Apache Caress (30 page)

Gill leaned against a post, munching candy and watching Sergeant Mooney assemble the patrol. On one thing, the Irishman had been right; some of the men had been celebrating early and looked a little the worse for wear. Most officers would wait under these circumstances, but if Gill held off until he had a full patrol of sober men, and official approval for what he was about to do, the Indian would be long gone.

He wondered again if Mooney knew what he and Robert had done to Cholla’s sister. Mooney and the Apache were friends, and frankly, Gill would never feel really safe until both Cholla and Mooney were dead. Well, if the Apache was captured, he could always be shot “escaping” en route to the train station to be shipped to Florida. Gill would just have to make sure there were no witnesses.

As for the sergeant, this very patrol was going to be his final assignment. Mooney would accidentally catch a stray bullet that would silence him forever, and it would be hard to prove that the Apache hadn’t shot him or that his death hadn’t been a tragic accident.

Mooney now had the patrol assembled. He led out the black and white paint stallion for Gill. Gill frowned as he looked over the hastily assembled group: Mooney, Schultz, Allen, Taylor, and Finney, and a few soldiers he didn’t know. Young Finney looked a little drunk, but so did a couple of the nameless men sitting their horses. Gill suspected Mooney had dragged some of them away from an early celebration. “Sergeant, couldn’t you find a full patrol of
sober
men?”

Mooney snapped to attention. “Like I told you before, sir, being’s as how it’s a holiday, I could give you a full patrol or a sober group, but not both.”

“Blast it all!” Gill fumed, so angry his hands shook. “You’re all trying to delay me; stop me from doing my duty. I ought to throw you all in the guardhouse. Order is what I want and can’t get–order!”

“I’ll have a beer.” Finney hiccoughed and reeled in his saddle.

“Attention!” Gill shouted, and the patrol snapped up straight in the saddle. He’d ride that alcohol out of their systems. In a couple of hours, they’d all be cold sober, their heads pounding like horses’ hooves on hard ground. They didn’t like him. Like Pa, they didn’t like him. He’d show them; he’d show them all.

Gill swung up on the Medicine Hat stallion. “All right, Sergeant.”

As if Fate were trying to help Gill, the moon came out from behind the clouds, bathing the scene in light. The fresh hoof prints led out to the southeast.

Gill chortled. “Okay, there’s her trail.” He pointed, and they rode out, following the indentations made by the hooves of Sierra’s horse. Gill glanced back at the patrol strung out behind him as they rode away from the fort. Nothing was going to stand in his way this time. He grinned as he imagined the look on Cholla’s face when the patrol caught up with him. Pleased, he spurred the spirited stallion to a faster pace.

Sierra rode at a lope back toward Cholla’s camp, Ke’jaa trotting along beside her Medicine Hat mare is if he knew she was returning him to his beloved master.

Her mood fluctuated between happiness and despair as she thought about seeing the Indian again.

Shot in the back
. She had sensed all along that Cholla knew something he wasn’t telling, that he had some secret. So he had taken an oath to remain silent. She hoped that, if she confronted him, he would admit that Robert had, indeed, been a coward who had tried to run from the field of battle and had been picked off. The other possibility, that of a brother’s revenge, she didn’t even want to think about.

She would tell Cholla she had come to return his. dog. If she got there in time. Sierra glanced up at the clear, cold night and shivered a little, even though the wind had died down. The moon was full, the stars sparkled in a black velvet sky. Cholla might already have left his camp, headed south. If she missed him, she didn’t know how to find the trail he planned to take so she couldn’t follow him. In that case, she might never know the answers to her questions. They would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Well, all she could do was hope she got there in time to confront him. The moon moved slowly across the night sky as she rode through the rugged hills. Somewhere a coyote howled, and the eerie sound echoed across the lonely landscape. When she took a breath, the smell of mesquite and cedar scented the air. Though it seemed like forever, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours before she approached the area of the camp. As she rode closer, she saw no fire and her heart almost stopped. He had gone.

A rifle bullet sang past her, echoing in the night, causing her mare to rear, throw her to the ground.

“Cholla! Don’t shoot! It’s me, Sierra!”

He showed himself then, up in the rocks. “By Usen, I almost killed you!” He jumped down from the boulder as she scrambled to her feet.

