The Horse Thief Romance

By John J. Law

My tale is a tale of death and ultimately love, as most tales of the West really are. It is a tale that takes several twists and turns through the fabric of fate, ending ultimately where it must. However, it begins with a tale of theft.

My name is Hurit. I was given this name because of my ability to steal horses. I do not know how I acquired this trait. I can surmise that the creation spirits were kind enough to give me skill, cunning and understanding of the ways of the stallions.

I was not like most of the women of my people. While most women would be content with tending to their men after a hunt, or gathering berries, I was not. Such a quiet life of submission was not for me. For whatever reason, I often felt the need to prove myself. There was always something in my heart that pushed me to do things that would be considered unusual or unique. One of these unique and different things was stealing horses.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Hulsey Books
• Release date: Dec 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223958420

Book preview

Chapter One

Stirrings of the Heart.

My tale is a tale of death and ultimately love, as most tales of the West really are. It is a tale that takes several twists and turns through the fabric of fate, ending ultimately where it must. However, it begins with a tale of theft. 

My name is Hurit. I was given this name because of my ability to steal horses. I do not know how I acquired this trait. I can surmise that the creation spirits were kind enough to give me skill, cunning and understanding of the ways of the stallions.

I was not like most of the women of my people.  While most women would be content with tending to their men after a hunt, or gathering berries, I was not.  Such a quiet life of submission was not for me. For whatever reason, I often felt the need to prove myself. There was always something in my heart that pushed me to do things that would be considered unusual or unique. One of these unique and different things was stealing horses.

It is not easy to steal a horse, wild or otherwise. You need to catch it when it is most unaware, and act accordingly. This is never as easy as it sounds. Each horse is different in its temperament. Some will go with you willingly, others will kick and scream, making it almost impossible to steal. For this, I am grateful to the creation spirits for granting me the skill to communicate with horses. I was born with the innate ability to understand them through their movements and sounds. With this skill I quickly learned to get their trust in a very short time, and thus get them to follow me

The night sky was dark and with nary a star when I tried to steal Otamah's horses. Otamah would later be known as a warrior of renown and skill with my people, but I did not know that yet. Back then, he was only a man with good ponies, ponies that I simply had to steal.

Otamah's ponies were of fine stock. I could see that Otamah had an eye for breeding and would be able to use them well. Or at least I would be able to use them well. Trading, riding, or for any purpose that suited my needs, they would do well. 

I was dressed in garb that would camouflage my movements best. Thus far, I have elaborated on how important it is to have some kind of rapport with the horses, however such a rapport is useless without stealth and cunning. To be a good horse thief, or a thief of any kind, you must be able to move like the wind, and move unnoticed. 

Being a woman, I could easily do both. I did not have a heavy body that was cumbersome, and I was able to move through the woods quite easily. I wore the clothes of the braves of my people and they helped conceal me in the bushes. My garments and my own lithe movements helped me move like some unseen shadow. I had observed Otamah prior to my brazen act of thievery. I had observed his ponies' habits, where they grazed, and where they drank water. I knew that they would be stopping over for a drink at the stream that night.

It is as I thought. The ponies stop for a drink. This is my chance.

The ponies sipped water from the stream and were completely oblivious to my presence. This was a testament to my own skills, as ponies are naturally skittish animals, who dart away at the slightest sign of danger. It was also an even bigger testament to Otamah's skills, as I never saw him hiding in plain sight as well.

I crouched through the bushes, and made my way to the ponies. I chose the path with the thickest bushes, and made care not to rustle them, as best as I could. Even as I sprang from the bushes, the animals did not notice my presence. The ponies did not even move from where they were. I simply needed to reach for their reigns, and I would be able to mount one of them, while leading the rest away. It was supposed to be a simple act of horse theft, something I had already done several times.

That was when Otamah sprang at me. He came out of nowhere, and moved with speed and power. Otamah was like a mountain lion, hiding patiently in the bushes, and striking with power and ferocity at just the right moment. I felt Otamah's entire body weight fall upon me. I felt the heat come from his body and strike me, like some giant fist. I felt his sweat upon my exposed neck and wrists, and I was almost overwhelmed.

Even as Otamah jumped me, I did not panic, and still managed to struggle. I immediately gripped his shirt, and dragged him down, rolling with him on the ground. We rolled on the ground like that for several minutes, both of us struggling for control. Eventually, Otamah's superior size and power overcame me, and I found him on top of me. He stared squarely at me, and he gave me a look of absolute surprise.

A girl! A girl dares steal Otamah's property!

I looked up at Otamah, with unwavering defiance.

I am a woman, and you are Otamah?

Aye. And it is best that you remember my name, girl. Our people will sing my name in legend soon.  Just you wait.

Back then, Otamah was just as brash and arrogant, as I was. I knew arrogance very well, and how to use it against anyone. Otamah had me pinned to the ground, but he failed to keep my legs down. It would be a critical mistake. I managed to raise one of my knees and strike him right where it hurts. He gave out a sound akin to a yelping dog, and crumpled to the ground. I staggered to my feet, and began to dash away from him.

I turned and ran as far and as fast as I could. I did not look back. If I did, I probably would have seen him draw out a lasso, and twirl it around on his head. I did not see any of that, but I definitely felt something wrap around my ankles. The rope tightened, and I felt my legs and ankles lock together in a tight vise-like grip. I couldn't move my legs, and I simply collapsed on the ground like a heavy sack.

Otamah pulled on the rope, and dragged me back to where he was standing. I was too short of breath to try to untie the rope, and I found myself lying below Otamah again. My legs were hogtied, and there was no way that I could repeat my earlier trick.

You're as feisty as a wildcat, he said, grinning.

