Thunder Horse Redemption

Roxanne struggled to turn the horse in the direction Pierce and his stallion rode. They had to get to the watering hole and find Sweet Jessie and her foal before wolves or two-legged snakes claimed their lives. The rain would wash away the horse tracks…and the tracks of the dirt bike the Thunder Horse brothers would use to try to track down her shooter.

Ahead, Pierce sat tall in the saddle, his shoulders broad, his dark Lakota hair hanging down just below his collar, straight, thick and jet-black. The cowboy hat on his head shielded his eyes from what little light shone around the approaching cloud bank. Every time Pierce glanced behind him, Roxanne’s heart flipped, stuttered and burst into a frantic pattering.

Damn the man. He’d always had that effect on her. When would she ever get over him? No man had ever captured her heart or imagination like Pierce Thunder Horse.

The truck with two of the other Thunder Horse brothers passed them, followed soon by the four-wheeler. They honked and swung wide of Pierce and Roxanne, kicking up a cloud of dust from the dry prairie floor.

Roxanne settled into a bone-jarring canter, slow enough to conserve the horse’s energy. If they had to go down into the canyon to find Sweet Jessie and her foal, the rain would make the trail even more dangerous than it already was.

Sassy would need all her strength for a coordinated and sure-footed descent.

As they neared the watering hole, Roxanne let out a sigh, half-relieved when she didn’t find the wild mare’s body in the dirt. The wound mustn’t have been too bad, if she was able to get up and leave the area. Still, Roxanne wanted to gauge for herself.

Pierce paused briefly at the watering hole to check for hoofprints and tire tracks, and to compare notes with his brothers.

Roxanne urged her mare slowly toward the canyon’s rim, her gaze darting right and left as well as scanning the ground. Having been shot at once made her paranoid. Every noise caused her to jump. She tried to force herself to focus. The brothers were taking care of the shooter—Roxanne’s job was to take care of the wild horses. She couldn’t let herself get distracted from that. If she did, she’d be reminded how vulnerable and frightened she felt at the thought of a gunman on her trail.

Sweet Jessie had been shot by the pond. The herd had to have been close by at the time of the shooting. Noise from the gunshot would have sent them into the canyon to hide.

In the dirt leading away from the watering hole, Roxanne discovered a trail of dark brown dots. Dried blood and hoofprints. At first they headed for the canyon, but the prints veered south before reaching the canyon’s edge. Unfortunately, where Sweet Jessie’s prints headed south, another, smaller set of hoofprints led directly to the canyon.

“The foal and mare are separated.” Roxanne glanced across at Pierce as he came abreast. “The little one won’t stand a chance if she doesn’t find her mother soon.”

At the edge of the gorge, Roxanne paused, searching for the trailhead where the horses would have dropped down into the canyon below.

“Are you trying to get shot again?” Pierce angled his horse in front of hers. “You’re exposed here on the edge of the canyon. If someone wanted to shoot you once, wouldn’t you think they might be interested in shooting at you again?”

“And like I said to you before, if someone wanted to shoot me, there are better places for them to try than here where there’s next to no cover to get a good position—especially now that I’m surrounded by angry-looking men with guns.” She straightened her shoulders, her gaze darting toward the canyon below. “I refuse to run scared. There’s a foal down there who will die without her mother. Lead, follow or get out of my way.”

Pierce’s brows dipped. “You’re a stubborn woman. Anywhere along the trail is easy pickings if someone is down there in the canyon aiming up.”

“Do you see any tire tracks leading down into the canyon?”

Pierce leaned over in the saddle, scanning the trailhead. “No. But this might not be the trail he used to get down there.”

“You do see horse tracks, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Roxanne raised her gaze to the sky again. “If we don’t hurry, it won’t matter. The rain will keep us from finding the foal. She could die and no one will care but me.”

He shifted in his saddle, glancing out across the gorge, squinting. Finally he faced her. “Damn it, Roxanne, I care.”

She waved her hand toward the trail, choosing to ignore his statement. “Then let’s go.”

“Wait here.” Pierce took off at a trot toward his brothers. Over his shoulder he called out. “And I mean wait.”

Roxanne’s gaze followed him.

