the sun, and he kept riding toward the blinding
golden light of the sun, irnching then into the sky to collect the arrows and
keep Ihem from falling.
His dream had disturbed him, but Mile-High-Man, a relucted
holy man, had told him that he was indeed intended lo be a warrior, one who
would be wise and able to communicate with others and lead well.
If such was to be his role
in life, then how could he leave his band and join the household of a white
man?
Perhaps he needed to go, Mile-High-Man suggested, to Irani the ways to communicate with
both the buffalo and the eagles.
A whimper from the bed suddenly distracted him from Ins
thoughts. He came around, staring down at the beautiful blond woman lying on
the bed. Her arms suddenly rose as
II she were warding off a blow. He frowned, almost reach- Ing out to wake
her then, but her arms fell; she shuddered and went still.
I le wondered if she was still fighting him or if someone
rise was haunting her dreams. Now she lay so peacefully, I in features delicate
and exquisite, her hair a pool of gold io frame them.
I le turned from her abruptly, walking away, staring into
llie fire.
He watched the flames. In time, he'd wake her. His fin- Kris clenched his palms. Indeed. In time, he'd wake her all n ight.
Four
Half a continent away, a young woman hurried along a hallway
carrying a pile of bath sheets and two large bottles of liniment. She was of
medium height, but she moved with such carriage and grace that she gave the
impression of being taller. Her hair was a deep, dark brown, just touched with
hints of henna that gave it a rich, sable appearance. Her eyes were a dark,
vibrant blue-green, almost turquoise. Until her mother's recent death, she
might have claimed to have lived a happy life, despite the secrets of the past
that had haunted them all.
But now ...
In the last three weeks, she had faced far more than tragedy.
Horror itself had entered into her life. And surprisingly
enough, she had discovered she had the strength to deal with it. Skylar had
given her that strength. Skylar had always been there for her. She hoped that
now ... finally they were managing to rescue one another.
Outside a doorway, she paused, squaring her shoulders. No
matter what was said, she would play her part. Give nothing away. Nothing.
She pushed open the door. He sat there in his specially carved wheelchair, an afghan thrown over his useless
legs. Still, he was somehow not a man to be pitied because when he gazed at
her, the demons of cruelty and anger and ... revenge were in his eyes.
The doctor stood behind the chair. "Ah, there you are,
my dear! The liniment, just as I've asked. Good. A number of towels, yes. Ah,
there now, dear, fetch the brandy, a snifter for the senator ... ah, yes, a
good brandy relaxes the muscles, and the body—"
"Doctor," the senator said, shaking his head sadly.
"Brandy, liniment. Relaxed muscles, tensed muscles! What does it matter,
when I will never walk again?"
"Courage, now, Senator!" the doctor said. He was a
bcwhiskered old man. Sabrina thought he was doddering, and wondered why the
senator had chosen him for his treatments. Because
the doctor wouldn't ask too many questions? She'd been surprised at
first that the senator hadn't ( ailed in the police.
But then, if he'd thrown out accusations, he might have had a
few accusations thrown back at him.
He was still staring at her. Smiling, a smile that conveyed
no humor, no warmth. It was a chilling smile. One that warned, menaced ... and
promised as well. I will have my revenge! that smile seemed to vow. In my own way, my own
time. And don't doubt my power: God, no, girl, don't you go doubting my power.
Perhaps, she told herself, determined not to respond to that
smile in any way. If the doctor weren't there, she might be tempted to laugh,
to taunt him in return. You can't hurt me now, you
fool. You can't hurt me. Skylar stopped you when you tried!
He was a good-looking man.