Comanche Rose (12 page)

"Prepare me for what? Who's been arrested?" Annie asked again.

"Even if you wish to avoid testifying, which you very well might, the colonel still believes the arrest may force them to yield your daughter. It's been done before."

Annie's hands gripped the arms of the rocking chair. For an awful moment she thought of Two Trees, and it was as though she was hollow, totally empty inside. But it couldn't be—she'd never even mentioned him to anyone. And he'd be the last Comanche to come anywhere near the reservation.

"I don't think—"

"Oh, dear, I knew it was going to be a shock." Moving behind Annie, Cora placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "My dear, they've found the Indian called Bull Calf. Colonel Davidson just had word of the Tonkawa scouts that they were coming in with him."

"Bull Calf?
But—" For a moment Annie was at a loss, then she protested, "But he wasn't—oh, Lord, no!"

Cora nodded. "He said it was the least he could do for you after all you have suffered."

"Well, I wish I'd been asked, for I could have
told
Colonel Davidson—they're bringing him in now?"

"Yes, he didn't want to say anything until it was done."

"But it's not right, not right at all!" Quickly setting her writing supplies aside, Annie rose to go to the window, and what she saw made her heart sink. There in the middle of the parade ground, two troopers were wrestling Bull Calf from his horse, and despite the fact that his hands were shackled, he was putting up a fight. Finally, one of them cracked the barrel of a pistol against the side of his head to subdue him. "No, he doesn't deserve this," she said under her breath. "I can't let it happen—I can't." She started for the door.

Confused by her guest's manner, the older woman hesitated, then asked, "What are you doing? Surely you're not going out there?"

"I've got to stop them!" Annie flung over her shoulder.

"Don't—you'll take your death without a wrap!" Then the words sank in.
"Stop
them? Have you lost your mind? No, you don't want to make a spectacle of yourself!" she called out. "Annie, come back!"

"But they're wrong!"

"They brought him in because of you!" Hugging her arms against the cold, Cora hurried after her. "Annie, wait!"

It was as though her words disappeared in the chill wind. Before Cora could catch up, the younger woman reached the cordon of soldiers around the Indian. As she watched with dismay, Annie Bryce pushed her way through the men, crying, "Let him go! You don't know what you are doing!"

Bull Calf's black eyes glittered as he lunged toward her, his manacled hands raised as though he would strike. Two troopers caught him from behind, pulling his elbows back. He stared hard for a moment, then demanded angrily, "Is this how you would repay me, Woman Who Walks Far? Look at you. You deceived me, and now you have told them lies! Fat Owl was right—you brought misfortune among us! You blinded me with pity when I should have killed you!" he finished contemptuously.

The Comanche words stung. Facing him, she fought tears as she reached a hand out, speaking his language haltingly. "It is true that I could speak—that I was not possessed of spirits—but I was afraid. I did not know that I would find kindness in Bull Calf. I had no reason to expect it. I saw the scalps on Bull Calf's lance, that they were white, and I wanted to live. But you let me stay. Out of pity you fed me."

"Not one hair of your head did I harm. Nothing did I ask, and this is how I am thanked for it."

She swallowed and nodded. "And I will tell them that. I will tell them Bull Calf is my brother," she promised. "I will tell them I suffered no ill at your hands." Her hand closed over the cold iron on his wrist. "I swear it."

Expecting gratitude, Davidson was making his way toward her when he saw her touch the Indian. He recoiled as a shiver of apprehension ran down his spine. He'd risked Sherman's certain displeasure by violating his orders, but he'd been prepared to lie and say his men had taken the Comanche chief after he'd fled the reservation. And now that it was done, she was saying they'd made a mistake. He felt betrayed. And angry. As his temper rose, she saw him.

"Colonel Davidson," she said, "I appreciate what you have done, but this is the wrong man. You've got the wrong man."

"It's Bull Calf, isn't it?" he demanded harshly.

"Yes, but—" Taken aback by the anger in his voice, she hesitated, knowing it would be difficult to find the words to convince this stern man he'd made a mistake. "It wasn't Bull Calf who killed my husband, Colonel. It wasn't Penetaka Comanches who raided our farm. The war party was mostly Quahadi and Nokoni—and a couple of Kiowas, I think. But no Penetakas. This man is innocent."

