Apache Summer sb-3

by Heather Graham

  during the war."

  "There was nothing like that during the war" -- "Jamie came from the

  Kansas and Missouri border.

  There was all kinds of stuff like that."

  "Yes, but the war's over now," Dolly interrupted mat- ter-of-factly.

  "We need to put it behind us. Bless us and save us! It's been five

  years!

  And Mr. Grant is president now" -- "Mr. Grant could use some help out

  here in the west," Jon said dryly.

  He smiled again at Tess.

  "Ever been to London?"

  She shook her head.

  "I've n~ver be~n out of Texas."

  "Now that is a great loss. A girl like you ought to s~ the world." Jamie

  was heading toward them.

  "Miss. Stuart, you ar~ welcome to travel with me at any time, in fact,

  I'd consider it quite an honor."

  Jamie was scowling. Tess lowered her lashes, knowing that Jon had said

  the words strictly for Jamie's benefit.

  Jamie's great roan stallion was prancing around.

  "We seem to be clear for quite a while ahead. Jon, want to ride again?

  I'll take over the reins for a while."

  "Sure thing." Jon pulled in on the reins. He started to hop down while

  Jamie dismounted from his horse. Tess looked at Jamie.

  "I do appreciate your concern, but I've scarcely taken the reins myself"

  -- "Miss. Stuart, I'll drive the wagon for a while now. After all, we

  wouldn't want to ruin the hands of a newspaper woman."

  Dolly slapped her on the knee.

  "You let him drivel" she said, then she yawned.

  "I think I'll ride in back for a while."

  She smiled at Tess like a self-satisfied cat and crawled into the back

  of the wagon. Tess watched her stretch out on Uncle Joe's bunk. Jamie

  climbed up beside her and took the reins. Jon had untied his pinto from

  the back of the wagon.

  "I'll ride on ahead," he said.

  Jamie nodded. Tess was left alone beside Jamie, very aware of the heat

  of his thigh despite the heat of the day.

  They rode in silence, and the silence se~med to stretch on and on.

  Finally Jamie drawled out, "You made it on time this morning. Did you

  manage to have a good night's sleep?"

  "Yes, I did," she lied pleasantly. She turned to him with her eyes

  innocently wide.

  "What about you, Lieutenant?

  Did you manage to have any sleep at all?" He studied her eyes, then

  smiled slowly.

  "Yes, I slept."

  He didn't elaborate and Tess was infuriated. She wanted some kind of an

  answer on this subject, and he was determined not to give her one.

  "You seem to have been having a darned nice morning," he commented.

  "Have I?"

  "I've known Jon Red Feather a long time now. I've never known him to

  talk so much."

  "He's charming."

  Jamie grunted. He flashed her a quick gaze and gave his attention to the

  road once again.

  "And I'm not?"

  "No. You're impudent, insolent and a royal pain, Lieutenant Slater."

  "Oh, is that so? Then why were you so anxious for my company?"

  She inhaled sharply, staring at him.

  "Because you can shoot," she said flatly.

  "Why, thank you, Miss. Stuart! Thank you kindly. And you threw yourself

  right into my arms the other morning, half naked and all, just because I

  shoot."

  "Right. Wrong! I was not half naked" -- "You felt as if you were."

  "Lieutenant, you are a scurvy, low-down, no-good rodent-"

  "But a no-good rodent who can shoot, right?"

  "Precisely, Lieutenant," she said with a touch of silk. He nodded,

  looking ahead.

  "You are awfully determined to stay in Wiltshire, Miss. Stuart.

  Couldn't you run a newspaper somewhere else?"

  "I could. But I wouldn't own the good cattle land that Joe" -- She

  paused.

  "Well, it's all mine now."

  "Is your life worth the land?"

  "You don't understand. It's not just the land. Somebody needs to stand

  against this man."

  "You do want it desperately."

  He was watching her curiously, the hint of a curve to his lips. She

  frowned, wondering what he was up to.

  "Yes. I do want it desperately. He killed Joe. He might not have ridden

  with the men, but he killed Joe. And I'm going to bring him down."

  "With the help of a scurvy rodent who can shoot."

  "With whatever help I can get. And you do believe me about the attack, I

  know you do."

  He shrugged.

  "Maybe. I've still got my reservations, but I do intend to go into

  Wiltshire with you."

  "And that's all?" she asked, horrified.

  He smiled.

  "Just what, Miss. Stuart, do you want out of me? Spell it out. We might

  need to come to a few terms here."

  "But, but" -- she sputtered.

  "But you said you'd find out the truth!

  You told Clara"--" I told Clara I'd find out the truth. I didn't tell

  her that I'd go to war on your behalf."

  "Bastard!" Tess spat out the epithet.

  "Calm down, Miss. Stuart! Such language from a very proper and genteel

  young Southern woman! I told you, say what you want, and we'll take it

  from there."

  "What I want? Well, I ... I want you to stay! Then when he sends his

  guns, I'll have my guns!"

  "Jon Red Feather and I against a horde of hired gunmen. Mm. I should

  stand tall and let this man pump me full of bullets for the benefit of

  having you call me a scurvy rodent?"

