dan price - bounty hunter

7/27/2019 Dan Price - Bounty Hunter

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BOUNTY HUNTER

Chapter 1

I was sure the Apache didnt know I could see him. In fact, it wasnt him I saw,but the glint of the sun off his rifle. Hed been part of the landscape since this morningwhen he tried to ambush me. The crease along my cheek had finally quit seeping blood,but it still hurt like hell. Wed been playing whose gonna move first and die for nearlythree hours. Neither of us had enough cover to stop a bullet so Id been lying like a deadman. But it was obvious the Indian knew I wasnt dead, or hed already be over herepulling on my hair. I was hot, thirsty, hungry, and in no mood for anymore crap. Withthe sun in my eyes, the Indian had figured on killing me quick. Well, now the tableswere turned. The sun was about to settle behind me blinding him. It was time to move.If he could see me, I was dead; so very slowly I pulled the rifle back toward me. With

my elbows I began pulling myself toward his hiding place. I only had a few minutes toget there, and it was slow going on my belly. I didnt see the rabbit at first; but as hecame into my line of sight, I stopped and watched him. He hadnt seen me, but hed seensomething because he suddenly stopped and became perfectly still. It had to be theApache. I hugged the ground like a momma protecting its young and sighted down therifle barrel.

The Apache saw the rabbit too and hoped the white man was not smart enough tofigure out why it had suddenly stopped. He couldnt risk it. If he struck now, the whiteman would not expect it; and this stand-off could be ended. Three hours ago the Indianhad known where the white man was. If he was still there, the Apache would kill him. Ifnot, well, death was better than dishonor.

One second there was nothing but sun and sand; the next, the Apache was there.Moving closer was the only thing that saved my life, as his eyes looked over me to wherehe knew Id been hiding. Before I could aim the Winchester, he saw me and divedforward, his knife slicing into the top of my shoulder. Rolling quickly away, I palmedmy colt as the knife came searching again. I fired point-blank into the Apaches chest.Somehow, he rose up again, and I fired two more times. Still reaching out, he grabbedthe front of my shirt and collapsed onto the sand.

Blood began to flow down the front of my shirt. Checking the wound, I could seeit was not deep. Id been lucky. The Apache was apparently alone, but I knew there hadto be others close by. My horse was gone, run off in the first attack. I was on foot, nofood or water, and a long way from anything friendly. I covered the Apache with sand,no sense in making it easy for em. I knew they could track me easily, but I wasdetermined to put as much distance as I could between them and me. If I was going tohave to defend myself, I wanted it to be on ground of my choosing.

Taking the Apaches rifle, I started toward a group of hills about twenty miles tothe east. Water was going to become a serious problem real soon not to mention shelter.I could see the horse had gone in the same direction. Maybe Id get lucky.

And lucky I was because the horse had finally quit running. I was sure he wassoaked with lather; his hoof prints told me he had begun to walk. The rifle shot had


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scared him, and no one but he knew that a snake sunning on a smooth, red boulder hadalmost gotten him. Hed run for nearly ten miles and now was thirsty and exhausted, buthe could smell it now water! It was still some distance away, but the evening breezehad brought the scent to his parched nostrils. Plodding forward, he headed east toward agroup of low-lying hills.

Chapter 2

She rode like a man, tall and erect in the saddle. She was twenty-seven withraven hair, brown eyes, and a temper like her father. Jennifer Blackburn was not awoman to make angry, and today she was angry. An argument with Lance Elders, theranch foreman, over the selling of the colt had been the last straw.

Racing! she muttered. Thats all he thinks about.Jim Blackburn, her father, had always raced horses and raised cattle. Silver

Dancer, the colt Jennifer had raised from birth, was to be sold. Her father had promisedSilver Dancer was to be hers and hers alone, but Clayton Fields had offered $5,000 for

the colt. Jim Blackburn had decided that kind of money couldnt be turned down. SilverDancers father had won every race in the county before hed broken a leg. The money,it appeared, had become more important than a promise to a daughter. She had decidedto ride off and cool down before confronting her father. The old foreman didnt knowshe hadnt been told, and he got to see first-hand, up close and personal, the temper ofJennifer Blackburn. She had to laugh at the old foremans reaction when she grabbed thebuggy whip off the fence post and went after him. At sixty-two, he could still climb acorral fence as quick as the younger hands.

The sun was going down sending streams of fiery red and gold along the tops ofthe hillsides. She knew it wasnt wise to stay out on the prairie very long, especiallyafter dark; and she had ridden a long way off ranch property. But she still didnt knowhow to approach her father about the colt. Brute force wouldnt change anything. Hedjust dig his spurs in, and theyd both be eye to eye and jaw to jaw. She knew who wouldwin that. No, shed have to resort to a womans methods, and she needed her mother forthat. But Lisa Blackburn had been dead ten years now.

Heart attack, the doc had said. Theres just no way to know about thesethings.

Her mother had always been the buffer between father and daughter. Through theyears they had come to understand each other, but Jennifer was never treated like sheknew a son would have been. She was given no responsibilities, no training in how to runthe ranch. No, Jennifer was a woman; and as far as Jim Blackburn was concerned, sheneeded to start acting like one. Ranch matters were not a womans concern especially thebuying and selling of livestock on ranch property. But there were two things that JimBlackburn would not tolerate liars and thieves. As far as Jennifer was concerned, herfather was about to be faced with one of the things he couldnt tolerate.

She started to turn back when she heard the horse. He was stumbling down thehill, and his breathing was labored. Riding up, she saw the saddle and the dried blood.

Easy boy, she said as she stroked his forehead.Looking around, she saw nothing, but Apaches wouldnt be seen until they were

ready. Then it was too late. They never came this close to the ranch. Jim Blackburn and


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the Apaches had an unwritten truce. Many years ago, Jim Blackburn, while hunting anorphaned calf, had found an Indian boy in a gully with a broken leg. The boy was the sonof Raven Claw, the Apache chief. A child of ten or eleven, hed been thrown from hishorse. Riding straight into the Apache camp, Jim Blackburn had shown no fear. TheApache considered bravery from their enemies to be great and honorable. Though Jim

Blackburn had killed many Apaches, Raven Claw would not allow any harm to come tothe rancher. From that day on, the braves were not allowed on ranch property. Anunderstanding had been reached although neither could speak the others language.Sometimes, if the winter was especially bad and knowing there would be a lack of food,Blackburn would take several cattle to the Apache camp. He and Raven Claw would sitand smoke, neither saying anything until it came time for Blackburn to leave.

Jennifer was still uneasy. The condition of the horse and the dried blood on thesaddle indicated the horse had been running for several hours. Searching through thesaddle bags, she found a wanted poster for a Blake Monroe-$2500 dead or alive.

Was this Blake Monroe or somebody that was hurt and after Monroe shewondered? Come-on boy, she whispered soothingly as she grabbed the winded horses

reins and headed back to the ranch.

Chapter 3

The wind scattered the sand in all directions as I slowly released the grains. I hadno clue from which direction the wind came. It was more of a whirlwind than anythingelse, but at least my tracks would be erased by the shifting sand. It wouldnt delay theApaches long. They were the best trackers in the world, and theyd pick up my trail soonenough. I needed hard ground to move quicker, to leave less sign for them to follow; andthat meant climbing the escarpment about a mile away. If the wind would just keepblowing, maybe I could get there. Tracking across rocks was near impossible, even forthe best trackers in the world.

Chapter 4

Unfortunately in the woods where a brave lay buried, the feckless wind had notrisen in time. The Apaches had found the site of the attack. The winds absence hadmade the disturbed sand an easy reading, and it was evident that a violent struggle hadtaken place. There was blood in several places, but no bodies. Footprints headed east,and they did not belong to their brother. They began searching until one of themdiscovered the Indians body. Putting the body on a horse, they began the dreaded returnto the Apache encampment. The braves knew the death of Raven Claws only son wouldnot be welcome news.

Chapter 5

Water was the only thing Id thought of for the last six hours. Cactus held somemoisture, and Id chewed cactus until my tongue was raw. My only hope was thatsomewhere on the escarpment there might be some rainwater trapped in a rock basinshielded from the sun. It would be a miracle if I found it, if it even existed; but I wasnt


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going to die without looking. Another hour passed and still no water, but at least Idfound an overhang of rock that afforded me some shade. Crawling under it, I watchedthe last rays of the sun disappear into the burning prairie. I couldnt spit or swallow. Mylips were split, and my eyes were burning out of my head. I closed them and even in mymisery, I fell asleep.

Chapter 6

The hands were all at dinner when Jennifer rode in. Quickly she dismounted andthrew the reins over the nearest stall gate. Taking the winded horse immediately to thecorral, she tied it to the fence rail and brought water in a bucket. Carefully, not allowingthe horse to drink too much too quickly, she let it drink its fill. Then she led him into anempty stall. Exhausted, he immediately lay down on the straw-covered floor. She knewthe horse must be hungry too, but rest was what it needed more than anything else.Pitching a flake of hay into the stall, she turned to see the sun was going down. If herfather knew she was headed back out, there would be hell to pay. But Jennifers strong

will clenched her jaw. Taking another horse from the corral, she checked the load in bothher colt and rifle and silently stole out of the barn. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, sheled her horse out of the corral and quickly mounted.