“I ... I brought your dog.” She stood there awkwardly.

“My dog?” He looked at her in disbelief, then seemed to see the big, yellow animal for the first time. “Ke’jaa!”

The dog ran to him, whining, laying its big head on Cholla’s boot with a worshipful sigh.

Cholla knelt, threw his arms around Ke’jaa’s neck. For a long moment, the only sound was the dog’s whimpering as it licked its master’s face.

The sight made Sierra glad that the pair was reunited. At least Cholla wouldn’t be so alone in Mexico. “Sergeant Mooney managed to save him when the others were shot. I knew you’d want me to bring him.”

“Thank you for that.” He stood up slowly, looking at her. “Is Tom okay? Did you give him my message?”

Sierra nodded, wondering how she’d dare ask the questions that plagued her? “Lieutenant Gillen’s due in at the fort tonight, but you’ll be gone so it doesn’t matter. In fact, I was surprised to find you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck as if unsure what to say. “I was just a little slow in leaving.” He nodded toward the dead ashes of his fire. “If you had gotten here five minutes later, I would have been gone.”

She bit her lip, looking from the happy dog to the stoic expression of the man....
shot in the back
. . . If Robert had been fleeing the scene, would Cholla or Tom Mooney have hesitated to tell her? Maybe, but she sensed something darker, more terrible.

To Sierra, it felt like they stared into each other’s eyes forever. He seemed to be hesitating to leave, even though the longer he delayed, the more danger he was in. And she could not bring herself to ask the questions that tormented her so. Did you murder my husband in such a cowardly way? Did you ever care one smidgen for me, or was I only part of your revenge, because of what happened to your sister?

“Well . . .” Sierra licked dry lips. “I ... I guess I’d better be getting back. Good luck to you.”

“Thank you for bringing my dog,” he said. “And tell Sergeant Mooney I hope the gold gives him a comfortable old age.”

Gold?
She didn’t know what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. Take me with you, her heart cried, but she didn’t speak.

Tears blinding her, Sierra turned and walked toward her mare. She wanted to leave before she broke down. She had the rest of her life to weep.

Cholla stared after her, watching her walk toward her horse. She was going to ride away and leave him after all. In truth, he had delayed leaving the camp because he hoped she cared enough to come after him, to offer to share his dangerous life below the border. Then, when she had ridden in unexpectedly, he had almost shot her.

But she hadn’t come here to go with him, only to return his dog. Still, he sensed something was wrong, that something had come between them.

Will she come with me if I beg her?
He was a proud man, not used to pleading for anything. He considered taking her with him as a captive, as he had done when he’d first met her.

No. He shook his head as he watched Sierra adjust her bridle, making ready to leave. He didn’t want her if she didn’t care enough for him to accompany him of her own free will. To admit he needed her was more than he could bring himself to do, but there was more than pride involved here.

From the moment she had ridden in, he had felt a new, invisible wall between them. Had she found out the secret? Tom couldn’t tell her, and Cholla wouldn’t; not even if it cost him the woman he loved. There was honor involved, and a man without honor was no man at all.

Sierra was about to mount the mare. He had one moment to choose between his pride and the woman he loved. Suppose she laughed and said no. If he didn’t ask, he would always wonder what her answer would have been.

He watched her swing up into the saddle, pick up the reins. He would regret this moment the rest of his life–the rest of his lonely life.

He suddenly knew that nothing mattered without her, not his life or his freedom, least of all his pride, and he ran toward her shouting, “Sierra! Don’t go! Don’t leave me!”

Surprised by his outcry, she turned in the saddle, saw him coming toward her, arms outstretched. “What did you say?”

“I said,
ishton
, don’t go! I love you!”

God help her, she didn’t care any more what had happened in that arroyo. Even if he had murdered Robert, she loved the Apache more than anything in the world, and nothing else mattered to her.

Sierra wasn’t even conscious of doing so, but she slid off the horse and into his arms. “Oh, Cholla, dearest . . .” She could say no more because she was weeping and his dear lips were kissing the tears from her face as he pulled her hard against his chest and kissed her as if he would never let her go.

