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Chapter One

It was just before dawn, as the sky was beginning to turn silver, when a tall man stepped out of a large frame house standing proudly beneath a wide cottonwood tree almost a hundred years old. It had been only a sapling when his grandfather had planted it.

His shirt and pants were faded, his boots dusty and run down at the heels. The hat he held in his left hand--he always kept his right hand free in case he had to draw his Colt--had seen many seasons of rain and snow. A stranger seeing Stone Falcon for the first time would never guess that he owned one of the largest cattle ranches in all of Colorado.

He was a ruggedly handsome man with strong features and black unruly hair that hung to his shoulders. His steel gray eyes, however, detracted a little from his good looks. They were as cold as ice on a river in January. He was thirty-five years old, born of a wild breed high in the Rockies. Friends and enemies alike said that he was part puma and part rattler. What they didn't know was that his grandfather, old Stonewall Falcon, had taught him that if he was in the right, it didn't matter how dirty he fought.

He breathed deep of the clean, pure air. He had borne the long lonely days of winter holed up on his ranch during blizzards and snow that fell at least once a week for four months. There were spots where the snow had drifted seven feet deep.

Spring had finally arrived now, sending melt water down the mountain and thawing out the passes that had kept him isolated from the rest of the world. He was tired of having no one but his cowhands to talk to.

Stone stretched his long, lean body, then looked up at the towering overhead mountain. Most folks believed there was only one way up the mountain. He knew differently, however. He and his Indian friend, Shilo, had found half a dozen ways to come in and out. They had practically lived on the mountain as boys.

He turned his head and peered down the path that led to the Ute village a couple miles away. He hoped that his friend would get back from his hunting trip in time to bid him goodbye.

There was no sign of the tall Indian. Picking up the gear and bedroll he had brought outside with him, Stone walked down the muddy path to the stables where his Palamino was housed.

The stallion was a handsome devil with pale gold hide and ivory colored mane and tail. He was a mean-eyed mountain horse that only Stone could ride. Stone was very proud of Rebel. He claimed that the stallion was better than a watch dog when it came to watching over a camp site. The big animal had raised many a ruckus that had probably saved his life.

He had just finished saddling the big horse and was leading him outside when, from the corner of his eye, he spotted his friend loping down a much worn path that had mostly been put there by the two of them.

Stone smiled. His boyhood friend was an arresting looking male. He was dressed in fringed buckskin, including his knee-length leggings. He wore a red cloth sash around his lean waist with a gun and a wicked-looking knife stuck in its folds. He was an expert in handling both weapons. His hair was raven black and hung halfway down his back.

"So you're going to try to find her," Shilo said when they met, faint derision in his tone.

"You know that I am."

The Indian shook his head as if in disbelief. "You see this maiden one time, and at a distance, and you want her."

"Yes, I want her and I intend to have her."

"You stupid fellow, did it ever cross your mind that she may not want you?" Shilo asked, serious now.

Stone looked blank for a moment. Of course she would want him. His feelings for her were so strong, she'd have to return his sentiments. He looked at his friend and said with confidence, "She'll want me.

"I hope you're right, Stone," Shilo said quietly, then asked, "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"It's hard to say," Stone said, then grinned and added, "I've never courted a woman before."

Shilo's black eyes glittered with humor. "You're not noted for having a silver tongue, so I'll look for you when the geese fly south in the fall."

Stone's eyes crinkled at the corners. Shilo was right. He had no trouble talking with light-skirts, but when it came to polite conversation with decent women, he was like a mumbling idiot. "Very funny, friend," he growled. "However long it takes, will you check on things around here once in a while? See if the house has been broken into. The cowhands will take care of the barn and outbuildings, but I can't trust them to remember the house."

Shilo nodded that he would, and with a wave of his hand he turned and walked toward his village. He shook his head at his friend's foolishness. This Indian knew more about white women than Stone Falcon did. About decent women, that was. He had scouted for wagon trains a few times and the white women traveling across the country were a far cry from the whores and loose women that Stone was used to. He wouldn't have the slightest idea how to go about courting a lady. She'd have his tongue tied in knots within five minutes.

The poor dunderhead, Shilo thought, feeling sorry for his friend. Stone was going to be mighty disappointed.