Chapter 7

At dawn Raven Claw and twenty Apaches rode out to find the white man who hadkilled his son. He had headed east, the braves said. His trail would not be easy to findnow that the wind had covered the tracks, but they would be found. Raven Claw had nodoubt of that. There were three bullet holes in War Eagles chest. He had fought welland died well. If War Eagles mother were still alive, she would have been as proud ashe of the boy. But War Eagle was not killed by the Comanche, the Apaches closest andmost fierce enemy. He was killed by a white man, of which there had become too many.Jim Blackburn was the only white man Raven Claw had ever known that had beenhonorable and true; but, like all humans, there were bad ones, both white and Indian.And this white man would die. He had killed his only son; and, brave or not, RavenClaw would have no mercy on this man.

Chapter 8

Dawn came with a throbbing ache in my throat. It took a few minutes before Icould get my eyes to focus. They still hurt, even wearing my hat I couldnt seem to keepthe rays from nearly blinding me. I saw the little rock rat, but my mind could not graspthe fact that he had to have water too. Without thinking, I almost killed him. Before Ibrought the rock down on his furry little head, my brain finally began to function; and Ithrew the rock at him as he scampered off. Pulling myself up, I watched him as hescurried toward a small animal trail leading up into the rocks. I was in no mood for awild rat chase, but I desperately followed him in hopes he was in need of a drink too.Scuttling under several rocks, I saw him emerge from the other side, as he seemed toknow where he was headed, but in no particular hurry to get there. Unlike me, he was


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obviously not starving for water. I watched him stop about ten yards in front of me andbegin to sniff the air. Glad for the brief rest, I saw that the sun was barely above thehorizon, but I was suffering like it was high noon. Suddenly, he scampered off again, andreluctantly I began to follow when I stepped into the small rock basin filled with water.Self-discipline was not one of my stronger traits, but I knew drinking too fast would

cause me some serious trouble. With great reluctance, I allowed myself two largeswallows and then made myself lie back and count to a hundred before I drank again. Inan hour, I had slowly quenched my thirst. My position was much higher now, but stillnot near the hills Id been trying to reach, when I spotted the dust from their horsescoming from the west. My eyes were stinging, but I didnt need anybody to tell me whothey were. Lying as flat as I could, I watched as they came closer. This was as good aspot as any, I supposed. There was no cover except rocks, so they couldnt sneak upbehind me. Hopefully they would not see my trail through the rocks and simply pass onby. I had two rifles and a colt, but there were at least twenty of them. The one whoseemed to be in charge stopped his horse and dismounted. Walking around the base ofthe escarpment, he began looking up toward me as I hugged the rocks. Seemingly

satisfied, he mounted his horse; and the Indians once again headed toward the east. Nowthey were in front of me. There was no way I was turning back to the west, and I couldsee nothing toward the north or south except more prairie and sand. The east was myonly hope of food, water, and safety; but Id have to be much more careful now. Theyknew I was on foot, and sooner or later they would know theyd passed me hidingsomewhere. Theyd be back. Added to the fact that I was starving, just made life thatmuch more enjoyable.

Chapter 9

Jennifer had followed the tracks as far as she could, but soon they disappeared inthe sand. Spotting a large rock jutting out from the sand, she decided to camp untildaylight. She could see her father right now as he sent the hands searching the ranch forher.

Where the hell did she go? hed be screaming at poor old Lance Elders.I might be a girl, she mused aloud, but Im Jim Blackburns daughter. The

Calvary will be out in full force by daylight. Thats ok, she had decided, laying her headdown on her saddle. The more people in the hunt the quicker hed be found. .

Morning came, crisp, dry, and windy. She packed her blanket and saddled up.Checking her canteen she decided to head east. It was just a hunch; but maybe if thiscowboy was alive, hed think to walk toward the hills.

And, maybe not, she thought.

Chapter 10

I saw the Apache before Id gone a half mile. He made no effort to hide himselfas he rode along the base of the escarpment. So they knew where I was. They would justkeep me in sight until I ran out of water. And then, when the time was right, they wouldjust scale the rocks and kill me, with no loss of braves and no wasted effort. I really hadmy butt in a crack now. I sat down to consider my options of which there were few: run


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till they caught me, sit here till they caught me. Looking north-east, I saw a small trail ofdust moving toward the escarpment of rocks. Instead of blowing away, it kept coming;and within a few minutes I could see the horse and rider. Id considered shooting theApache, maneuvering his horse closer to me several times. But I had no idea where therest of them were, and I sure didnt want to start anything yet. If this rider wasnt heading

toward his Apache friends, he was headed toward certain death; and I had to warn him.Before I could fire the Winchester, the Apaches appeared as if out of the sand. He triedto draw his colt, but was immediately surrounded. I didnt wait to see anymore.Knowing now where the rest of the Indians were, I had to gamble that there were no morebelow me that I couldnt see. Shouldering my Winchester, I sighted down the barrel. TheApache seemed to sense he was in danger and pulled up behind a rock. I stood again toreassure him I was still there. I could now see the Apaches, with the rider in tow,heading back toward me. I couldnt wait any longer. As the Apache looked up, I swungthe Winchester to my shoulder, sighted, and fired. He was dead before he hit the ground.I bolted down the rocks as fast as I could. Grabbing the Indians horse, I rode back to thewest in a desperate effort to get around the escarpment. I knew that the only reason I

lived was because of some poor cowboy who showed up at the right time.

Chapter 11

Jennifer was tired. It was nearly noon and time to head back to the ranch.Whoever it was could not have survived in this heat especially wounded and no water.Suddenly from out of the sand twenty Apaches appeared. One dismounted and beganwalking toward her. He had coal black hair with just a trace of white sprinkled aroundhis ears. He had a weathered face creased and lined from years of exposure to therelentless sun. A wicked scar ran from his shoulder across his chest along with otherscars testifying to the many violent struggles in his life. But as scared as she was,Jennifer saw something in the Apaches eyes that told her she was in no danger. Andthen she heard him say her name.

Blackburn, he said.She was shocked that he would know who she was.Yes, she answered. Im Jennifer Blackburn.And then in a sudden remembrance, it came to her. This was Raven Claw, the

Apache war chief that her father had mentioned so often.Come, said Raven Claw, as he turned his horse toward the west. Riding toward

a large out-cropping of rocks, she started to ask where they were going when the rifleshot echoed across the prairie. The reaction was immediate; the Apaches bolted away,leaving Jennifer. She quickly followed them to the base of a large rock. Raven Clawwas kneeling over the body of a dead Apache. He said something and two ridersdismounted. Lifting the dead body, they laid it across one of the horses. Raven Clawlooked at the tracks of a horse headed west, and then turned to Jennifer.

Blackburn, home, he said.She nodded to show she understood. As the Apaches rode away, she wondered

who had shot the Apache. If it had been the man she searched for, he was dead. RavenClaw would kill him. She was certain of that. If he was still out there, only God could


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help him now. She spurred her horse toward the ranch. It was a long way back, and sheknew shed better start thinking of what she was going to tell Daddy.

Chapter 12

I was headed west into open country, but not for long. Safety was back to the eastand the hills Id spotted two days ago. The Indian pony was strong, but I knew theApaches were not about to let the killing of two of their own go unpunished. I pushed thepony as hard as I dared hoping the Apaches wouldnt figure out what I was doing anddouble back to cut me off.

Chapter 13

Jim Blackburn hadnt slept in two days. He had just begun to realize how muchhe loved his daughter. With most of his hands riding beside him, he had covered overfifty miles and still no sign of her. Hed sent riders north and south, but they had seen

and found nothing. As he rode west, he couldnt help but hear Lance Elders saying againthat shed been promised that horse, and nothing and nobody was taking that horse awayfrom her. Hed broken a promise. If her mother had been alive, it would never havehappened. He knew it, and Jennifer knew it. If something had happened to her out here,he would never forgive himself. Hed have to find Raven Claw. If she was out here andalive, Raven Claw would know. Hed have to go alone, and it had been years sincetheyd seen each other. The old war chief was like him mean and stubborn. But therewas respect for each other that had developed over the years. And as long as the oldApache lived, Blackburn knew his hands and daughter would not be harmed.

Suddenly in the distance Blackburn saw a dust cloud. Somebody was riding andriding hard. It was not Jennifer. As the rider rode closer, Blackburn could see the horsewas an Indian pony; and soon, covered in dust, the man reined the sweating pony besidehim.

Who are you? asked one of the biggest men Id ever seen.Dan Jennings, I replied.What are you doing out here? the big man asked.Running from Apaches, I answered.The big man seemed to think about that for a minute, and then said,You seen anybody else out here, a woman?No, I said, nobody else.My names Jim Blackburn; Im looking for my daughter- Jennifer.The big man took off his hat and wiped a sweaty brow.I havent seen anybody but about twenty Apaches bent on lifting my

hair, I said.Pointing to my shoulder, he asked. That hurt much?Not anymore, I responded.Well, I see you got one of em, or you wouldnt have that pony,

Blackburn added. Youre a long way from any town, Jennings, and about ten milesfrom the boundary to my ranch, the Bar T. You ride back with these men, and theyll


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give you some grub and a place to sleep for a day or two. You look like you could usesome rest.

