Apache Flame

by Madeline Baker

  The smoke was another matter. It enveloped him in an acrid gray cloud.

  Seeing movement in the underbrush, he reined his horse to a halt and dismounted; then, war club in hand, he wound his way through the trees, a faint smile on his lips. She was there, and he would have her.

  He came to an abrupt halt as a gust of wind cleared the smoke and a warrior stepped into view. An Apache warrior.

  Elk Chaser raised his war club as a Comanche warrior materialized out of the smoke. A harsh cry rose in his throat as he sprang forward. The other man was younger, swifter, and he quickly ducked out of the way. Spinning around, the Comanche lunged forward, his own war club lifted high. Elk Chaser was ready for him and they came together, clubs swinging.

  Elk Chaser grunted as his foot slipped on a sprinkling of pine needles and he went down on one knee. Hands locked on the ends of his war club, he held it over his head to ward off the Comanche’s attack.

  A long ululating cry filled the air as Cheis and Diyehii ran forward to help Elk Chaser. With the ease of long practice, Diyehii put arrow to bow string and let it fly. The arrow caught the Comanche in the chest, driving him backward, until he was lost in the smoke.

  Elk Chaser gained his feet, then peered into the distance. The fire was at the trees now. There was no chance of riding through it, no hope of finding White Robe’s son, or the girl he had come to rescue.

  He was lamenting the fact that he would have to tell White Robe that her son was truly lost to her this time when he heard the sound of horses approaching.

  Fearing the Comanches had found them, he motioned for Diyehii and Cheis to take cover.

  Like shadows hiding from the sun, the three warriors ducked into the underbrush just as a pair of horses burst into view through the heavy smoke.

  Elk Chaser sprang from cover, frantically waving his arms as he recognized White Robe’s son. “Otter,” he called. “Over here!”

  Surprised to see the man, Mitch jerked hard on the reins to keep from running him down.

  “I see you found the woman,” Elk Chaser said.

  Mitch nodded. “Mount up and ride like hell,” he said as he spurred his horse forward. “They’re right behind us!”

  Elk Chaser, Cheis, and Diyehii quickly mounted their horses and took off after Mitch and the woman. Elk Chaser heard the war cries of the Comanche, noted the change in their voices as they came upon the body of their fallen comrade.

  Elk Chaser urged his horse forward, away from the Comanche, away from the flames. Foxes and deer, rabbits and quail fled before him, seeking refuge from the approaching inferno.

  It wasn’t a wide stretch of woods and before long, they cleared the trees into the prairie beyond. Mitch had counted on the trees slowing the fire, giving them time to escape to the clearing on the other side. He looked back once to make sure Elk Chaser and the other two warriors were behind him, and then he rode for the foothills until they came to a draw that wound through a stretch of hard, rocky ground that would make tracking them difficult. Right now, his only concern was getting Alisha to safety.

  Elk Chaser slowed his horse, looking back. Cheis and Diyehii were coming up fast behind him, and behind them, the Comanches.

  “Let us hold them here,” Elk Chaser said, thinking to give White Robe’s son and the woman time to get away.

  “Ai!” Cheis agreed.

  Elk Chaser was reaching for his bow when the arrow found him. He doubled over, his breath leaving his body in a harsh gasp of pain, as the slender shaft buried itself in his back. His horse bucked and squealed as a second arrow pierced its hindquarters.

  “You go ahead, with your son,” Diyehii called. “Cheis and I will try to hold them off.”

  “No,” Elk Chaser said, biting off each word as he fought against the pain in his back. “I will stay and fight.”

  “Go!” Cheis yelled. “You are wounded. You cannot fight!”

  Elk Chaser knew Cheis was right. He could feel himself weakening; it was an effort to stay in the saddle. He would be of little help now; if his friends were worried over his safety, they might not give their full attention to the battle at hand. The draw was narrow. With luck, Diyehii and Cheis would be able to pick off the Comanches one by one.

  Clutching the saddle horn with one hand, Elk Chaser urged his horse after Otter.

