Free Nan Ryan by Written in the Stars Page B

ends of the woman’s raven hair, the stallion’s flowing black mane.
    The temporarily dazed crowd came roaring to its feet as a dazzling smile began to spread over the pale, perfect face of the rider.
    “Beauty!” they loudly hailed her. “Beauty! Beauty!” they shouted excitedly to the slender raven-haired woman astride the magnificent black stallion. Diane was nothing less than spectacular. Dressed in black satin shirt and tight-fitting black leather trousers, her tall, shapely body mounted up on the big black horse, she looked every inch the western queen, not to be crossed. She was the envy of every woman in the audience, the dream girl of every man. She went immediately into her routine.
    The noise subsided when, with only a soft-spoken command to Champ, the big black wheeled about and went into a fast, dirt-flinging gallop. When the stallion reached top speed, Diane shot to her feet on his back.
    For the next half hour Diane commanded the attention of the crowd with her daring riding and roping skills. She leaped to the ground while the black stallion sprinted across the arena. Then leaped back astride his back. She slid down underneath his neck, slipped down his long, flowing tail, rode the big creature in ways no one would have thought possible.
    She got out her lariat and put on a roping exhibition that was every bit as thrilling as the fancy riding. She lassoed the black’s neck, his belly, his ear, his tail. She roped one front hoof, then two. She spelled out her name with the rope, drawing oohs and aahs as, one letter at a time, she wrote out “Diane” with the spinning, perfectly tossed rope. The crowd stomped its feet and cheered when she tossed the lariat up into the grandstands. She climbed on Champ’s back, wheeled him left, and went into her final act: the mounted somersault.
    Loud applause, whistles, and shouts of “Bravo, Beauty! Bravo, Beauty, bravo!” escorted her out of the arena. Exhilarated, out of breath, Diane slid down off Champ’s back just outside the entrance. She tossed the reins to one of the waiting wranglers and watched as the black was led away.
    In the dim light she backed into something, turned, and saw that it was the Redman’s cage. For a second her eyes met those of the creature. He gave her a wild-eyed look that made her shiver. He continued to look straight at her as his cage rolled away. Diane stood there for a moment, feeling faint and foolishly frightened.
    The roar of the crowd drew her attention to the arena. They were screaming, “Redman! Beast! It’s the Beast! The Redman of the Rockies!”
    Diane drew a shallow breath, shook her head, and started to walk away. She changed her mind. Glancing quickly about, she climbed the arena’s tall fence to watch and was appalled by what she saw.
    The Redman’s cage was being slowly wheeled around the inner perimeter of the ring by the burly Leatherwood brothers. Every few yards the Leatherwoods stopped and called for anyone in the audience who wanted to get up close to the fierce beast to come on down.
    Diane was astounded to see the preponderance of women who scrambled down out of their seats to crowd around the Redman’s barred cage. Through violet eyes narrowed in disgust she watched as women, young and old, pretty and plain, gathered around the Redman, twittering and gasping and laughing nervously. Clearly they were not totally repelled by the nearly-naked beast.
    Diane felt a funny quiver race up her spine as she observed the women practically fighting one another to get closer to the Redman. Sex and mystery were bound together in the beautiful, wild creature. That’s what drew all those foolish women to his cage. Diane was revolted.
    But she didn’t leave.
    She continued to sit there atop that wooden fence while the Redman’s cage moved slowly around the big arena. The excited females of Denver continued to swoop down to the cage, and Diane couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw pretty girls who were obviously