shane's side. "It's a shame, though. He's one of our handsomest bulls."

  "Turn your eyes away," Shane said, raising his rifle. "It won't be a pretty sight."

  "I'm afraid for Terrance," Melanie said, biting her lower lip in frustration.

  "Turn your eyes away, Melanie," Shane said flatly, his finger on the trigger.

  Melanie took one last look at the longhorn. He was talking to himself, his truculent head swaying. Hoarse and deep, like thunder on the horizon, he mumbled uh-huh-uh-uh-uhing, then raised his head in a loud, high defiant challenge, combining a bellow from the uttermost profundities with a shriek high and foreign.

  He was pawing up more dirt, lunging his horn in as if to rip out the guts of the earth.

  Melanie turned away from the sight, trembling.

  "Terrance, I'm going to shoot the longhorn," Shane said, holding his rifle steady. "But it would be best if you could move your horse away from the steer. He's going to make a mighty lunge when the bullet sinks into his flesh. Once he's shot, be ready to burn leather and get the hell out of there."

  "I don't need instructions, Shane," Terrance

  said, sweat streaming from his brow. "Just do it, damn it!"

  "I can't shoot him until you move your horse away," Shane said, his teeth clenching angrily. "You'll be signing your own death warrant if you don't do as I say."

  "Who taught you so much about longhorn habits?" Terrance said, his contempt for Shane showing even in the eye of danger.

  Melanie swung around and glared at Terrance. "Terrance, for once can't you put your feelings for Shane aside?" she said, her voice quavering. She circled her hands into tight fists at her sides. "Do as he says. Your life is at stake here!"

  Terrance eyed the longhorn warily. His spine stiffened when he saw the animal's horns all shining and sharp. He knew that bulls kept their horns sharpened for bloody work by rubbing them against trees and brush, and whetting them in the ground. Wild Thunder was muttering and pawing, all pluck and vinegar, ready for a fight.

  "I'm afraid to move," Terrance said in a whine. "Damn it, I don't think I have a chance in hell of escaping that damn bull's wrath."

  "No, you don't if you don't move farther away from him," Shane said, impatience thick in his voice.

  "All right, damn it," Terrance said, his hands trembling as he flicked the reins and nudged his heels into the flanks of his horse.

  But he was too slow. The brute wheeled to attack. Before Shane had the chance to fire his

  rifle, Terrance's horse was met full in the side by the bull's horns.

  Her throat too frozen in-fear to scream, Melanie felt faint as she watched in mortal terror as both horse and rider were lifted for one instant into the air, and then came down in a heap together. The horse was dead, one horn completely through its body, the other caught in the bones of the chest. One of Terrance's legs was between the horns of the bull, pinned fast between his head and the body of the horse.

  The horse's body was impaled on the bull's head, fastening it to the ground. Terrance lay on the bull's back.

  Pain shooting through his pinned leg, Terrance began to flail his arms wildly in the air, crying and yelling as he struggled to get free. He gazed at the bull. It was breathing hard and frothing at the mouth. Terrance could feel its mighty heartbeat against his body, just waiting for it to begin a hard struggle to be set free. At the moment, it seemed to be stunned by the predicament it had gotten itself in.

  Shane stepped slowly toward the twisted mass of horse, longhorn, and man. He was afraid to shoot the bull, lest the longhorn's struggles further injure Terrance.

  Instead, he lay his gun on the ground and took his knife from the sheath at his waist. He crept up to the steer and with lightning speed he opened the bull's jugular vein and waited for him to slowly bleed to death.

  He then cut off the bull's horns. His muscles cording and straining, he finally managed to pull the bull off Terrance. He lifted Terrance in his arms and carried him toward Melanie, then lay him on the ground beneath the shade of an oak tree.

  Melanie fell to her knees beside Terrance. She cradled his head on her lap, feeling a bitterness rising into her throat when she saw the condition of his leg. It was crushed. Splinters of bone protruded through his pants, revealing bloody, mangled flesh. "Terrance, Terrance," she cried, tears flooding her eyes.