Much obliged, I answered.Blackburn turned and said something to an old cowhand; and after a brief

argument, he began riding back toward the west. Watching Blackburn ride away, the old

man rode up and said, Damn fool! Hes gona get killed messing with them Apaches oneof these days.His daughters missing. Reckon the Apaches have her? I asked.If they do, said the old man, hell get her back. The boss has some

kind of arrangement with the Apache chief.An arrangement with that cut-throat? I asked.Yep, said the old man. Boss has known him for years. Lets ride.

Chapter 14

Jennifer had ridden hard for most of the day. She stopped to give the

horse a breather and drink some water shed poured in her hat. Wiping the sweat fromher face, she thought again about the lost cowboy. This was a hard land. To live heretook courage and sometimes just pure luck. Her father was a hard man too. She knewhed killed men that had threatened the family. The closest law was seventy miles awayin Santa Fe. Out here you lived and died by your wits and a gun. Nothing else mattered.She hated to admit it, but she longed for a man like her father with maybe a little morecompassion for the feelings of others. He sorely lacked in that area, especially where shewas concerned. She still intended to fight for the horse. There would be no give in herover that. A promise was a promise, and she intended that he keep it. Mounting back up,she pointed the bay once again toward the ranch.

It was late, and the sun was about to set when she saw the rider comingtoward her. Loosening her rifle, she continued to ride. Whoever it was had no businessout here that she could think of. As he got closer, she could see the sombrero and thecartridge belt draped across his chest. There was no way he could not see she was awoman, so there was no use hiding it.

Good evening, senorita, said the rider. You are lost out here, no?No, Im not lost out here, she said. Where are you going?I am headed to Santa Fe, senorita. I plan to buy horses there.

As the rider talked, he continued to move his horse closer, so Jennifercasually laid the rifle across the saddle horn pointing it at the middle of the riders chest.He saw it and stopped his horse.

Tell me senorita, what is your name?Names dont mean much out here, Mister. A man, or woman, is judged

by whether they can be trusted. Lying and stealing wont be tolerated, and in your case itwould be lying.

The riders smile relaxed into a frown. He had quickly lost his sense ofhumor.

And why would you think I would lie, senorita, and about what?


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Santa Fe is in the opposite direction, Mister; and I doubt youve gotenough money on you to buy a beer, much less a horse.

She watched closely as the riders hand slid closer to his gun.And before you get foolish and try to pull that hog-leg, this Winchester is

pointed right at your bellybutton. I would sorely hate to have to put a hole in you, but Ill

do it and not think twice about it. So you decide, Mister. How lucky do you feel?Looking at her finger wrapped around the trigger, he decided the oddswere too great.

I will remember you, senorita. Hopefully our paths will cross again.As he rode off into the darkness, Jennifer decided she would try and ride

another few miles, before bedding down for the night. She hated to make a cold camp,but she didnt trust him not to circle around and come back.

She rode for another hour when, coming over a rise, she saw the flickeringlight of a campfire. She was not up for anymore confrontations and decided to give awide berth to whoever this might be. Then, suddenly, she heard a familiar voice.

Get off the horse slow, Mister.

To which she answered, Id be glad to, Dad. Have you got any coffee?He gathered her in his arms holding her so tightly she couldnt breathe,and then suddenly released her and walked back toward the campfire. In that briefmoment, he had told her more than in all of her twenty-seven years.

I saw the horse in the corral, said Blackburn. Did that have somethingto do with why you left?

Yes, said Jennifer. I found him out here with blood on the saddle. Icame to look for the owner.

I may have found him for you, said Blackburn. He had a run-in withRaven Claw and got cut. I sent him back to the ranch with the rest of the hands.

You brought the hands out here to find me? asked Jennifer.Yeah, said Blackburn. Now lets get some sleep. We got another long

ride tomorrow.As Jennifer laid her head on the saddle, she smiled. But before she went

to sleep she thought to herself, I didnt ask his name.

Chapter 15

The tracks had turned back to the east. The white man was headed forBlackburns ranch.

He has too much of a lead, thought Raven Claw.He turned, waving his hand in a circle over his head, he reined his ponys

head around and turned heading back to the village. The braves also turned their horsesheads to move in behind Raven Claw. His friendship with Blackburn was about to betested.

I will have this white mans heart, he whispered to himself.

Chapter 16


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Upon arrival at the ranch, the cook tended to Jennings wounded shoulder,then started breaking eggs into a blackened skillet and frying slabs of pork on the side.After eating enough for two men, Jennings went to the bunkhouse and fell immediatelyinto a deep sleep. Not even the rowdiness of over twenty men woke him.

The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of cowhands scraping bootsalong the wooden floors and slopping cold water on faces and hands. My empty stomachrolled from the smells coming from the kitchen. Mountains of scrambled eggs, bacon,biscuits, and homemade jelly loaded the dining room table, and, of course, coffee. Thehands had left me pretty much alone except for a few normal questions where was Ifrom, where was I headed. People out here didnt answer to much. A mans business washis own, and most people understood that and accepted it. Blake Monroe was all that wason my mind at the moment and the $2500 dollars that went with his capture. That wasmore money than most people made in five years, and I intended to have it. My dad hadbeen the town marshal in Carson City when Mom died. She was killed standing on ourfront porch by a drunken cowboy just firing his pistol to celebrate the coming of the New

Year. Dad never got over it. He literally drank himself to death over the next ten years,and I grew up on my own. When he was sober, hed take me out back of the house andteach me how to shoot his gun. Wed be out there for hours until the alcohol called him.Before he left, he always said, I should have killed the son of a bitch, Dan.

I knew he was talking about the man that killed my mother. At the trial hewas found guilt but only served five years. When Dad died, I was nineteen, had nofamily and no idea what I wanted to do. But I was good with a gun, and one day I saw awanted poster for a man with a $200 dollar bounty on him. I found him in less than aweek. My life just sort of fell into place after that. For ten years Id hunted downthieves and murderers. Some, I had to kill, but I never worried too much about it. I wasno back shooter and never killed anyone unarmed, but I was still an outcast among mostpeople. So, I stayed pretty much to myself. Up to now that had worked out pretty well.

After breakfast, I needed to check on my horse, so I headed for the stables.As I walked across the yard, I couldnt help but be envious of what Blackburn had built.The rambling ranch house, the barn, stables and corrals stood as evidence to Blackburnslife of hard work; but I had seen no woman that could be mistaken for his wife. Usuallythe women were around the cookhouse at breakfast time, but Id seen nobody but thecook. Few men could have built this little spread without the help of a good woman. Justbeing around my mom and dad had taught me about the importance of a woman in thelives of most men. For me that time would never come. No woman would put up withmy lifestyle.

Walking into the barn I found Dusty, standing with an oat bag strappedaround his head. He was munching loudly, and I scratched the soft spot behind his ears. Imuttered, Well, I hope youve gotten plenty to eat. Was there some particular reasonyou decided to leave me after I got shot. Was it something I said, or do you just not likeme any more? There was no response other than a contented snort coming from withinthe oat bag. I turned from Dusty and saw my saddle hanging from the side of the stall. Ilifted it and saw the leather had been thoroughly cleaned and oiled. In the dim light ofthe barn, it shone like a silver dollar.


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It took me a while to get the blood off of it, said Jennifer. It had driedon the leather pretty good.

I hadnt heard her come in, which was not good. One of the things Iprided myself on was not allowing anyone to sneak up behind me.

She had black hair pulled back and tucked under a wide brimmed hat. A

loose fitting shirt did nothing to accentuate her breasts, but the jeans more than made upfor it. She was long legged with a waist I was sure I could wrap one hand around. Herface was sprinkled with freckles, but Id had never seen anything more beautiful in all mylife.

Im Jennifer Blackburn, she said, extending her hand.Dan Jennings.I took her hand and her grip surprised me. It was strong but still felt like

the hand of a woman.She walked over unfastening the feed bag from Dustys nose. She rubbed

his nose and said, He was in pretty bad shape when I found him. You want to tell mewhat happened?

Just a run-in with some Apaches, I said. One of em tried to ambushme, knocked me off Dusty, and for some reason he decided to let me fend for myself. Iwas lucky, and so was he to have found you.

So who is Blake Monroe? she asked.I knew shed seen the wanted poster in my saddlebags, but I was on my

way out of here anyway, so what the hell.Hes a murderer. I was hunting him when I got ambushed.Youre a bounty hunter, she said. And with that she walked out of the

stable.That didnt really go well, I said to myself. Reaching for Dustys

halter, I led him out of the stall and started saddling him. No sense wasting anymoretime. But first I needed some supplies. I led Dusty over to the cookhouse and tied him toa rail. I also needed to talk to Jim Blackburn. I was sure bounty hunters werent popularwith him either, but I owed him my life. The cook gave me enough grub for the seventymile trip to Santa Fe; and after packing it on Dusty, I started back toward the ranchhouse. Jim Blackburn was standing on the front porch.

I see youre about ready to head out, said Blackburn.You saved my life, Mr. Blackburn.

