Will of Steel Read Free

mean man when you lose your temper, do you know that?”
    â€œThe pistol discharged into a display of cans, fortunately for him, and we only had to pay damages to the store. But it could have discharged into a child, or a grown-up, with tragic results. There are reasons why they make holsters for guns.”
    She looked at his pointedly. “That one sure is fancy,” she noted, indicating the scrollwork on the soft tan leather. It also sported silver conchos and fringe.
    â€œMy cousin made it for me.”
    â€œTanika?” she asked, because she knew his cousin, a full-blooded Cheyenne who lived down near Hardin.
    â€œYes.” He smiled. “She thinks practical gear should have beauty.”
    â€œShe’s very gifted.” She smiled. “She makes some gorgeous parfleche bags. I’ve seen them at the trading post in Hardin, near the Little Bighorn Battlefield.” They were rawhide bags with beaded trim and fringe, incredibly beautiful and useful for transporting items in the old days for native people.
    â€œThank you,” he said abruptly.
    She lifted her eyebrows. “For what?”
    â€œFor not calling it the Custer Battlefield.”
    A lot of people did. He had nothing against Custer, but his ancestry was Cheyenne. He had relatives who had died in the Little Bighorn Battle and, later, at Wounded Knee. Custer was a sore spot with him. Some tourists didn’t seem to realize that Native Americans considered that people other than Custer’s troops were killed in the battle.
    She smiled. “I think I had a Sioux ancestor.”
    â€œYou look like it,” he drawled, noting her fair coloring.
    â€œMy cousin Rabby is half and half, and he has blond hair and gray eyes,” she reminded him.
    â€œI guess so.” He checked the big watch on his wrist. “I’ve got to be in court for a preliminary hearing. Better go.”
    â€œI’m baking a pound cake.”
    He hesitated. “Is that an invitation?”
    â€œYou did say you were starving.”
    â€œYes, but you can’t live on cake.”
    â€œSo I’ll fry a steak and some potatoes to go with it.”
    His lips pulled up into a smile. “Sounds nice. What time?”
    â€œAbout six? Barring bank robberies and insurgent attacks, of course.”
    â€œI’m sure we won’t have one today.” He considered her invitation. “The Callisters brought me a flute back from Cancún when they went on their honeymoon. I could bring it and serenade you.”
    She flushed a little. The flute and its connection with courting in the Native American world was quite well-known. “That would be nice.”
    â€œIt would?”
    â€œI thought you were leaving.” She didn’t quite trust that smile.
    â€œI guess I am. About six?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’ll see you then.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Should I wear my tuxedo?”
    â€œIt’s just steak.”
    â€œNo dancing afterward?” he asked, disappointed.
    â€œNot unless you want to build a bonfire outside anddance around it.” She frowned. “I think I know one or two steps from the women’s dances.”
    He glared at her. “Ballroom dancing isn’t done around campfires.”
    â€œYou can do ballroom dances?” she asked, impressed.
    â€œOf course I can.”
    â€œWaltz, polka…?”
    â€œTango,” he said stiffly.
    Her eyes twinkled. “Tango? Really?”
    â€œReally. One of my friends in the service learned it down in Argentina. He taught me.”
    â€œWhat an image that brings to mind—” she began, tongue-in-cheek.
    â€œHe didn’t teach me by dancing with me!” he shot back. “He danced with a girl.”
    â€œWell, I should hope so,” she agreed.
    â€œI’m leaving.”
    â€œYou already said.”
    â€œThis time, I mean it.” He walked out.
    â€œSix!”