  "At least he's alive," Shane said, kneeling down beside her.

  "Thank you for saving him," Melanie said, sniffling back more tears. "It would have been so easy for you to have ignored him. He's been nothing but a thorn in your side since you returned home."

  "Well, perhaps some, but he's done nothing all that terrible that would make me want to see harm come to him," Shane said, wiping the longhorn's blood from his knife onto the grass at his side.

  Melanie's eyes wavered, knowing more than Shane did about her brother's ugly activities. She looked down at her brother, who had drifted into unconsciousness, the pain surely having rendered him almost mindless.

  She stroked his brow. How could she hate him at a time like this? She had almost lost him! She felt partially responsible, for she had driven him away! She should have been more understanding!

  If she had been, perhaps this would have not happened to him! Now he was surely going to be a cripple for the rest of his life. And all because of her!

  Terrance's eyes blinked slowly open. He grimaced with pain, his face flushed. He looked from Melanie to Shane. "Thanks," he said, then laughed awkwardly. "But I sure as hell wish you could've thought of a better way to rid my life of that damn longhorn. My leg hurts like hell."

  "We're going to get you to a doctor," Shane said. "I'm going to make a travois for transporting you." He started to rise, but was stopped when Terrance placed a hand to his arm.

  "Shane, I owe you my life," Terrance said, blinking back tears. "Thanks. Thanks for everything."

  "You're not out of the woods yet," Shane said. "If we don't get you to the doctor quick, you could lose more than your damn leg." He started to rise, but was stopped again by Terrance clasping onto his arm. His fingers dug desperately into Shane's flesh.

  "Shane, there's something that needs to be said, in case I don't pull through this thing alive," Terrance said, swallowing hard. "It needs telling, Shane. Please take the time to listen."

  Melanie placed her hands to her mouth, sobbing, as she looked down at her brother who was ready to confess everything to Shane.

  Oh, what if he died? She felt as though she had failed her brother! She should have found a way to help him with his drinking and gambling. He had

  seemed tormented, but never had she been able to understand exactly why.

  Was it too late? Was the longhorn going to succeed at ridding the world of the man he had most hated after all? If so, a part of her would die along with him!

  "We don't have time for talking, Terrance," Shane grumbled.

  "We've got to take the time," Terrance said, grabbing at his leg as a crushing sort of pain shot through it. The hand that still held onto Shane clasped harder, desperate to purge his soul of that which could make him burn in hell if he didn't.

  "Then, damn it, Terrance, get said whatever it is that needs saying," Shane grumbled.

  "Shane, I'
m sorry for all the trouble I've caused you," Terrance said, swallowing hard. "I was wrong about you. Damn it, you could've stood by and watched that damn longhorn gore me to death. Instead, you jumped right in there, ready to help. I didn't deserve your help."

  Melanie caressed Terrance's brow. "Terrance, this isn't the time," she pleaded. "You can tell Shane everything later."

  Terrance looked up at her. "There may not be another chance," he said sullenly. "I've got to say it now." He looked slowly back at Shane. ''Shane, all that's happened to you lately? It's been me doin' it."

  Shane gulped in a quick breath of air. He glared down at Terrance as he continued to speak, recalling his first impression of Melanie's brother. He

  had thought then that Terrance was a coward! All these devious acts behind everyone's backs now proved his cowardice!

  "I had help from someone else, but I am responsible for your barn burning and the stampede," he said, licking his parched lips. "Everything, Shane. Everything!"

  He looked up at Melanie, then turned his eyes back to Shane. "But, as I said, I didn't work alone," he said weakly. "I paid Trapper Dan to help me. He was with me all along. If he wasn't actually helping me do the dirty deed, he was standing watch." He swallowed hard again. "He's as much at fault as I was.'' He looked over Shane's shoulder, at the Indian woman. He recognized her. She was Trapper Dan's wife! "What's she doin' here? She's"

  "Yes, she lived with Trapper Dan," Melanie said, interrupting. "But she won't any longer. She's going to live with me and Shane."