Pierce conferred with his brothers and returned, reining in beside her and her mare. “They want to stay up top and continue searching for clues as to who the shooter might be before the rain washes away any evidence, but Maddox will cover us while we go down.”

“Good.” She didn’t wait for him. Pressing her heels into Sassy’s flanks, she clucked her tongue and spoke softly to the horse as she picked her way down the steep and narrow trail.

Roxanne focused on the path ahead, refusing to look to her side where the ground dropped away in a slope too steep for man or beast. If a shooter popped off a round, he wouldn’t even have to hit her. The noise alone could cause her horse to spook and toss her or, worse, tumble down the steep slope with her. And even without the shooter, if her mount took one faulty step, both horse and rider would plummet to the bottom of the canyon with nothing to slow their fall.

Her breath wedging in her throat, Roxanne clung to the saddle horn, her fingers light on the reins, giving the horse her head. Roxanne’s feet dug into the stirrups as she leaned back in the saddle to keep from pitching forward. Sassy picked her way to the bottom at her own pace.

About halfway down, the sky opened, rain gushing from it like a fire hose spraying down full blast.

Blinded by the torrent, Roxanne could do nothing but hold on and pray Sassy remained sure-footed as the trail turned slippery and more treacherous by the minute.

Not until the path leveled out and the canyon floor rose up to meet them did Roxanne release the breath she’d been holding and push the hair out of her face to glance behind her.

Cetan descended, easing his way down the last few feet of the narrow trail. Rain dripped from the edges of Pierce’s cowboy hat, his face set in stone beneath the brim.

“We’ll be lucky to find the foal in this,” Roxanne called out as Pierce reined in beside her.

“We’re here, we might as well try.” His heels pressed into his horse’s sides and he headed north along the base of the cliffs rising up beside him.

Her head down, Roxanne wished she’d taken time to grab a cowboy hat at the Thunder Horse Ranch. Hers had been lost earlier in her wild ride to get away from the shooter. She could barely see through the rain running down her face. Sassy fell in step behind Cetan, seemingly content to let the larger horse lead as they pushed forward.

Roxanne followed the man she’d sworn to hate for the rest of her life. Weak and tired from the long ride and the injuries she’d sustained from being shot and thrown, she did something she swore she’d never do again. She let the tears she’d been holding back for two months, mingle with the rain coursing down her cheeks.

If Pierce looked behind him, all he’d see was a pathetically wet woman with water streaming down her face on the back of a bedraggled horse. He would never know she cried.

After riding in the torrential downpour for several hundred yards, Pierce’s horse tossed his head into the air and took off.

Startled by the sudden movement, Sassy danced sideways.

Blinded by the rain in her eyes, Roxanne scrubbed a hand across her face and peered ahead.

Several yards in front of Pierce a blurry shadow darted toward the shallow river cutting through the center of the narrow canyon. The foal? She could only hope so. Because if it was the shooter, she didn’t know what she could do to protect herself.

Roxanne dug her heels into Sassy’s flanks. The horse leaped forward as the sequence of events unfolded before her.

With one hand, Peirce held the reins, while his other hand reached for the rope hanging from the side of his saddle. His arm rose high above his head, the rope swinging in a wide loop. When Pierce launched the lasso, the ring dropped over the head of the small horse that appeared too young to be weaned.

Pierce’s horse dug his hooves into the slippery soil, sliding forward with the force of the foal’s tug on the rope.

As soon as the two beasts came to an unsteady halt, Pierce dropped from his saddle and raced toward the filly.

Roxanne reached them at the same time, slipping from her horse’s back to the ground. She stumbled, regained her footing and ran forward, flinging her arms around the filly’s neck to add her weight to Pierce’s hold until the frightened animal calmed.

Pierce spoke to her in a deep, monotone voice, whispering the words of his forefathers, the Lakota language rolling smoothly off his tongue.

Not only did it soothe the frightened animal, it helped steady Roxanne’s racing heart.

The foal finally settled, eyes still wide, nostrils flaring, body quivering, her ribs expanding with each frantic breath she took. At least she didn’t try to break free of Pierce and Roxanne. A fierce surge of triumph filled Roxanne. Despite everything that was wrong—and increasingly dangerous—in her life, at least they’d managed to do this. They’d found and caught the foal, which felt like the first thing that had gone right in her life in way too long.