Wind Rider by Mason Connie

Author:Mason, Connie [Mason, Connie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: romance
Publisher: Ten Talents Press
Published: 2011-09-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Wind Rider rode into Fort Laramie, surprised to find no wall or stockade surrounding the outpost. He had never been this far north before and was amazed to discover that the fort had not been attacked in its entire history.

Before he left the village he had taken his knife and cut his hair. It was a symbolic act, and one that caused him a great deal of anguish. As the thick black locks fell to the ground he felt as if he was severing his final link to the Indian Nation. It was a sobering thought that brought him little joy. It was unthinkable that he would desert his people for a white woman, but Heammawihio had spoken and he must follow. Yet something deep inside Wind Rider told him that the Great Spirit had looked into his heart before granting him a vision. Self-derision was bitter on his tongue. How could he still desire a woman who wanted nothing to do with him, who had deliberately lied about him?

He wanted to punish Hannah for lying, for leaving him, for destroying his pride, but he wanted something more. Something that only his heart knew.

Leading a string of horses, one carrying the furs he hoped to trade, Wind Rider roused scant curiosity as he rode through the fort. He exuded a restless, forceful energy that was evident in the proud tilt of his head and his watchful, narrowed eyes. He wore buckskins, for he had no other clothing, but that wasn’t unusual. Many men wore buckskins in this part of the country. The stark angles of his face were shadowed by the slant of his battered felt hat, given to him by Runs-Like-A-Deer, who had taken it during a raid.

Coyote had contributed a pair of scuffed leather boots that fit well enough but felt strange on his feet. He had contributed the saddle himself, part of the loot he had taken during his months of raiding with the Sioux. He had decided at the last minute that he would raise less suspicion if he used a saddle, though his pony was unshod.

His eyes moved restlessly from left to right, searching, vigilant. He felt uncomfortable amid so many white eyes, but his innate pride did not desert him as he reined in his mount, dismounted, and tossed the reins over a hitching post. Since he had only a rudimentary knowledge of the written language, learned when he was a small lad, he asked directions to the quartermaster, having been told by Coyote that that was where he should take the horses he wished to sell. Coyote, who had had dealings with white eyes in the past, also mentioned the price Wind Rider could expect.

“What can I do for you, mister?” The lieutenant behind the desk eyed Wind Rider curiously.

“I have horses to sell to the army. Are you interested?” His abrupt manner was not unusual. Many mountain men and trappers were stingy with words.

“Depends. Where are they?”

“Outside. There are ten, all healthy.

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