Woman of Three Worlds
Page 28
“I will do it,” Zach promised. “I will do for you anything that is not a betrayal of my people.”
“You are a man,” Kah-Tay said. “My son can be that even if Ussen wills that he not be a warrior.”
When all the women in Sara’s wickiup retired, Brittany said, “I will never forget you. If there is any way that I can help you or Jody or your brother, I would be glad.”
“Only Ussen knows,” the medicine woman said. She laughed wryly. “Since it seems your tall scout is always being threatened with death by some widow, you had better keep him safe at home. There’s a limit to the number of wives my brother can take to buy him free.”
She put her arms around Brittany. They stood like that for a long time.
Kah-Tay had ransomed Zach’s horse. Early next morning Jody brought the gelding and La Dorada into camp. Brittany gave him all the dates and dried peaches she had left, and Sara gave the travelers enough jerky for the rest of the trip. Unable to keep tears from her eyes as she embraced Sara and Jody, Brittany brushed them away before she shook hands with Kah-Tay.
“Asoog’d,” she said again.
Something coursed between them before he turned away. At the edge of the camp, she turned to wave. He was already gone, but Jody and Sara raised their hands. Blindly following Zach, Brittany hoped they might somehow be able to live out their lives here. For Kah-Tay death would be better than the reservation.
The precarious descent, during most of which they led their horses, didn’t encourage conversation. In any case, embarrassed by the confession Kah-Tay had forced from her, Brittany didn’t know how to speak to Zach. It was almost noon when they reached the bottom of the mountain and turned north. They exchanged only a few remarks when they stopped to rest the horses and eat, but when they halted for the night, Zach spoke gruffly, face turned from her as he unsaddled the horses.
“I have to thank you for telling Kah-Tay what you did. Must have been tough. But you don’t have to worry. I know why you did it.” He slung one saddle over a fallen log and moved to uncinch the other. “You don’t have to worry that I’ll take advantage.”
She stared at his back in amazement. What could he be getting at? Then, with savage pain, she understood. He wouldn’t try to make love to her now that she’d been forced to say she loved him. Oh no, he wouldn’t be that dishonorable! He’d take her back to Erskine and claim his reward.
Unfastening one of the food packs, she said coldly, “I appreciate your—scruples. Let’s say no more about it.” Her heart ached, but she wasn’t going to let him know that.
Five days later they struck the road where Harris had been killed late last summer. Less than a year ago, yet it seemed to Brittany that since then she had lived two lifetimes, one with the Apaches, one at Los Caciques. She had learned different ways, loved and grieved for people who had once been enemies. She was a changed person from the one Kah-Tay had abducted at this spot.
Things here had changed too. Was there a marker for Michael O’Shea in the cemetery? If not, she’d see that there was one. Though they were passing familiar places, the laundresses’ quarters, the post trader’s, and approaching the parade ground, she couldn’t shake a sense of unreality. She felt like a ghost.
“I’ll take you to the major’s,” Zach said. “Then I’ll stop at headquarters and tell the colonel you’re back.”
Hitching their mounts, he escorted Brittany to the major’s porch. She cast a sidelong glance at him but could detect no pleasure in his grim face. Strange. She’d expected him to be exhilarated at getting her off his hands and receiving that thrice-cursed reward.
Mrs. Harmon answered his staccato rap. She gaped at Brittany and was in mid scream at the Apache before her when Laurie rushed past to hug Brittany’s legs.
“Brittany! Brittany! Where’s Jody?”
Kneeling to embrace her, Brittany laughed through her tears, for the first time having the feel of homecoming. “Jody’s with his father, darling. He’s happier there. But he remembers you. He sent you a lovely piece of turquoise.”
“Bless us!” cried Mrs. Harmon. “You fair gave me a start, Miss Brittany. I never hoped to see you again, but Major Hugh, he always swore your were alive, that you’d be back.” She dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. “I’m sorry he didn’t live to see the day.”
Not believing her ears, Brittany got slowly to her feet. “What? Major Erskine—?”
The housekeeper struggled to master her sobs. Laurie started crying and Brittany bent down to her again, holding her close as Mrs. Harmon said brokenly, “He was killed on patrol last week. Apaches. His men fought them off and brought in his body. We’ll have to vacate these quarters, but the colonel let us stay till I could write the major’s sister. I was taking Laurie back east on the stage as soon as I got us packed, but now you’re here—”
Her face lightened. Glancing down at Laurie, she said urgently, “Mr. Tyrell, if you’d stay with Laurie a few minutes, I need to talk with Miss Brittany.”
He nodded. Shocked as he must have been at hearing Erskine was dead and his travails possibly for nothing, he squatted down and smiled at Laurie, whose sobbing ebbed as she stared curiously at this big, handsome man.
