A warm wind blew off the grasslands and into a secluded, wooded valley. The whir of a rope broke the stillness of the afternoon, missing a tree stump by mere inches. A blue jay cried its objection at having humans so close to its nest. A killdeer called plaintively as it ran down the yellow sand of the only road in the valley. A buzzard circled lazily overhead, looking for a meal. Daisy’s littered the grass around the stump, creating a blaze of color in the otherwise green wonderland. The grass waved gently in the cooling breeze and made the cottonwood leaves rustle overhead. The rope broke the stillness again, and once again it missed by inches, slapping against the bottom of the stump.
“Hold the loop loosely, twirl it three times to open the loop and toss,” Rusty Collins said in Spanish, giving his rope an effortless toss over the stump. He didn’t mind breaking in the new hand calling himself Mexican Tom Santos. But it seemed there was a whole lot that Mexican Tom didn’t know. “Follow through with your wrist,” Rusty added.
“It’s easy for you,” Tall Elk said, coiling his rope again for another try. “You grew up with a rope. My family were farmers.”
“That’s funny,” Rusty said, pushing his hat back with a smile. “For a Mex you sure speak it badly, and you are even worse at farming than you are at ranching. What did you really do for a living?”
“Held up stage coaches,” Tall Elk smiled.
“That’s what I figured. You’re awful handy with that gun.”
“Can we really find cattle for Mrs. Perkins north of here?”
“All the cattle you can catch, buddy, and then some. The Oregon trail crosses the North Platte about 30 miles south of here. The Missouri is north and east of us, forming a natural catch basin for any cattle which escape from the wagon trains, and many do, especially during the crossings. Cattle are naturally lazy critters. They won’t cross a river unless something is chasing them. The canyons are crawling with unbranded stock. We can round up and brand a hundred head in a week or ten days. Is your . . . family coming to help?”
“My wife is coming, my daughter’s staying behind with Mrs. Perkins. She’s afraid that if she leaves, somebody will claim her ranch was abandoned. She will need my daughter to hunt food for her.”
“Oh,” Rusty said in obvious disappointment.
“There will be plenty of time for chasing my daughter when we return,” Tall Elk smiled.
“Yes, there will, won’t there,” Rusty laughed, spurring his horse with a whoop.
Mrs. Perkins watched her two hired hands gallop into the yard and make their way to the corral. “Your husband’s back,” she called in Spanish to Silver Quail in the sewing room. She watched the woman she knew as Sarah Santos hurry into the room and stand on tiptoes to see out the window. Nancy’s eyes went over the petite woman’s figure enviously. She was disturbed by the amount of breast bulging from the buckskin dress she was wearing. Nancy was helping her sew a new dress out of cloth, but she had to admit, she would miss the old one. Sarah Santos was a whole lot of woman in a tiny package. Nancy felt an attraction to the little woman which was unexplainable.
White Fawn appeared as if by magic. “Is Rusty with him?” she asked.
“Si,” Mrs. Perkins smiled.
The men entered the room and once again Nancy Perkins felt herself shiver, when she looked into the cold black eyes of her newest hand. She would have bet her ranch, as little as it was worth, that Mexican Tom was no Mexican. He had the eyes of a wild creature. The steady look of a warrior who had been challenged, but never backed down. He had the eyes of an Indian. She shivered again, exquisitely and grabbed Tom’s arm, leading him to the table. He sat with the rest and waited for dinner. He appraised Nancy’s ample figure as she pulled a brace of quail from the oven.
“My god, we’re eating good now,” Rusty rubbed his hands together. “Where do you find all this food?” he looked at Silver Quail as he accepted the bowl of greens.
“I killed the quails with a handful of stones. The other food grows everywhere. The woods if full of food,” Silver Quail scoffed, amazed that they had been starving in the midst of plenty.
“So what are these?” he asked suspiciously as he looked at the greens in the bowl.
“Dandelions. The white roots are cattails with pine nuts, those are fern heads, mushrooms, ground cherries, and quail. The dandelions are spiced with sheep sorrow and the last of Nancy’s bacon. There are wild onions in the quail with a few sprigs of juniper and sage. For dessert we have ground cherries baked in honey. You have been out of coffee for a month, so we are drinking chicory which grows all over the hill back there,” she pointed over her shoulder with her fork.
