““Less than ten minutes after they left the stream, Loretta began to nod and felt herself slumping. She jerked upright and blinked. Hunter tightened his arm around her and slipped a hand under her right knee to lift her leg over the horse’s head. Gathering her against his chest, he cradled her crosswise in front of him. “Sleep, nei mah-tao-yo , sleep.” His deep voice sifted through the exhaustion that clouded her mind. Nei mah-tao-yo. She had no idea what it meant, but it sounded so soft the way he said it--like an endearment. The hollow of his shoulder made a perfect resting place. She leaned into him, her cheek against his warm skin. He smelled of sage, smoke, and leather, earthy smells that were becoming familiar and somehow comforting. As she drifted into blackness, she no longer thought of him as an Indian, just a man. A wonderfully sturdy man who could hold her comfortably while she slept.””
