Only 04 - Only Love

the sky. He was tired of wearing himself out on a claim that a blind man could see was as useless as teats on a boar hog.
    Rifle on one shoulder and coiled lash on the other, Whip strode down out of the grim, cold notch where meltwater collected and ran down to Grizzly Meadow. He couldn’t see the meadow from where he was, but he knew it was there.
    Just as Whip knew Shannon would be there, waiting for him. She would heat water for him and he would bathe and pull on the shirt she had cleaned for him yesterday. The cloth would be warm from the sun and sweet from washing, but sweetest of all would be the mixture of caring and womanly hunger and approval in Shannon’s eyes when she watched him.
    As Whip hurriedly descended the rubble slope at the mouth of the ravine, rocks still cold with winter gave way to unexpected beauty. Willow, stunted aspen, and wind-harried spruce clung in shades of green to every pocket of soil and warmth. The icy rill that flowed from the ravine was joined by other ribbons of meltwater until they became a small creek flowing into Grizzly Meadow. Wildflowers bloomed in scarlet and purple and yellow and white as rocky slopes gentled into a high mountain meadow.
    Smiling, Whip emerged from shadow into the meadow’s pouring sunlight, expecting to hear Shannon’s voice raised in welcome when she saw him. But no cry of recognition and delight came. Frowning, he walked even more quickly.
    I’m coming in early, but Shannon should be here. Hell, where else would she be/
    Unless something went wrong. Another grizzly or…
    A cold that had nothing to do with sweaty clothing went through Whip. Eyes as clear and icy as meltwater probed every shadow of the meadow.
    Whip wasn’t even aware of moving until he felt the worn, hard butt of the bullwhip nestled in his left hand and heard the restless seething of the lash at his feet. His right hand was closed around the rifle, his finger was on the trigger, and his eyes were looking for a target. If he found one, hewouldn’t have to switch hands. He had learned long ago the value of being able to shoot with either hand.
    There. At the far end of the meadow. Movement.
    Smoothly Whip pivoted to face whatever was coming toward him.
    Feminine laughter rippled through the quiet summer meadow, laughter bubbling as clearly as the creek itself. Suddenly Shannon darted out of the aspens with Prettyface hard on her heels. The huge hound caught up in three bounds and put himself squarely across Shannon’s path, forcing her to stop. Quick as a deer she turned and raced toward the aspens again. Prettyface followed, blocked her before she reached the trees, and chased her when she spun aside once more.
    The game continued until Shannon was too breathless with laughter to run any longer. She leaned on Prettyface and petted him and praised him and hugged him until her breath came back. Then she told him to stay and tiptoed off into the aspens. Panting, his tongue lolling out in silent canine laughter, Prettyface stayed put and watched with alert wolf’s eyes while Shannon vanished into the trees.
    Whip watched too, motionless, aching with feelings he couldn’t name.
    A rock arced out of the aspens to land with a soft thump at Prettyface’s side. It must have been the signal for the game to resume, because the hound leaped forward, nose to the ground, tracking his mistress at a lope. Soon Prettyface vanished into the aspens.
    Whip waited, smiling, guessing what was going to happen next; the stalk and the laughter stifled into silence, and then the instant of discovery.
    A few minutes later he heard laughter and saw flashes of movement in the aspen grove. Shannon burst into the meadow at a dead run, her long legs moving so quickly that they blurred.
    No wonder she got to me so fast when that grizzly cornered me. She and that hellhound of hers keep each other sharp.
    Despite Shannon’s speed, she was no match for Prettyface. The hound caught her in ten strides, barred her way into the meadow, and leaped after her when she took off in another direction.
    Whip laughed softly as he uncocked the rifle, coiled the long lash so that it could ride once again on his shoulder, and walked toward the girl and the savage mongrel that played like a puppy with her.
    I’ll bet Shannon and Willy would get along like a house afire. They both have grit and the gift of laughter no matter how bleak things really are. Shannon could help with the kids and the cooking, and Cal could keep