  * * * * *

  Mitch slowed his horse to a trot, then reined the animal to a halt. Moments later, Alisha rode up beside him. He didn’t know where the hell they were, but right now it didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding a place to hide from the Comanches.

  Leaning out of the saddle, he reached over and squeezed Alisha’s hand. “Are you all right?”

  “I guess so.” She glanced anxiously over her shoulder. “Shouldn’t we go on?”

  “Yeah, as soon as I figure out which way to go.”

  “You don’t know?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never been in this part of the country before. Near as I can tell, that’s north. The rancheria should be that way. Right now, we need to find a place to hide, and right quick.”

  She nodded. “Lucky for me that you were here.”

  “It wasn’t luck. I was looking for you.”

  “You were? How did you know I was here?”

  “We found Clements. He told us.”

  “He’s alive?”

  “He was, last I saw him.”

  “Thank the Lord. I was sure he was dead.”

  At the sound of hoofbeats, Alisha glanced over her shoulder, gasped when she saw an Indian riding toward them. She released a sigh of relief when she recognized him as the Indian Mitch had spoken to earlier.

  Mitch started to ask Elk Chaser where the other two warriors were when Elk Chaser slumped forward and Mitch saw the arrow protruding from his back.

  Mitch swore under his breath. Dismounting, he handed the bay’s reins to Alisha, then hurried to Elk Chaser’s side. Reaching up, he placed his hand over the warrior’s heart, relieved to feel the faint rise and fall of the man’s chest.

  “Is he dead?” Alisha asked.

  “No.” Mitch glanced around as he heard gunshots from the far end of the draw. Damn! Apparently at least one of the Comanches had a rifle. “We’ve got to get out of here. Come on.”

  Walking beside Elk Chaser’s wounded horse to make sure the warrior didn’t slip off the animal’s back, Mitch headed down the draw. As they reached the end of the draw, the sandy bottom gradually turned to hard rocky ground that wouldn’t hold a print. And then, like the answer to a prayer, he spied what looked like a cave cut into the side of a low hill.

  “Wait here.” Handing the reins to Alisha, he scrambled up the rocky hillside to check it out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The cave was long and narrow and just high enough to allow the horses inside. Mitch lifted Elk Chaser from the back of his horse and lowered him gently to the ground.

  Turning, he lifted Alisha from Sophie’s back, then led all three horses toward the rear of the cave.

  “Is he going to be all right?” Alisha asked. She took off her hat and tossed it aside, then ran a hand through her hair.

  “I don’t know. He’s unconscious.” Which was probably a blessing, Mitch thought, all things considered.

  “What do you think happened to the others?”

  Mitch hesitated, wondering if she wanted the truth.

  “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

  “I’d say that was a good guess.”

  “What if they find us, the Comanches?”

  “Let’s not worry about that now,” Mitch said. “Why don’t you take a look in Elk Chaser’s war bag and see what he’s got in there?”

  Alisha nodded, glad to have something to do, something to think about besides the danger that lay outside the cave.

  Mitch knelt beside Elk Chaser. The warrior was unconscious, his breathing slow and shallow. A fine sheen of sweat coated his brow. Drawing his knife, Mitch slit Elk Chaser’s shirt up the back, exposing the w
ound.

  The arrow was solidly embedded in the warrior’s back. Had it been a little more to the left, had it penetrated a little deeper, it would have pierced his heart.

  Mitch swore softly, wondering whether he should try to remove the shaft. There was little bleeding now, but all that would change as soon as he started digging the arrowhead out.

  He looked up as Alisha knelt across from him. “Find anything we can use?”

  “Some jerky, and a flint.” She pointed at the small buckskin bag dangling from a thong around Elk Chaser’s neck. “What’s that?”

  “His medicine bag.”

  She looked at him, a question in her eyes.

  “It contains his personal medicine.”

  “What kind of medicine? Is he sick? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s not that kind of medicine. It holds objects that represent his power.” Mitch thought a minute. “Sort of like a Catholic wearing a cross, or someone carrying a rabbit’s foot.”

  “Good luck charms, you mean?”

