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standing at the counter where yardage was sold, not bullets, but assuming the man was unfamiliar with the arrangement of the merchandise, she nodded toward the opposite side of the well-stocked store. "My uncle will have to help you, then, as I've no idea what you need." To the buckskin pants and moccasins she had seen him wearing the day before he had added a fringed buckskin shirt elaborately decorated with beadwork. It lent him a slightly more avilized air, but when he seemed

    confused she came out from behind the counter. "I'll come with you. I really should learn where everything is kept myself."
    The Indian's eyes were focused upon the gentle sway of Erica's hips as he followed her across the store, but he did not complain that she could not see to his request herself. Knowing the store owner's first question would be whether or not he had the money to pay for what he wanted, he tossed the coins on the counter as he again asked for shells.
    Erica noted the strain in her uncle's expression and thought it must be because they seldom had Indians come in the store. She made a point of noticing upon which shelves the shells were kept and tried to ignore the fact that the other customers were all staring at the Indian. Despite the fact that he was a good-looking man, obviously clean, and neatly dressed, the glances directed his way were hostile, and since he was behaving p>olitely she thought that rudeness completely uncalled for.
    After he had picked up the box of shells, the Indian turned toward the door, gesturing to Erica with a barely perceptible nod for her to follow him. When she did, he had difficulty hiding his grin, but he stopped before reaching the door. "I have your letter," he confided softly.
    "You dol" Erica's deep blue eyes danced with excitement. "Well, where is it? Didn't you bring it with you?"
    The Indian shook his head as he flashed her an enticing grin. "You'll have to come get it this afternoon. Don't be late. Erica, or I'll be gone."
    With that surprising invitation the Indian strode out the door, leaving Erica both entranced by his smile and dismayed by his words. She was positive she had not told him her name, so he must have not only found the letter, but read it! When her uncle tapped her uf>on the shoulder, she jumped in surprise. "Oh yes. Uncle Karl, what is it?"
    "What is it?" the man repeated, his gaze one of wide-eyed wonder. "Come in the back for a moment, I need to speak with you."
    Erica feared she knew what was coming even before they reached the storeroom. If he had guessed she and the Indian were acquainted, she knew she dared not explain how they had met. Her mind searching frantically for some plausible excuse for knowing the brave, she was

    enormously relieved when her uncle did not begin with a string of embarrassing questions.
    "That Indian goes by the name of Viper, which suits him well. Being a city girl you might not ever have seen a snake, let alone a rattler like we have here. Rattlesnakes have no fears, and neither does that brave. That he'd march right in here and speak to you proves that fact. He's every bit as dangerous as those cougar claws he wears around his neck, and if he ever comes near you again, you come running straight to me."
    Erica knew that the Indian had a fierce nature. He had swiftly proven that when they had first met. He also possessed a reasonable side, and she was far more intrigued by his request that she meet him again that afternoon than frightened, since his smile had held such a teasing warmth. That an Indian brave could be as charming as a white man was a surprise, and she wondered what else she might learn about him if given the chance. "What has he done that makes everyone seem so frightened of him?"
    Karl leaned back against a wooden crate and folded his arms across his chest as he replied. "I told you New Ulm is more than thirty-five miles below the Lower Agency, so he ought to know better than to come hunting way down here. Oh, there are