Well, at the time, you needed saving, but Ill have to be honest with you,Jennings. Bounty Hunters push the limit on what I would try to save. My daughteralmost lost her life looking for you, even after she found the poster in your saddlebags.You seem like a good man. Im giving you the benefit of the doubt for now.

As he turned to walk back into the house, Jennifer stepped out the door. Ihad just swung a leg over the saddle. They were both looking past me at the entrancegate to the ranch. An Apache was riding in with a warrior on each side. Every hand stillin the yard was walking behind them. I recognized one of the Apaches immediately asthe one hunting me. They rode up to the porch, the Indian never taking his eyes off me.

Blackburn, said the Apache. And he pointed to me. There was noquestion what he wanted. When I spoke to him in Apache, he swung his gaze back to me.Jim Blackburn was the only one who seemed unsurprised.


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My name is Dan Jennings, I told him. Why do you want me?You have killed my son and another one of my braves, answered the

Indian.What I did, I did to save my life, I said. Your son fought bravely. I

was very lucky to have killed him.

The Indian looked hard at me. My name is Raven Claw, Chief of theApache. I know what you say is true, but the death of my son cannot go unanswered.You are my enemy. Tell Blackburn, when you leave this ranch, you will be killed. I willnot force him to give you up as I intended. You are brave, Dan Jennings, but you mustdie.

As he rode back out of the yard, Blackburn looked hard at me.What did Raven Claw say?He said I killed his son. And for that, I must die. I told him it was a fair

fight, and he said he knew that. He came to demand that you give me up, but I guess hechanged his mind. Thanks again for everything, Mr. Blackburn. And you too Miss, fortaking care of Dusty.

Theyll be waiting right outside the ranch property. How do you expectto get around them? said Blackburn.I havent exactly figured that out yet.Well, you better figured it out, cause youre not going anywhere till you

do. said Jennifer, as she walked back into the house.Jim Blackburn and I both looked at each other and then back at the front

door of the ranch house.As much as I hate to admit it, she does have a point, Jennings. Get off

your horse and come in the house, said Blackburn.Reluctantly, I dismounted. Staying here was not an option in my mind;

but if Raven Claw was sitting out there waiting for me, maybe Id better explore someother possibilities. Walking into the house, I was surprised at its neatness and orderliness.I shouldnt have been, but for some reason I just didnt picture Jim Blackburn as someonewho cared much about the fineries out here in the middle of nowhere. But the room waselaborately furnished. Hard wood floors were covered with rugs that had to have beenimported. Oriental vases and many hued pieces of pottery sat on ornately carved endtables and lamp tables reflecting the morning sun. A beautiful dining room table could beseen through a doorway, and pictures of a woman I assumed had to be Mrs. Blackburnalongside one of Jennifer when she was much younger hung on one wall. Curtains withlace drapery graced the windows; and ornately carved chairs with soft cushions, coveredwith fine stitchery were scattered throughout the room.

Have a seat, said Blackburn. And tell me where you learned to speakApache?

Jennifer walked back in the room and sat beside her father. I really didntwant to talk about my past, but I did owe Blackburn my life. Reluctantly I told them thestory of Black Eye.

My Pa was the sheriff of Carson City, and one day two Apache horsethieves, a young boy, named Black Eye, and his father were dragged into my pas office.More likely they had been stealing food, but there was so much hatred for the Apachesaround Carson City, that they were both lucky they hadnt been lynched when theyd


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been caught. My Pa wouldnt let em hang Black Eye. He was too young, he said. Heconvinced Judge Cameron too, but the judge made Black Eye watch as they hung his pa.He said it would teach the boy a lesson. Black Eye never moved and never cried. Hell!Pa made me watch it too. Ma was not too happy with Pa for a long while after that.

Nobody in town would take Black Eye. Pa opened one of the jail cells,

and he slept in it and hung around the office. At lunch time Ma would always bringenough food for both of em. When I came in from school, I would sit down at Pas deskto do my numbers and letters. Black Eye would stand behind me watching over myshoulder as I labored with the figures. Pointing and speaking Apache, I knew he wastrying to ask me something about my writing. Of course, I had no idea what he wassaying. After awhile Black Eye would give up and go off somewhere. One day I got abright idea. He asked me something, and I pointed to my shirt and said shirt. Then Ipointed to his and said, shirt. He looked at me for a minute and then his eyes lit up.Shaking his head, he pointed to his shirt and said what shirt was in Apache. From thatday on, I was learning Apache; and he was learning English. Pa warned both of us neverto speak Apache outside the office. Black Eye could be killed. We both promised.

One day I asked Black Eye why one of his eyes was so dark and the otherblue. He didnt know neither did Pa. Ma just said, God had his reasons. I wonderedwhat God had been thinking when he made Apaches. With the exception of Black Eye,the Apaches Id seen would kill you before you could blink and take your hair too. Iguess I was about ten or eleven when Black Eye came to live at the jail, and I was aboutfourteen when Mac Richards killed him in the saloon. Pa had sent him over to the saloonto get him a bottle of whiskey. Ma had died six months before.

Apaches had killed Mac Richards wife and child the year before. Hewas standing at the bar drunk as usual when Black Eye walked in. He turned as BlackEye walked through the door and said, No stinking Indian is gonna live if my wife andchild dont. So he pulled a gun and shot Black Eye. I still remember it was about noonon a Saturday. Pa hung Mac Richards the next day. There was no trial and no judge. Pajust hung him out behind the jail. I thought the townspeople were gonna lynch Pa forawhile. I guess Pa was lucky. Nobody liked Mac Richards too much either. That endedPas job as sheriff because the next time Judge Camerons circuit brought him to town, hetook Pas badge. It wasnt long before Pa was dead too.

Ive known the Apache all my life, said Blackburn. They take greatpride in honesty and bravery. You have those same traits, son. You got em from yourPa just as Raven Claw did from his. He is a ruthless man, but I learned over twenty yearsago that he is a reasonable man too. Youre gonna have to face him by yourself just as Idid. Twenty years ago I found his son on the prairie with a broken leg and brought himhome. Raven Claw and I have had a mutual sense of trust ever since.

I guess I could send twenty riders with you as an escort to Santa Fe, butRaven Claw would look on that as a betrayal of our trust. If youre ever gonna leave thisranch, youre going to have to do what I did and ride to his camp alone. You have theadvantage of speaking their language which Ive never had. Whether that will help youor not, I dont know; but I dont see any other options unless you think you can out runem for seventy miles.


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I knew Blackburn was right. The death of Raven Claws son had to beavenged. If I was to die, at least it wouldnt be with a bullet in my back from somefugitive I was after. That was the fate of most bounty hunters.

Its about a three days ride to the Apache camp, said Blackburn. Stayhere today and start out at sunup. When you pass the ranch boundary, the Apaches will

see youre not running. They wont bother you. As long as you head for the camp,youll just get an escort. Raven Claw will test you, but I got a gut feeling youll livethrough it. Come to the house tonight for supper. A man shouldnt have to face themeanest Indian on the face of the earth on an empty stomach.

As I walked to the door I asked, Mr. Blackburn, did Raven Claw test youall those years ago?

Nope, said Blackburn, I was bringing his son back alive. You had himbrought back dead. Remember son, the Apache have no sympathy for cowards. Fear,they understand. All men fear, but a brave man does what has to be done anyway.

Walking out the door, I couldnt help but wonder if I had the courage toeven ride to the camp much less be tested. I doubted a full stomach was going to help.

Chapter 17

For obvious reasons, I had a sleepless night. I kept going over in my mindhow I would live my life over if given the chance, but I had played with the hand Id beendealt. Like Black Eye, fate would decide whether I lived or died; and that was all in thehands of an Apache chief. I decided to get up and leave before the cowhands started tostir. Slipping on my boots, since that was all Id taken off in bed, I grabbed my bedrolland guns and walked out into the brisk night air. The corral was dark, but Dusty nickeredsoftly against my shoulder as I stepped beside him. I saddled him quickly, and I led himto the trough for one more drink of water. The sound of a door opening and the light of alantern startled me. I was a man possibly facing death and at the same time hoping forlife. I felt so many conflicting emotions that for one of the few times in my life, I wasmore afraid of living than of dying. She stopped in front of Dusty and began to stroke hisface.

You come back, Dusty, you hear me. Dont make me have to come outthere and get you again.

She looked at me, and even in the dimness of a lantern, I could see thetears in her eyes.

You take care of this horse, cowboy, she said.And before I could think of a damn thing to say, she turned and walked

back across the yard toward the house, the light from the lantern illuminating her slenderbody as she stepped through the door.

Like Blackburn said, as soon as I left Bar T property, the Apachesappeared. They road first behind, and in the next few minutes they surrounded me onboth sides and in front. They knew where the water holes were; and realizing I no longerhad any choice, I road along with them. During the night, one was always on guard. Atfirst I was surprised that they allowed me to stay armed, keeping both my Winchester andmy colt. But I realized they were showing me they had nothing to fear, and they wereright. I could die here or take my chances with Raven Claw. On the third day we were


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met by about twenty Apaches who were to be my final escort. As we approached, I couldsee the impossibility of surprising the encampment. There were steep cliffs on two sides,and any approach from the other two sides could be seen for miles. Not a tree or bushgrew as far as the eye could see. I estimated there were almost two hundred lodges. Thecount of warriors would be nearly the same as each lodge must house at least one adult

male. Making our way through the gathering crowd, I saw that every eye watched me. Iwas the enemy, and their stare showed it. They moved aside so we could ride throughthem, other warriors stepped behind us as we approached the largest lodge in the verycenter of the camp. By the time we stopped in front of what I knew must be RavenClaws lodge, there were over a hundred warriors behind us. But it wasnt Raven Clawwho stepped through the door of the lodge. A woman, hair golden as the morning sun andeyes as blue as the sky, stood before me dressed head-to-toe in buckskin. Holding a lancewith painted emblems attached to it, she looked at me for some time; and then in perfectEnglish said, I am White Feather. Raven Claw has given you to me. If you do exactly asI say, you will not be harmed. Do you understand?

