Only in My Arms (28 page)

"My father. Naiche." Ryder's words were quietly spoken and for Mary's ears alone. "The woman is my father's wife. Josanie."

Josanie stood quietly at her husband's side, reaching just to his shoulder. She was a score of years younger than Naiche, and her face was filled out, rounded and smooth, not engraved with harsh lines. Her dark hair, streaked with strands of gray at the temples, was coiled in a knot at her nape. Her acknowledgment was also a faint nod, but there was no mistaking that her mouth was set tightly in disapproval.

Naiche and Josanie did not approach, and Mary realized she was somewhat relieved by that. She felt a little foolish standing in the water, and she had no idea what she was expected to do or say. Following Ryder's lead, she remained exactly as she was, though it was hard not to respond in kind to Josanie's obvious disfavor. Just at the point when Mary thought she would embarrass herself with nervous laughter, she felt Ryder stiffen and grasp her hand even more tightly. Mary winced, but it failed to gain her release. Her eyes flew to his, and she saw he was paying scant attention to her but was looking in another direction entirely. Once again she followed his gaze.

She had reason to be grateful for Ryder's tight hold as her knees buckled beneath her.

Jay Mac and Moira entered the clearing followed by their guard. Their clothes were dusty, a little disheveled, but they were all in one piece in spite of their ordeal. In Mary's eyes they looked wonderful. She took her fill of them, just as they were doing to her, their eyes eating her up, counting every blessed hair on her head. Joyous laughter began to rise in Mary's throat. Her entire body leaned away from Ryder and toward her parents. This time his grip was unwelcome. When she tried to step out of the basket he restrained her.

Except for a slight nod from each, Moira and Jay Mac didn't move. Assured now that she was safe, their expressions mirrored less anxiety and more confusion and silent questioning.

Mary opened her mouth to speak, but Ryder gave a warning by tugging on her hand. He stepped out of the basket, lifted her to join him, and announced, "It is done."

Mary barely heard him, and anyway his words had no meaning for her. She wrested her hand free of his and ran to her parents. Moira's arms were already outstretched, prepared to bring her firstborn back to her breast. Mary fell into them gladly, holding and being held, feeling in a primal way the deep nurturing love of that nascent embrace.

Jay Mac stood close to his wife and placed his hand on the crown of Mary's head, stroking gently. The distinct colors in her red-gold hair blurred as tears gathered in his eyes.

"Come. You must leave now." It was the guard who spoke.

Jay Mac's tears dried immediately, but his vision wasn't clear as blinding anger created a thicker haze than tears ever could.

"Give her a moment with her mother," he snapped. "For God's sake show some compassion."

The guard looked to Ryder for direction. Ryder's face was expressionless, but the single shake of his head was clear. Raising his rifle a notch, the guard motioned again. "Come. You must leave."

Jay Mac had seen Ryder's gesture and recognized it for the command it was. Fury was etched on his features, but he did not allow pride and anger to overrule his judgment. "Let us take her back," he said, his voice deep with emotion. "She doesn't belong with you."

"She does now," Ryder said quietly. "Mary is my wife." He nodded again to the guard. "Take them." He addressed Jay Mac, though he spoke as much for Moira's sake. "It's for your safety and that of your wife. The Army will be looking for you. If you are not returned quickly they will find the camp and destroy everyone."

Only a subtle change in Ryder's expression let Jay Mac know that "everyone" included his beloved Mary. Jay Mac understood then that Mary's life depended on their return to Fort Union and the offering of any explanation for their disappearance except the truth. That did not lessen his anger toward Ryder McKay, but it made the dictate make sense. His hand moved from Mary's bent head to his wife's shoulder. "Moira," he said gently. "We must go."

Ryder stepped forward to lift Mary away from her mother, but it wasn't necessary. She kissed Moira on the cheek, straightened, and then kissed her father. Her hand lingered on Jay Mac's forearm reassuringly before she came to stand beside Ryder. As her parents turned to go Mary's body vibrated with a wrenching shudder. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and prayed that neither Jay Mac nor Moira would find the strength to look back. Mary did not think she could remain with Ryder if they did.

The clearing was silent until Moira, Jay Mac, and the guard were out of sight. Naiche approached the newlyweds and offered his congratulations. Mary, pale and dazed, only half listened as Ryder translated from the Apache. She murmured what she hoped was an appropriate reply which Ryder repeated at some length.

"Do they understand English?" she asked tightly.

"A little."

"Words like cruel bastard and heartless son of a bitch?"

"Your eyes are speaking a language that requires no words," he told her. "It doesn't matter what you say, they can see into your heart. They know you're angry with me."

"Angry?" Mary almost choked on the word. "Then they should look deeper, as well you should, because it doesn't begin to describe what I'm feeling." The coldness that clutched her inside and made it difficult to breathe also froze the fiery brilliance of her green eyes. She stared at him hard, willing herself not to shatter in front of him.

Ryder said nothing to Mary, but exchanged more words with Naiche and Josanie. After a minute the couple returned to the place where they had entered the clearing and began walking back to the encampment. It was at that point that Ryder addressed Mary. "Josanie's family has prepared to welcome us with a feast and dancing. It is not the Apache way that the husband's side should offer this. It was done because your family could not. Naiche is
nanta
—a leader—and he has brought great risk to his people by allowing us to be married here and to celebrate among them. To bring your parents here to witness the ceremony was Naiche's gift to me and his blessing. I could not have married you without their acknowledgment."

Mary stared at the ground, hugging herself. She was confused and hurt, and understood less than half of what was truly in her heart.

"Whatever your feelings toward me, I ask that you not share them with
N'de
—the people."

