-hobybuchanon- Native American Indian Girl Returns Instant

"What do you need?" he asked.

"You should have," Tala agreed. "But I'm not here for apologies, Hoby Buchanon. I'm here because I need your help."

Hoby glanced at the old bunkhouse, where the tack hung dusty and unused. At the empty corrals. At the house where his boys had grown up and moved away, where his wife had died of a broken heart—or so the neighbors said—three years after Tala left. -HobyBuchanon- Native American Indian Girl Returns

He looked back at the young woman who had walked a thousand miles to find him.

"They changed my name. Said 'Tala' was too hard to pronounce. Called me 'Margaret.'" She almost smiled. "I ran away seven times. The eighth time, I stayed gone." "What do you need

Hoby remembered that blizzard. Remembered finding a half-frozen Indian child curled against a warm spring, her dark eyes calm as if she'd known all along someone would come. He'd taken her in, raised her alongside his own sons for four years, until the state had decided a white rancher wasn't fit to raise a Native American girl.

"Been ten years," Hoby said, his voice rougher than he intended. I'm here because I need your help

"What about it?"

Tala laid her hand on the mare's neck. Rain blew out a soft breath and lowered her head, something she did for no one except Hoby.

Hoby's throat tightened. "I should have fought harder."