They were one against the world. They had each other, and nothing else counted. The danger, the lonely life, and the hardships they faced meant little as long as they could be together.

She slipped her arms around his sinewy neck and wept, only now she shed tears of relief and happiness. “Oh, Cholla, I came out here hoping you wanted me but thinking you didn’t.”

“I have no right to ask,” he whispered. “We will have to live on the run. You will have to turn your back on civilization forever.”

She looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes. “I don’t care. I love you, Cholla, and if you love me, want me, nothing else matters! I don’t care what happened that day! Do you hear? I don’t care if you shot him in the back!”

She felt him stiffen, and he pulled away, looked at her a long moment. “Sierra, who told you that?”

“What difference does it make?” She looked up at him defiantly. “Nothing can change the way I feel about you. I love you, no matter what!”

He stared down at her. “You think I killed your husband and you’ll go with me anyway?”

“I love you! I don’t care about anything else!” She began to weep, threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Sierra, I wish I could tell you . . .” He broke off, pulled her against his brawny chest, held her a long moment, close against his heart. She felt she could stay there forever, safe in his powerful arms, secure in his love.

Perhaps her mother had had some inkling of her daughter’s future when she had named her. The West Zanna had longed for and never seen, the mountains she had only dreamed of, these were going to provide a refuge for her daughter.

“Never mind,” Cholla whispered and kissed her forehead. “If you’ll go with me, maybe I can learn to live with what you believe. We need to leave now,
ishton
, before Gillen tracks us down.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said, “I’ll never be afraid again. The Army now has two nails that won’t be hammered down.” She looked up at him tenderly. She had not known love could be so wonderful.

The dog, resting at their feet, growled suddenly, and they both jerked around, startled. Ke’jaa cocked his head and stared toward the fort, ears alert, the hair on his back standing on end as he snarled again.

She felt Cholla tense. “What is it, boy? Is someone coming?”

In answer, the big yellow animal looked toward the fort, growling louder.

Sierra’s heart seemed to stop. “Do you suppose someone followed me?”

“Maybe if we ride out right now–”

“Cholla!” The shout came from the other side of the rocks, Gillen’s voice. “Cholla! We saw the horses. Come out with your hands up and no one will get hurt!”

Cholla yanked her down behind the shelter of the rocks, and the dog went with them. “Gillen! He’s found us. I don’t have much ammunition, Sierra.” He looked down into her eyes, his face grim. “I don’t intend to be taken alive. I’ll die right here rather than be captured. But I’ll send you out. You can count on Tom to take care of you.” He put a hand to his mouth and shouted, “Gillen, hold your fire! I’m sending the girl out!”

“No!” She threw her arms around him. “I don’t want to live without you! I won’t go! Do you hear? I won’t! If you’re going to die here, I intend to die with you!”

“No”–he shook his head stubbornly–“you are the best part of me, Dark Eyes–the beat of my heart, the soul of me. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

She clung to him. “Never! I intend to stay right here and die with you, if need be. You’re the best part of me, too. I never really lived, I only existed until you came along. I don’t want to live without you.”

In the moonlight, he looked grim as death as he handed her a pistol. “All right. We’re in this together then.”

She reached up and brushed his cheek with her lips as she took the gun. “I want you to know I wouldn’t trade a moment of the past several months. If I could choose to be anywhere in the world right now, it would still be here with you.”

His eyes seemed to mist over as he cupped her small face in his big hand. “We’re probably going to die here, Sierra.”

“I don’t care!” She grabbed his hand and kissed it. “We’ll live life on our own terms or not at all. I wouldn’t change a thing!”

He swallowed hard. “No regrets?”

“Only that I didn’t meet you a long time ago, my dearest.” Someday she was going to die, but she chose to do it here with her love. She kissed him one final time.

My worst fear had been realized, Tom Mooney thought as he and Lieutenant Gillen, corporals Schultz and Finney, and troopers Taylor and Allen crouched behind the boulders and waited for Sierra Forester to be sent out.

Tom had delayed the patrol from leaving the fort as long as he could. He had even stopped on the trail twice to check his own mount for a loose shoe, with Gillen swearing at the delay and threatening to throw him in the guardhouse if he didn’t get a move on.