I nodded, that I did. She spoke Apache to two braves standing nearby, and

then turned again to me.I know that you speak our language. Go with these two men. I will callfor you shortly.

One of the braves took Dustys bridle and led him away. As I followed thetwo Apaches, we came to a lodge which we entered; and I was ordered to sit down. Notone time had anyone asked me to surrender my guns. Sitting down, I placed theWinchester beside me and took off my gun belt. The Apaches looked around the lodgeand then back at me.

You can speak our language, said one.Yes, I said.You have killed Raven Claws son, said the other.I know that too, I responded.You have shown much courage coming here, but you will suffer much

pain. White Feather will hurt you until you beg for death, but she will not give it.Where is Raven Claw? I asked.You will see him soon enough, said one.As they turned to leave, I asked, Why does Raven Claw let a white

woman administer my punishment?She is his daughter, one said.

Chapter 18

In the late afternoon, food was brought by an Apache woman who simplyput the food down and left. I wasnt hungry. I continued to wonder why my weaponswere not taken. It was true I could not escape, but I could sure kill some Apaches in theeffort. I wished Black Eye were here to answer some questions for me. One questionwould be why in the world would Raven Claw have captured a white woman and raisedher as his own child? Youd think after living with the Apache all this time, she wouldhave forgotten what English she might have known. And if Raven Claw lived with her,why didnt he know more English? But more puzzling was the answer to the question of


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how was White Feather going to make me suffer so badly I would wish for death.Closing my eyes, I lay down and tried to clear my mind. To survive whatever was instore for me, I had to be able to think clearly and quickly; of that I was sure. I slept. Idont know for how long, but it was dark in the lodge. I stood up and walked to where Iknew the entrance flap to be and pulled it back. Stepping outside I was confronted by an

Apache who said, Come with me. This brave was not one of the two who had broughtme to the lodge. Following him, we passed camp fires, and I could see his face waspainted black with white emblems on each cheek. He walked with a limp, but I had tohurry to stay up with him. We stopped in front of the biggest lodge that I had seen earlierand known would be the chiefs lodge. One of the two Apaches standing guard motionedme to enter. There was a large fire burning in the center, surrounded by at least twentyApaches all wearing an array of colorful head dresses. To my left I could see WhiteFeather, and sitting beside her was Raven Claw arrayed in the largest head dress Id everseen. To my right was the Apache that had escorted me, now sitting with four others alsowith faces painted black. There were war shields hanging from all four walls, the lodgehaving been built of adobe. Not a sound could be heard from anyone except the labored

breathing of one of the black-faced Apaches. The crackling sounds made by the burningfire filled the room.Sit down, Dan Jennings, White Feather said.They had left a place near the edge of the circle, and she nodded her head

toward it.This is the high council. These are the leaders of our nation brought here

to hear what is to be done with you, said White Feather. My father, Raven Claw, is thechief of our nation. You have killed his son, my brother, War Eagle. He will nowaddress the council and you.

Every eye was trained on the Chief of the Apache as he stood.Since I was a child, began Raven Claw, I have watched the white man

invade our lands. They have lied, murdered, and driven us from lands given to us by theGods and passed down through our fathers. I have fought and killed many of them. Myfather, Long Knife, said many times, the whites are like the stars in the heavens, and theApache must learn to live among them or be wiped from the earth.

There was an-uproar from all around the room; and only when WhiteFeather stood, did it become quiet again.

Blackburn is the only white man Ive known that could be trusted,Raven Claw continued. He tells me of a horse that can run across the prairie and carrymany riders. This horse cannot be killed as it is not made of flesh and bone. He says itwill be here soon. I do not know what the future holds for my people; but as for myself, Iwill live as my fathers have lived and die as they did-giving no mercy to those whowould take what rightfully belongs to us.

Again a huge outcry came from those seated in obvious support to whatRaven Claw had said. He turned and looked at me.

You are much like Blackburn, he said. You have come here knowingthat you will die but not afraid to face death. Such was my son. My only other child isthis woman, he said as he pointed to White Feather. She has been with us since she waseleven. Her family was killed by others not of my tribe. On a journey to another village


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I saw her fighting three others trying to steal her food. When she saw me, she showed nofear. When I said, You fight well for a girl, she answered in Apache.

I killed this rabbit, and no one will take it from me.The council laughed knowing Raven Claw had told the story as a tribute to

White Feather.

So I traded for her. Such courage among captives had never been seen,not even in those much older. She is my daughter and an Apache. No one in this roomquestions it. Like you, Dan Jennings, my daughter is white; but she has the heart of abear. She has killed many men, both white and Indian. She has had many offers tomarry, but I would not force any brave on her. She will choose her own husband, but asyet no one has commanded her respect. If proof of courage was all that was required, shewould have married many moons ago. But it will take much more than that to bed her.Now we will see if you will live or die.

White Feather stood up and motioned to one of the men with black faces.He went to the fire and scattered the embers bringing back two in a bowl.

The fire is now out, Dan Jennings. You will pick up the burning embers

in your hands and make a path across the room. You will then walk across the path andcome back to this spot for the next part of your test. If you drop any of the embers, if youfail to walk across them, once you have made the path, you will die. Do you understandme, Dan Jennings?

Her eyes were like looking into an abyss- cold, lifeless, without mercy.I nodded and looked around the room. Even with the fire out, I could still see the paintedfaces with the exception of the four in black. White Feather stood with arms crossedwatching me as one of the black faces extended his hand holding the bowl. The embersstill glowed as I picked them up in each hand. The searing pain made me cry out, but Ididnt drop them as I walked across the room and laid them down. Blisters immediatelyformed in my palms and across the inside of my fingers. I walked back to the pit andpicked up two more. Each time the pain became worse. The blisters burst and bloodbegan seep from the wounds, but still I kept going. By the third trip, tears were flowingdown my cheeks, but I continued, ignoring them. I could only see that the pile wasgrowing smaller. Could I carry them all without dropping one? I had counted them atfirst, but the pain had finally shut down my mind. I picked up the last two and began towalk across the path Id made. There had been no sound from anyone, but I could feeltheir eyes. At least twenty feet of glowing, red embers lay before me. Before mycourage deserted me, I took the first step, unable to hide my agony. Each step was as if Iwere literally burning alive. By the time I reached the end, I was barely conscious enoughto stand on feet that were now bleeding and burned as badly as my hands.

Still, there was no sound in the room. I opened my eyes, as White Featherstood, showing no compassion, no sympathy, staring stone cold.

You have successfully completed your first task Dan Jennings. You haveone more to fulfill.

I could barely hear her for the pain pounding through my head.Give him water, she said.A small bowl of water was brought to me, which I drank in one gulp.Can you hear me, Dan Jennings? she said.Yes, I said.


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Two arrows are going to be thrust into your chest. They will not kill you,Dan Jennings. You will pull them out or call for the Shaman to pull them out. Do youunderstand what Im saying?

Youre going to ram two arrows into me, and then Im expected to justpull them out. If they are put in deep, they will not pull out, I said.

You are right, Dan Jennings, there will be only one way to get them out.I would have to fall forward and drive them through my chest and out theback. I didnt say anything. I knew what she meant and so did everyone else in theroom. Could the torture she would put me through if I failed to do this be worse?

Are you ready? she asked.Im not sure your bed is worth all of this, I raggedly gasped in Apache.One of the men in black, whom Id come to respect and admire for his

quiet efficiency, walked up with two arrows. With no ceremony, he rammed the first oneright above my right nipple. I didnt feel the pain in my hands and feet anymore. Just asquickly, he rammed the second one in the same place on the other side. Standing thereand looking around the room at faces I couldnt see, I screamed at the top of my lungs in

Apache, You sons of bitches can all go to hell! I then fell forward with my handsoutstretched face down in the dirt.

Chapter 19

Blake Monroe killed the clerk even as he begged for his life. Then heturned to the old woman and shot her. At 7:00 in the morning they were the only two inthe bank. He was sure the shots would soon draw a crowd. Walking through the bank,he threw the moneybag into the trash barrel beside the back door. Then smoothing hiscoat and tie, he calmly walked down the alley and around by the hardware store. Severalpeople stood at the door of the bank trying to see inside but were unable to open thelocked door. One man finally ran down the alley and around to the back of the buildingand opened the front door. The sheriff, a large, barrel-chested man ran across the streetwith a deputy that looked like a stiff wind would blow him away. Amused, Monroeturned to the storekeeper, who was still puffing from his run up the street, and asked whatwas going on.