The air grew warm as Stone let the stallion choose his own pace. It had been a fickle spring. There had been thaws that two days later would freeze over again. But by every indication winter's back was finally broken now. The aspens showed green leaves budding out, as did the willows along the many creeks and streams.

Stone nudged the stallion to a faster pace. He wasn't sure how far he would have to ride in his search. This was a trip that he looked forward to with mixed emotions. The question of whether the young woman would want him niggled uneasily at his brain despite his earlier assurance that she would.

As the stallion loped along, Stone fell to thinking of the girl who had been on his mind all winter long.

It had been in late November when he saw her. He was on his way to the nearby town of Dogwood to get in a last few days of carousing in the saloons and several visits to Miss Opal's fancy girls at the Red Lantern. Once the blizzards began to roar across the range, blocking all passes, there would be no more riding to town until spring, when most of the snow had melted.

He had been thinking about Opal as Rebel topped a hill just outside town. He'd quickly reined him in and out sat staring at a feminine figure riding toward him at an easy canter. He didn't know what had made him back Rebel into a clump of pines that hid him from the girl's view.

As she rode nearer, the first thing that struck him about her was the color of her hair. It was a rich, burnished mahogany. Then the sun slid from behind a cloud and flames seemed to shoot off the long tresses that hung down her back.

As she came opposite him, Stone had leaned forward so that he could study her face. He had stared and stared. Never had he seen a woman so beautiful, or so graceful, he added mentally, watching the way her willowly body moved with the little black mare.

There had grown inside him the sure knowledge that this woman was meant to be his lifetime mate. Next spring, as soon as the snow melted, he would come back here and discover where she lived; then he would court her. He had not wanted her to see him then. He'd looked like a saddle bum. He hadn't shaved in four days and his hair was in need of a trim.

When the girl rode out of sight, he had ridden on into town, picked up his mail, then ate lunch at the Sage Hen cafe. He'd returned home before dark. The desire to spend time with Miss Opal's girls had left him.

As Stone rode along, the unwelcome thought his friend, Shilo, had brought up continued to nag at his brain. What if the young woman wouldn't have him? It had never entered his mind that she wouldn't, but now, thanks to Shilo, he had to consider that possibility.

"Damn you, Shilo," he muttered. "Why did you have to put that thought in my head?"

A few minutes later Stone drew rein at the South Platte, the river that flowed from northern Colorado. He sat in the saddle, studying it. It was a treacherous stream, he knew. It was given to unexpected floods and had beds of quicksand. A very dangerous water to cross. The only good thing about it was that it never ran dry.

After watching the current a minute or so, Stone lifted the reins and urged Rebel into the water. He was confident that the stallion would avoid the pockets of sucking sand.

When Rebel reached the opposite shore, Stone guided him up the hill where he had first seen his mystery girl. He paused there, debating the best way to go about finding her. Should he make inquiries in Dogwood, or search the outlying ranches first? Deciding to begin in town, he turned Rebel's head in that direction.

After a day spent questioning everyone he came across, Stone was beginning to feel like a fool. No one knew anything of a girl with hair like flame who rode a little black mare. His last hope was the trading post ten miles down river.

It was growing dark as the stallion approached the long log building only a few feet away from the river's edge. He reined Rebel in and sat for a minute, scruntizing the six horses tied to the hitching post. He recognized a couple of the horses as belonging to mountain men. They mostly minded their own business, only occasionally getting drunk and raising hell.

It was well known that some of the men who frequented the post were barely on the right side of the law. Actually, he felt pretty sure that a couple had stepped over that line a few times. With the exception of the mountain-bred horses, all wore brands and looked well cared for. Their owners were not the type that would be running from the law.

Stone decided that he wouldn't have to watch his back if he entered the saloon. He dismounted and tied Rebel to a tree, well away from the other mounts. The big devil was always ready for a fight. To be on the safe side, he checked his Colt to make sure both cylinders were loaded. They were, and shoving the gun back in its holster, he stepped up on the narrow porch and pushed open the trading post door.

The big room was crudely constructed and was poorly lighted by a few hanging lanterns. His gaze skimmed over the room. He was surprised at the number of men lined up at the bar of rough planks supported by three barrels. He realized then that probably half the men had arrived by boat. There were several trappers mingling with the men he knew.