  Terrance's eyes widened. "You . . . and . . . Shane?" he said in an almost whisper.

  "Yes, we're going to be married," Melanie said, smiling over at Shane. "Soon."

  Then she frowned down at Terrance. "We've got to get you to a doctor," she said. She gave Shane a quick glance. "You mentioned building a travois. Perhaps you'd best get to it. I don't know how much longer Terrance can hold out."

  Shane started to rise, but was stopped again by Terrance grabbing his arm. "I was on my way to warn Trapper Dan about you," he said shallowly.

  "Seems you're too late," Shane said, easing his arm from Terrance's grip. "Just like you, he's met with an accident. But he hasn't got someone willing to see that he gets proper doctoring. He's going to die a slow, painful death, Terrance. The sort that he deserves."

  "You probably think I deserve the same sort of death now that you know everything," Terrance said, wincing when he was flooded with renewed pain.

  Shane glared down at Terrance. "Yes, perhaps I do," he said flatly. "But because you are Melanie's brother, I am forced to do what my heart does not tell me to do." He stood over Terrance, his doubled fists on his hips. "You are lucky. You are being given another chance.''

  Melanie covered her mouth with a hand and cried softly as she watched Shane begin cutting the limbs off willow trees and putting together a travois. Never had she loved him more than now.

  Melanie sat at Terrance's bedside in his bedroom, bathing his feverish brow with a dampened cloth. Doc Raley had come and gone. The amputation had been quick, yet gruesome. The leg had been removed from the thigh, and now hard times were ahead, whether or not Terrance's body could adjust to the shock it had just been put through. A fever now threatened him more than the longhorn bull during its most fevered pitch of anger!

  Shane stepped to Melanie's side and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Have faith," he said reassuringly. "Your brother has a strong constitution."

  Melanie placed a hand over Shane's and squeezed it affectionately as she looked up at him through misty eyes. "You are so kind," she murmured. "You don't have to be here, you know."

  "I am here because you need me," Shane said, then turned with a start when someone else entered the room. He questioned the stranger with a forked eyebrow, seeing two mighty holstered pistols weighting him down at his hips.

  Melanie moved quickly to her feet. "Sheriff Morgan?" she said, stunned by his presence. "What's wrong? Why are you here?"

  Sheriff Morgan removed his hat and came into the room, overpowering in his two hundred and fifty pounds of brawn and muscle. "Sorry to intrude on your private moments with your brother," he said softly. He looked Shane over slowly. "But I'm here to see Shane. It's about his brother."

  He looked directly into Shane's eyes. "By God, I cain't get over the resemblance. You and Josh are identical, ain't you?"

  "What about my brother? Shane said, brushing aside the small talk.

  The sheriff twirled his hat around, between his fingers. He looked at the floor. "The news ain't good," he said hoarsely. He rose his eyes slowly back up again and met Shane's steady stare. "Son, I need you to come into town and identify the body."

  Melanie teetered for a moment. She grabbed for

  Shane's arm and steadied herself. Shane paled. Something grabbed him at the pit of his stomach, as though a sledge hammer had hit him there.

  "What are you saying?" he said, his voice drawn.

  "Seems your brother has played his last game of poker," Sheriff Morgan said sullenly. "He got careless. Someone pulled a gun on him and blasted him clear to kingdom come. He didn't know what hit him." He cleared his throat. "It's required that the next of kin come and identify the body. It's at the undertaker's. Then you can talk with the undertaker about the arrangements that need to be made.''

  Shane was in a state of shock, filled with regrets and memories of long ago, when brothers behaved as brothers and loved one another! He had hoped that it could be the same again once Josh thought more about things and was able to accept Shane into his life!

  "No, it just can't be!" Shane said, between clenched teeth. "It isn't fair!"

