Love Forevermore

by Madeline Baker

  "You were ashamed, were you not, ashamed to think he might find you with an Indian?"

  "Damn you, Shad Zuniga," she murmured brokenly. "Why can't I forget you?"

  Time and again she saddled her horse and started toward his lodge, only to turn back. She could not go to him. What could she say? What would she do if she humbled herself enough to beg his forgiveness and he laughed in her face? She had to hold onto her pride at all costs. it was all she had left.

  She spent more time at the fort and at the Agency office, hoping to hear news of him, but all she heard were the same old rumors, the same tired tales. Funny, she thought, the soldiers never seemed to grow weary of speculating about Zuniga, or about the number of weapons he was rumored to have secreted in Nachi's lodge. To listen to some of the men, Zuniga had enough rifles and ammunition stashed away to arm every man, woman, and child on the reservation. One wag even claimed that Zuniga had an old Army howitzer cached away in the hills somewhere. Loralee would have laughed if she hadn't been so miserably unhappy.

  She rode to the Agency on ration day, hoping to catch sight of him, hoping he might show up just once for the beef or blankets that were his due. But he never did.

  She took long rides in the hills, careful not to stay too near his lodge, but always hoping she might accidentally run into him on the trail. She wandered through hills and valleys, down cutbank arroyos and dry river-beds, until she knew every tree and rock and path, until she was certain she had ridden over every inch of the reservation, but she never saw him.

  Anger followed on the heels of despair. Who did he think he was, to purposefully avoid her? She had willingly given him her most priceless possession, the most precious token of her love, and now he had no further use for her. Damn him! She would hate and despise him until the day she died. He was exactly what everyone said he was, and she had been foolish not to listen. He was nothing but a heathen savage, after all, and she was well rid of him! She had simply fooled herself when she had thought that she loved him. It had just been infatuation and lust, nothing more . . .

  Shad Zuniga sat on his horse atop a hill, screened from Loralee's sight by a tangled mass of shrubs and cactus as he watched her follow a narrow deer trail up into the foothills. He had seen her several times, always from a distance, always careful to stay out of sight. He had been a fool to think she had learned to care for him. She had wanted him in the way a woman wants a man, but she did not love him, he saw that now. She had been ashamed of him, ashamed of her desire for an Indian. Zuniga laughed bitterly. Perhaps it had been the fact that he was an Apache, and therefore forbidden, that had sparked her desire for him in the first place.

  He swore a vile oath. He would never forget the look on her face that night in the schoolhouse when she thought they were going to be discovered. She had been ashamed, not because they were almost caught, but because she had almost been caught with him. It had cut his heart like a knife, wounding his fierce male pride, killing the love he had felt for her. And perhaps it was better so. He had always known she could never truly be his. Perhaps it was better that it had ended now, before it had really begun, before it became impossible to let her go.

  With a rueful grin, he admitted he still desired her. For all that she had never known a man before, she had quickly learned how to please him, to arouse and excite him, to satisfy him as no other woman ever had.

  As he watched from the hilltop, his eyes lingered over the swell of Loralee's breasts and the feminine contours of her hips. She sat her horse well, moving with the animal, not sitting stiff and tense in the saddle the way most whites rode. The sun made her hair glow like a golden halo, and he remembered how soft it had felt in his hands and against his face and chest.

  Damn! He was sorely tempted to ride after her, to make love to her one more time, but he did not follow her, only sat there watching her until she was lost from sight. Then he turned for home.

  Loralee looked at the stack of papers on her desk, but she was not in the mood to grade exams. It was a Saturday afternoon, bright and clear and beautiful. Much too nice a day to sit inside.

  Shoving the papers into her desk, she went outside and saddled Lady and rode up into the hills. As always, her thoughts turned to Zuniga. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he ever think of her?

  Lost in thought, Loralee almost rode past the boy lying in the shallow ravine. But for his faint moan of pain, she would have ridden on by, unaware of his presence.

  At the cry, she reined Lady to a halt, her head cocked to one side. Was she imagining things? But no, there it was again, a hoarse sob.

  Determining the location of the faint cry, she dismounted and picked her way to the edge of the ravine, her heart pounding with anxiety. Was the cry human, or that of a wounded and therefore potentially dangerous beast?

  Peering over the side of the ravine, she gave a gasp of recognition as she saw Short Bear huddled on the ground below.

  Loralee called his name as she started down the side of the ravine, leading her horse.

  Short Bear glanced up, his handsome young face a mask of pain. For a moment, he felt a surge of gratitude that help had arrived at last. Then recognizing Loralee, he grimaced with displeasure.

  Loralee knelt beside the boy, frowning. "Where are you hurt?"

  "My leg," Short Bear replied stiffly. "It's broken."