Stone's attention was drawn to a group of four tables in the back of the room. One was unoccupied. The other three were peopled by a group of men, each of whom dandled a scantily dressed saloon woman on his knee.

As maudlin laughter rang out from the drunken women, Stone strode through the dirt and sawdust-covered floor and found himself a place at the bar. Big Cal Broden, the owner of the place, greeted him with a wide smile and a loud, "Stone Falcon, you old wolf. What brings you so far away from your ranch?"

The men at the bar came to attention at the name, Stone Falcon. Each man there either knew, or had heard of the big rancher. They all knew he was not a man to cross. Some spoke to him, others gave him a friendly nod.

"I've got some business to take care of in the area," Stone said in answer to Broden's question. But when he went on to describe the girl he was looking for, no one could recall seeing her.

Knowing better than to ask Stone what he wanted with the girl, the bartender didn't press him, and poured him a glass of whiskey. When he put the cork back in the bottle, he asked a safe question instead. "What kind of winter did you have? Did you lose any cattle?"

"It was pretty bad." Stone picked up the glass. "We were snowed in tight for three months. Couldn't get through the passes. Lost a couple dozen head of cattle. Some to the weather and some to the wolves," he added before tossing the fiery liquid down his throat.

"It was bad here, too," Broden began, then stopped. The outside door had banged open and he and the other men at the bar stared at the four men who noisily entered the post. They pushed two Indian women ahead of them.

"Hell," the bartender muttered, "I wish them Jackson brothers would stay the hell out of my place. I've told them a dozen times not to bring Indian women in here. It riles up my girls. They don't want any competition."

"The young one doesn't look more than thirteen years old," Stone said, studying the thin girl. "And she's scared to death," he added as one of the twins sat down at the empty table and jerked her onto his lap.

Stone frowned when the man began to roughly fondle her, running his hand over her small breast and sliding his other hand up her doeskin shift.

The older woman being pawed by two of the other men watched anxiously as the young girl fought to push away the rough hand that squeezed her tender breasts while the other one tried to pry her legs apart.

Anger began to grow inside Stone as the girl struggled against the man, who only laughed at her small fists beating against his chest. Stone gritted his teeth but kept his mouth shut. He told himself that the maid hadn't been struck, that maybe the bully was just having sport with her.

Suddenly then everything changed at the table. One of the girl's hard little fists connected with her tormentor's eye. The laughter died on his face, replaced by black anger. He jumped to his feet, dragging the girl up beside him. With an arm around her waist holding her fast, he called out to Broden, "I'll be using one of your rooms for a while, bartender. The little squaw here is gonna let me have a poke."

As the terrified girl hung on to the table, tears running down her cheeks, her companion cried out, "Please, she has never been with a man before."

"Now ain't this my lucky day," the irritated man crowed to his brothers. "I'm gonna have me a virgin. And she's gonna pay dearly for striking a white man." He broke the girl's grip on the table, snarling, "Come on, bitch, give me a good time."

Stone's anger turned to rage. The one soft spot in his nature was for the weak and the helpless. Barely aware of his action, he slammed his glass down, its contents splashing all over the bar.

The sudden loud thud on the bar caused a deathly silence to descend on the room. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall behind the bar and the girl's soft sobbing. Everyone's attention was focused on Stone, whose eyes were glittering like shards of ice, sending a clear message to the abuser.

Young Jackson grew visibly pale as he recognized the big rancher. He shuffled his feet and looked at his brothers for support. When they looked away from him, he knew he was on his own.

He grew more uneasy. He had seen Stone Falcon almost cripple a man once in a bar-room brawl. He wasn't about to let that happen to him. A nervous smile twitched his lips, and giving the girl a push that sent her stumbling toward Stone, he said, "Take her. I didn't much want her anyway."

Stone caught her by her thin arms as she reeled into him. When he steadied her slight body, he looked across the room to see if he would have a fight on his hands from the Jackson clan. The brothers were headed for the door, pulling the older woman along with them.

"Please, won't you help her, too?" the girl begged, gripping his arm hard.