Stay down there, girl. It fits you.

I wanted to spit on his face, right then and there, but I didn't. I was enraged at his taunts, but there was really no point in angering him. I was after all, the thief, and he was still one of my people. Otamah may have been arrogant, but he was still Chippenuit, still one of my people. At least he was not one of the hated Anglos, not a white man.

I am no ordinary girl! I am the daughter of Gotamah!

Upon mention of the Great Gotamah, I expected Otamah to shake and tremble. After all, he was the chief of our people, and his name often invoked fear and respect among them. He did no such thing, however, and merely kept that silly grin of his.

I'm not stupid, girl. I know who you are, but you also know that horse stealing is a crime that is punishable by death. Even Gotamah cannot protect you from that. Even the Anglos hang horse thieves. You're playing a dangerous game, girl. 

I remained defiant.

So what will you do? Present me to the Great Gotamah? Invoke your right to ritual battle? Do what you will. I'm not afraid!

I expected Otamah to do any of the things that he rattled off. He was right, after all. Horse theft was a serious offense with stiff penalties with the Anglos, or with my people, and all for good reason. Take away a man's horse, and he would be severely crippled. There was no way Gotamah could protect me from the consequences of such an act. Instead of following through with any of his threats, Otamah did the strangest thing.

What are you doing? I asked.

What does it look like I'm doing girl? I'm letting you go.

I watched with disbelief as he untied me. I stretched my legs and quickly got up.

You're letting me go? I thought that you would.

..do nothing of those dreadful things that you mentioned. Do you really think that I am that heartless girl? You may be a horse thief, but I do believe that you stole something other than a horse today. Come back to me again. Just don't steal my ponies anymore.

I stared right into Otamah's eyes. They were deep and blue, and did not waver from my own stare. His eyes did not blink and his mouth remained closed. I was not sure, but I thought that it seemed to curl slightly into a smile of sorts. I turned my back on him, and walked away. I did not say a word, as I turned to leave him. I felt shame that he had discovered and bested me so easily. I thought that I had already become an expert of sorts stealing horses. Apparently, I was not as skilled, as I thought. This troubled my spirit deeply. I was always eager to prove myself the equal of any man in my tribe. Now, one man had bested me so easily, and sent me away in shame. It was a humbling experience, but the shame of losing was not the only reason that I was humbled that night. Something roused in me, when Otamah spoke to me. Something deep in my heart stirred, something that I thought would never stir and make its presence felt. I ran from Otamah that night, but I could not run from the strange feelings in my heart that he had stirred up.

I turned back and spoke to Otamah.

My name is Hurit, and I am a woman.

Otamah nodded.

That you are.

Chapter Two

A New Home.

All my life I had always felt alone. I had never truly felt like I had ever been in a place where I truly belonged. My origins guaranteed that I would never be part of something completely. It seemed my destiny to constantly cross two rivers upstream, fighting both their currents. I was always an outcast, even with my own people.

My mother was an Anglo, one of the white women taken by the Chippenuit in one of their many raids on Anglo settlements. She was kidnapped, with another white woman whose name, I forget. My mother's name was Annabelle Morrison. The elders say that she was kidnapped by my father Takobah. The stories say that although she initially resisted, she soon grew fond of our way of life, and was eventually taken in as a member of the tribe. She had become an honorary Chippenuit, in spirit, if not in flesh. Unfortunately, the Anglos demanded that we return her to them, regardless of how she and my father now felt for each other. They threatened to go to war with the tribe if they did not return my mother and her companion, and there were several meetings and negotiations that took place. Eventually, my mother returned to the Anglos to avert any kind of disaster. I can only imagine how heart-wrenching that must have been for her, and my father. Unfortunately, the Anglos did not keep their part of the bargain, and attacked the tribe anyway. I heard that they were led by a glory-seeking general by the name of General Buckinson. Buckinson and his men, massacred several of the tribe, including my father, but the tribe managed to escape to the hills and regroup. We hid from the Anglos, but their presence has begun to expand all over the lands with their terrible railroads. The locomotives snake about the lands like giant war horses, transporting them everywhere, and increasing their ever-expanding influence at an alarming rate. 

Gotamah continued to fight the Anglos, but we all knew in hearts that it was a battle we could not win. Buckinson's treachery was but one in a long line of atrocities that the Anglos were not above committing. The Anglos were driven to conquer and succeed like no other, before them. They did not care who they trampled, or what natural laws they broke, as long as they would rule the lands. With such relentlessness, it would only be a matter of time before even a true warrior like Gotamah would surrender. 

I was born in one of the Anglo settlements in the South. My mother tried to raise me as best as she could, but it was not easy. From the moment that I was born, my life in the settlement was a nightmare. The children picked on me every day at school. It may sound silly, but I still remember their taunts and even have the occasional nightmare about it, to this day. They educated me in their customs and their language, but I never truly belonged there. Their taunts always reminded me of my mixed background. They never made me forget that I would never truly belong with them. In that sense, children are often overlooked as the purveyors of evil. In many ways, children can do terrible things that can scar someone worse than even adults can. 

They had a name for me in the settlement. They called me Redface, as a derogatory reference to my skin and my race.

I can still hear my mother trying to comfort and reassure me.

Don't listen to them Amanda, my mother would say.

Amanda Morrison was the Anglo name that was given to me. It would be much later when I would acquire my given Chippenuit name, the name I would consider to be my true name.

My mother would console me, but it would be in vain. I can still remember how the tears would still flow freely from my eyes from the taunts of my fellow children in school.

I can't stand them, mother! They're mean and terrible children! Why must they taunt me so much?

My mother would look down at me, and smile, like some gentle giant. She had such a persuasive and