Elle James - Thunder Horse Redemption

Pierce grabbed a couple of walkie-talkies from a shelf and emerged from his father’s office.

At the same time Amelia Thunder Horse reentered the living room, carrying a large tray filled with thermoses of coffee, and plastic bags filled with sandwiches and trail mix. She eyed the box of bullets but didn’t say anything about them. “No one’s leaving without food. You never know what’s going to happen out there on the plains or in the canyons. They didn’t name it the badlands for nothing.”

Pierce tossed a walkie-talkie to Maddox, grabbed a plastic bag of trail mix and one with a sandwich from the tray, snagged a thermos, kissed his mother’s cheek and headed for the door. “Thanks, Mother.”

She called out after him, “Wakan Tanka kici un.” May the Great Spirit bless you.

He smiled, a tug of nostalgia tightening his chest. His mother didn’t often use the Lakota language his father had taught her and all of his sons. Only when a greater need arose.

In the barn, Pierce removed the saddle from Bear, rubbed him down and settled him in a stall with feed. He led his own stallion, Cetan, out of his stall, threw a saddle over his back and cinched it. Pierce was guiding the horse out into the barnyard when a voice called out.

“I’m going with you.”

Pierce turned toward the sound, his pulse quickening, his jaw growing rigid.

Roxanne stood with her feet planted wide, hands fisted on her jean-clad hips—more beautiful than he remembered and just as stubbornly determined.

“We don’t need your help.” Pierce turned his back on the woman and led the horse away from the barn door. “Besides, isn’t the doctor on his way to check out your noggin?”

Roxanne strode for the barn. “I’ve been falling off horses since I was five years old—Doc’s not going to tell me anything about concussions that I don’t already know. But don’t forget, I wasn’t the only one injured. While you boys play detective, someone needs to check on Sweet Jessie, and her foal. I’m the local contact for the Bureau of Land Management when it comes to those horses. It’s my—”

“Responsibility.” Pierce turned back. “And it’s my responsibility to catch that madman with a gun before he gets a chance to come after you again. You’re staying.”

“I’m not your responsibility, and you don’t get to decide where I go. Maddox said I could ride Sassy.” She marched into the barn and grabbed a bridle from a nail on the wall.

“Did the fact escape you that you were the target of a shooter?”

“No, it did not.” She squared her shoulders, standing taller. “I wasn’t prepared before. I’m aware now and will take precautions.”

“And how will you do that?” His gaze panned her lithe form. “You aren’t carrying any kind of protection, are you? Where’s your rifle?”

“I don’t carry one. Besides, you have one.” She frowned. “Look, Pierce, I’m being sensible. I could have snuck off on my own once you were gone, but instead I’m going with you. I’m willing to be careful, I’m willing to take precautions, but I’m not willing to sit around and do nothing when there’s so much that needs to be done. Accept that I’m going and stop wasting precious time by arguing. It’ll be dark soon.”

She held his gaze a moment longer, then disappeared into a stall and emerged leading Sassy, the sorrel mare.

Pierce didn’t wait around to bicker with the confounded woman. He didn’t want to see Roxanne; he wanted the hell away from her, especially when fire blazed in her beautiful eyes and she stood so defiantly.

Planting his foot in the stirrup, he swung up into his saddle and yanked the stallion around to the north. Named after the Lakota word for hawk, Cetan could outrun even the swiftest of the wild horses in the canyon. He could easily outdistance any of the other horses in the barn, if Pierce chose to let him have his head.

But it would be foolish to expend the horse’s energy when they had a long ride ahead of them. Instead of galloping off into the distance, Pierce nudged the stallion into a canter. That way, Roxanne wouldn’t have any trouble catching up with him. He still didn’t like the idea of her riding out while the gunman was still at large, but the idea of her sticking close and letting him protect her was a hell of a lot better than having her ride out alone.

In the short time they’d been in the ranch house, dark clouds had rolled in. The weather in North Dakota could change at the drop of a hat. Thunder rumbled long and low in the west. Wakan Tanka grew angry. Perhaps the Great Spirit reached out to punish those who brought violence to the people and the creatures of the plains.

The approaching storm reflected Pierce’s mood. He growled under his breath. Sure, he’d expected to see Roxanne as part of the wedding party. She and Tuck were the same age and had been friends throughout high school. They had been like brother and sister.

Despite the differences between Pierce and Roxanne, Pierce couldn’t deny Tuck’s request to have Roxanne as one of Julia’s bridesmaids.

He’d told himself that he’d be fine seeing her again, but he’d been wrong. Time hadn’t healed old wounds, as his mother always liked to say. Nothing could cure death. Roxanne had made it clear that when her brother had died, she wanted nothing more to do with Pierce. No wedding, no future…nothing. Even though he knew it was no more than he deserved, it still made his gut twist just to think about it.

All the old feelings he’d had for her hadn’t waned one bit. No amount of dating or bedding other women would wipe Roxanne from his mind. He’d barely even tried, the wounds to his heart still too fresh. He told himself he preferred to be alone. No, he deserved to be alone.

Truth was, no woman measured up to Roxanne and he’d failed her so completely, the damage could never be healed.

At the approaching thunder of hooves, Cetan pranced to the side.

Pierce pulled back on the reins, but the stallion would have none of it. His competitive spirit wouldn’t let another horse catch up or move ahead of him. He arched his back, kicked his hind legs into the air and would have thrown a less experienced rider.

Accustomed to surprising mood swings in the horses he’d tamed from the wild herds of the canyons, Pierce rode out the rough bucking and brought Cetan to a halt.

Roxanne approached with a hint of a smirk curling the corners of her lips.

Pierce’s back teeth ground together. When she pulled in beside him, he eased control on Cetan’s reins and let the stallion take the lead in a steady trot. Pierce didn’t speak or acknowledge her presence. He was afraid of what he might say. Yet, he kept an eye on Roxanne, just in case. She was hurt, and she was in danger. Even though she hated him, he knew he couldn’t live with himself unless he kept her safe.

ROXANNE’S GAZE BORED into Pierce’s back. She should have ridden with Dante and Tuck in the truck. But she knew where she was most comfortable. When trouble struck the badlands of North Dakota, Roxanne preferred to be in the saddle. Besides, she was more likely to find Sweet Jessie and her foal off the beaten path, and they were her priority right now.

The fact that she had been injured, along with Sweet Jessie, wasn’t something Roxanne let herself think about. She didn’t know why anyone would choose to target her—or if he would try to attack her again—but sitting around and thinking about it would drive her crazy. With all the problems she’d been having with the ranch and her finances, the thought of another disaster in her life threatened to crack her self-control. The only way she knew to deal with the strain was to focus on something else—a problem she could fix.