  Mitch nodded. “I guess you could call it that.” He slipped the thong over Elk Chaser’s neck. Every Apache always carried a bit of hoddentin with him, and Elk Chaser was no exception. There was a small pouch of it inside the bag, together with a piece of turquoise and a blue feather.

  Mitch put the hoddentin sack to one side, and closed the medicine bag. Hoddentin was a kind of powder made from tule. His mother had told him that hoddentin was made by the shaman and believed to possess powerful medicine. A pinch of it was thrown toward the sun at planting time to insure a bountiful harvest, or as an offering when a war party set out. It was sprinkled on the bodies of the deceased. It was eaten by the sick, and said to restore the strength to one who was exhausted.

  Perhaps it would stanch the bleeding if they removed the arrow from Elk Chaser’s back.

  He looked up at Alicia. “You know anything about doctorin’?”

  “Not really.” She glanced at the arrow protruding from Elk Chaser’s back. The sight of it made her stomach roil. “That should probably come out.”

  “Yeah.”

  There was no point in putting it off any longer. The arrow had to come out; infection was sure to set in otherwise.

  “What are you going to use for bandages?” she asked.

  “I was thinkin’ about your petticoat.”

  Alisha nodded. While he ducked outside to gather some brush for a fire, she removed her petticoat, wishing, for the first time, that she had worn more than one. After tearing off the ruffle, she tore the rest into strips.

  Ten minutes later, they were ready. Mitch had ducked outside and gathered an armful of brush and sticks and now a small fire burned near the back of the cave.

  She watched him withdraw a long-bladed knife from the sheath on his belt, and shuddered. “You aren’t going to cut the arrow out with that, are you?”

  “It’s all I’ve got.” He held the blade over the flames.

  She glanced at the knife sheathed on Elk Chaser’s belt, and sighed. It appeared to be of a similar size.

  Neither of them spoke as they waited for the blade to cool.

  “All right,” Mitch said. “You sit by his head and try to keep him still while I cut.”

  Taking a deep breath, Alisha knelt near Elk Chaser’s head, trying not to think of what was to come.

  “If you know any prayers,” Mitch remarked as he straddled Elk Chaser’s legs, “this might be a good time to say ‘em.”

  She couldn’t watch, couldn’t imagine cutting into human flesh. A low moan rose in Elk Chaser’s throat and he began to thrash about.

  “Hold him!” Mitch exclaimed, and she put her hands on Elk Chaser’s shoulders, using her weight to hold him down.

  She turned her head to the side, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t shut out Elk Chaser’s cries of pain, or the sound of Mitch’s knife rending living flesh. She heard him swear once and she looked up, her gaze meeting his.

  “Damn knife slipped,” he muttered.

  She nodded, bile rising in her throat as she caught a glimpse of the raw, angry wound, the blood that covered Elk Chaser’s back.

  She closed her eyes, stifling the urge to vomit as Mitch turned his attention to the task at hand.

  After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than twenty minutes, the arrow was out.

  Mitch soaked up the blood with the ruffle off her petticoat. When the bleeding had slowed, he packed the wound with hoddentin, then cut a length of petticoat, folded it into a thick square and placed it over the wound. A long piece of Alisha’s petticoat held it in place.

  Mitch sat back, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Well, I’ve done all I can. The rest is up to him.”

  “What do we do now?”

  It was a good question, Mitch thought. He only wished he had a good answer. Elk Chaser’s horse couldn’t travel, so if they decided to make a run for it, one horse would have to carry double, which would slow them down. Even if Elk Chaser’s horse was sound, they’d have to travel slow with frequent stops. Still, all other concerns aside, Mitch was afraid that moving Elk Chaser now would kill him.

  “Shouldn’t we do something for his horse?”

  Rising, he went to look at Elk Chaser’s horse. The horse snorted and shook his head at his approach.

  “Easy, fella,” Mitch said. “I just wanna have a look.”

  “Is he going to be all right?”

  “Come here, ‘Lisha.” His childhood name for her came easily to his lips, reminding him of warm carefree days by the river.

