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Rider on Fire
Sharon Sala
Praise for
New York Times
bestselling author
SHARON SALA
“Sharon Sala is not only a top romance novelist, she is an inspiration for people everywhere who wish to live their dreams. Her work has a higher purpose and she takes readers with her on an incredible journey of overcoming adversity and increased self-awareness in every book.”
—John St. Augustine, Host, Power! Talk Radio WDBC-AM, Michigan
“…[She] knows just how to steep the fires of romance to the gratification of her readers.”
—Romantic Times
Sharon Sala has a “rare ability to bring powerful and emotionally wrenching stories to life.”
—Romantic Times
Dear Reader,
October is a funny month in New York City. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it snows, sometimes it’s sunny. And in the stores, there’s the anticipation of Halloween with candy and costumes. Although children don’t usually trick-or-treat in my building, I still buy candy and wear a witch’s hat just in case. Maybe this year, a group of goblins and vampires will show up so that I won’t have to eat a whole bag of chocolate myself. Speaking of vampires, October is a banner month for our readers. We’ve got enough paranormal and adventure so that you’ll want to keep a light on at all times.
New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala returns to the line with Rider on Fire (#1387), which features a biker chick heroine who is led on a mystical journey to her long-lost father. Of course, she finds true love on her quest…and danger. RITA® Award-winning author Catherine Mann continues her popular WINGMEN WARRIORS miniseries with The Captive’s Return (#1388), where an airman finds his long-lost wife. As they race to escape a crime lord, will they reclaim their passion for each other?
You’ll love Ingrid Weaver’s Romancing the Renegade (#1389), the next book in her PAYBACK miniseries. Here, a sweet bookworm is swept off her feet by a dashing FBI agent, who enlists her aid in the recovery of lost treasure. Make sure to wear your garlic necklace with Caridad Piñeiro’s Temptation Calls (#1390), in which a beautiful vampire falls for a mortal man. And while she’s only known men as abusive, will this dashing detective tempt her out of the darkness? This story is part of Caridad’s miniseries THE CALLING.
Have a joyous October and be sure to return next month to Silhouette Intimate Moments, where your thirst for suspense and romance is sure to be satisfied. Happy reading!
Sincerely,
Patience Smith
Associate Senior Editor
Rider on Fire
Sharon Sala
ISBN: 9781408947104
Rider on Fire
© Sharon Sala 2005
First Published in Great Britain in 2005
Harlequin (UK) Limited
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, including without limitation xerography, photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
This ebook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the prior consent of the publisher, in any form or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this work have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.á.r.l.
® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SHARON SALA
is a child of the country. As a farmer’s daughter, she found her vivid imagination made solitude a thing to cherish. During her adult life, she learned to survive by taking things one day at a time. An inveterate dreamer, she yearned to share the stories her imagination created. For Sharon, her dreams have come true, and she claims one of her greatest joys is when her stories become tools for healing.
In addition to her titles for Silhouette, she now writes mainstream novels for MIRA Books under her own name and also as Dinah McCall.
This past month, another member of the Oklahoma Outlaws, our state chapter of Romance Writers of America, was diagnosed with breast cancer. We have less than forty members in the chapter and a half dozen of those are breast cancer survivors. Devastating illnesses are never fair. They didn’t get to pick and choose the trials and tribulations that came with living their lives, but by golly those girls know how to live it regardless.
Because I am so proud to be an Outlaw, and because I love and admire those women so much for showing us what’s really important in life, I would like to dedicate this book to them.
Ladies, this is my “pink ribbon” for all of you.
To Peggy King, Jo Smith, Willie Ferguson, Julia Mozingo, Chris Rimmer and Donnell Epperson, and to all the women everywhere, including my editor, Leslie Wainger, who have been forged in the fire of cancer and lived to be inspirations for us all—
PINK FOREVER!!!
Contents
About the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
COMING NEXT MONTH
Chapter 1
The small squirrel was just ready to scold—its little mouth partially opened as it clutched the acorn close to its chest. In the right light, one could almost believe the tail had just twitched.
Franklin Blue Cat called it The Sassy One. It was one of his latest carvings and in three months would be featured, along with thirty other pieces of his work, in a prestigious art gallery in Santa Fe. He hoped he lived long enough to see it.
Franklin often thought how strange the turns his life had taken. Had anyone told him that one day he would become known the world over for his simple carvings, he would have called them crazy. He would also have called them crazy for telling him that, at the age of sixty, he would be alone and dying of cancer. He’d always imagined himself going into old age surrounded by children and grandchildren with a loving wife at his side.
He set aside the squirrel. As he did, the pain he’d been living with for some months took a sharp upward spike, making Franklin reel where he stood. He waited until the worst of it passed, then stumbled to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed.