She shot him a narrowed glance. "Because it would embarrass you?"

"Because it would be an embarrassment to Naiche."

Mary looked away. It was growing darker and the cold seemed to press against her skin from both sides. "Very well," she said quietly. "But this changes nothing between us." Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true. Everything had changed.

* * *

The public dance which Mary and Ryder joined when they reached the encampment was a lively affair. Mary would have liked to watch, but her participation was expected and she was guided through the steps by giggling, good-natured women—all sisters or cousins or nieces of Josanie. They laughed helplessly, though not unkindly, as Mary performed her part in the dance, and to show their appreciation of her attempts, they incorporated her faltering steps among their own.

When it was over they admired Mary's dress, fingering the fringe and commenting excitedly over the fit and handiwork. As they did so, she realized who it was she had to thank for the garments, and catching Josanie's dark, watchful gaze, she made a slight bow in acknowledgment. Josanie's stern mouth softened slightly.

Ryder rescued his wife from her curious admirers and brought her to sit beside him near one of the small fires that were now dotting the encampment. "We can't stay much longer," he told her. "In the morning they'll move their camp. We must be long gone by then. There can be no evidence that they harbored us."

That bore the danger home to Mary. "Mama and Jay Mac will say nothing," she said. At least not to the authorities, she thought. But they wouldn't keep it from family. Jarret would learn of it, and he would come looking for her, using whatever landmarks her parents could recall to pick up her trail.

Watching her closely, her profile etched by warm firelight, Ryder asked, "What's troubling you?"

Mary cast him a sideways glance. "Nothing." She wasn't convincing, and he wasn't convinced. She was saved from another probe by the arrival of their food. Bean mush was served, with just a hint of meat to flavor it and cornbread as an accompaniment. Mary, who thought her palate had been deadened by weeks of eating tinned vegetables, found the meal spicy and satisfying. Later there were small pink cakes made with sugared yucca fruit and decorated with sunflower petals. Mary knew intuitively that these were a very special treat and it was an honor to be served them.

There was a lot of joking and teasing while the meal was being consumed. Mary understood little of the content, but the gist of it generally required no interpreter. She was startled to hear Ryder laugh out loud as he was targeted by his friends for another round of affectionate banter. The laughter started deep in his chest, rumbling with enough force for Mary to feel the vibration. It felt like tiny sparks alighting on the surface of her skin, touching her with a flash of heat before they vanished. She wasn't certain she wanted to be touched by his laughter.

She was still a little dazed by its effect when she found herself being ushered to the edge of the camp. She remained there, just as Ryder asked, while he spoke privately with his father. Several other men, men Mary had noted had carried special influence and respect among the Chiricahua, joined Ryder and Naiche. Their conversation lasted only a few minutes, but Mary gathered by the tone and gesturing that the words that were exchanged were not to be taken lightly.

She raised her eyes questioningly as Ryder returned to her side. "You've made your farewell?"

He nodded. "My father wanted to tell me where the band is going next, but the council questioned the wisdom of it. They're afraid I'll want to join them again."

"Would you?"

"I would be tempted," he admitted. He put one hand on the small of her back and urged her forward along the trail. A crescent moon lighted the path until the canopy of pine blocked it. "But they're right to be concerned that the Army could stumble upon them through me. I can wait until they're ready for me to find them."

Mary was quiet for a long time, concentrating on not stumbling over a raised root or fallen branches. She recognized the clearing when they came upon it the second time, even though the basket of water had been removed.

It was here that Ryder picked up the bundle of their discarded clothes. He gave Mary his flannel shirt to put over her beaded shirt. "That slip of a moon makes you an easy target," he explained when she told him she was warm enough. He had no problem gaining her cooperation after that. He let her take the lead until their ascent became steep enough for her to require his assistance.

"They didn't appear to have many guns," she said, as Ryder helped her over a rocky incline.

"You noticed that." What he noticed was that she tore her hand away from his as quickly as possible. "What did you think about it?"

"At first I wondered if they had them hidden."

"And?"

"And that didn't make sense. If you need a rifle for protection you don't hide it so precious seconds are lost retrieving it. Of course, if you need the rifles to mount an attack you may hide them until you've marshaled your forces."

Darkness hid Ryder's faint smile. It was hard to believe she'd been a nun for so many years and not an Army strategist. "So what have you concluded?"

"They don't have any guns. Those people were more wary of being attacked than intent on attacking. I don't mean that they wouldn't fight," she added, concerned that Ryder might believe she thought Naiche's people lacked courage. "I know they would fight with whatever is available, just as I know that what's available isn't guns."

"What about gold?" he asked. "That's what they were supposed to have gotten from the raid."

Mary considered his question a moment before she answered. "I think if they'd really gotten the gold they'd have bought guns by now."

"Why?" he pressed.

She hesitated, letting the logic of her reasoning settle in her mind, testing its soundness against other possibilities. "Because no one who wants to travel light and fast can afford to be burdened by too many possessions."

"Perhaps they've hidden it." He helped her up again, this time bringing her flush with his body. He heard her catch her breath, but he suspected it wasn't the climb that had caused her to lose it in the first place. She was looking up at him, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted as she sipped the air. He bent his own head a fraction. His voice was hushed. "What do you think?"

Mary was mesmerized by the sliver of light edging his hard profile, the way it touched the line of his brow, shaped his nose, and polished the corner of his mouth. He had asked her a question. It hung in the slip of a space between their mouths, but she couldn't remember what it was. She was having a hard time recalling that earlier in the day she was certain she hated him.

"Well?"

Mary blinked. "I don't think they've hidden it, because it's not their way. They would have wanted to make the trade quickly. The gold's really useless to them except as barter for guns."