I dont know, said the storekeeper, moving closer to the bank with therest of the townspeople.

Monroe walked back to the hotel. It would be awhile before he could riskpicking up the money. As he walked by the sheriffs office, he saw his flyer: WantedDead or Alive - Blake Monroe. Monroe looked in the glass of the office window andthen back at the picture on the poster. It didnt look anything like the face staring back athim from the glass.

$2500 dead or alive. I could sure use money like that, muttered Monroe.Maybe I should just shoot some poor son of a bitch and turn him in for the reward.

He chuckled to himself as he walked down the boardwalk toward thehotel. Life had been good lately. Hed robbed two banks in the last month. Both jobshad gone as smoothly as this one. He had enough money now to do some gambling andjust lay low for awhile. Bounty Hunters had sprung up on every corner. He knew theywould for that kind of money. Still, nobody had ever gotten a good look at his face and


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lived, so he was safe for now. Back in the hotel room he washed his face, kicked off hisboots, and lay down on the bed. There was a knock on the door. Carefully placing thecolt under his pillow, he said, Come in.

The hotel manager, short and fat with horn-rimmed glasses and greasyslicked back hair, stood in the doorway staring.

Mr. Johnson, said the manager. Theres been a robbery and killingdown at the bank.Really, said Monroe, grinning to himself at his new name.Yes sir, continued the manager. I heard you say you intended to go

down there and make a withdrawal, so I wanted you to know you probably wont be ableto get any money out today.

Thats ok, said Monroe. I have enough money to see me through.What time does the stage leave for Santa Fe?

About 4:00 this afternoon, said the manager.Excellent, said Monroe. Ill be checking out. Would you get my bill

ready for me?

Yes sir, no problem, responded the manager.Did you know any of the people shot in the bank? asked Monroe.Yes, said the manager. John Stevens has lived here for nearly ten

years, and old Mrs. Coleman has lived here nearly her whole life. She just buried herhusband about six months ago.

Sorry to hear that. I hope they catch the son of a bitch that did it, saidMonroe.

Me too, said the manager as he left the room.Monroe eased back onto the bed, pulled his hat down and chuckled, I

wonder whats going on in Santa Fe?

Chapter 20

The lightening ripped across the sky crashing into the prairie followed byan earth-shattering clap of thunder. The coyote had seen it all before and was notimpressed. Getting wet was what he didnt like, and that would happen very soon.Staring down at the Apache village, he could smell the camp fires and the cooking ofmeat over an open flame. He was hungry and needed to find his dinner before the rainscame. Another bolt of lightening splintered into white shards illuminating a bleak anddesolate land and for one brief instant, the coyote saw his dinner. The rabbit saw thecoyote at the same time, and the struggle between life and death began.

Death had come for Dan Jennings, but White Feather had driven it away.She had wrapped his feet and hands in bear grease; and together with herbs and healingsecrets known only to the Apache, she fought for his life. For almost a week he had beencloser to death than life regaining consciousness at brief moments, hardly aware thatWhite Feather was there, holding him in her arms forcing down him what little broth shecould. She bathed him in ice water when the fever came, lying beside him as the chillsracked his body, her arms wrapped tightly around him. The wounds to his chest and backhad become infected and had to be tended daily with fresh bandages and healing herbs.But each day he lived was a sign that he had proven himself worthy to be her husband.


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The Council Chiefs had been impressed. Dan Jennings was a worthy enemy, and thedebate whether to allow White Feather to save him had not taken long. He was hers. TheCouncil did not question it, and Raven Claw would not challenge it. A white man wouldbe the father of her children. Raven Claw was content. He had lost a son but had gained ason- in- law and soon grandchildren.

By the second week I could stay awake for most of the day. I couldntmove anything without unrelenting pain. White Feather placed food in my hands threetimes a day. I didnt know what it was, and I didnt ask. She had said very little at first,but her demeanor had definitely changed from the cold, heartless woman I had seen attest time. As she wrapped and unwrapped my feet each day, I could see the damageimproving while the weeks passed. I had no feeling below my wrists and ankles; and thatworried me, but not her.

You will use your feet and hands again, Dan Jennings, she said one dayas she saw me looking down at them. You will need both for you will have much todo.

I wasnt sure what that meant, but it was comforting all the same. Raven

Claw came by daily, and we talked about many things, but mostly about the coming ofthe whites. He had seen the railroad track as it snaked its way across the prairie. LikeBlackburn, I told him there was no way to stop it. It would bring more and more whitepeople, farmers at first; but forts would be built, towns established. Buffalo hunters andothers looking to cash in on opportunities in a land once given to the Apache by the Godswould come. There would be as many as stars in the sky I told him.

I will stop it, he said. I must stop it.

Chapter 21

The best I could figure I had been in the camp for six months, when WhiteFeather informed me it was time to get up.

Your legs will not work, Dan Jennings. The feet are almost healed, butthe legs will not work if you dont get up.

The first few times I tried to stand, I would have fallen; but White Featherand an Apache brave stood on either side. Holding me up, they made me walk across thelodge and back. That was it for that day. I still had no feeling below my wrists andankles, but by the end of the seventh month I could walk outside. I was taken down tothe river, and at first I just placed my hands and feet in the water. Before long WhiteFeather was demanding that I force my feet and hands to move. By the eighth month thefeeling had started to come back with a vengeance. I was kept awake at night by theconstant throbbing as the nerves began to wake up.

This is not pain, Dan Jennings, she said. This is the healing of yourbody. The pain will lessen the more you force the hands and feet to work.

I knew she was right, but damn I kept wondering how long was it wasgonna take for the pain to subside. Part of the problem was the wounds in my chest hurt.The scars the arrows had made hurt so much I couldnt take deep breaths. Thus thewalking I needed to do tired me out before I could get very far.

You have restrictions in your wounds, Dan Jennings, she said. Wemust remove those restrictions.


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I wasnt sure what that meant either, but I soon found out. It involved agreat deal of gut wrenching pain.

By this time I did what she said and asked no questions; but when she hadmy hands tied, I got nervous.

Whatever Ive done, let me apologize now. I dont think I could stand

anymore testing.For one of the few times in almost a year, I saw her smile.Dont worry, Dan Jennings. After today you will be able to breathe

again.A log was rolled out, and I was told to step up on it. I was still pretty

weak to go log rolling. My feet werent happy about it either, but I did as I was told. Myhands were then tied to a tree branch above my head.

This will hurt for a short while, Dan Jennings; but once the bodystretches, you will be able to breathe normally again.

Before I could ask how short was a short while, an Apache kicked thelog out from under me. I thought the arrows had been driven through my chest again.

The pain was so intense I passed out.Wake up, Dan Jennings. Its time for you to walk.She was standing over me.What happened? I asked. What have you done to me?You passed out, she said. Im very disappointed in you, Dan Jennings.

You endured pain much longer and much worse than hanging from a tree could cause.Well, excuse the hell out of me, lady. But I dont see how childbirth

could be any worse than hanging from a tree.For the first time, she actually laughed.That may be true, Dan Jennings. I wouldnt know how birthing a child

would feel, but I plan to find out shortly, she said.You mean you actually have a man? I asked.Yes, Dan Jennings, she said.Am I ever going to meet him?Very shortly, as soon as you are well.I didnt know how my being well had anything to do with meeting her

future husband, but whoever it was had better be one tough son-of-a-bitch. I did knowthat.

Chapter 22

As Jennifer combed Silver Dancers mane, she thought of Dan Jennings. Ithad been a year and no word. Silver Dancer was still hers. So was Dan Jennings, buthow long could she hold him in her heart not knowing whether he was alive or dead. Inher mind she knew some news of him should have been heard by now. She had beggedher father to contact Raven Claw, but hed refused.

Jennings knew what his chances were, he told her. If he lived, hell dowhats best for his self. Hes a bounty hunter, Jennifer. Thats his life.

Turning, she heard voices coming into the coral. She watched her fatherwalk toward Clayton Fields.


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Shes still the best looking piece of horse flesh in the county, Jim, Fieldswas saying. But not nearly as pretty as the one combing her mane.

Jennifer was not impressed with Clayton Fields effort to smooth over hisattempt to buy the mare. Her father had finally agreed not to force the issue, but it wasobvious to Jennifer that Clayton Fields felt there were other ways to get what he wanted.

Ignoring Fields comment, she said, Silver Dancer will be two years oldnext month, Dad. I think its time to start her training. I think she would make a verygood race horse if she had the right teacher and rider.

Fields, thinking she was talking about him, said, Youre exactly right,Jennifer; and if youll allow me, Id be glad to undertake that training for you.

That wont be necessary, Clayton, she said. I know just the person forthe job.

It began to dawn on Fields that she didnt mean him.And whom did you have in mind young lady? he asked.Why, me Clayton. Who knows this horse better than I?You cant be serious, Jennifer, said her father. You dont know

anything about training a race horse.Well, well just have to see wont we, she said. Come on, Silver, letsgo for a ride. And she led the horse out of the stable.

As her father and Fields watched her leave, Fields shook his head andwalked after her.

Jennifer, he said. Im sorry. I didnt mean to infer that you didnt knowanything about raising or training horses. I just feel that Silver Dancer is a special horseand could make you and your father a great deal of money with the proper training.