  Tess caught her breath and tried to control her temper. She lowered her

  lashes and counted to ten, then kept going to twenty, then started all

  over again because he was laughing at her.

  She moved suddenly, and he must have thought that she meant to strike

  him because he cast an imprisoning 97 arm around her. She stiffened in

  his hold.

  "Lieutenant, this is completely unnecessary."

  "Is it? I can't help but feel cautious around you, Miss. Stuart."

  She swore softly.

  He laughed.

  "Go ahead! Laugh!" she said angrily.

  "And just run like a cur with its tail between its legs-when we get to

  Wiltshire."

  "A cur? I thought I was a rodent."

  "I can't find words for what you are, Lieutenant."

  "Pity," he drawled. His eyes were on her, smoke and fire.

  His arm was warm and strong around her. The heat of the sun bore down on

  them, and she felt as if it touched her and brought a liquid rush

  throughout her. She could not draw her eyes from his, nor could she

  dispel the sudden, brilliant memory of his lips upon hers.

  "We could bargain, Miss. Stuart."

  "Bargain?"

  "Yes. If I'm going to die, I'd like it to be for a little more than a

  smile."

  She stared at him. She felt a heat like that of the sun suffuse

  throughout her body, bringing a rampant beat to her heart, a flood of

  burning red to her cheeks and a tremor deep inside her. He could only

  mean one thing, she was certain. If he was going to stay, he wanted her.

  She should have been outraged. She should have been able to say that he

  could be damned, that her honor was worth far more than her life.

  Except that. T
here was something that washed over the outrage 'like the

  deep, rich waves of the ocean. It was the same thing that caused the

  pulse to beat ever more fervently in the column of her throat, the thing

  that held her speechless. He watched her, that wry smile twisted so

  tauntingly into his features. He was horrid. He was awful.

  He was exciting, sensual, masculine. The scent of him beguiled her, just

  as his arms beckoned and just as his kiss evoked feelings inside that

  she would never be able to forget.

  She couldn't just stare at him. She moistened her lips and swallowed

  quickly, vowing that she would never let him know just how deeply he did

  affect her. "Did you bargain with Miss. Eliza, Lieutenant?"

  "Is she still on your mind?"

  "Is she on yours?"

  He cast back his head and laughed.

  "The situation is not at all amusing, Lieutenant."

  "Oh, but it is, Miss. Stuart, it's very rich. As you might have noticed,

  I didn't really need to bargain with Miss. Worthingham.

  If that's what you were inferring. And yet, I didn't happen to mention

  yet what our bargain should be. Alas, I could see it in those huge,

  innocent, violet eyes! He wants to sully my honor, this cavalry man. For

  the price of a pair of spitting Colts! Her heart beats, and she

  wonders-my cause! This is my cause! Shouldn't I lay down my honor and my

  pride, and give all to this wretched rodent-all for my cause?"

  "Someone should shoot you," Tess warned him. "Well, you're trying to

  make me into a target, aren't you?

  Ah, but then maybe, just maybe, I could die with the exquisite Miss.

  Stuart's kiss still damp upon my lips."

  She squirmed. She did intend to slap him. "Whoa, Miss. Stuart!" He

  laughed, and his arm wound even tighter against her. They were sitting

  like newlyweds, she thought disgustedly. She was halfway atop his lap

  and she could barely move.

  "Lieutenant, you're squashing me!"

  "I'm trying to save my jaw, Miss. Stuart! Now calm down. You are

  desperate, aren't you?" His eyes looked into hers, and a hard note crept

  into his voice.

  "You would do anything--anything at all that I asked. How very

  intriguing."

  "Jamie Slater" -- "Jamie!"

  A sharp call from Jon caught their attention. Jamie's arm fell from

  around her shoulder, and he leaned forward, reining in. Jon was riding

  hard toward them. "What is it?" "Company," Jon said.

  "Comanche?"

  "Yep."

  "How many?"

  "Fifty at least. They're covering the hill over the next dune."

  "Is it a war party?"

  "They're out in feathers and paint, but I think it's a show. I'm pretty

  sure it's Running River."

  Tess watched as Jamie climbed from the wagon. She wondered if she should

  be frightened, and she wondered with greater exasperation if he should

  be walking away from her without a thought. He disappeared behind the

  wagon, then reappeared on his roan.

  "Let's go see Running River," he told Jon. "Wait a minute" -- Tess

  began.

  "You wanted to drive the wagon," Jamie called.

  "Pick up the reins.

  Drive."

  Then he turned, and he and Jon raced forward. Swearing beneath her

  breath, Tess picked up the reins and called to the mules. They started

  plodding along.

  Dolly crawled into the seat, puffing.

  "Comanche! Never did trust 'em."

  The mules pulled the wagon over the dune. Tess felt as if her heart

  stopped, as if it caught in her throat.

  The Comanche seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

  Bare-chested, in buckskin pants, with various types of feathers banded

  around their heads, they sat as still as ghosts. Many carried spears and

  shields, others wore quivers at their backs and held their bows proudly.

  Not one moved.

  They just sat on their horses, looking down at the small party that

  approached.