“Bye the way,” she turned to Nancy. “There is a bee tree back there dripping with a hundred years of honey. We need to cut it down and bring it to the house where we can harvest it.”
“I know the one,” Rusty said between bites.
“You knew there was a honey tree and you didn’t say anything?” Nancy turned angry.
“Well sure. I shoot pieces of honey off the tree and chew them while I’m out riding. I . . . I didn’t know you cared,” he said nervously.
“Oh, I care,” she took a spoonful of honey and stirred it into her coffee.
“You mean you actually hit the tree?” Tall Elk was amazed.
“It’s a large tree,” Silver Quail pretended to whisper. Her glowered at them, then chose to ignore them.
“You know a lot more about wild food than your husband does about ranching . . . ” Rusty stopped and his eyes widened. “Holy cow,” he gasped, looking at Tall Elk. “What tribe?”
“Sioux,” Tall Elk said after a long pause. His eyes went to his wife, then Mrs. Perkins. There was no surprise in Nancy’s eyes.
“Your name is not Mexican Tom,” he accused, shoveling more food onto his plate.
“Tall Elk. This is Silver Quail and White Fawn.”
“That’s much better than Juana Santos,” he said to White Fawn.
“Thank you Rusty,” she said sweetly.
“We will continue the Mexican Tom charade outside of this household,” Nancy said as she took the bowls being passed by Rusty. “And thank all the Gods in heaven that these people do know where to find food. I’m afraid that most white people are helpless out here.”
“I came to learn your ways, and return the cattle I stole last month,” Tall Elk said without blinking. “Perhaps we can teach each other.”
“Perhaps,” Nancy smiled at him from the corner of her eye. “So how are my cattle doing?” she asked slyly. Silver Quail looked from one to the other, noticing their comradery without jealously.
“They will feed a tribe this winter. It may be the first winter without hunger since the disappearance of the buffalo,” Tall Elk pulled a wing off his quail and glanced at her with a smile, to see if the jab had hit home. She giggled, holding her food in her mouth with the back of a dainty hand.
Rusty sat back with a sigh and accepted a cup of chicory coffee from White Fawn. “Well with a Sioux Indian as a partner, especially one who knows how to use a gun so well, I will feel a lot better where we are going. There are some rough customers up there. Most would kill you for the gold fillings in your teeth. All would kill for a herd.”
“I’m going out to the barn to find eggs,” White Fawn said shyly. “I love finding where those silly chickens hide them.”
“If you find eggs in a new place, spin the egg first. If it’s rotten it will spin fast. If it’s fresh, it will turn slowly and hesitate,” Nancy said.
“I should help, the chickens are very sneaky,” Rusty said, glancing at her parents. Tall Elk shrugged indifferently, then glanced at Silver Quail. Silver Quail smiled and sipped her coffee without comment. The screen door slammed behind them. Several pieces of milkweed fuzz sailed by in the afternoon sunlight as both young people disappeared into the shadows of the barn.
“I wonder if they will find eggs?” Nancy giggled.
“They may get around to it before breakfast,” Tall Elk laughed.
“What are you doing?” White Fawn asked as she bent to look for eggs, and Rusty grabbed her ass.
“Grabbing the cutest ass I have ever seen . . . well the cutest which wasn’t attached to a horse,” he amended.
“A horse! You compare me to a horse?” she pretended outrage.
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t right,” he shook his head sadly. “It’s hard to find a horse with a nice ass. Girls can be found under almost every bush,” he waved around him. He didn’t see her coming in time. Her fist hit him in the stomach and she drove him back into the hay.
“Take that back,” she said, sitting atop his body. He liked the way her buckskin dress was slid up on her thighs, showing a heavenly portion of leg on each side.
“Ok, I surrender,” he said with a smile. His hands went to her hips and he held her for a moment. Slowly his hands began massaging the flesh through the material of the buckskin. She smiled down into his eyes, enjoying his ministrations. She felt a tingling begin in her hips which spread to her ass and stomach. Rusty suddenly slid his hands beneath her dress and up beside each slender leg. He cupped her shapely ass and shuddered as he filled his hands with the softest flesh he had ever felt. It was like butter in his hands.
“Do you kiss?” White Fawn asked excitedly.
“Of course I kiss. Don’t you?”
“I’ve never tried it. Do it now,” she commanded.