He considered giving Adam Two Eagles a call. Adam’s father had been the clan healer. Everyone had assumed that Adam would follow in his father’s footsteps. Only Adam had rebelled. Instead, he had taken the white man’s way and left the Kiamichi Mountains to go to college, graduated from Oklahoma State University with an MBA, and from there, gone straight into the army to eventually become one of their elite—an Army Ranger.
Then, during the ensuing years, something had happened to Adam that caused him to quit the military, and brought him home. He’d come back to eastern Oklahoma, to his Kiowa roots, and stepped into his father’s footsteps as if he’d never been away.
Adam never talked about what had changed him, but Franklin knew it had been bad. He saw the shadows in Adam’s eyes when he thought no one was looking. However, Franklin knew something that Adam did not. Franklin knew it would pass. He’d lived long enough to know life was in a constant state of flux.
As Franklin drifted to sleep, he dreamed, all the way back to his younger days and the woman who’d stolen his heart.
Leila of the laughing eyes and long dark hair. He couldn’t remember when he hadn’t loved her. They’d made love every chance they could get—with passion, but without caution.
Sleep took him to the day he had learned that Leila’s family was moving. She’d been twenty-two to his thirty—old enough to stay behind. He’d begged her to stay but there had been a look on her face he’d never seen before, and instead of accepting his offer of marriage, she’d been unable to meet his gaze.
His heartbeat accelerated as he relived the panic. In his mind, he could see her face through the back window of the car as her father drove away.
She was crying—his Leila of the laughing eyes was sobbing as she waved goodbye. He could see her mouth moving.
Franklin shifted on the bed. This was new. He didn’t remember her calling out. In real life, she’d done nothing but cry as they drove away. It was the way he’d remembered it for all these years. So why had the dream been different? What was it she was trying to say?
He swung his legs to the side of the bed and then stood, giving himself time to decide if he had the strength to move. Finally, he walked out of his bedroom, then through the kitchen to the back porch. The night air was sultry and still.
He stood for a few moments, absorbing the impact of the dream, waiting for understanding. At first, he felt nothing. His mind was blank, but he knew what to do. It was the same thing he always did as he began a new piece of work. All he had to do was look at the block of wood until he saw whatever it was that was waiting to come out. Only then did he begin carving.
Following his instincts, he closed his eyes, took a slow breath, then waited for the words Leila had been trying to say.
It was quiet on the mountain. Almost too quiet. Even the night birds were silent and the coyotes seemed to have gone to ground. There was nothing to distract Franklin from watching his dream, letting it replay in his head. He stood motionless for so long that dew settled on his bare feet, while an owl, feeling no threat, passed silently behind him on its way out to hunt.
And then understanding came, and with it, shock. Franklin turned abruptly and looked back at his house, almost expecting Leila to be on the porch, but there was no one there.
He turned again, this time looking to the trees beyond his home. He’d been born on this land. His parents had died in this house, and soon, so would he. But there was something he knew now that he had not known yesterday.
Leila had taken something of his when she’d left him.
His child.
Right in the middle of his revelation, exhaustion hit.
Damn this cancer.
His legs began to shake and his hands began to tremble. He walked back to the house, stumbling slightly as he stepped up on the porch, then dragged himself into the house.
What if he could find his Leila—even if she was no longer his? He wanted to see their child—no—he needed to know that a part of him would live on, even after he was gone. Tomorrow, he would call Adam Two Eagles. Adam would know what to do.
Adam Two Eagles rarely had to stretch to reach anything. At three inches over six feet tall, he usually towered over others. His features were Native American, but less defined than his father’s had been. His mother had been Navajo and the mix of Kiowa and Navajo had blended well, making Adam a very handsome man. His dark hair was thick and long, falling far below his shoulders—a far cry from the buzz cut he’d worn in the military. But that seemed so long ago that it might as well have been from another life.
This morning, he was readying himself for a trip up the Kiamichis. There were some plants he wanted for healing that grew only in the higher elevation. It would mean at least a half-day’s hike up and back—nothing he hadn’t done countless times before—only today, he felt unsettled. He kept going from room to room, thinking there was something else he was supposed to do, but nothing occurred to him. Finally, he’d given up and prepared to leave.
If he hadn’t forgotten the bag he liked to carry his herbs and plants in, he would have already been gone when the phone rang. But he was digging through a closet, and ignoring the ring would have been like a doctor ignoring a call for help.
“Hello.”
“Adam! I was beginning to think you were gone.”
Adam smiled as he recognized the voice.
“Good morning, Franklin. You just caught me. How have you been?”
“The same,” Franklin said shortly, unwilling to dwell on his illness. “But that’s not why I called.”
Adam frowned. The seriousness in his old friend’s voice was unfamiliar.
“So, what’s up?” Adam asked.
“It’s complicated,” Franklin said. “Can you come over?”
“Yes, of course. When do you need me?” Adam asked.