  Tess wondered dismally if she was about to become the victim of a real

  Indian. Her heart thundered, and she dropped the reins. Jon and Jamie

  had pulled in before them, and they sat on their horses on the dune,

  watching the Comanche.

  The sky seemed afire with the morning light. Earth and horizon seemed to

  stretch together in shades of dusty coral and crimson and gold. The

  quiet was eerie; not even the wind whispered in the sagebrush.

  Then Jamie lifted his hand in some kind of greeting. A loud, shrieking

  cry sounded from atop the hill.

  And then the Comanche were coming.

  Tess screamed as the Indians started toward them in a blazing cloud of

  dust, their whoops and cries loud. No one could ride like a Comanche.

  The men lay braced against their ponies' necks, they swung beneath them,

  they righted themselves again. They came closer and closer. Their cries

  sounded ever louder.

  Ever more deadly.

  "My God, we're going to be butchered!" Tess breathed. "No, no, I don't

  think so," Dolly told her calmly.

  Astonished, Tess stared at the woman.

  "Well, it's Running River. He and Jamie are blood brothers."

  "Blood brothers," Tess repeated.

  "Yes. The Comanche are warlike, of course. But not this tribe.

  Running River has been peaceful since Jamie came out here. He always

  deals with the lieutenant, and though there have been Comanche attacks,

  they've never been perpetrated by Gray Lake Comanche."

  Tess was still unconvinced. There had never been a Comanche attack on

  Wiltshire--in fact some Comanche even came to town for work now and

  then--but she had heard about the things that could happen, and watching

  the extraordinary horsemen bear down upon them did nothing to ease her

  spirit.

  "My God ..." she breathed, sitting very still. The riders were circling

  the wagon, shaking their spears and bows in the air. Now that they were

  closer, she could see that their faces and chests were painted in

  brilliant colors.

  She didn't move, although she didn't know if it was courage or pure

  terror that kept her still. She e0uld see Jon and Jamie, still mounted,

  as they watched the thundering horses and their riders. Neither reached

  for a weapon.

  It would be suicide, she thought. They were drastically outnumbered.

  The Indians raced by them. The whoops and the cries were suddenly

  stilled, and there was silence. Only the dust remained to settle.

  The Comanche were motionless again, surrounding the wagon and Jamie and

  Jon.

  As Tess watched, Jamie lifted his hand again. One of the Indians, his

  ink-black hair falling down the length of his naked back, wearing a band

  with a single dark feather, urged his mount closer. He walked his horse

  straight over to Jamie. Then he reached out his hand, and Jamie clasped

  it.

  The Indian began to speak. Tess didn't recognize a word, but Jamie and

  Jon paid rapt attention.

  Then Jamie responded in the Indian's own tongue, easily, effortlessly.

  Jon spoke, too, then the Comanche again.

  "See," Dolly whispered.

  "It was a show. It was a performance. There never was any danger."
>
  Tess exhaled silently. One question had been answered for her. She'd

  seen something like this before, but there had been differences. She'd

  seen the riders--but with saddled horses, in wigs and feathers and

  paint. They hadn't ridden like these Comanche. And they hadn't let out

  the terrible eries.

  They had been absolutely mute, carrying out their silent executions.

  But she had a right to be afraid of this show. "What's going on?" she

  asked Dolly.

  "How should I know, dear? I don't speak that heathen gibberishl" Tess

  stiffened, realizing that Jamie was gesturing to her. The Indian he was

  talking to urged his pony toward her, followed closely by Jamie. Reining

  to a halt in front of her, the Comanche stared at her. He started to

  speak.

  Tess swallowed.

  He was lean, wiry, menacing in his paint, and yet when he spoke he

  smiled, and his teeth were good and strong, and the smile gave some

  strange appeal to his face. Tess smiled in return.

  "What did he say?" she asked Jamie, between bet teeth.

  "He said that he did not kill your uncle."

  "Tell him I know that."

  Jamie spoke, then the chief broke into a barrage of words again.

  Lost, Tess kept nodding and smiling.

  "What did he say now?"

  "Oh. Well, I told him we were traveling to Wiltshire, and that I was

  going to try to prove that the white man had been guilty. If you made it

  worth my while, that is. The chief is suggesting that you make it worth

  my while. He thinks that you should bargain with me."

  "Oh!" Tess gasped furiously. As she frowned, the Comanche chief frowned,

  too.

  "Oh, my, my!" Dolly murmured beneath her breath. "Smile, Tess!" Jamie

  suggested casually.

  She smiled. She locked her teeth, and she smiled. The chief spoke again,

  quietly.

  "What did he say?" Tess demanded.

  Jamie didn't answer her.

  Jon did.

  "He said that you were very beautiful, and that Jamie should take good

  care of you."

  The chief took Jamie's outstretched hand again, then lifted his spear

  high and cast back his head. A loud, startling cry rent the air. Then

  the riders were kicking up tremendous clouds of dust again, and racing

  across the plain.

  Moving like quicksilver, they touched the landscape and were gone. They

  disappeared over the hill from which they had come.

  Then, slowly, the dust settled again.

  Jamie turned to the wagon.

  "Come on, ladies. Let's make a little time here, shall we?"