A Promise in Defiance: Romance in the Rockies Book 3 Read Free Page A

it in your heart to treat him like a son.”
    “Can you ? He’s
an Indian.”
    The statement shocked
her. “He’s a child.”
    “Naomi, out here, he’s
the enemy. Trying to raise an Indian boy as a son in Colorado will be harder
than raising a Negro as a son in Alabama.”
    Offended, and a little
surprised at Charles, she stepped back. “Are you worried what people will
think?”
    He snorted in disgust. “The
naiveté of that question, princess, shows you don’t understand what we— I —have
gotten us into.”
    “Then explain it.”
    He reached into his
saddle bag and withdrew a newspaper. “This will.” He handed it to her. “Read
it. Emilio’s working on the bunkhouse. I’ll have him find the boy. I have a
meeting in town.” Naomi shot him a scowl and he raised his hand to ward it off.
“It’ll only take a few minutes and then I’ll join the search.”
    She unfolded the
newspaper as he galloped away. The front page of The Chieftain was
crammed with stories, many of them about the Utes and the trouble the renegades
were stirring up. Two Spears’s stepfather, One-Who-Cries, had truly been a
bloodthirsty savage who attacked without mercy, but in typical fashion, the
newspaper was littered with hateful references to all the Utes—lumping good and
bad together.
    “No peace commission until
the Utes are well-whipped [1] ,”
she whispered, scanning the lengthy article. “Ten dollars a head would be a
fair price to offer for the ears of every dead Ute . . .”
Repulsed, she flinched over the sentiment. “ . . .prompt and
vigorous action against the savages . . .what these savages want
is plunder and scalps . . . the first and essential thing is to
punish these redskins promptly and so terribly as to make them feel that they
can no longer . . .ravish white women with impunity.”
    Disgusted, she folded the
newspaper closed with a snap and glared at the cloudless blue sky. They call
that journalism? It sickened her, the slanted, narrow-minded rants. The
vast majority of Indians were peaceful. Most of the tribes had surrendered and
moved to reservations. Granted, they were starving and at the mercy of the
federal government there, but they were peaceful. Their leaders often spoke out
against the renegades, well aware violence only earned more of the white man’s
contempt.  
    Two Spears—when he wasn’t
scowling—had a sweet, handsome face. Long dark lashes, shoulder-length black
hair that shimmered like a raven’s feathers, and skin the color of coffee
touched with cream. But life on the reservation had made the ten-year-old hard
and suspicious, and that broke her heart.
    As far as she was
concerned, the hard times were behind him now. He was in a good home, with
people who cared about him, who would come to love him. Here he could learn
about Jesus, find forgiveness, discover a life of peace. He had a future and it
was bright with hope and opportunity.
    God had brought the boy
into their lives, and Naomi resolved to show him compassion, his father an
abundance of grace, and both of them patience.
    If it killed her.
    She could do all things
through Christ, after all, including love two stubborn men from different
worlds.

     
     
     
    McIntyre crushed his
cigar out in Davis Ferrell’s ash tray and squinted at the lawyer. “What do you
mean, you don’t know?” He frowned, aggravated the question had leapt from his
mouth for a second time that day.
    A skinny man, dapper to
a fault and as brave as a mouse, Davis shook his head. He leaned forward,
nervously tapping short, clean fingernails on the desk. “I’m sorry. I’ll have
to dig deeper, Mr. McIntyre. Whoever is buying up the saloons is using a
company to hide his name. But I do know where to look. The company is based in
San Francisco.”
    McIntyre thought what
he’d asked of Davis was a simple request. Apparently not. “Well, in the
meantime, I’ll find out who’s pushing these deals through here in town.”
    “That, at