Stone understood why she wanted to save her companion, but he didn't want to press his luck. There were four brothers and he didn't know how many men in the post would help him out. He had saved the gift with just a threatening look, but when the older brothers saw that they might lose the chance of having a woman to pass among themselves, he would probably have a fight on his hands--one he might not be able to win.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, "but I don't think they will give her up without a fight. Anyway," he added bracingly, "she looks tough enough to hold her own with them." He pretended not to hear her soft sobs as he turned back to the bar.

The other patrons went back to their drinks also, but they listened closely to Stone's ensuing conversation with Big Cal.

"What are you gonna do with her?" the bartender asked as he refilled Stone's glass.

"Dammed if I know. I hadn't planned on her being handed over to me." He looked down at the small, shivering female. "Where are your people?" he asked. "Where is your village?"

She gripped her hands together to stop their trembling, but her voice was wavery as she answered, "My aunt and I are Utes from northern Colorado. Our chief is moving our village to a new summer location. Up in the mountains, I think."

"How did those men get hold of you and your aunt without your menfolk seeing them?" Stone asked.

"We were the last ones in a long line, and no one was paying any attention to us. The men had no trouble grabbing us and dragging us into the forest."

"Why weren't you and your aunt with the other women?" Cal asked with a frown. "It always appears to me that when a tribe is on the move the women and children walk in the middle of the men for protection."

A solemn look came over her small, dusky features. "We are not welcome in our village anymore." When Stone gave her a questioning look, she haltingly explained.

"My aunt's husband, my uncle, died last year of a white man's sickness. We were left with no man to provide for us. We are resented now for the food we eat."

Stone and Cal nodded their understanding. It was the Indian way. "I don't expect they will come looking for you then," Stone thought out loud.

"No, they will not," the girl agreed, her narrow shoulders slumping.

Pity for the girl's plight welled up inside Stone. "What is your name?" he asked quietly.

"I am called Little Bird."

An apt name, Stone thought. She looked like a hungry little sparrow.

Cal bent a somber look on Stone. "Well, friend, again I ask--what are you going to do with her?"

Stone shook his head. "And, again, I answer: Damned if I know. I know that I can't leave her here. The Jacksons will be back through here in a couple days and some of the characters that hang around are no more trust worthy that the Jackson brothers."

He poured himself another drink, and after tossing it down his throat, he said thoughtfully "I'll take her to my camp for now. Maybe I'll come up with some kind of solution by tomorrow morning."

Big Cal propped his elbow on the bar, and after studying Little Bird a minute said, "You know, if she was scrubbed up, she'd look pretty fetching. Since you haven't found that gal you're looking for, why don't you keep this one for yourself?"

Stone smiled as he thought of the woman he had been dreaming of all winter and shook his head. "I've already chosen the woman who will share my home from now on."

The bartender waited to hear more about the mystery woman. When Stone didn't add to his remark, Cal shrugged. He'd find out in time. He doubted that Stone was planning to get married soon. The Falcon men remained bachelors until they were almost forty.

Stone slapped some money on the bar and said, "Let's get going, Little Bird."

"See you next time, Falcon," Big Cal said as he scooped up the coins.

"Is he keeping her for himself?" a half dozen voices asked Cal as the door closed behind Stone.

"Naw, she's too young for him."

It was dark when Stone and the weary girl stepped outside and Stone closed the door behind them. As though anxious to get the night over and done with, an early full moon was shining its silvery light on the river. Stone boosted Little Bird onto Rebel's back, then climbed up behind her.

The girl was in no shape to ride back to the ranch tonight, Stone thought. Within a few minutes he had chosen a campsite beside the river. Before he could help her to dismount, Little Bird slipped from the saddle and sat down on a large boulder that had at some time been dropped at the river's edge when the Platte was in flood.

She looks worn out, Stone thought as he stripped the saddle off the stallion, then let him roll in the sand for a few minutes. When Rebel lunged to his feet, sand and gravel clinging to his beautiful hide, Stone staked him out to graze in a patch of grass. Then, walking over to Little Bird, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

Little Bird didn't pretend that she wasn't starving. She nodded eagerly. "I haven't eaten since early this morning. My aunt and I were given a strip of pemmican to share."

Stone wasn't surprised at the girl's answer. Actually, he was surprised that the two lone females were allowed to remain with the tribe at all. Most clans would have driven them away when they had no male to support them.