Davidson's jaw worked visibly before he could bring himself to speak. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Mrs. Bryce," he responded with tightly controlled fury. "This is the man who held you captive—you were found in his camp. Are you saying you were there willingly? That you were not misused there?"

Those gathered to watch fell completely silent, and she could feel the hostility around her. In the eyes of every man there she was condemning herself by defending Bull Calf. Her chin came up and she dared to meet Black Jack Davidson's eyes, seeing the outrage there.

"Yes," she responded simply.

It wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Look at him—he's a savage!" Davidson said furiously. "He's got the blood of God only knows how many whites on his hands! How in God's name could you—?" He choked on the thought.

"He's innocent of mine," she countered quietly. "I was abandoned, left to die by a man called Two Trees. I wandered for days, lost and alone without food or water, until the Penetakas found me. And there were those who wanted to kill me, but I pretended to be crazed. Then, afraid of my evil spirit, they wanted to leave me to die as Two Trees had, but Bull Calf didn't abandon me. He let me follow him and his family."

"He starved you half to death," the colonel retorted.

She shook her head. "None of us had any food at the last. When the hunting was bad, I was a burden to him, but he let me stay. Once we reached the reservation, he encouraged me to walk to the agency. If I'd had the strength, I would have come on my own, but by then I was too weak from hunger to make it."

She wasn't telling him anything he wanted to hear. She was making him look like a damned fool. He stared hard into those blue eyes of hers, but she held her ground. Finally, it was he who looked away.

Afraid of drawing Davidson's ire, one of the troopers turned to Lieutenant Hughes to ask, "Where do you want to put the prisoner, sir?"

The colonel squared his shoulders ramrod straight and fixed the man with a glare. "Strike the manacles, soldier," he snapped. "Then get the red son of a bitch out of my sight."

With that, he turned and stalked across the ground toward his office. It wasn't until the door slammed that anyone spoke. Elliott Hughes exchanged glances with Captain Harrison, who exhaled audibly, then ordered, "Release the prisoner and escort him off the post. I don't know what the colonel's going to tell Haworth, but I sure as hell don't want to be around when it happens."

Relieved, Annie turned back to Bull Calf. "They're letting you go," she told him. In front of everyone, she held out her hand again. For a long moment the Comanche just stood there. Finally he took it, clasping her fingers in the white man's gesture of friendship.

Then it was over. A soldier stepped between them to unlock the irons. As soon as his hands were free, Bull Calf swung up on the pony, and without waiting for any escort, he dug his moccasin into a bony flank and laid the braided quirt across the animal's shoulder. At the edge of the parade ground, he wheeled around for one last defiant gesture, then rode off.

Taking their cue from Davidson, soldiers and onlookers drifted away, most without looking at her. Cora Sprenger took a step toward her, then stopped.

"Well, my dear, you've certainly made your road a lot rougher," she said finally. "Colonel Davidson will never forgive you."

"It doesn't matter. I'm going home, anyway." Shivering now, Annie rubbed her arms. "For three years Bull Calf was the only good thing that happened to me," she added, sighing. "I just repaid the favor. But if you want me to remove myself from your house, I'll understand."

"No, of course not." Cora forced a smile. "I know you did what you thought you had to, and I just wish you didn't have to regret it. Well," she said, "I'm going inside. It's too cold to stand out here, my dear. I think I'll make a good, strong toddy. Right now we both probably need it."

"All right."

As the older woman started back to her house, Annie paused to watch Bull Calf. His bravado gone, he was riding slowly southward on the plodding pony. As much as she despised his people, she felt sorry for him. Clasping her arms across her breasts, she turned to follow Cora Sprenger.

"Wait up!"

Startled, she stopped for a moment, then saw Hap Walker awkwardly hobbling across the yard on crutches. By the looks of it, he was going to require a lot of practice before he mastered them. He was nearly breathless by the time he reached her. She waited warily, expecting him to condemn her. When he didn't say anything, she observed, "Well, you are getting around at least, Captain."

"Like a racehorse," he muttered dryly. "But it'll get better. It's got to."

The winter sun seemed to reflect in the pale hair that framed her face. And her eyes were as blue as a summer sky. Doc Sprenger had been right—she was a pretty woman.