  She came to stand beside him. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m gonna cut a few inches off the shaft to ease some of the strain. I’m afraid he might scrape it against the wall and drive it in deeper.”

  “Why don’t you take it out?”

  Mitch glanced around the cave. “Not in here. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you getting kicked, or run the risk of Elk Chaser getting stomped by a bronc loco with pain. Here.” He handed her the horse’s reins. “Stand beside his shoulder. You won’t get kicked there. And keep a tight hold on him. He isn’t gonna like this. Easy, fella,” he said, moving up alongside the horse. “Easy now.”

  Taking hold of the shaft, Mitch broke it in two, so that only a few inches protruded from the horse’s rump.

  The horse squealed and lashed out with its hind legs. Mitch grabbed hold of the bridle. “Hey, now, quit that.” He looked at Alisha over horse’s back. “Get Elk Chaser’s medicine bag and sprinkle some of that hoddentin around the arrow, will you?”

  With a nod, she did as he asked. She watched him walk around the horse’s head. “What are we going to do about getting out of here?”

  “I don’t know.” He patted the horse on the shoulder, then walked to the cave’s entrance and peered through a narrow crack in the brush he had used to camouflage the cave. All seemed quiet, and then, in the distance, he saw a rider quartering the ground. So, the Comanches were looking for them. “We sure enough need help, but we aren’t likely to find any out here.”

  “Then you’re got to go and find some.”

  She had followed him to the mouth of the cave, and now he glanced at her over his shoulder. “And leave you here alone?”

  “What else can we do? Elk Chaser’s horse is wounded, but even if it wasn’t, he’s in no condition to travel anyway.”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

  “We can’t leave him here alone, either. And I’d only slow you down. You’ll be able to travel much faster alone, won’t you?”

  He nodded in reluctant agreement.

  “I think you should go for help.”

  “Dammit, ‘Lisha, I’m not gonna ride off and leave you here alone.”

  “I’ll be all right.” She put on a brave smile. “I’m not afraid.”

  He didn’t like the idea of leaving her, but she was right. If he rode straight through, he could reach the rancheria early tomorrow morning and be back the following
night. She had enough food and water to last until then. If the worst happened and the Comanches found the cave, they weren’t likely to kill her. He glanced at Elk Chaser. The Comanches would kill the old warrior for sure, but it was a risk Mitch would have to take. They couldn’t just sit here, doing nothing.

  “You know I’m right,” Alisha said. “Don’t you?”

  He grunted softly as he drew her away from the cave’s entrance. “When were you ever wrong?”

  “I was wrong to let you go,” she whispered.

  “I was wrong to leave you.”

  “Hurry back.”

  “You know I will.” He drew her into his arms. “If they find you, do whatever they say, understand? Don’t make them angry. Don’t give them any cause to kill you. Just wait for me. I’ll come for you, I promise.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes filled with trust. “I know.”

  “There’s some food in my saddlebags. Not much, just jerky and ashcakes.”

  “Ashcakes?” She grimaced. “It’s not what it sounds like, is it?”

  “No. They’re made of ground mesquite beans, tallow and honey. There’s enough food and water to last the two of you a couple of days.”

  “We’ll be fine,” she said, and her voice hardly quivered at all.

  “‘Lisha.”

  She looked up at him. Time was growing short. Soon he would be gone and she might never see him again. “I love you, Mitchy,” she said fervently. “I’ve always loved you.”

  He swore a short pithy oath, and then he kissed her. And everything else ceased to exist. The years fell away and nothing in the world mattered except the fact that she was back in his arms, where she belonged.

  Mitch breathed her name, and then he kissed her again.

  Heat flowed through her limbs and she clung to him, the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control.

  She felt bereft when he took his mouth from hers.

  “I won’t fail you, ‘Lisha,” he said solemnly.

  She nodded, too close to tears to speak.

  “Here.” He opened his saddlebags and pulled out his extra Colt. “Keep this handy, just in case.”

  She took it, even though she knew she would never be able to use it. It was heavier than she had expected, and she had to hold it with both hands to keep from dropping it.