Forbidden Fires Read Free Page A

down at the Indian, pleased with the damage he had done. With Luther Hicks’s help, Abner hauled the Indian to his feet and dragged him toward the horse Paulie had positioned beneath a low-hanging branch.
    They were going to hang him. The realization hit Stalking Wolf like a physical blow and he began to struggle violently as the three men bound his hands behind his back, then wrestled him onto the back of the horse. Abner Wylie was grinning with anticipation as he dropped a noose over the Indian’s head and snugged the noose tight.
    Stalking Wolf sat rock still, the rough hemp cutting into his throat, his heart pounding like a Lakota war drum. The horse stirred restlessly beneath him and he felt his muscles tense in awful anticipation of what was to come.
    The quick tattoo of approaching hoofbeats halted the men. Glancing over their heads, Stalking Wolf saw two mounted figures reining in their horses a short distance away. The rider nearest Stalking Wolf was a burly man dressed in denim work clothes and a broad-brimmed black Stetson. The second rider was similarly dressed, but even with his left eye swollen shut, Stalking Wolf could see it was a girl.
    “Go on home, Caitlyn,” the man said gruffly. “There’s no need for you to see this.”
    Caitlyn Carmichael shook her head. She had no desire to see a hanging, but she’d never run from a disagreeable task before and she wasn’t about to start now. “I’ve come this far, Pa,” she said, a slight quiver in her voice. “I’ll stay and see it to the end.”
    “Suit yourself,” Brenden Carmichael muttered. “Wylie, are you sure he’s the one?” When Abner Wylie nodded curtly at his boss, Carmichael replied, “Then let’s get on with it.”
    Stalking Wolf felt his blood go cold as Abner Wylie moved behind the horse. Hanging was a bad way to die. The Lakota believed that a man’s spirit left his body with his dying breath, but when a man was hanged, his spirit was forever trapped in his corpse. Though he knew his father did not believe in such nonsense, the Lakota beliefs were strongly embedded in Stalking Wolf, especially now, when death was near.
    But his pride made him lift his head, and he stared at the eastern horizon where a brilliant sunrise was paying homage to a new day. The sky grew brighter, changing from pale gray to bright gold, then exploding in a spectacular display of fiery reds and oranges as the sun crested the skyline.
    Wakan Tonka, give me strength and courage. The silent prayer rose in Stalking Wolf’s heart as Wylie took a firm grip on the loose end of the rope while the man known as Luther reached for the horse’s reins. The brassy taste of fear was strong in Stalking Wolf’s mouth as he imagined the horse moving out from under him, and the quick sensation of falling. If he was lucky, death would come quickly. If not, he would slowly strangle.
    Caitlyn’s mouth went dry as she tried to imagine what the Indian was feeling. What would it be like to know death was only a heartbeat away? To know you had no hope of a reprieve? She gazed at the Indian’s face, set in impassive lines, and the sympathy she’d been feeling vanished. Her brothers had been killed by marauding savages, perhaps this very man had been responsible for their deaths.
    Brenden Carmichael, owner of the Circle C ranch, felt a grudging admiration for the Indian who, though facing certain death, glared at him with bold defiance. Although he harbored no love for Indians, it suddenly seemed unfair to hang a man without giving him a last chance to speak and to confess his guilt before he went to meet his Maker.
    “Wait.” Carmichael’s voice cut across the heavy stillness as he rode toward the Indian. He drew his horse to a halt, facing the condemned man. “You speak English?”
    Stalking Wolf nodded. The girl had followed the man and though he knew these two held the power of life and death over him, he focused his gaze on the fading streaks of vermillion that still