“How’d you like a little ride?” he asked her. “Want to come up to headquarters with me?”
“She can ride La Dorada,” Brittany called as she followed Mrs. Harmon inside.
“It’s in the major’s will,” Mrs. Harmon insisted at Brittany’s startled protest. “If you returned, he wanted you to be Laurie’s guardian and left you the management of his estate till she’s grown, along with a direct bequest that it be yours whether you accept charge of Laurie or not. There’s a provision that the reward be paid for your rescue, and, of course, bless him, he left me a tidy living.” She snuffled, cleared her throat, and looked entreatingly at Brittany. “Please take her. She moped so after you were lost, she was almost as bad as the major. I’d love to stay and help, Miss Brittany, but I can’t teach her lady ways.”
Raise the little girl she loved? Brittany didn’t have to ponder. “Of course I’ll take care of her!”
Mrs. Harmon pressed her hand. “I just hope Major Hugh can know that.” Her tone changed. She wrinkled her nose at the stong smell of woodsmoke and travel permeating Brittany’s buckskins. “And now, my dear, let’s find you some civilized clothes!”
By the time Brittany had bathed, washed her hair, and put on one of her old gowns, Mrs. Shaw, the colonel, Bridget O’Malley, and Regina were waiting in the parlor. Regina wept prettily, embracing her astonished cousin. Mrs. Shaw kissed her warmly, and Bridget enveloped her in a crushing hug, murmuring, “I’ll be spavined if you’re not a sight for sore eyes!”
“Welcome home, Miss Brittany.” The colonel took her hands, squeezed them tight, and kissed her forehead. “Welcome from us all.” He smiled at Zach, who stood in the corner near Laurie, who had a firm grip on his hand. “You’re quite a scout, Tyrell. If you ever want to sign up again, just let me know.”
“I don’t reckon that’ll happen, sir,” said Zach. Bending to kiss Laurie, he straightened and gave Brittany a fathomless look. “So long, Miss Laird. I’m glad it’s all worked out for you.”
He turned. Laurie’s mouth quivered. Brittany called, “The reward, Mr. Tyrell! The major provided for it in his will.”
“The reward?” Jaw hardening, he glared at her. “Just add it to the rest of what your fiancé left you.”
She blinked. “Fiancé?”
“Well, wasn’t he?” Zach demanded. At the look on her face, something altered in those deep blue eyes. “Maybe,” he said slowly, “maybe we need to have a talk. Excuse us, Colonel, ladies.”
Catching her wrist, he almost dragged her into the kitchen, and firmly shut the door. Confronting her, he said carefully, “Now then, let’s get this straight! Erskine said you were engaged to him.”
“I wasn’t! He never even suggested such a thing.”
“Then he certainly had it strongly in mind
.” Frowning at her, Zach said accusingly, “How come, then, he offered such a reward?”
“I don’t know.” She remembered, though, how he had talked to her some evenings as if she’d been a wife, and her eyes filled with tears for the proud, lonely man.
She turned to hide them. Zach’s voice drilled into her. “Did you love him?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Did he have to strip away the tatters of dignity she was trying to hold around her? “You went through a lot for that reward. Take it and leave me alone!”
He said something very rude about the reward. Seizing her shoulders, he swung her about to face him. “Did you really think I went down in Apache country for that?” he demanded, blazing eyes turning her weak. “That I trailed you to Alamos and back this way?”
“Then … then why?”
He brought up her face and kissed her. Wild sweet rapture surged between them, joining them till she wondered how she could ever have doubted. When at last they drew apart, she said wonderingly, tracing his throat with her fingers, “You hunted for me when you thought you’d be bringing me back to marry Erskine!”
He laughed huskily, shaking his head. “You meant it when you told Kah-Tay I was your man!” He frowned at her in sudden worry. “But if that’s true, why did you almost marry Don Roque?”
When she’d explained that, he had to take her in his arms again. While they were still embraced, there was a knock on the door. “If there’s to be a wedding, I get to give the bride away,” Colonel Shaw called.
“And I get to be bridesmaid!” Laurie shouted.
Zach smiled down at Brittany, holding her against his heart. “They can be whatever they want,” he whispered. “Just so I’m your man.”
She sighed and took great pleasure in showing him he was.
Author’s Note
I want to thank my neighbor Edna Hastings for fanning my interest in Fort Bowie and giving me some material about it. Very special thanks to Wilton “Bill” Hoy, of Fort Bowie National Historic Site, who has very generously supplied answers to many questions, discussed the life of the fort, and shared with me his knowledge about this place he loves and has done so much to preserve. I have visited many old posts, but Fort Bowie, cradled in the mountains and reached only by a foot trail, is unique, flag still flying above the silent parade ground in the middle of crumbling adobes. It’s called Camp Bowie in my book because it was so known in 1876. In 1879 it resumed the name of Fort.