“No,” he pretended indifference.
“I will look for eggs,” she started to rise. He pulled her back down with a laugh. She was now prone on his body with her face near his. He held her head with his right hand and pulled her face closer. Her eyes fluttered closed as their lips touched. She moaned around his mouth and her eyes flew open. She broke the kiss and licked her lips.
“That is wonderful,” she gasped. Her mouth sought his again and again. Before long they were panting and withering on the hay. White Fawn undressed Rusty with nervous, clumsy fingers. She was not used to the catches and buttons of white men. Rusty helped where it was needed. As he lay naked on the hay, White Fawn pulled her dress over her head with no hesitation or embarrassment. Rusty marveled at the absolute perfection of her tiny body. He couldn’t help but notice the similarity between mother and daughter. They were both similar in size and beauty.
Rusty pulled White Fawn closer and engulfed her breast in his mouth.
“Nancy is in the outhouse again,” Silver Quail said, flipping her long black hair behind her naked body. “She’s been there a long time,” she said, joining her husband on the white man’s bed.
“Either your food does not agree with her, or she’s there for another reason.”
“It’s the other reason. She has no man,” Silver Quail said as she leaned against her husband’s chest. Her breasts were mashed out of shape by his strongly muscled body.
“I’ve noticed that.”
“I don’t mind sharing, as long as I remain the first wife.”
“You will always be first wife,” he said honestly, staring into her eyes so she could see his soul.
“Then I should get her?” Silver Quail pushed herself up on her elbows.
“If she will come,” he finally nodded. Silver Quail wrapped a blanket around her body and skipped out of the house with a squeal of delight. It took so long for Silver Quail to return, that Tall Elk fell asleep. Tall Elk really didn’t think she would be successful. He was amazed to see both women standing beside the bed. He hastily moved aside and both women slid under the blankets. Nancy was laying beside him. His wife peeked over her prone body with an impish smile.
“Your . . . your wife said it was all right,” Nancy whispered, suddenly embarrassed.
“Of course it’s all right. Silver Quail is in charge of our bed. If she wants you, I will agree.”
“I do,” Silver Quail said eagerly.
“Then make her naked,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.
White Fawn rode on Rusty with one hand on each shoulder, her mouth eagerly clashing with his. Her tiny pussy enfolded his cock as she rode gently and steadily. The sound of hay and the slick sound of her pussy, blended with the rustle of mice in the hay and a horse snorting in its sleep below. The sound of their kisses was replaced by panting, as White Fawn sat up and began riding faster. Rusty held her hips, helping and guiding her as she grew more eager. Once again he was struck by her innocence and beauty. Few women could look innocent while fucking a man and while being totally naked. White Fawn had that unique ability.
Rusty knew this was a meeting of convenience. Rusty needed to fuck a pussy, and White Fawn just happened to have one. He knew it could have been anyone. There was nothing special about him. He really didn’t care. He did not want to marry and settle down yet. If he did, it would be with somebody like Nancy, who owned her own ranch.
White Fawn’s body was bent like a bow now. She was staring up at the rafters, as her pussy milked his throbbing cock. Rusty’s hands were free for a moment, so he sought out her delicate breasts and twisted the nipples. She moaned and lowered her face, with her eyes tightly closed.
White Fawn went from rising and falling on his cock, to sliding forward and back. He had tried this before and knew what limitations to impose. His hands went to her hips so she wouldn’t slide too far. His cock churned inside her wildly, stimulating her more, and him less. This would ensure that they both came together.
White Fawn increased her tempo and made the first sounds of the evening. She grunted occasionally in a low voice. He was not used to Indian women. He did not know that Indian women had to remain silent because they lived and mated within skin walls and skin walls blocked no sound.
He was sure he was doing something wrong, until White Fawn gave a little cry and stiffened above him. He grabbed her hips and began ramming her pussy with his eager cock. In moments his orgasm joined hers. As they rested in the fragrant hay, Rusty realized that making love to an Indian woman would take some getting used to.
Nancy was laying atop Silver Quail and the women were kissing fervently, while Tall Elk massaged Nancy’s pussy with an open palm. They broke the kiss and Nancy waited, as Tall Elk wetted two fingers and slid them inside her pussy. She cried out and laid her face against Silver Quail’s tiny breasts. Impulsively, she leaned down and captured the nipple of her right breast in her hot lips.
