Montana Mavericks Books 1 - 4: Rogue Stallion\The Widow And The Rodeo Man\Sleeping With The Enemy\The Once And Future Wife by Diana Palmer

Author:Diana Palmer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2006-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Breathing deeply in an attempt to bring her chaotic emotions under control, Maggie Schaeffer tossed her briefcase onto the passenger seat of her rental car and slammed the door. It didn’t help much. She marched around the front end, unlocked the driver’s door, climbed in behind the wheel and slammed that door, too. She poked the key at the ignition, but her hand was trembling too much for her to fit it into the narrow slot.

She dropped the keys into her lap and pounded the steering wheel with the side of her fist. “Damn that arrogant jerk!”

There were better words to describe Jackson Hawk, but she refused to lower herself that far. Her chest was so full of rage it ached, and she blinked back the tears of frustration stinging the backs of her eyes. She would not let him get to her. He wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called an apple, and she doubted it would be the last.

“So why does it still hurt?”

Maggie sniffed, then sighed and shook her head. She’d grown up surrounded by white people. Her mother had been the only other Indian she knew until she left home. Beverly Schaeffer hadn’t seemed very different from the other kids’ mothers, though, and since Maggie had worn the same kind of clothes, played with the same toys and taken the same lessons after school as the other kids, she hadn’t felt all that different, either.

Oh, once in a while somebody would make a remark about her being an Indian, but she hadn’t thought much about it then. Her mother and father had kept her too busy being an adored only child for her to worry about being inferior to anyone. She’d certainly never felt that way about herself.

Still, she’d always known she wasn’t exactly like the other kids. She wasn’t white, and she never would be. Her mother’s refusal to talk about her own childhood, her relatives and Maggie’s biological father had raised more than a few questions in Maggie’s mind about her Indian heritage. One of her secret goals when she went off to college had been to meet other Indian students and find out if she would feel more at home with them than she did with her white friends.

“Hah!” she muttered, rolling her eyes in disgust at the painful memories flitting through her mind. She’d been rejected by white people over the years, but they had usually been so obviously ignorant, she was able to ignore them. It had hurt a thousand times more when her fellow Indian students took one look at her and despised her on sight.

It wasn’t her fault she hadn’t been raised on a reservation. It wasn’t her fault she’d been raised with plenty of money, or that she’d received a better education in an upper-class white suburb of Denver. It wasn’t her fault she had a white stepfather, or that he’d been allowed to adopt her. And yet she’d been rejected by her fellow Indian students for all of those reasons.

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