Navajo Sunrise by Elizabeth Lane

Author:Elizabeth Lane
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Miranda had been mounted and waiting in the shadow of the mesquite bush, armed with a club-size root, when the lightning bolt struck.

Blinded by the flash and almost deafened by the shattering boom, she had clung to the squealing, bucking bay, fighting to get the horse under control. Only when the world had stopped shaking and her eyes and ears had begun to clear did she become aware of the uproar coming from the direction of the Comanche camp—screaming horses, shouting men and, suddenly, sickeningly, the metallic pop and whine of rifle shots.

Without stopping to think, she wheeled the bay, kicked it to an explosion of speed and raced toward the commotion. She knew what Ahkeah had told her. She knew the risk she was taking. But this was no time to think of her own safety.

Another lightning bolt crashed across the sky. Its stark blue light outlined the edge of a wash in her path, so close that in seconds she would have ridden over the crumbling rim. Thunder boomed around her as she swung her mount one way, then another, searching for a slope that the horse could manage. Searching for Ahkeah.

Below her, in the wash, she could make out flashes of movement. Men and horses milled crazily in the darkness, colliding with snorts and shrieks, like players in a scene from hell. She saw one man go down under the hooves of a rearing horse. Was it Ahkeah? Fear, sick and heavy, pulsed through her body as she strained to see through the murk.

Only when another flash of lightning lit the heavens did she see a way down. Without a moment’s hesitation she swung the bay toward the spot where the edge of the wash had crumbled away, leaving a fan of rocky earth. Bent low along the horse’s neck, Miranda rocketed down into the chaos.

“Ahkeah!” she shouted, glancing frantically around. “Ahkeah!” He did not answer, of course. Even if he was still alive, she knew he would not be able to hear her above the din.

Something clutched at her leg. Turning, she stared down into the savage face of a stranger. In a paroxysm of terror she swung the thick mesquite root, which miraculously was still in her hand. The wood connected with solid flesh and the face disappeared. But she and the horse had been seen, and a cry went up. With bloodcurdling screams two more Comanches surged toward her. Hands grabbed her skirt, and in the next instant the big bay was whirling and rearing. One man seized its bridle. Miranda kneed the horse, shot over the top of him and went pounding up the wash with the two Indians in pursuit.

Ahead of her, she could make out a pale blur against the earth. Was it Ahkeah? She shouted his name and he rose, struggling to his knees as she rode toward him. He moved like an injured man, and his horse was nowhere in sight.

Realizing she would have to get him up behind her, she slowed the bay.

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