When Stone had a cookfire burning, he doubled the number of bacon strips he usually fried in the battered skillet. He also opened two cans of beans, thinking to himself that the girl looked like she could eat one can by herself.

The pot of coffee he had set to brewing earlier was ready by the time the meat was cooked and the beans heated. He divided the meal into two equal parts and added a piece of hardtack to each plate. He handed one to Little Bird and said, "Eat up, girl." He started to sit down beside her, then noted that though she eyed the food hungrily, she made no effort to begin eating.

It took but a moment for Stone to understand her hesitation. He knew the girl wanted to attack her food like a hungry little animal but would hold back if he sat beside her. Without an audience, she could gulp down her food as fast as she could chew it. He took his supper and walked the few feet to the river bank. He sat down on a large rock, and with his back to her, he dug in.

When Stone had finished his meal and rolled a smoke. He looked out over the river as aromatic smoke drifted from his nostrils. What was he going to do about the girl? he wondered. He couldn't take her with him. It just wouldn't do to go courting a white woman with a skinny little Indian maid tagging along behind him. And despite today's frustrations, he meant to continue his search.

With a sudden flash, his friend Shilo came to mind. If he could get the gift to the Ute village, he wouldn't have to worry about her. Shilo wouldn't want to take on the responsibility of the girl, but he would do it. Of course he would complain about it every time they saw each other. Which was almost daffy. But then, the big Indian grumbled about everything. He had done so as long as Stone could remember, and that was back to the time they were youngsters.

The sudden crunch of gravel brought Stone to his feet, his right hand dropping to the handle of the Colt strapped around his waist. Had the Jacksons followed him, intent on getting the girl?

"Don't shoot, young feller," an age-cracked voice called out from down the river.

Stone peered into the shadows of the willows and made out the shape of a mule plodding toward him. A wide smile lit up his face when he recognized the old mountain man astride the gray-faced pack animal. Caleb Greenwood. He had lived in the mountains over forty years. Nobody knew, not even himself, how old he was.

"Caleb, it's been a long time." Stone stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

"Nigh on to four years, as I recollect."

"Every bit of that," Stone agreed, shaking the gnarled that had reached for his. "You were taking your winter's catch to the trading post the last time I saw you. Where are you heading now?"

"Back up the mountains. Had to come down to Dogwood for some supplies. Ran out of flour and coffee a couple weeks back. Been waitin' for the dang-blasted passes to open up."

"I don't have any cooked grub to offer you, but I have half a pot of hot coffee and some hard tack. Help yourself if you've a mind to."

"That's the best offer I've had since I can't remember." Caleb squatted beside the campfire and reached for the coffee pot. Using Stone's cup, he filled it with the steaming, dark brew. When he raised it to his mouth and took a long swallow, he smacked his lips and looked heavenward. "There's nothin' so tasty as good, strong coffee." He lifted the cup to his mouth again.

When Caleb had emptied the cup and refilled it he asked, "Where are you off to, Stone?"

"The same place you're coming from," Stone answered cautiously, tired of explaining his foolish search for a girl who had disappeared into thin air.

A wide smile exposed Caleb's toothless gums. "I see you got yourself a young squaw. She looks kinda scrawny. Did she keep your bed warm this past winter?" He gave a cackle of laughter. "I bet she didn't. I bet that's why you're takin' her back to her father."

"It's not what you're thinking, you old reprobate," Stone snapped, "so wipe that smirk off your face."

"If it's not what I'm thinkin', then what is it?"

With as few words as possible, Stone explained how he had come to have an Indian maid in his camp.

Caleb was silent as he sipped his second cup of coffee. When he set the empty cup down beside him he said, as though to himself, "I bet I passed where them men are camped a few miles back. I could hear by the way they wuz talkin' and laughin' they wuz drinkin' so I stayed out of their sight. I went close enough, though, to see there wuz four men and a middle-aged Indian woman with them. They wuz takin' turns with her."

Stone took a hurried look at Little Bird. He hoped that she hadn't heard everything Caleb had said. She was upset enough about her relative.

As Caleb went into a long tirade about the evil that lived in some men, an idea struck Stone. Maybe the old man could help him get rid of Little Bird. When Caleb finally stopped talking, Stone looked at him and said, "You say you're on your way back up the mountain?"

