They exchanged matching looks of skepticism at their superior’s alleged motive, yet, neither spoke their suspicion aloud.
“Let’s get moving; we have lost time to make up.”
Beth knew the rapid moving stage was a good distance away. “If you don’t mind, I’ll…excuse myself before we ride out again.” She didn’t wait for him to respond before guiding her mare into a sheltered ravine, because she had a big problem to tend fast and in secret.
Chapter Seven
Beth dismounted, yanked off her jacket, and removed her torn shirt. She checked a laceration in her upper arm; soon, blood would be dripping off her fingers. The reasons the scarlet liquid hadn’t saturated her jacket and exposed her wound were because of a loose sleeve, the intervention of her shirt, and the fact that she’d held her arm downward. Her jacket had hidden the problem, but not for long. She had to bind the wound and rejoin her partner before he realized something was amiss and his opinion of her lowered again.
In a rush, she grabbed a clean cloth from her saddlebag and removed the top of her canteen. She soaked the rag to begin ministrations but was interrupted.
“Blazes, woman, you’re shot! I knew something was wrong by the way you looked and acted. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew what you’d think and say: that I’m careless and unskilled, and you’d praised me too fast. I wanted to at least hide it long enough for you think about how well I’d done, allow the positive to settle in before you discovered the negative. Besides, it’s only a scratch, a flesh wound, nothing to get excited about. It’s not my first and probably not my last in our kind of work.”
“Let me see it.” He took her arm in a gentle grasp and eyed the injury, which she had assessed with accuracy. He had expected to find her crying in a hanky or sick to her stomach and in need of soothing herbs, not wounded.
“It was that first man to go down, the last one you shot in the road behind us. He was lying so still when we rode past, I thought he was out cold. I shouldn’t have turned my back on him without checking. He wasn’t that good of an aim, just a lucky shot. It hurts, but it’s not a bad injury.”
He couldn’t fault her for being careless about the downed man when he’d done the same thing. “It needs tending. Let me fetch my things.”
Beth started to reach for the shirt she had discarded to hold before her chemise-clad chest but realized she was as covered as she had been while working in the Red Palace. She watched him return to squat beside where she’d taken a seat on a low rock. “What’s that?”
“An Indian medicine pouch and a bandage.” He didn’t tell her to sit still because he somehow knew she would. He used water from her canteen to wash away the blood, then tended the narrow gash with herbs.
As he worked, Beth was aware he was being gentle and thorough. She also noticed how he refused to look at her face. He seemed nervous about touching her, so she should have covered her torso; to do so now seemed silly. As he doctored the injury and dressed it with a clean cloth, she observed him with keen intensity. He wasn’t the only one aroused by this closeness between them. Just imagining playing his wife heightened her desire for him. She wanted to run her fingers through that midnight mane, across his bronzed chest. She longed to gaze into his deep-set eyes without hesitation, or fear of any repercussions. He was a potent force and she was being drawn to him.
Navarro was impressed she didn’t so much as flinch as he tended her. When he risked a glance, he expected to find her brow furrowed and her teeth clenched; instead, she was watching him in a strange manner. With haste, he yanked his eyes from hers before he lost himself in those swirling depths. To distract them, he asked, “Did Steven ever get you wounded like I did today?”
“This wasn’t your fault.”
“As much mine as yours, so don’t argue. Did he?”
“No. But he took a bullet a few times because my overly protective husband gave those same orders you did about taking cover and letting him handle the trouble. I tried to convince him it was foolish to take those risks when I was a trained and capable partner.” As he leaned back on his haunches, she urged, “Please don’t do the same thing, Navarro; a team should stick together in all situations. Besides, accidents will happen on occasion because we’re in dangerous work.”
“You’re not over him, are you?”