Silver Quail moaned and petted the back of Nancy’s head. Tall Elk pulled his fingers from Nancy’s juicy pussy and slid up behind her. Resting on his hands, he slid his throbbing cock forward until it touched her wet vagina. In a single thrust he was inside her. Nancy cried out, holding Silver Quail for support. In a moment she felt his full length sliding in and out of her body. It was the biggest cock she had ever felt, and it was especially big from that angle.
“Oh god,” Nancy whispered against Silver Quail’s ribs. Silver Quail petted her hair gently, while watching her muscular husband fuck this strange, white woman. Without warning, Nancy began thrashing on the bed. Tall Elk stopped fucking, until he realized that Nancy was trying to push Silver Quail up on the bed so she could access her pussy.
He waited breathlessly as the two women got into position. Nancy went down on Silver Quail’s pussy without hesitation. She was sucking and tonguing like she was ravenous and Silver Quail was a feast. Silver Quail and Tall Elk moaned together. Tall Elk resumed his gentle fuck. It was turning into a very memorable day.
Rusty awoke to the sound of a hen cackling. It was after midnight and the moon was up. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and looked down at White Fawn. It was dark in the barn, but the moon was shining in through the hay mow door in front of the barn. He ran his hand over her glorious body. She awoke and looked around.
“That brown hen laid an egg,” he pointed with a grin.
“How do you know it was the brown hen?” she snuggled against his leg.
“I know the cackle, because she likes to flap around my horse and scare it. I’ve shot at her three times and missed. I’m not as good with a gun as your daddy.”
“He’s even better with a bow or a knife. He was the top warrior in our tribe.”
“So why did you leave?”
“None of your business,” she said in all seriousness. She didn’t like remembering that it was her fault that they were exiled.
“So would you like to fuck again?”
“Show me something different,” she said, yawning.
“Yes. Teach me how to be a white woman.”
“I would never desecrate you in such a way. But I will show you something new. Here, lay on top of me. No, with your head down there,” he pointed.
“I like this,” she said, laying with her chin against his abdomen, staring at his penis.
“You should see the view from down here,” he gasped. “You have a baby pussy.”
“You don’t like it?” she asked in concern.
“Like it, it’s absolutely perfect,” he howled.
“Oh,” she said, settling down with a smile. “Now what do we do?”
“You suck me and I lick you,” he said harshly.
“But Rusty I . . . ” she stopped as he filled his mouth with pussy and began licking diligently. She was about to point out that he had cum in her pussy, but it was too late now. Maybe he would remember when he tasted the telltale mushroom flavor. Maybe white men like that kind of thing.
White Fawn shrugged and filled her mouth with his flaccid penis. She immediately tasted her own juices on his cock. She liked them. She momentarily wished she could get her mother interested again. But since their exile they had left her strictly alone.
“Oh god,” Nancy howled as she mouthed Silver Quail’s pussy. Tall Elk was hammering her pussy from behind. She was now up on her knees with her head down between Silver Quail’s slender legs. Silver Quail petted her hair as she supped on her sweetmeats. Silver Quail looked so tiny compared to Nancy. She cooed and petted Nancy, while watching her husband thrust into the white woman’s moist box.
“Do you like it?” Silver Quail asked her husband. He nodded with a glimmer in his eyes.
“Oh yes,” Nancy said unexceptedly. “I love it,” she said before licking even harder. She began grunting and moaning as her rapture intensified.
Tall Elk felt the heat building in his loins. It was a fierce liquid heat which began spreading, just before the tremors started. He held Nancy’s white ass in his hands and admired her shapely back. Her blonde hair was cascading all over Silver Quail’s tanned flesh. The black patch of pussy hair was almost blotted out by Nancy’s golden bobbing head. Nancy hung onto Silver Quail’s thighs desperately, as she licked and sucked in desperation. She loved the moist hot flesh against her mouth. She loved the intense flavor. Juices flowed from Silver Quail’s diminutive pussy and Nancy sought them relentlessly. She loved the feeling of her tongue sliding between the slippery wet lips of Silver Quail’s cute womanhood. She also loved the warmth of Silver Quail’s thighs against her ears. The fire was building in her loins as well. Her pussy was hot, her ass muscles clenching around his long cock.
