Moonsong

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The deep masculine voice woke her. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to infiltrate the restless slumber of five-year-old Rayna Templeton and bring her upright in her bed. She paused a moment, listening carefully, hardly daring to breathe until she heard the voice again.

There was no mistaking it. Papa had finally come home!

Her face wreathed in a joyous smile, Rayna threw back the coverlet and scrambled out of bed. Her bare feet were virtually silent as she flew across the room and onto the balcony that overlooked the interior courtyard of the hacienda. Overhead, the sky was awash with stars, and lanterns at the foot of the staircases cast patterns of light and dancing shadows, but otherwise the courtyard was empty. The voice was more distinct, though, and Rayna knew she hadn’t been mistaken.

Her father had left for Sonora to buy cattle five weeks ago, and every day he’d been gone had been an eternity for Rayna and her mother. There were so many dangers between Rancho Verde and Mexico—deserts and mountains, scorpions and snakes, bears and mountain lions—but those were simple hazards that Raymond Templeton was more than equipped to handle. The Apache were far more dangerous than all the others combined, 1

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