Free Stone Dreaming Woman by Lael R Neill Page B

mount that will take care of you as well as Midnight takes care of me.”
    “I only intend to ride her around Elk Gap.”
    He shrugged. “One never knows,” he said remotely.
    They had another brief canter on the way back, and then he rode with her to the barn. Toby turned to them, ready to take their horses.
    “Well, did you find the mare satisfactory?” Shane asked.
    “Quite satisfactory. Thank you very much.”
    “Then I’ll take my leave. Au’voir , Miss Weston.” He touched his hat brim and turned Midnight back down the lane. This was the fourth or fifth time she had been subjected to his abrupt leave-taking and had been forced to say some sort of goodbye to his back. This time she did not bother. Instead, as soon as he was past the first curve in the road back to Elk Gap, she heeled Fleur and went for a joyous canter in the opposite direction.

Chapter Six
    By Tuesday the respite in the weather ended decisively in a blustery arctic cold front. Shane, who had postponed his visit to North Village as long as he could, started out Wednesday morning in the tail end of a storm that had dumped more than two feet of new snow over Elk Gap and dropped the temperature at least twenty degrees. Fortunately someone with a wagon and a team had driven through around dawn, so Midnight did not have a struggle until they started up the North Village trail. With equanimity he stepped into the unbroken drifts under the winter-bare trees, picking up his hooves as they climbed. Shane’s stomach tightened as he approached the first ford that crossed the creek, doubly treacherous now that the trail was obscured. But he knew he would never look at that crossing the same way again if he lived to be a hundred, because only a short while ago in that selfsame spot he had come perilously close to dying. He stopped Midnight at the bank and scanned the trees for danger, real or imaginary, then touched the horse’s flanks again and let him pick his own way between the stones that lined the creek bed.
    The next stretch of trail was the worst. The creek went through a series of riffles that narrowed into a steep-banked waterfall, so for perhaps a quarter mile the path veered eastward onto smoother terrain. It picked up the creek upslope, crossed one more ford, and eventually culminated at North Village. They had almost made it back to the creek when Midnight’s ears flicked as though he heard something that did not belong to the familiar woods. Reflexively Shane reached for his rifle and had it half way out of the scabbard when an overpowering weight abruptly slammed into him from behind. A choking arm snaked around his neck and he saw the flash of a huge Bowie knife. He kicked his feet from his stirrups and threw himself backward against his assailant. Then Midnight, who did not like carrying double under the best of circumstances, rebelled against the burden. He reared straight up, and the weight of two large, struggling men on his back, as he stood on the layer of ice under the new snow, pulled him over backward. Shane twisted as they fell, driving his elbow into his adversary’s gut. The horse’s weight landed across his left leg as the combined force knocked the wind out of his assailant. Midnight rolled away and leaped to his feet. Shane only had time to turn over and face the knife wielder before he gathered himself and slashed at Shane’s face, missing only as the latter ducked backward.
    “Bart Hankins!” he exclaimed, trying to put enough distance between them to fish his pistol out from beneath his bear parka. He knew instinctively that in his present weakened condition he did not have the stamina to go one on one with a powerful, rugged woodsman like Bart. He had to stop this quickly or it would not end well for him.
    “You dirty injun bastard! I’m going to kill you, just like you killed my brother!” Bart hissed. “You gut-shot him, and he screamed for a week before he died!” He made it to his knees and lunged forward.