"I guess I know what you're thinking," she told him.

"I'd be surprised if you did," he countered, a smile slowly spreading across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He looked up at the sun for a moment, then back to her. "You look real different from when I saw you in that Indian camp. I couldn't even tell what color your hair was then."

"You couldn't tell much of anything then, could you?"

"Not much," he agreed. "I don't remember much before the next morning." He glanced at the sky again. "Yeah, I was kind of waiting for you to come back after that. Makes more sense to visit a man when he's awake, doesn't it?"

"Major Sprenger said you were recovering," she murmured.

"I guess you've been busy," he allowed, "but I was kind of hoping I'd get a chance to say thanks. You've got healing hands, you know that?"

"No."

"Well, you do. And I just wanted you to know I appreciated everything you did for me that night. Doc says you were more'n half-sick yourself."

"I had to do something. I couldn't sleep." It was too cold outside, but she didn't want to leave him standing there. "Mrs. Sprenger's making hot toddies right now. Uh, I don't suppose you'd care to join us?" she asked him. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"Never drink the stuff. 'Way I look at it, it's a waste of whiskey."

"Oh."

"I don't like anything with mine, not even water," he admitted ruefully. "I guess it's all in what you get used to."

"I don't know. If you put every drop of spirits I ever drank in a cup, it wouldn't be full. If it doesn't have water and honey or sugar to go with it, I can't get it down."

"Fool thing to do, you know."

Somehow she knew he wasn't speaking of hot toddies. "Yes, well, I think everybody shares that opinion. I know you think I ought to have let them put him in jail, but I couldn't."

"There you go again."

"What?"

"Thinking for me."

"Well, it's pretty obvious. Look, I'm freezing. Why don't you come in, whether you want the toddy or not?"

"I would, but I'm coming for supper, so I reckon I'd better get myself a razor somewhere first."

"Oh. Then I guess I'll see you there, Captain."

He waited until she was about fifteen feet away. "I guess you read the wrong mind," he said then.

She half turned back. "I beg your pardon?"

"I was thinking after what the Comanches did to you, it took a lot of goodness—and a lot of guts—to stand up for old Bull Calf. Most folks in your place wouldn't have lifted a finger to help him, whether he was guilty or not. I'm not even sure I would have, and I don't have nearly as much at risk as you do."

"I couldn't have lived with myself," she said simply.

"No, I reckon not. My ma would've said you had character. She admired that in a person—and so do I."

She found herself actually smiling. "Well, thank you, sir. It's quite kind of you to say that."

Bracing his crutch under his arm, he reached to lift the front of his battered hat. "See you at supper, ma'am."

This time he watched her all the way into the house. Character. Yeah, that's what she had, all right. And it was going to cost her. Now the unpleasant speculation would pass for the God's truth everywhere anybody heard about her and Bull Calf.

As the door closed behind her, he adjusted the crutches beneath already sore arms and hopped on one foot toward the post store. Yeah, he was in bad need of that shave, and a bath, too, not to mention that he could sure use a pint of good whiskey right now. But the whiskey'd have to wait until after supper. Cora Sprenger didn't seem like the sort to tolerate a drunk at her table.

When he finally made it to the store, all the talk was about Annie Bryce, and it was as bad as he'd expected. As he opened the door, he heard the post sutler declare, "Now we know why she wasn't messed up like the Purvis woman. She was keeping old Bull Calf warm at night and liking it."

Those around him nodded. "Yeah," somebody said, "it must've plumb broke her heart when he traded her for food."

"Here now, no way to talk about a white woman," one brave soul protested.

"Ain't much of a white woman now."

"Gone three years, way I heard it," another offered. "Kinda makes you wonder how many papooses they got on her, don't it?"

"Yeah. Mebbe that kid she's wanting back is half-red."

"No."

The sutler turned around at the sound of his voice. "Damned if it ain't Hap Walker!" he called out. "If you ain't a sight for sore eyes—damn, but I head you were nearly done for, Hap!"

"Can't believe everything you hear now, can you?" Hap swung his frame between the crutches and groped for the counter, pulling himself along it until he faced the small knot of men standing with the trader. "I'd take it real kindly if you'd lay off lying about Mrs. Bryce," he said evenly. "It makes me want to horsewhip the lot of you."