That question caught her off guard. She stared at him as he held on to her captive gaze. “I still think about him, miss him, and love him; that’s only natural. He was my husband and partner for six years. He was also my best friend. I was struck with three losses at once, four counting my father. We did everything together. It was like losing half of myself. At first, I was angry, bitter, sad, even depressed. I felt as if my future had been stolen, my dreams destroyed.” Does that sound and feel familiar to you? Do we have something in common?
“It’s easier now. My job helped me get through the worst period afterward, kept my mind and energies focused elsewhere. After he and Papa were murdered, I felt challenged to get rid of as many criminals as possible so other innocent people wouldn’t have to go through what I had. The man responsible for their deaths is still alive, though, free and happy somewhere. Maybe he’s killed others before or since my family and ruined their lives, too. It riles me to be unable to do anything about him.”
“Maybe he’ll be caught and punished one day. Maybe he’s dead now. Men who live and work as he does don’t last long.”
“I hope he meets with justice soon. Those beasts didn’t even try to bluff their way out of the situation. For all they knew, the two men riding into their campsite were drifters. They just gunned them down without waiting to see who they were or if they’d been exposed.”
“So you had a good marriage but don’t want to repeat the experience?”
It was another startling query. Why did he want such private information? Was he aiming for a clearer image of her or was there more to his curiosity? If you want to know if I’m man-hunting or Navarro-hunting, ask me straight out. “As you said, I don’t remain in a place long enough to find a man who suits me.”
“Maybe you will some day when you get tired of this kind of life.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. By the time a woman is my age, the best men are either attached to someone or not interested in marriage. The rest either have unbroken ties to their pasts or dark reasons why no woman wants them.” She looked away before adding, “If you’re done, we’d better get riding.”
“You should rest a while.”
“I’m fine, honestly. In case you haven’t noticed, I usually speak my mind, so trust what I say.”
“If you have trouble along the way, tell me. I want that gun arm healed in case it’s needed again.” He stood, as did she. “You’ve proven yourself to me, Beth, so relax and stop trying so hard. No more secrets like this one, all right?”
“Agreed. Sorry. I just doubted you’d be so understanding. I was afraid this would convince you to dump me in the next town.”
“Stop worrying. This job is yours; you have my word.”
She laughed and quipped, “If memory serves me today, you once said you never go back on your word unless you have a good reason.”
“So far, you haven’t given me any reason to break up our partnership. Fact is, you’ve proven to me Dan made a good choice.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to hear that. Tell me, why did you strap your pistol and holster on the right side in Tucson and Benson, and why do you wear only one in towns? I’ve noticed you use two on the trail, and tie them to your legs, and you’re definitely left-handed.”
He stared at her for a moment, then grinned. “You have keen eyes. I wear only one and don’t secure it to keep from looking like a gunslinger eager for a showdown. I’m also good with my right hand, but I do it so any challenger who follows me for an attack or call-out will be fooled into watching the wrong hand. On the trail, I stay ready for trouble.”
“That’s a cunning trick, partner, one I’ll r
emember and use.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m fine, so let’s ride.”
Soon, they left the well-traveled road and headed overland in an eastward direction. They traveled past Dragoon and the trail to the old stronghold used by Cochise when he ruled and terrorized this area. It wasn’t long before Navarro halted them so they could eat and rest and he could check her arm.
She was appreciative of his concern. “See, I told you it’s nothing much.”
He placed more herbs on it as he replied, “I want to keep it that way.”
They crossed the southern tip of a playa below Willcox. The vast, dry alkali sink was windswept and lacked any greenery to soften its harsh barrenness. Even without shallow liquid after heavy rains, the lake bed created shimmering mirages, illusions of deep and refreshing water. Both agents were glad to traverse only a narrow section and to get beyond it.
As they rode south of Dos Cabezas, Navarro pointed out bald knolls in a mountain range that gave the town its name that meant two heads. He told her it was a region rich in gold and silver and a precious watering hole for cattle.
