An Apache dance into womanhood

“The Apache Girl Whispered, ‘You’re Mine Now,’ After the Cowboy Saved Her From the Wolves” The metallic taste of blood filled Jake Morgan’s mouth as he staggered through Diablo Canyon, the wind knifing between the red walls like it was alive. His shoulder burned where the bullet had torn through, but he kept moving—because the Apache woman over his right shoulder wasn’t breathing right. Behind them, six riders closed fast, their whoops bouncing off stone like ghosts calling his name. Blackwell.