For fictional purposes, I have children attending school at the post, though actually the school only accommodated enlisted men. Apart from this, I have tried to be as accurate as possible in showing life at this frontier post in 1876. Kah-Tay and his band are fictional, but the other Apache leaders mentioned are not, and the historical background is as faithful to fact as I could make it.
The following sources helped, and would interest anyone who wishes to learn more about Apaches, the frontier army, or the charming Mexican city of Alamos. A Clash of Cultures: Fort Bowie and the Chiricahua Apaches, by Robert M. Utley, National Park Service, Washington, D.C., 1977; Glittering Misery: Dependents of the Indian Fighting Army, by Patricia Y. Stallard, co-published by The Presidio Press, San Rafael, CA and The Old Army Press, Ft. Collins, CO, 1978; Southwestern Town, by Vernon B. Schultz, University of Arizona Press, Tucson, AZ, 1964; Forty Miles a Day on Beans and Hay, by Don Rickey, Jr., University of Oklahoma Press, Norman, OK, 1963; “The History of Fort Bowie,” by Richard Murray, master’s thesis, University of Arizona, 1951; Fort Bowie: Its Physical Evolution, 1862–1894, by Jerome A. Greene, National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior, Denver, CO, 1980; Fort Bowie Material Culture, by Robert Herskovitz, Anthropological Papers #31, University of Arizona Press, Tucson, AZ, 1978; Dateline Fort Bowie, by Charles Lummis, edited by Dan L. Thrapp, University of Oklahoma Press, Norman, OK, 1979; Arizona Territory 1863–1912, by Jay J. Wagoner, University of Arizona Press, Tucson, AZ, 1970; The Horse Soldier, vol. II, by Randy Steffen, University of Oklahoma, Norman, OK, 1978; “Apache Pass and Old Fort Bowie” by R. A. Mulligan, The Smoke Signal, published by the Tucson Corral of the Westerners, Spring 1965.
Eve Ball’s Indeh, Brigham Young University Press, Provo, UT, 1980, and In the Days of Victorio, University of Arizona Press, Tucson, AZ, 1970, are the result of the many years in which Eve knew Apaches. Gaining their friendship and confidence, she has written these wonderful accounts from their standpoints. The People Called Apache, by Thomas E. Mails, Prentice-Hall, New York, 1974, is beautifully illustrated by the author and is a veritable encyclopedia of Apache customs, clothing, and way of living. An overview of Apache history is given in the excellent The Apaches, by Donald Worcester, University of Oklahoma Press, Norman, OK, 1979. Don, who cowboyed with Apaches in his young days, was called by them “The Blond Apache.” Other fine studies about the Apaches are Western Apache Raiding and Warfare, from the notes of Grenville Goodwin, edited by Keith H. Basso, University of Arizona Press, Tucson, AZ, 1973; Apaches: A History and Culture Portrait, by James L. Haley, Doubleday, New York, 1981; The Apache Indians, by Gordon Baldwin, Four Winds Press, New York, 1978.
I appreciate the suggestions and advice of Dr. C. L. Sonnichsen and wish to thank the staff of the Arizona Heritage Center, Tucson, for assistance in tracking down some obscure facts.
For the Alamos section, I thank Ida Luisa Franklin for inviting me to her restored mansion, Las Delicias. Writer, painter, and gracious lady, she makes the colonial city glow in her tales of ghosts and old houses. The Almadas and Alamos, by Albert Stagg, University of Arizona Press, Tucson, AZ, 1978, tells the story of the city through the fortunes of one aristocratic family and makes fascinating reading.
For anyone who wants to try eating some of the plants used by the Apaches, Carolyn Niethammer’s American Indian Food and Lore, Macmillan, New York, 1974, is an indispensable resource.
Appreciation is also due Gloria Maender, who wrought fair copy out of my marked-over pages; to my husband, Bob Morse, who watched for details of birds and natural history; and to my thorough and talented editor, Michaela Hamilton.
Jeanne Foster
Cave Creek Canyon, Arizona
August 1982
About the Author
Born on the High Plains near the tracks of the Santa Fe Trail, Jeanne Williams’s first memories are of dust storms, tumbleweeds, and cowboy songs. Her debut novel, Tame the Wild Stallion, was published in 1957. Since then, Williams has published sixty-eight more books, most with the theme of losing one’s home and identity and beginning again with nothing but courage and hope, as in the Spur Award–winning The Valiant Women (1980). She was recently inducted into the Western Writers Hall of Fame, and has won four Western Writers of America Spur Awards and the Levi Strauss Saddleman Award. For over thirty years, Williams has lived in the Chiricahua Mountains of southeastern Arizona.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1984, 2000 by Jeanne Williams
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3635-1
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