Upon reaching Apache Pass, a six mile twisting and winding passage between two valleys, Navarro related that local Indians had allowed a twice-weekly stage to go through years ago until conflicts escalated into war. Since then, railroads had built lines northward and coaxed most of the traffic to that location. He said their destination was fourteen miles from the other end of the pass: Bowie Station, a town north of the fort where missions against renegades were initiated.
Beth guided Sunshine up the steep and narrow trail behind Navarro and Night Cloud. Grasslands and vegetation intermingled with agave, piñon, juniper, sagebrush, ironwood, mesquite, and varieties of cacti and flowers. Oak, hackberry, willow, black walnut, cottonwood, and other trees appeared and seemed to decorate the Chiricahua range. The rugged mountains were snaked with sandy washes, arroyos, and canyons; they displayed rocky slopes and picturesque spires and peaks.
Near the trail’s summit, they halted to rest themselves and the animals before heading downward toward the scrubland around the fort. Navarro let his black stallion drink water poured from a canteen into his hand, so Beth did the same. Afterward, she strolled to loosen tired and sore muscles. She peered at the untamed panorama before her. When Navarro joined her and did the same, she began a conversation.
“You’ve told me just bits and pieces about yourself; so, who is Navarro Breed? What do you want in life? What’s important to you?”
He glanced at her in surprise. “Doing my job the best I can.”
Beth waited for him to continue, but it didn’t seem as if he intended to say more. Those deep-set hazel eyes had a haunted look that tugged at her heart. He was so tough, hard, and driven, so private. Yet, he could be gentle and tender when it suited him or his emotions were touched. Beth sat on a rock a few feet high. She placed her palms on it behind her and leaned her head back to feel warm sun on her face.
Navarro reasoned that if she was becoming too attracted to him, what he had to tell should halt any unbidden feelings. “There’s something you should know about me. It might change your mind about wanting to travel and work with me.”
Beth eyed him. He looked and sounded serious and uneasy. When he remained silent and gazed over the terrain, she prompted, “What is it?”
Navarro looked her in the eyes and said, “I’m what people call a half-breed bastard. My mother was Apache and my father was white; they were never married.”
“I see,” she murmured, feeling an ache in her heart at his tone of anguish and bitterness. She waited for him to continue.
He went to stand behind her and lean his right hip against the boulder where a section rose higher than the part upon which she sat. He tucked his left thumb into his pants’ pocket and curled his fingers into his palm. He searched for the right words. Now that he had begun, he hated to stain his “legendary” image in her eyes. But he had no choice except to get it into the open because he didn’t want her repelled later if someone else told her. He also wanted to build an obstacle between them to keep her at a safe distance.
Beth felt his body make light contact with hers. It was as if he’d taken a position where she couldn’t look at him while he finished his confession, as if he couldn’t gaze at her while making it. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
“Nope, you should hear the dirty story from me so you won’t be shocked if someone drops words about it later. Until I was certain you’d be riding, living, and working with me for a long time, I didn’t see a need to tell you anything about me. Now that you’ve proved yourself, I have to give you a chance to see if the truth makes any difference to you. If it does, speak up today and we’ll part at Bowie Station.”
Is that really why you’ve been secretive and evasive? At least I’m off the firing hook. “Break up our team before a crucial mission? Never. That you are illegitimate and half Indian doesn’t matter to me.”
“Most women—particularly ladies—don’t want to get near either one, and I’m both. We’ll have to kiss, hug, and touch during our act at the ranch; think you’ll be able to abide it?”
“There’s nothing to endure, Navarro. And there’s nothing for you to be ashamed of; no one has control over his birth, only over his actions afterward. People who treat you as if you’re dirt aren’t worth knowing. Don’t let anyone rip at your pride or hurt your feelings or embarrass you. Don’t let their prejudices and cruelties put a chip on your shoulder or hardness in your heart; if you do, you’ll be harmed, not them. I realize that advice is easier for me to give than for you to accept, but I hope you will take it.”