Two of the men who had started out with them were too drunk to ride on and were sent back to the fort. Another soldier’s horse threw a shoe and he had to return, so that left only six men to bring in Cholla, but it might be enough.

To make up for Tom’s deliberate delays, Gillen had insisted they ride at a gallop until the horses were lathered and blowing. The scent of smoke from the dead campfire and the sight of two horses told Tom Cholla and Sierra hadn’t yet left.

“Mrs. Forester!” Gillen shouted, “come out! Don’t be afraid! See if you can get Cholla to surrender!” He laughed softly under his breath and said to the others, “if that Injun shows his head, blow him away!”

“But, Lieutenant,” Tom protested, “there’s a woman in those rocks with him! Maybe we can make a deal. If she comes out, in exchange, we’ll let him go.”

“Blast it all! You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Let that Injun bastard escape!” Gillen turned toward the boulders. “Mrs. Forester, can you hear me? Come out now and you won’t be hurt.”

“Go to hell, Lieutenant!” Her voice rang from the rocks. “I’d rather die with Cholla than have you try to put your dirty hands on me again!”

Gill cursed while the soldiers around him laughed softly to themselves. He checked his rifle to make sure it was loaded. “Okay, the bitch has made her choice. If she gets killed, it wasn’t because I didn’t give her a chance.”

“But, sir,” Tom protested, “we can’t fire, not knowing she’s in there. Killing a woman is coward’s work!”

“I’ll take full responsibility,” Gill snapped. “Remember, men, if we get this Injun, it’ll be written up in the papers, and there’ll be a reward to share, promotions and medals for everyone.” With that, he raised up and fired two shots in rapid succession.

As the cracks of gunfire echoed through the hills, Sierra’s and Cholla’s horses whinnied, reared, and bolted toward the patrol. The paint mare and the black gelding ran past the soldiers a few hundred yards, then stopped to graze near the cavalry horses.

Lieutenant Gillen grinned. “Ain’t that a piece of luck? He didn’t have their horses tied. Must have been gettin’ ready to ride out.” He cupped his mouth with his hands. “Okay, Cholla, we got you now! You don’t have any horses; you’re trapped. Give up and come out with your hands high, or we’ll kill you!”

“I’d rather die here than be sent to Florida. Come and get me, Lieutenant!” The Indian rose up and his shot sang dangerously close, chipping away a piece of rock as it ricocheted near Gillen’s head.

Gill crouched even lower, cursing Cholla’s good aim. “That’s okay,” he said to Tom. “Time’s on our side. We’ve got supplies, and we can get reinforcements.” He turned to Finney. “Corporal, I trust you more than these others. I want you to ride back to the fort, bring us some help. I don’t care if you have to go into the
cantina
and drag men out and put them on their horses. This Injun must not escape.”

“Yes, sir!”

Finney was little more than a boy, and very drunk. Tom hoped he’d take forever to get to the fort. The Kansan stumbled to his horse, took off through the chill, dark night in a cloud of dust.

It’s only a matter of time now, Tom thought. All they had to do was keep Cholla pinned down until help arrived. It was so unfair. All Cholla wanted to do was escape across the border and live the way his people had always lived, free of the restrictions of modern civilization.

“Sergeant,” Gillen snapped, “you try to talk him out. You’re his friend; he’ll trust you to do right by him.”

Friend, Tom’s heart said, no, more than a friend. He is my
sikis
, my brother. Cholla had saved his life and Tom had saved Cholla’s. Mooney was a good trooper, loyal to his country and honest, but this he could not do. “No,” he said. “I won’t do it. It’s not honorable.”

Gillen looked startled. “Maybe you didn’t understand, Sergeant. That was an order!”

Tom looked at him a long moment. Gillen could ruin him, maybe have him shot for direct disobedience, at least take his stripes and throw him in the guardhouse. Instead of retirement, Tom might spend the next few years in prison at hard labor. But whatever it cost him, he was going to see that Cholla got justice. “No,
you
don’t understand, Lieutenant. I won’t do it. You can try to talk him out yourself, but I don’t think he’ll listen.”

“Blast! I’m surrounded by traitors and ingrates!” Gillen was so angry he shook. He reached into his jacket, brought out the bag of candy he always carried. He munched a piece, sounding like a horse crunching corn.