"Yep, and I can't wait to get back there. Civilization ain't for me."

A piece of wood burned through and Stone pushed it back on the coals with the toe of his boot. Then, avoiding Caleb's eyes, he said, "I'm wondering if you would do me a favor. A big one." He looked at the old man then.

Caleb looked into the dancing flames and glowing coals a moment, then gazed at Stone. "Something tells me to say no right off. It's somethin' to do with the little squaw, ain't it?"

Stone picked up a brittle stick and snapped it between his fingers. He could not help the amusement that flickered in his eyes, and he lowered his lids to hide it. It was typical of Greenwood to come straight to the point. He could do no less.

"Yes, it is," Stone answered. "I would appreciate it if you would take her to my friend, Shilo. His village is close to my ranch. He will take her in."

Caleb looked a little alarmed. "I don't want to have much truck with that big Injun. Sometimes he speaks to a man, then a week later looks straight through him as though he'd never laid eyes on him before. He makes me nervous."

Stone's lips twisted in a grin. "He makes a lot of people nervous. But if he's left alone, he won't bother anybody. He's a bad one, though, if he's picked on."

Stone picked up a small, flat rock, and drawing his arm back skipped it across the water. "I never thought I'd see the day that Caleb Greenwood would be afraid of an Indian."

"Hold on there now!" Caleb bristled. "I didn't say I was afraid of the Ute. I just said that he makes me nervous."

Caleb scratched his white beard as he studied Little Bird perched on her boulder. "She looks mighty puny," he said after a while. "She won't get sick on me or anything like that, will she?"

"She's not ailing with anything, if that's what you're thinking. She's half starved, that's all. A few good meals and she'll be fine."

After another close scrutiny of Little Bird, Caleb muttered, "Alright, but I'll be leavin' at first dawn. See that she's ready to travel." He glanced at the stallion staked out in the grass. "I don't see any extra horses anywhere, so that means she'll have to walk."

"Do Indian women ever get to ride?" Stone asked with a sardonic twist of his lips.

"Not very often," Caleb agreed, "but I saw it once," he added as he walked over to his old mule. "She was an Indian princess. She sure was a beauty. She sat her horse real proud-like."

Caleb turned to the mule, and talking to it as though it was human, he unsaddled the old animal. He picked up his bedroll then and spread it under a tree. When he rolled up in the blankets, Stone asked, "Aren't you going to stake him? Won't he stray away?"

"Naw. He never goes far away from me," Caleb said with a yawn. He was snoring when Stone hunkered down beside Little Bird. She looks dead tired and half asleep, Stone thought. He wondered how she would take to the idea of riding with a crusty looking old mountain man tomorrow morning. When she looked up at him, he said with a jerk of his thumb at Caleb, "He's an old friend of mine."

"Yes, I could see that," Little Bird said, wariness coming into her eyes.

She knows, Stone thought and there was a slight hesitation before he said, "I have made arrangements with him to take you to my friend, Shilo. Shilo is the Ute chief in the village near my ranch. He will take you in and see to your needs."

Little Bird looked at him, her eyes wide with dismay. Stone realized that she had been thinking he would be the one who would look after her. As she continued to look at him with big solemn eyes, he explained, "That's the best I can do, Little Bird, since I can't take you with me."

As Stone waited for her to say something, a night bird flew out of the willows. The moment was poignant as the bird swooped out over the river, its soft song fading behind it. He waited another few seconds, then said softly, "I'm sorry, girl, but it's impossible to take you with me."

"Do not apologize, Stone Falcon. I am grateful for what you have done for me already. It was enough that you saved me from those awful brothers." She gazed out over the river. "I worry about what is happening to my aunt."

Moonlight glittered on the tears that slipped down her cheeks. Stone spoke gruffly to hide the compassion he was feeling. "They'll turn her loose in the morning," he said, not believing a word he said. The only hope the woman had was to slip away in the night.

Stone stood up and walked over to where he had stashed his bedroll. "I'll divide my blankets with you." He dropped one down beside Little Bird. "Roll up beside the fire and try to get some sleep. The old man wants to get an early start in the morning."

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Snow Fire

0843946911

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