“You don’t seem surprised by this news. Why is that?”
“I’m not; I’ve picked up your clues along the way, whether you meant to send them out or not. To me, you’re a man, my partner, my friend, my leader. What you said about your birth changes nothing between us.”
“Does that mean you will carry out your part of the ruse?”
Do you need clarity and reassurance? “Yes, without any hesitation, honest. Half-breed and bastard are only words, vicious and evil words; they don’t alter my opinion of you, which is a good one. Didn’t I tell you what an honor and privilege it is to work with you? It’s true.”
He reasoned, either she was dedicated and determined to carry out her orders no matter what, or she was being honest and compassionate. He decided she was all four. “I’m far from perfect like your Steven was.”
“My husband wasn’t perfect, and I didn’t mean to imply that he was. Steven was a good man and a skilled agent, but so are you. He was the best I’ve known, but he wasn’t without human flaws and weaknesses. Please don’t think I compare you unfavorably to him in words or thoughts, as a man and a partner. In fact, if any man or agent can outshine Steven, it’s Navarro Breed.” Whoa, Beth, bridle that tongue and don’t give away your secrets!
Pride and elation made Navarro’s heart run fast. “I love my work and do it better than most. That’s no brag; the records prove my claim. But I wasn’t always a good man, Beth, and I may not be one now.”
Beth felt him shift his weight and lean closer to her, his chest touching her back and left arm. She did not move away, in case he was testing to see if she had an aversion to him. “Confidence and honesty aren’t the same as arrogance and boasting, partner. I know you have the first two traits, not the last two; and those are the ones needed in our work. But don’t live under the impression you aren’t a good man, because you are. Does it bother you that much you don’t have your father’s name?”
“I do use my father’s name.”
She leaned against him as she said, “Well, you have a right to it. That’s what I’d do, unless there’s a reason you wouldn’t want to use it. In view of the problems between Indians and whites, using your mother’s could make unnecessary trouble for you. I think you made a wise choice. How did your parents meet, if that isn’t being nosy? Were the problems between India
ns and whites why they didn’t marry?”
“My mother worked at a fort washing clothes and cooking for soldiers. Some of those Bluecoats are the lowest and meanest men bred; others were hardened by the war and losses twenty years past. Fighting, killing, and hating are all they know.”
As he spoke of his mother, she listened closely and caught a softness and undeniable love in his tone that pleased and warmed her.
“Morning Tears, that’s my mother’s name, was young and beautiful and innocent; small and gentle. But she wasn’t smart in some ways. Her family wanted the money soldiers paid for chores, so they forced her to keep returning there even when she had problems with them. The winters were cold and long, so supplies were needed to survive it; most raiding was halted or hindered by those same Bluecoats she slaved for. It didn’t seem to matter to her family and people that she was being insulted and groped at by those crude bastards.”
It sounded to her as if he was pushing the tormenting words through gritted teeth. “That’s terrible, Navarro; it must have been awful for her.”
“She was an obedient child, so she did as her family ordered; it was their way not to be defiant to parents and the tribe. When several of those snakes tried to crawl over her, Carl Breed supposedly rescued her by killing them. Nobody at the fort ever knew who did those murders. He tricked her into feelings of gratitude, so she became his squaw. He’d been nice to her when she’d done chores for him—I’m sure on the sly—to get her on a blanket when he could sneak away from the fort. In her eyes, he was a great and fearless warrior because he killed his own kind to save her. She thought she loved him, and maybe she did. Who can explain that crazy feeling? She made a wickiup close by for them to share. Her family and tribe ordered her to keep away from him and return home but she refused; she chose Carl over them, so she was dishonored and banished. Things could have been fine for them, except Carl was worse than those bastards who attacked her. He’d been watching her for a long time and wanted her, but not because he loved her; Carl Breed loved nobody except himself. He was mean and low, and that’s no lie.”
Chase The Wind Page 14