Gill turned and ordered the other men to fan out into the surrounding rocks. “All right, Mooney, I’m going to crawl around behind him. Maybe it’s only justice that the damned Injun is about to get shot in the back!”

Tom felt himself pale, but he looked the other man in the eye. “Don’t talk about justice to me, Lieutenant. I still wonder if it was Forester or you who shot Delzhinne between the eyes after you two raped her!”

He saw the blow coming, threw up a hand to protect his head, but the last thing he remembered was the pain he felt as Gill’s pistol butt caught him across the temple.

Gill looked at the unconscious sergeant, listened to the rifle fire around him. Blast it all! So Mooney knew. Well, hadn’t he suspected as much? He’d make sure the Irishman didn’t survive to tell. But those three troopers out there in the rocks were the sergeant’s friends. Maybe Gill could find a way to finish the stubborn sergeant off without arousing their suspicions. He’d think about it. Maybe he could make Cholla look guilty.

In the meantime, Finney would bring help, no matter how slowly. Not that it mattered. Time was on the Army’s side. By daylight, these hills would be swarming with soldiers, and Cholla wouldn’t stand a chance. The patrol had plenty of supplies on the pack mule, and the couple couldn’t get away without horses.

Cradling his rifle in his arms, Gill crawled quietly through the brush, up into the rocks behind the Indian. He saw the lovers in the moonlight, the woman close against Cholla’s side. The big dog crouched next to the couple. Sierra Forester could just die with the damned savage. She was defiant and stubborn. No one could be allowed to make a laughingstock of the greatest army in the world, and no one had a right to live free anymore, certainly not anyone who would not conform to civilization’s restrictions.

His teeth were hurting him. Gill checked his rifle, looked down at the pair.
Right in the back, yeah, just the way my friend got it
. And he intended to kill that damned dog. He’d end up with the woman after all.

From where Gill lay, he could see that Cholla was frantically looking around for shells. The Apache must be about out of ammunition while the soldiers had plenty. And time was on the Army’s side. If Cholla didn’t get away under cover of darkness, by morning the whole area would be swarming with troops. The telegraph would pick up the story, and newsmen would be at the fort within hours. Lieutenant Gillen would be a hero.

He heard occasionally random shooting from Schultz, Allen, and Taylor. They weren’t going to be responsible for killing an old comrade. Gill knew their excuse would be that their aim was poor. No, Cholla’s only real danger was from Gillen–or the troops that would arrive in a couple of hours.

He aimed the rifle, absently fumbled in his jacket for the sack of candy. Below him, Cholla and Sierra were arguing in the moonlight, and he wondered what it was they talked of in these last minutes of their lives.

Sierra looked at Cholla and shook her head stubbornly. “No, I won’t do it!”

“Yes, you will!” Cholla’s dark face was grim. “I won’t have you killed. I’ll yell at Gill, tell him to hold his fire ’til you come out. Whatever happens after that doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!” Sierra couldn’t control herself. She began to cry and looked toward the south. If they had only had time to make it to the border. It was so near, yet so far away. It seemed terribly unfair that they had traveled all this way and had endured so much only to have it all end in tragedy and death when they were just short of their goal. “I won’t do it!”

“Then I’ll throw down my gun, walk out there, and surrender. I’m out of shells anyway. What about you?”

Sierra handed him her pistol. “I’ve only got one cartridge left. You know you can’t trust Gill. He’ll swear to anything, but when you step out there, he’ll kill you.”

Cholla sighed. “You’re right. Gillen would rather kill me than capture me, and I don’t know what Tom can do. He’s being awfully quiet.” He looked at her for a long moment. “I love you, Sierra.”

She clung to him, savoring the feel of him. She knew already what he planned to do, and she could not fault him for it. No doubt he intended to goad the lieutenant into killing him rather than be taken alive. “I’m glad we had this moment in time.”

They clung together. The night was suddenly silent. Ke’jaa lifted his big head, sniffing the air. Then he snarled, the hair on his back bristling, even as she heard the slightest sound in the stillness, a rattle of paper, a crunching noise as if a horse chewed corn. She screamed out a warning, but even as she did, Cholla whirled and pulled the trigger.