  He turned away from the sheriff and buried his face in his hands. Melanie crept an arm around his waist and hugged him tightly.

  "Shane, Shane . . ."

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Sunshine streamed through lace-draped windows. Light flooded through double doors that had welcomed the guests to the Brennan mansion.

  When they entered they had walked past big covered Delft jars on black and gold Italianate brackets. The room in which they all now stood was complex with hot accentsrose-strewn chintzes and a Bessarabian rug, and gilded Italian side chairs in a brilliant red weave, with Edwardian needlework pillows. The floor boards were mostly bare.

  The house was lavishly decorated with great masses of flowers. The staircase was garlanded with roses and other blossoms, filling the house with a sweet, heady fragrance, mingling with the

  aroma of freshly baked rolls wafting through the hall from the big kitchen.

  The marriage ceremony was performed in the back parlor, where the windows opened onto a large garden whose gnarled old pear trees were heavy with ripe fruit. A low breeze disturbed the silence and gentle petals of autumn flowers in the garden, a lush bouquet of colors.

  Melanie stood clasped by the golden light, like the sweetheart of the sun, as she looked adoringly up at Shane, the minister with an opened bible standing before them. She wore a white Venice lace and silk satin gown with a Queen Anne neckline, long sleeves, and Alencon lace framing her face, falling back into a long train that hugged the floor around her. She carried a bridal bouquet of miniature pink roses, the pink of her cheeks seeming to be their reflection.

  With one sweep of her eyes she saw Shane as someone wonderfully handsome in his double-breasted coat that had a fitted bodice and flared skirt with a split in the back, its lapels curved almost like a shawl. His dark trousers were worn down on his shoes, even touching the floor in the back with straps under his feet. His coat fit him perfectly, emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders, his shirt front was dazzling white, with an abundance of ruffles spilling over his gray waistcoat. His hair caught the rays of the sun in its folds, making it appear more golden than usual.

  The moment was magical, something that Melanie had wanted from the moment she set eyes on Shane. She had often doubted that she and

  Shane would reach this day, for one thing
after another had stood in the way of their happiness. Even the latest death had postponed this precious moment. They had been forced to wait until a respectable amount of time passed after Josh's funeral, so much that Melanie was beginning to show that she was with child.

  "I now pronounce you man and wife," the preacher said, closing his bible. He clasped his bible in one hand and placed it behind him, smiling from Shane to Melanie. "You may now kiss the bride."

  Behind Shane and Melanie, Terrance leaned heavily into his canes, one in each hand, his artificial leg balancing him as well as if it were a true leg. He smiled from Melanie to Shane. He had been wrong about so many things. All along Shane had been the true answer to the dilemma that Terrance had found himself in since his father's death.

  Now that Melanie had married Shane, she would live with him and the farm was back in Terrance's control. To hell with wanting to get his hands on a portion of the Brennan estate. He felt lucky to have anything.

  He eyed his wooden leg. Damn it, he had almost mastered it. One day he would even ride a horse again!

  The only thing that he deeply regretted was Josh's death. Yet something good had come from it. Terrance no longer gambled or drank. Those vices had been the cause of Josh's early demise.

  The same fate would not come to Terrance Stanton!

  Shane turned to Melanie. He looked down at her with a gentle passion, his blue eyes sparkling with happiness. He smoothed the lace back from her face and placed his fingers on her cheeks. He leaned down and touched her lips wonderingly, aware of many eyes on them as the guests looked on, moved.

  Melanie's insides melted as her lips met Shane's. She twined an arm about his neck and kissed him softly, aware of the guests from St. Paul and surrounding farms watching, seemingly happy with her choice of husband. No one seemed to mind that Shane had been raised with Indians.

  It seemed to Melanie that finally that part of his past was behind him. He rarely spoke of the Chippewa. Daphne was the only reminder, and she was adapting well to her new life. She even stood watching the ceremony in a silk gown, flounced with yards of lace, her dark hair spiraling in long coils of curls down her perfectly straight back.