Silver Quail held Nancy’s face between her quivering legs and closed her eyes, anticipating a very big orgasm. She watched her husband with glazed eyes as the three of them came simultaneously. Tall Elk simply grunted. Silver Quail gave a little sigh and a gasp, while Nancy began panting and groaning. She squealed in delight and clung to Silver Quail with her face pressed into the Indian woman’s sweet pussy. Silver Quail rubbed Nancy’s shoulder as she grunted and thrust back against Tall Elk. He remained still. Only his closed eyes betrayed the fact that his long cock was filling her white pussy with hot cream.
Nancy shuddered and cried softly, while Silver Quail comforted her. Nancy finally crawled on hands and knees to fall beside Silver Quail. Tall Elk used a piece of cloth to wipe his cock, then fell into the bed beside them.
“It’s been a long time,” Nancy admitted. “A very long time.”
“You are too beautiful to be wasted,” Silver Quail petted her wet hair out of her face.
“The only one around is Rusty, and it wouldn’t be proper to have sex with a hired hand,” Nancy said, snuggling up against Silver Quail.
“I’m a hired hand,” Tall Elk reminded her. He had an arm around both women. Silver Quail massaged his strong fingers with her tiny hands.
“No, you’re not. You will never be a hired hand,” Nancy laughed. “But I’m grateful for your help. The last cows you stole were nothing. You put them to good use. Otherwise, they would have been stolen with the rest. They robbed me blind,” she groaned.
“Who?” he asked, letting his eyes wander over both naked women in appreciation.
“I don’t know. I wish I did.”
“I don’t know if you’ve been told, but Indians are mighty good trackers. I could check for old tracks if you wish.”
“No, it’s important to keep cattle on this range. I don’t own the range, the government does. I am required to build a home and maintain a well to hold the ranch, even though there is water in the river nearby. Without the well, I do not own the land, and cannot claim the river. Without the cattle I do not own the range. I have to keep cattle here to hold it. That’s the important thing, get me cattle. They can’t take my well, and I can build any shack to hold the land, but I need those cattle.”
“We will get them for you,” he nodded. The women began talking in low voices while Tall Elk rolled over to sleep. He loved the sound of Spanish coming from a woman’s lips. It lulled him to sleep.
White Fawn loved the new position which Rusty was teaching her. It was almost as if her own actions were being mirrored in her pussy. She ran her hand up and down the length of Rusty’s cock, while sucking on the head. She began wiggling her tongue over the head, but he stiffened and gasped.
“Not like that,” he gasped. “The head is too sensitive. Lick the sides or just below the head.”
White Fawn licked her lips and looked at his cock in the dim moonlight filtering in through the evenly spaced boards. She turned her mouth and licked the side, just below the head. She felt it pulse in her hand. She sank her mouth on his cock and began sucking, with only its head in her mouth. She slowly sank down on his cock as far as she could go, then pulled up again. Her hand went to his balls. She knew better than to squeeze them, although she was tempted to do so.
Rusty pulled White Fawn’s ass down to his mouth and licked her asshole. She wiggled on his chest and spread her legs wider. He continued lapping at her puckered ring until the juices coating his neck reminded him that her pussy was being neglected. He slid down to her pussy and attacked the juicy box in earnest. It was sweet, hot, and active in his mouth. She seemed to be able to open and close her pussy lips at will. He used his thumbs to hold her pussy open, then slid a finger up inside her. He licked below his finger, strumming her tiny clit with his stiffened tongue. She gasped and withered on top of him. He knew it was probably all the warning she would give before her orgasm. He replaced his finger with a thumb. It was easier to access her clit beneath his bent thumb. He wiggled his thumb inside her pussy, while flicking his tongue over her little bud. He wasn’t even aware of her orgasm until her ass began clenching visibly. He removed his thumb and sucked brutally on her pussy. She squealed lightly, like a kitten’s cry. Her hand flailed on his cock. Her mouth sucked the head with enough force to hurt. He was about to object when his orgasm struck. He stiffened and wheezed, then held her tiny legs in a death grip. She continued sucking while his cock pumped sperm into her waiting lips. She drank greedily, milking his cock with her tiny fist as she drank. All too soon, it was over.
“That was wonderful,” she said in excitement, turning and throwing herself into the hay beside him. “We must do that a lot,” she said, leaning forward and kissing him. He started to pull her close, but a noise stopped him. It took a moment to identify the sound. Horse hooves swishing through the tall grass by the road. Riders were sneaking up on the ranch.
