Wind Rider Read Free Page A

bullet!” Hannah cried triumphantly as she probed deeper. The groan that slipped from Wind Rider’s lips was scarcely audible as Hannah carefully pried the bullet from the gaping wound. “There; it’s out!” Relief swept through her like a tidal wave. Had she been required to dig into his flesh a moment longer she couldn’t have borne it.
    A lesser man would have passed out long ago, Hannah thought, amazed at the Indian’s fortitude. She wondered what his name was, and if he was, indeed, a half-breed, or merely a strange breed of Indian with silver eyes.
    “You must cauterize the wound,” Wind Rid er said, his voice a raspy whisper. His eyes were dilated, his skin ashen, but he was still watchful, still aware of what needed to be done to save his life. “Place the knife in the fire and when it is red-hot hold it against the wound.”
    Hannah’s eyes widened and she gasped in horror. “I cannot. How will you stand it?”
    “I have gone through it before,” he said stoi cally.
    Her eyes traveled up the virile length of his body, noticing for the first time the wound just below his ribs. The scar had healed but was still red and puckered.
    Following his instructions, Hannah heated the knife in the fire. When it was red-hot she removed it, pausing a scant moment to search his face. Impressed by his courage, she felt a grudging admiration for him and his ability to withstand intense pain, despite the fact that he was a savage heathen. When she placed the red- hot blade against his flesh his body jerked con vulsively, and a great shudder passed through him. But his eyes never left hers. They clung to her as if to a lifeline, impaling her with silver shards, hard, relentless, probing . .. desperate.
    Abruptly/Wind Rider released her arm, and she shot to her feet, sickened by the stench of burned flesh. With a cry of dismay she tossed the knife to the ground.
    Pain. Relentless. Stabbing. Intense. It tore into him, savaged him, gnawing at his flesh like a ravening beast.
    Feeling himself spinning into a black abyss, Wind Rider focused on the young woman lean ing over him, her vivid green eyes all that kept him from sinking into oblivion. How could he have thought her plain? he wondered dimly, with those eyes that ate into a man’s soul. He must be hallucinating, he thought, to find any thing attractive in the plain brown sparrow.
    “Are you all right?” Hannah asked hesitantly. She hated to show concern for an Indian, but she couldn’t help herself. Her mother had always said she was too tenderhearted for her own good. Besides, he hadn’t harmed her, and she hoped he’d let her go now that she’d helped him.
    Wind Rider found it difficult to think, let alone speak, so he nodded his head.
    “What is your name?” she asked suddenly. For some reason it seemed important to know the name of the man whose life she might have saved.
    Breathing deeply, Wind Rider fought to con trol the pain, and little by little he succeeded. “I am called Wind Rider.”
    “My name is Hannah. Hannah McLin,” Hannah offered shyly. “May I leave now?”
    Wind Rider thought her voice lovely—soft and lilting. The melodious rhythm intrigued him. He’d never heard anything like it before. Except for her eyes and voice, he thought ungraciously, nothing about her was attrac tive.
    “Where will you go if I let you leave?” he asked, finally finding the strength to form the words. He had no idea why he should care, except that she had helped him when she could just as easily have plunged the knife into his heart. Lord knows he had been at her mercy. Though he had endeavored to frighten her into compliance, he was as weak as a babe, and she had to know it. Something told Wind Rider that fear wasn’t the reason this woman had helped him. He recognized goodness when he saw it, and whore or no, Hannah McLin had a tender heart.
    “To Cheyenne. As far away from Mr. Harley as I can get.” Hannah said at length.
    “Who is Mr.