Im a girl so that means Im not qualified? said Jennifer.Have you ever been in a horse race or trained a horse to be in one?

asked Fields.No, Clayton, I havent. But dont mistake the fact that I can do anything

I put my mind to. Im going to train this horse to race, and Im going to ride her myself.I realize you want her and have offered my dad a lot of money for her, but shes mine.Nothing and nobody takes what is mine, and God help any poor son of a bitch that tries.

Chapter 23

A year and a half had passed. I could walk now without limping, and Icould open and close my hands. They were still very sore and weak, but I could actuallymake a fist. White Feather had seemed very preoccupied the last few weeks as the timefor me to leave drew nearer.

Not yet, Dan Jennings, she said, a few more weeks.She gave me a rock to squeeze, and got very upset one day when she

noticed I didnt have it.Do you want your hands strong again? she said.That was the last time I was caught without the rock. She also had me

carrying fire wood to the lodge and anything else that required me to lift, push, or pull. Iwas almost back to full strength. Every time I asked her when I was going to meet herfuture husband she would just say, Soon, Dan Jennings, very soon.


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Gradually, I had become friends with Raven Claw. The old chief wouldoften appear in the door of White Feathers lodge and sit by the fire watching as I workedat whatever task White Feather deemed necessary for me to do. On one of Raven Clawsvisits he invited me to go on a buffalo hunt. I took it to be a great honor and somethingnot to be refused. I was surprised at how well my hands responded when I downed the

first one. By days end, I was extremely tired, but satisfied that my body had held up tothe strain of racing across the prairie chasing buffalo. Id come to develop a closeness tothese people, especially Raven Claw. We had started to communicate in English. Ilearned the reason he didnt know English was because he never allowed White Featherto speak it around him. Odd, I thought, that as much as he desperately needed tounderstand the white man, he had refused to learn their language, until I had come along.He continued to ask me about my family and about my father in particular. I had told himthe story of Black Eye.

A good man, he once said. To treat an Apache with such kindnesswhen others sought his death, took great courage. You are much like your father, DanJennings. You are also much like my son. It will be an honor to have you in White

Feathers lodge.His English was still sketchy. I knew he had meant it was an honor for meto have been in White Feathers lodge.

Chapter 24

It was time, thought White Feather. It was time for Dan Jennings toknow what was expected of him. She had made him clothing from buckskin. It hadtaken weeks to make the leather as soft as a babys flesh. She was apprehensive but at thesame time confident in her abilities as a woman to bind this man to her. She had seenhim look at her with eyes no longer in pain, but need. He had touched her gently, whenshe had dressed his wounds. There was a bond between them that had been forgedthrough pain and suffering, a bond stronger than Dan Jennings thought possible, but thereall the same. Tonight she would heal the last wound, and he would be hers.

The water was freezing, but Id been bathing in the creek so often over thepast year, my body had gotten used to the shock of it. Before I went to eat, I needed towash off the buffalo hunt. Riding by White Feathers lodge, I had smelled the aroma ofthe venison, and I had to admit I was as hungry as Id ever been. Strangely, I had begunto feel at home around her. She knew much about the life around her and could ride asgood as any man. She was stubborn, bull-headed, and opinionated with a mean streakalways lingering right under the surface. But she was without a doubt, one of the mostbeautiful women Id ever seen. And yet, Jennifer still haunted me. Did I imagine thosetears the night I left, and were they really for me? Her face had grown dimmer as themonths passed, but not her memory. I pulled a clean shirt from my saddlebag andstrapped on the colt. I tied it down, and in one smooth motion drew it out of the holster.My fingers had been the slowest to heal. But I was as ready and as healthy as I wouldever be. I had to tell White Feather that I would be leaving in the morning, and I didntlook forward to that.

The supper was excellent as always. In addition to all the other talents thiswoman had, she was one hell of a cook. Raven Claw had come by earlier, and we had


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smoked together and talked about the hunt. One of the braves had been gored. It was notlife threatening, but Raven Claw wanted to see how he was doing. We didnt get into ourusual talk of the coming doom for the Apache. It was getting late, and I was tired. Aswas her habit, White Feather walked across the room behind a make-shift curtain to herbed. The embers of the fire were slowly dying; and as I placed a piece of wood to restart

it, I saw her walking across the room. Never in my life had I seen anything morebeautiful. She pulled the buffalo robe back and climbed in beside me. Her hair was likesilk, her eyes were the deepest blue Id ever seen, and her face glowed like the morningsun. She placed a finger against my lips and then slowly pushed it into my mouth. Thenwith her other hand she traced a line down my stomach until she found what she wanted.The look in her eyes was like nothing Id ever seen. As her lips came closer, I pulled herto me and crushed her mouth to mine. She was now in complete control as she rolled ontop of me. She began to lick the scars above my nipples, and then slowly pushed hertongue down my throat. Rising up, she pushed me deep within her. It had been too long.I knew this could not last. I pulled her down crushing her breasts against my chest as Ithrust with all my strength; and then when the explosion came, I rolled back on top of

her, collapsing in the sweat soaked crevices of her breasts.We lay there joined as one for several minutes. I looked in her eyes andkissed her gently. Then I started down her neck and stopped at each breast kissing andpulling each nipple in and out. She laughed.

You are supposed to do that before we make love, Dan Jennings. Or atleast that is what I was told, she said.

Sorry, I said. You kinda took me by surprise. I just got carried awayand forgot you had those. And by the way, since weve made love here, do you think youmight be able to just call me Dan?

Dan?Yeah, after a year I think we could drop the last name.So what would you call me, White? she said.She had me there. I rolled on to my side and pulled her to me. I didnt

have the guts to say anything about tomorrow. So I just kissed her gently, and in anotherfew minutes the flame flared again.

I woke early. She was wrapped around me with her belly against my backand her legs curved into the bend of mine. One arm was lying across my sidewith her fingers entwined in the hair on my chest. We were literally weldedtogether. I could feel the warmth of her body and the steady beating of her heart.I loved her, but I couldnt stay here. I could not live the life of an Apache, andshe would never leave. She was an Apache with white skin. I gently lifted herhand and slid out of her embrace. I carefully put another piece of wood on thelast of the dying embers and slipped on my pants and boots. It was then I saw theleather shirt shed made. It had to be mine. It was beautiful, and I realized thehours of work it had taken. My bedroll and guns were outside with Dusty. Idpacked it all last night before Id come in. As I looked at her one more time, awave of guilt came over me that was suffocating. She had given me my life, but Iknew I would never be able to explain this to her. Raven Claw would kill me forthis, or I would have to kill him. I didnt want to face that. Quietly, I walked


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outside and around to the back of the lodge where Dusty was tied. Before I put afoot in the stirrup, Raven Claw appeared.

She is an Apache, Dan Jennings. Apache women dont take rejectionwell.

I owe her and you my life, Great Chief. I wouldnt hurt her for anything,

but I cannot stay. My life is not with the Apache; it could never be.You have taught me much, Dan Jennings.Raven Claw had switched to English.I have met two white men now that I can say have great courage and

honor. I would have been proud to call you my son. I will talk to White Feather.She will want you killed, but I know deep inside her, she knows why you had togo. May peace go with you, Dan Jennings; and I hope our paths cross again.

And peace to you, Raven Claw, Great Chief of the Apache.

BOOK TWO

Chapter 1

As I rode away from the Apache camp, one thing was certain. Whateverbond I thought I shared with Jennifer Blackburn disappeared when White Feathercame to my bed. I would never be able to go back. What small chance I mayhave had to change my life was gone. I loved White Feather, but I couldnt staywith her either. I had to play the hand Id been dealt from the beginning. SantaFe was more than a weeks ride, but thats where I headed. Blake Monroes trailmight be hard to pick up after a year, but I had to start somewhere.

Chapter 2

Blake Monroe liked Santa Fe the minute he got off the stage. He alsoliked the Bitter Creek Saloon, but Amos Knox, the owner, had no intention ofselling it. About a week after Monroes offer to buy it, the body of Amos Knoxwas found behind the barber shop which was also owned by the town undertaker.So the body didnt have to be taken far. When Monroe produced a bill of sale for$5,000 signed by Amos Knox, everyone assumed, along with the sheriff, thatAmos had been killed for the money. The suspect, it was thought, had skippedtown.

By the years end, Blake Monroe, who now called himself Sam Crenshaw,

was one of Santa Fes leading citizens and a member of the town council. Withless stress he was also making more money than he ever did robbing banks. Heliked this newfound power, and running the Bitter Creek Saloon had brought himinto contact with his competition, a striking figure of a woman.

Belle Strickland owned the Silver Belle, the only other saloon in Santa Fe.It made good sense to Sam Crenshaw to leave Belle alone. Two murdered saloonowners would raise too many questions about his background. Besides, hed


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taken a liking to the redhead. Chuckling to himself, he thought, If I cant killher, Ill just marry her.

Belle Strickland was not stupid. She and Amos Knox had come to SantaFe at the same time over ten years ago. And nobody had ever gotten the best ofAmos Knox. He would never have sold the saloon or been foolish enough to

carry around $5.000 in cash -if he had. No, Sam Crenshaw, or whoever he was,had killed Amos; but being able to prove it was another matter entirely. She knewwhen to keep her mouth shut and kept this to herself. Making a good living inSanta Fe took brains and guts. Dying, on the other hand, Belle knew was veryeasy.

