You have to learn to outwait and outwit your quarry.” He sent her a pointed glance. “If you can’t do that then go home where you should have stayed and let me handle this alone.”
She kept quiet while he slid from his horse to study the hoofprints. “He’s almost the same size as I am,” he informed Julia.
She blinked, baffled. “How do you know that?”
“Depth of the indentation and the stride of the horse. Your horse can manage long strides because of your smaller size. Mine can, too, because I selected this piebald pinto for his muscular strength, stamina and agility. White men don’t always take that into consideration.”
“You leave nothing to chance, do you? I’m impressed,” Julia murmured.
“Don’t be. I’m not telling you anything that any self-respecting Cheyenne warrior didn’t learn before he was ten years old.”
Lone Wolf swung onto his paint pony, then followed the trail that seemed too obvious, what with all the broken branches on small seedlings. The tracks led down to the creek bank, leaving deep indentations in the mud.
Lone Wolf’s senses went on alert.
“Trap,” he whispered as he snaked out his hand to push Julia down on her horse.
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