“Quiet,” he warned, momentarily forgetting that she was a Sioux Indian. He was speaking to nobody. She was gone. He crept up to the wall in the direction of the sound, and found White Fawn already there, peeking through the cracks.
“Fluooo ooh ooh ooh,” White Fawn whispered into the night. Rusty recognized the call of a morning dove. Would they be fooled?
“What’s that?” a voice came from the night.
“Shut up,” another voice hissed.
“Where’s your gun?” White Fawn whispered.
“I don’t know. Somewhere in the hay,” he pointed behind them. White Fawn disappeared.
Tall Elk’s eyes flew open. Something was not right. Some sound, some sense, told him all was not well. He dropped his feet to the floor and pulled on his pants. He slung his gunbelt around his hips and put a hand on Silver Quail. She awoke instantly, without questions.
“Did White Fawn return?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know.” They both stilled at the sound of a morning dove. They knew the call well. “Good girl,” Tall Elk whispered before disappearing through the back door. Silver Quail woke Nancy, and both women dressed.
Nancy had once tried to build a white picket fence. The posts were lightly buried, slanting, and the pickets were badly constructed. Since arriving Rusty tried to maintain the pathetic fence, but both their attempts had failed. Near where the gate would be was a three inch by three inch plank with a round ball on top. Tall Elk remembered this plank as he snuck to the front of the house on catlike feet. He pulled the plank silently from the earth and hefted it, before sneaking toward the sound of horses. They appeared to be at the well. Were they simply late night travelers looking for water?
“What are we going to do?” a voice asked from the dark.
“We’re going to blow it,” another voice said. “Who’s got the powder?”
“I do,” a third voice said.
“Well light it and let’s get out of here,” the first voice said in a whisper.
Tall Elk found the ass of the first horse in the dark. The horse shied at his touch and the man tried to steady it. Tall Elk pulled back the post and swung up and across the horse. With a grunt, the man when flying out of the saddle. He landed with a woof and lay still.
“What happened to Stanley?” the leader’s voice came.
“Don’t know. He flew out of the saddle. I saw something white. Might be haunts.”
“Just light the damned powder,” the man growled.
Tall Elk found the leader in the dark. His hand touched a boot in a stirrup. He estimated the area of the man’s face and swung again. The leader followed the other man through the air and into the dirt. Tall Elk was searching for the third man when a match flared into life, lighting his face and Tall Elk’s. The man’s eyes widened in horror as the white fence post swung through the air and connected with his chest. Tall Elk had swung so hard that the white ball flew off the end and sailed toward the barn. It struck the wall and fire exploded from inside. The ball fell to earth in pieces.
“White Fawn?” Tall Elk said, looking down at the shattered ball.
“Daddy?” she asked in a curious voice.
“That must have been you shooting, Rusty couldn’t hit the side of that barn.”
“Hey,” Rusty said, sliding down a rope. White Fawn followed and handed Rusty his revolver. “I thought so,” Tall Elk said with a smile.
“If you teach me how to shoot, I will show you how to use a rope,” Rusty said in embarrassment.
“Agreed,” Tall Elk tossed the post aside.
“Who are they?” Nancy asked, shivering in the cool night air.
“This one has matches,” Tall Elk knelt by the last man. He struck a match and held it by each face.
“Wow, this one will need a doctor,” Rusty said as they knelt over the leader. He had been hit squarely in the face. They were sure his face should not be flat like that.
“I don’t know any of them,” Nancy said.
“I’ve seen them in saloons. They don’t seem to work.”
“Which means they work for somebody,” Nancy shivered. “What will we do with them?”
“Tie them to their horses and slap the horse,” Tall Elk followed his words with actions. Before anybody could object, he slapped each horse on it’s way.
“They could die,” Nancy said in a quiet voice. Tall Elk knelt and picked up the bundle of dynamite from the ground. “So,” he said, handing the explosives to Rusty.
Nancy and White Fawn stood watching as the Rusty, Tall Elk, and Silver Quail rode north on the yellow sand road. They had enough food to last for several days, along with extra ropes and branding irons. It was all the ranch could spare. Nancy looked down at the ground, then brightened as she turned White Fawn by the arm and they went inside.