Standing in the door of the saloon, she noticed the rider coming down thestreet. Strangers were nothing new, but this rider was not ordinary. From acrossthe street, Sam Crenshaw was also watching. The rider steered the big bay overto the hitching rail in front of the Silver Belle. Dismounting and looking over hisshoulder, he returned the hard gaze of Sam Crenshaw.

Dont get many visitors to Santa Fe, maam? I asked.

Not dressed in buckskin with a tied down colt, she responded. Justpassing through?Looking for some information, I said.Belle figured him to be a hand over six feet. Broad shoulders set above

narrow hips, he had sandy hair and brown eyes with a hard face surrounded by awide-brim hat that looked the worse for wear. In fact, his boots were worn anddusty along with his pants. Altogether it made quite a contrast to the buckskinshirt and a gleaming colt hanging off his hip.

Come on in, she said. Ill buy you a drink. Exactly what informationare you looking for?

Sam Crenshaw had not lived forty years by chance. Standing in thedoorway of his saloon, he had closely watched the tall stranger dismount, theexchange with Belle, and his confident stride as he followed Belle into her saloon.He had learned to recognize two things in his outlaw career: lawmen and bountyhunters. Wearing no star, that left one option. But no one had ever seen the faceof Blake Monroe, so there was little danger of his being discovered. All the samehe figured hed better keep an eye on this one.

Blake Monroe, yeah Ive heard of him said Belle. And I dont have toask you what you do now, Mister. Around here, we consider bounty hunters to beas bad as the ones they go after. Blake Monroe is a cold blooded murderer. Youdhave to be just like him to ever kill him.

You can think what you want maam. Im making a living the only way Iknow how. I dont intend to kill anyone I go after, but sometimes it happens.

That varmint you saw across the street may know something that wouldhelp you, but I doubt hed tell you if he knew. I did hear about a bank robberyand the murder of two people down in Albuquerque about a year ago. It sounds


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like something Monroe would do. He killed a teller and an old woman. But Ihavent heard of anything since then. He may have left the territory.

I sure hope not, maam, I said. Thanks for the drink and theinformation. Ill see you around I expect.

As I walked out the door, my eyes again met those of a man standing in

front of the saloon across the street. His stance and low slung gun belt saidgunfighter not saloon proprietor. Never being one to shy away from trouble, Iuntied Dusty and mounted up.

Riding over I said, I wonder if you could help me with something,mister.

And what would that be? asked Crenshaw.The lady across the street said youre a varmint. Now back where I come

from we kill varmints. Youd be the first varmint I ever heard of that ran asaloon.

Crenshaws eyes narrowed almost to slits, as he eyed the bounty hunterclosely. Dans gun hand hung loosely at his side as if the last thing on his mind

would be pulling it. But Crenshaw knew instinctively a gunman when he sawone. After all, he was one himself.My names Sam Crenshaw. I doubt Belle would recognize a varmint if it

were to jump up and bite her on the ass. Whats your name Mister?Dan Jennings, I said.There seemed to be just the slightest of reactions when he heard myname,

but I wasnt sure.And what would be your business here in Santa Fe, Mr. Jennings? asked

Crenshaw.Im looking for a murdering son of a bitch by the name of Blake Monroe.

Ever heard of him? I asked.Dont know of anybody in the territory that hasnt heard that name, said

Crenshaw. So youre a bounty hunter. Bounty hunters arent welcome in SantaFe, Mr. Jennings.

So Ive heard, I said.Im a member of the town council. We have a nice quiet community

here, and we plan to keep it that way. Youre not thinking this Blake Monroewould be here are you?

Dont know, Mr. Crenshaw, I said. I never met anybody that couldidentify him. But he seems to like the New Mexico territory. Im thinking hellshow up here or somewhere close. As to your being a varmint, you do kindaresemble one with that black coat and tails. Be seeing you around.

As Dan Jennings rode away, Crenshaw watched him closely. Hed heardof Jennings. Bounty hunters were all the same, but this one was not a backshooter. This one wouldnt kill from ambush. This bounty hunter was a realthreat to Blake Monroe.

Chapter 3


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Silver Dancer had run and run hard. As Jennifer rubbed her down, she hadto admit Clayton Fields had been right about one thing. Silver Dancer was a veryspecial horse. With Jennifer in the saddle, shed already won two races, none ofwhich had Clayton Fields horse entered. He was waiting for the big money racein Santa Fe. There would be other horses there just as good or better than Day

Break, the horse owned by Fields. Her fathers love for horse racing had finallyovercome his fear for her safety. She had shown him in the first race that shewould not be intimidated and could use her whip for other things besides the rearend of a horse.

Now walking back to the ranch house, she saw a lone rider comingthrough the gate. She was surprised to see any stranger riding in alone as fewdared venture across the Apaches land surrounding their ranch. As he got closer,she could see he was filthy from head to toe, an old prospector of sorts shedecided. Standing on the house veranda, Jim Blackburn and several hands fromthe bunkhouse watched the man closely.

Hello said Jennifer. You lost?

No maam, answered the old man, just riding through from Santa Fe.Apaches stole my pack mule and all my grub during the night. Ive come acrosstheir lands for over twenty years and never had no problems. I been prospectingup in Colorado. Hell, if theyd taken my digging stuff I could replace that easyenough, but my mule and foodwell a mans gotta eat.

Youre lucky they didnt take your hair old man, said Jim Blackburn.At that the old man pulled off his hat displaying a hairless head.Theyd have a hell of a time doing that, chuckled the old man, which

brought a roar from everyone.Go over to the bunkhouse and wash-up old timer said Blackburn. Then

come back to the house and eat with me and my daughter. We havent heard anynews from Santa Fe in a while.

Soon Jennifer heard the old prospectors boots scraping across the porch.Come in, she said. Have a seat, Mr.Im afraid I dont know your name.

Its Lucky, maam, he said, just Lucky. I aint sure why my ma calledme that, cause I sure aint had no luck to speak of. But it sure aint been for lackof trying.

Jennifer smiled and led Lucky into the dining room. The table was loadedwith food. More food than the old man had seen in years, so there was littleconversation until after his second slice of pecan pie. Rubbing his belly he said,Did you cook this, maam?

No, said Jennifer. I can cook, but not like Lily. Shes been with ussince before I was born.

How long were you in Santa Fe? asked Blackburn.Just a couple of days, said Lucky, but long enough to see the dangdest

display of gun fighting ever took place around these parts.Really! said Blackburn. What happened?Well, sir, a gunman by the name of Kyle Watson stepped out of the

saloon and called a man out whod just left and was crossing the street. Peoplearound said this Watson was a hired gunslinger and had killed more than ten men.


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Well, Watson called out to the man, but he just kept walking. He didnt want nopart of Watson. Watson fired two shots. One hit the mans boot heel knocking itclean off, and the next one near creased the mans skull as it knocked off his hat.By gosh, the stranger never flinched one time. He just calmly turned around andasked Watson to let it go, but Watson wouldnt do it. So this stranger turned to

face Watson and just stood there with his gun holstered. When Watson holsteredhis, the stranger said, Whenever youre ready, its your call.In all my years, I aint never seen a gun come out of a holster faster than

that. I swear I never even seen his hand move. Watsons gun never cleared theholster before two bullets slammed into his right shirt pocket. Watson just stoodthere for what seemed like a minute and then fell face first into the street. Iveseen men killed in gunfights through my sixty-four years, but nothing like that.

Blackburn sat for a minute watching the old man take another long pull onhis coffee cup.

What did the stranger look like, Lucky? asked Jennifer.Well, he was maybe six foot, with a wide-brimmed hat; and he was

wearing a buckskin shirt. I didnt get too good a look at his face. I do remembersomebody saying he was a bounty hunter.Jennifer gasped and looked at her father.Bounty hunter, you say, said Blackburn.Yes sir, thats what somebody said. Well, I sure thank you for the meal,

said the old man.Go by the cookhouse in the morning, Lucky, and tell them what you

need. My foreman will give you one of our old stable horses. Next time yourethrough here you can drop it by and share some more news with us, saidBlackburn.

Much obliged, Mr. Blackburn, and you too, Miss, said the old man.As he walked out the door, Jennifer and her father looked at each other.Its Dan; it has to be, said Jennifer.Dont jump to conclusions, said Blackburn. Theres lots of bounty

hunters.You know its him, Dad. Why didnt he come back here? Why did he

go to Santa Fe? Where has he been for more than a year?She walked outside. Blackburn didnt know what to tell her. He was

pretty sure that it was Jennings, but the same questions kept coming up in his mind. Ifhed survived Raven Claws revenge, why didnt he come back?

Jennifer found herself at the stable. She walked over to Silver Dancer andheld his head close to hers. She silently began to cry.

What happened to you, Dan Jennings? she said.

Chapter 4

Kyle Watson thought it would be the easiest five hundred dollars he hadever made. Next to fighting hardened ranch hands over water rights, killing a backshooting bounty hunter would present no trouble at all. Watson had just rec

dan price - bounty hunter

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