Beyond The Horizon Read Free

could give voice to the question teasing the tip of her tongue a deep male voice asked, “Did someone mention my name?”
    He stood like a tall shadow in the doorway of the store with the sun at his back blotting out his features. The breadth of his shoulders touched the jamb on either side and the magnificent expanse of torso and slim hips was supported by legs as sturdy as oaks. Shannon shuddered, feeling oddly threatened as he moved toward her with the rolling gait of a stalking panther, his pelvis pivoting in a manner so blatantly masculine that Shannon felt a dull red crawl up her neck.
    “This young woman was ask’n ‘bout joining yer wagon train, Blade,” the storekeeper explained as he turned away to help another customer. “I’ll leave you two to make arrangements.”
    Blade turned the full magnetic power of his penetrating black eyes on the young woman—he judged her to be under twenty—staring at him with unrestrained curiosity. She was a fetching little thing, he reflected, with chestnut hair neither red nor brown but rich and glowing with golden highlights. Her pert nose sported a sprinkling of tawny freckles and her full lower lip was caught between small white teeth. Deep blue eyes, wide and intelligent, sloped upward at their corners. A thrill of anticipation caught Blade by the scruff of his neck and refused to let go as Shannon fearlessly met his gaze, her eyes narrowing when she belatedly perceived what made this man so different from any others she had met.
    He was an Indian!
    Not only was he a member of a race feared and despised by good people everywhere for their cruelty and heathenish ways, but he wore the tattered jacket of a Union army soldier, thereby adding insult to injury. He looked ruthless, dangerous, and quite capable of violence.
    “If you and your husband want to join the wagon train you have little time left in which to outfit a wagon. Clive Bailey is the captain and organizer. He’ll advise you if you need help,” Blade said, a brash smile hanging on the corner of his mouth. The young woman’s reaction when she recognized his heritage had amused him.
    It was puzzling, Blade thought in a burst of insight, that impeccably turned out in his army uniform, his hair cut to a respectable length and his face pale from Eastern winters, no one suspected he was Sioux. Yet now, dressed in buckskins, his shoulder-length hair held back by a rawhide headband, his skin burnt a deep bronze, he was unmistakably identified as a half-breed “savage.”
    “I—have no husband,” Shannon stuttered, momentarily stunned by Blade’s blatant sexuality.
    His eyes were the dark black of night, mysterious and unrelenting, framed by thick, spiky lashes. His brows, finely drawn and faintly slanting, were velvet black. His mouth was wide and sensual, one corner tilted just enough to reveal the sardonic wit that doubtless lay behind his ruggedly handsome features. And there was no denying, Shannon admitted with brutal honesty, that the Indian was handsome. His features spoke eloquently of a bold nature, and those large, strong hands suggested a power and strength she could only guess at.
    “You’re not married?” Blade repeated sharply. “Single women aren’t welcome on this wagon train unless they are traveling with family. How old are you Miss—?”
    “Branigan. Shannon Branigan. I’m twenty, old enough to take care of myself.”
    “Hardly old enough to undertake a hazardous journey on your own. It is out of the question, Miss Branigan. Go back home where you belong.”
    Shannon bristled indignantly. No Indian, no matter how imposing or intimidating, was going to dictate to her. “Perhaps Mr. Bailey will have something to say about it.”
    “Clive Bailey might be train captain, but I’m wagon master and guide. Without me the wagon train can’t leave Independence. I say you’re not going. Furthermore,” Blade stated, “I know of no other wagon train willing to take on an unattached woman