Only 05 - Autumn Lover

like blue-green gems.
    Saying nothing, Hunter went to stand behind Elyssa. He put his hands against the shutter, leaned forward, and looked out over Elyssa’s head.
    After a few moments the lines of their bodies merged into one.
    Without looking away from the land, Hunter breathed a kiss against Elyssa’s hair. It was so light, so brief, that she wasn’t certain it had happened at all.
    “Indians heading for the cottonwoods,” Case called from upstairs.
    Hunter turned his head away from Elyssa.
    “Hold your fire!” he yelled. “If they want to kill Culpeppers, I won’t stop them.”
    Sporadic fire came from the cottonwoods, then shrill war cries followed by a silence that slowly expanded to fill the afternoon.
    “Look alive, boys,” Hunter called. “They could come at any moment.”
    Tautly Elyssa waited and watched the afternoon deepen into early evening.
    Nothing stirred, not even the birds that usually flocked to the marsh for the night.
    Just when Elyssa was certain that the Indians had gone away and left the Ladder S untouched, Case cried out again.
    “Indians. Five of them.” Then, in disbelief, “One is carrying a parley flag!”
    “Hold your fire!” Hunter called.
    Hardly able to believe what he was seeing, Hunter watched as four Indians stopped at the edge of the cot-tonwoods. The man with the parley flag rode on into the ranch yard.
    “Ute,” Elyssa said. “Painted for war, not truce.”
    Hunter went to the front door, where Morgan waited.
    Elyssa was right behind him.
    “Go back,” Hunter said. “It could be a trap.”
    “No. If you go, I go.”
    “Morgan.”
    Hunter said no more.
    When the front door opened, Elyssa stayed inside for the simple reason that Morgan was holding her with wiry ease. She fought for a moment in bitter silence, then gave in with a weariness that tugged at Hunter’s heart.
    The front door shut behind Hunter, leaving him alone in a place of burned grass and churned dirt. There was no rifle in his hands, but there was a six-gun in his belt.
    The warriors who waited at the cottonwoods were lean and hard and fit. Their ponies were the same. But it was the Ute with the ragged truce flag who had Hunter’s attention.
    Quick, flowing motions of the man’s hands told Hunter what he hadn’t dared to believe—the Utes had no desire to make war with the Ladder S. They had come to pay off a debt.
    To Elyssa.
    And only to her.
    “Elyssa,” Hunter called without turning away from the Utes. “Come out here.”
    An instant later the door opened and Elyssa came to stand beside Hunter.
    The Ute began signing again. His hands were both graceful and powerful as he shaped concepts that were shared by white and native languages alike.
    “He says that their headman owes a great debt to you,” Hunter translated for Elyssa.
    “But—”
    “Wait,” Hunter interrupted.
    He watched intently, then began translating.
    “His wife and son were taken by white men,” Hunter said. “With the help of one, she managed to escape, only to be run to ground by the others like a rabbit by coyotes. Then a brave woman warrior came on a spotted stallion.”
    Startled, Elyssa looked at Hunter, but he was watching the Ute’s hands.
    “Though white herself,” Hunter translated, “she shot a white man, took the son into her arms, and gave space on her horse to the wife. The white woman took the wife and son into her own lodge and cared for them as tenderly as a mother with her own babe.”
    The Ute paused and looked at Elyssa for a long moment before he resumed signing.
    “He-Who-speaks-First-at-the-Fire thanks the white woman,” Hunter translated. “Let there be peace between our lodges.”
    “Yes,” Elyssa said instantly.
    The Ute understood. He made a sweeping motion with his arm.
    Five more Utes galloped down from the slopes where cedar and piñon grew amid tongues of blackened ground. Three of the Utes led a string of three Appaloosa mares. They were beautiful animals, long-limbed and deep-chested.
    “Hunter?” Elyssa whispered.
    “Looks like you’ll be raising spotted horses just like you wanted to,” he said quietly.
    Stunned, Elyssa gathered the lead ropes that were dropped at her feet as the Indians galloped by.
    Then two more Indians came. One was leading the mare that the Indian girl had taken when she fled the ranch. A man was tied face down over the mare’s back.The second Indian was riding double, holding another man upright in front of him on the pony.
    A white