A bullet whined down from behind them, ricocheting off the boulder. In almost the same instant, Cholla’s gun thundered next to her ear. The blue-clad man up in the rocks staggered, a rifle clutched in his hands. The red, ragged hole between Gillen’s widened eyes spurted blood. The lieutenant stumbled backward and went down, his rifle firing as his dead fingers jerked the trigger.

“Cholla, are you all right?” She saw a smear of blood on his forehead and then realized a splinter of rock, dislodged by Gillen’s bullet, had grazed him. He drew her close. Now they could only wait, out of ammunition and not sure how many soldiers surrounded them. They had already done all they could, but it hadn’t been enough. Sierra was prepared to die with Cholla, because she would not leave him and she knew he didn’t intend to be taken alive.

Tom came to gradually. Head aching, he tried to remember what had happened. Lieutenant Gillen had struck him with the butt of a rifle. He had to do something to help Cholla. He had to ...

The rifle shot cracked at the same instant Tom heard the woman shout a warning, and immediately after a pistol was fired. The sounds echoed and reechoed through the wooded hills as Gillen stood, unsteadily, high in the rocks, the moonlight reflecting on his brass buttons. He looked surprised, there was a dark circle between his eyes. He toppled over.

Tom was almost too groggy to move, but Schultz crawled through the brush to his side, an unlit cigar clenched between stained teeth. “Sarge, with the lieutenant down, you’re in charge. What do we do?”

Tom stood up slowly, his rifle hanging forgotten in his hand, his head caked with blood. He peered at the rocks.

Cholla, the girl, and the big dog looked back at him, in their eyes an unspoken plea. Blood smeared the Apache’s face, but he had his arm around the woman, protectively.

Tom hesitated, looking at the pair only half-hidden by the boulder. Yes, it was his decision to make, wasn’t it? If he killed the scout or captured him, he would receive a reward and a promotion. Nobody would believe the Apache if he told the truth about Lieutenant Forester’s death, and with Cholla dead or in prison, Tom might be able to win Sierra’s heart.

But Mooney was an honorable man. Staring at the helpless pair of lovers, he made his decision. There are people who are made of steel that won’t bend, no matter how hard they are driven. And by the Mother of God, Tom was tired of being part of the hammer!

“Men,” he said loudly, and turned away, “I think the hostile’s been killed or we’ve lost him or maybe he’s slipped across the border. Taylor, you and Allen throw the lieutenant’s body across my horse, and let’s head back to the fort to intercept that patrol.”

Schultz stood up, lit the cigar clenched in his stained teeth. “Sarge, what about the Medicine Hat stallion the lieutenant was riding?”

Tom looked at the fine paint horse grazing quietly beside Sierra’s mare. “I believe that pair of horses strayed, and we couldn’t catch them.” He pushed his hat back on his thinning hair. “Likewise the mule loaded with supplies. Do we understand each other, men?”

Taylor and Allen paused in loading the lieutenant’s body across Mooney’s horse, smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Schultz blew a puff of smoke as he swung up on his horse. “Rules and regulations don’t matter as long as justice is done. We all felt that way at the arroyo, Sarge, we still do.”

“Thanks, boys. Let’s move out. My report will read that we believe the scout and his captive are probably both dead, no use in searching further.”

“Shall we recommend Lieutenant Gillen for a commendation?” The corporal leaned on his saddle horn.

“I don’t think he’s got any relatives,” Tom replied, “but it’ll look good on Army records. God has a way of evening things out, after all. As I recall, medals and promotions were very important to Lieutenant Gillen. We’ll do what we can.”

“Oh, Sarge,” Schultz said, “I think you should have the Indian’s black gelding. It’s a good horse, and you’ll need one back in Michigan.”

Tom thought about it. Was it right? Yes, Cholla would want him to have it. He swung up into the black’s saddle.

Just before he rode away, Tom glanced back over his shoulder, saw the Apache look at him, mouth the words,
Gracias, sikis
. Thank you, brother.

Tom swallowed hard, touched his hat with his hand in a last salute to the pair. He was seeing them for the very last time; he knew that. It might have been possible to convince Sierra that Cholla had killed her husband, but much as Tom wanted her, he couldn’t do that to his Indian brother.