Mountain Rose by Norah Hess Page B

happening to someone else, he was flying through the air. He landed hard on the ground as his mount went thundering down the valley, the empty stirrups slapping him in the belly. Chase put his hand to his holster and groaned. The gun wasn't there. Looking frantically around, he spied it lying at the feet of a large, snarling wolf.
    As he watched the night prowlers circling him, coming ever closer, he thought of his helplessness with blind, black rage. He was going to die. His throat would be torn out by those snarling, hungry beasts.
    "At least I'll go out fighting," he muttered grimly, reaching for the Bowie shoved into the top of his moccasins.
    He was on his feet, the knife gripped in his hand, his eyes unwavering on the battle-scared leader, when the sharp crack of a rifle split the air.
     
    With startled yips and yelps the wolves scattered, disappearing into the forest.
     
    Chase wiped the cold perspiration off his forehead and looked up at a young man who sat with arms crossed on the pommel of his saddle, his eyes creased in a lazy smile.
    "You came damn near bein' their breakfast, didn't you, hoss?"
    "I've never come closer to bein' eaten." Chase grinned. He lifted his hands and watched them tremble. "I was just minutes away from meetin' my Maker and it scared me witless, I don't mind tellin' you. Ain't no way my sin-filled soul is ready to meet Him."
    The young man laughed and slid gracefully out of the saddle. "Jamie Hart," he said, offering his hand.
    "Right pleased to meet you, Jamie Hart." Chase gave the slim hand a firm shake. "Chase Donlin."
    "I've heard of you." The half-breed studied Chase's face. "It's said that you're a mean cuss, fast as lightnin' with either gun or knife."
    "Well I wasn't very fast with either one today," Chase grunted, walking over to retrieve his gun. Shoving it into its holster, he said, "My cabin is in the next valley—come have breakfast with me."
    "What about your mount? Should I go run him down?"
    "Naw. Let him come to us." Chase stuck a finger and thumb into his mouth and blew a loud whistle. It hadn't stopped echoing through the hills when Sampson came galloping up to them.
    "He's a fine-lookin' animal." Jamie admired the black stallion. "I'll bet he can run like the wind."
    "He's fast," Chase admitted, swinging into the saddle. "But you let me down today, didn't you boy?" He gave the sweating, arching neck an affectionate pat.
    "A pack of hungry wolves would make any animal panic." Jamie made excuses for the stallion as he turned his mount and followed Sampson.
    "They sure as hell scared me." Chase laughed.
    Later, as Chase fried a couple of steaks and a skillet of sliced potatoes, Jamie told him a bit about himself.
    "I've floated around a lot," he began. "I've been a cowpuncher, a bronco rider, prospected for gold, and for a short time I rode shotgun for a coach."
    "That's a lot of different jobs for a man so young," Chase observed, dishing up the meat and raw fries. "Weren't any of them to your likin'?"
    Jamie was silent for a moment, staring down at his plate. Then, shrugging indifferently, he answered, "I liked breakin' horses." He looked up at Chase. "I was never kept on very long."
     
    "How come? Are you lazy?"
     
    Jamie shook his head. "You see, I've always had to walk a narrow path. My Indian mother on one side, my Irish father on the other." He made an attempt at light laughter. "I don't know if it's the Pauite in me that people don't like, or the Irish."
    Chase went along with the amused note. He grinned and said, "No doubt it's the Irish."
    Jamie laughed, recognizing the name Donlin as being Irish.
    How it came about, Chase never fully understood, but Jamie stayed on with him. Five years now, celebrating his twenty-sixth birthday last week. They trapped together in the winter, hunted in the summer, caroused together in between. Jamie had became the younger brother he had always wished for.
    And though he was seemingly content with his life in the Oregon