The barren branches clawed at Temper’s back like an angry bobcat, and the cold November wind stabbed his lungs like knives. But with a gentle tap from Billy’s spurs, the midnight steed streaked across the open plain toward destiny.
Up ahead not more than few hundred yards, Ayita waited for Billy, and once he had her in his arms, he’d never let go.
But Akando’s horses thundered close behind, and Billy knew the chief would not allow his daughter to leave without a fight. Already, the men were shouting orders to each other, and arrows zipped past Billy’s head. The deadly stone tips thwapped into trunks, and feathers brushed against his ears.