  She could see that now. His right leg was twisted and swollen, a grotesque shape beneath his buckskin trousers.

  "Can you stand up if I help you?" Loralee asked.

  "I don't need your help."

  Loralee was about to argue, then thought better of it. "Very well." She stood up, waiting for him to get up on his own.

  Short Bear took a deep breath, then tried to stand up. He gasped with pain as he accidentally put pressure on his broken leg. Sweat popped out on his forehead and he felt suddenly sick to his stomach. That would be the final humiliation, he thought in anguish, to vomit before a woman.

  Without a word, Loralee stepped forward and took Short Bear's arm to give him support. A cry of pain escaped his lips as he struggled to his feet, and he flushed with embarrassment, An Apache warrior did not show pain, especially in front of one who was not of the People. It was galling, having to rely on a woman for help. What would his cousin say when he found out? The other boys would tease him unmercifully when they learned that Miss Warfield had found him lying helpless in a ravine.

  With Loralee's help, Short Bear managed to climb into the saddle. He was perspiring heavily by then, his face pale, his breathing labored.

  "Hang on," Loralee said encouragingly. Taking Lady's reins, she started up the ravine.

  It was slow going. The dirt was soft, and Loralee slipped several times, her steps hampered by her long riding skirt. Thankfully, the mare had no trouble navigating the steep slope. Once, glancing over her shoulder, Loralee saw that Short Bear's eyes were tightly closed. His hands were white as they gripped the saddle horn, and she knew that each step the mare took was causing the boy intense pain.

  At the top of the ravine, Loralee paused to catch her breath and get her bearings. The reservation was some distance away, but Nachi's lodge was just over the next rise. Still, she hesitated. How could she go there? How could she face Zuniga?

  A muffled whimper of pain dissolved her doubts. Short Bear was hurting. He needed help, and he needed it now. Her own personal feelings were of no importance at the moment.

  It took almost three-quarters of an hour to reach Nachi's lodge. Tying Lady's reins to a bush near the wickiup, Loralee rapped on. the lodgeflap, praying that the old man was at home and Zuniga was not.

  The lodgeflap lifted immediately and Zuniga stepped into the sunlight. He was naked save for a brief clout and knee-high moccasins, and for a moment Loralee could only stare at him, the reason for her presence at his lodge forgotten. Here was the man she dreamed of at night, the man whose touch she longed for. Her eyes drank in the sight of his broad shoulders and lean flanks, even as her nostrils fille
d with the scent of tobacco and leather and man. Her stomach fluttered wildly.

  ''What do you want?" His curt greeting was like a slap in the face, but it served its purpose, quickly reminding Loralee why she was there.

  "Short Bear broke his leg. I brought him to you for help."

  Zuniga's dark eyes swept past her to where Short Bear sat slumped in the saddle. The boy's eyes were closed, his body rigid with pain.

  Mouthing a vague obscenity, Zuniga went to Short Bear's side. With ease, he lifted the boy from the saddle.

  "A snake spooked my horse," Short Bear muttered.

  "Later," Zuniga admonished. "You can tell me what happened later."

  "It was a big snake. Sun Dancer bucked and shied and I fell over his neck and down the hill." Short Bear gritted his teeth as pain knifed through his leg. "Stupid horse bolted for home."

  Zuniga nodded as he carried Short Bear into the lodge and carefully placed him on Nachi's sleeping robes. The old man had gone down to the reservation to visit a friend and would not be back for several hours.

  "Water," Short Bear husked.

  Zuniga held a clay bowl to the boy's lips. "Only a little," he warned.

  Short Bear drank greedily in spite of Zuniga's advice, then fell back, his face sheened with sweat.

  "Just lie still," Zuniga said. Drawing his knife, he slit the boy's trousers along the seam, exposing the injured leg. It was badly swollen and discolored around the break.

  Loralee lingered outside the lodge, irritated by Zuniga's brusque attitude. He hadn't even bothered to thank her for bringing Short Bear to him, she mused sourly, but then, what could you expect from such a man? She wished she had the nerve to march into the lodge and tell him what she thought of him. Instead, she took up Lady's reins and prepared to mount.

  "I need your help," Zuniga's voice called to her from within the lodge.

  Loralee's eyebrows went up in surprise. Needed her help, did he? Well, he could whistle for help for all she cared, she thought in a huff, but then she thought of Short Bear. She couldn't just ride off if the boy needed her.

  With a sigh of resignation, she ducked inside the gloomy wickiup. "What do you want?" she asked, hoping her voice sounded as curt and unfriendly as his had been.

  "I need you to hold him down while I splint his leg. Can you do it?"

  "Of course." Loralee knelt beside Short Bear. His eyes were glazed with pain. She saw the fear lingering behind his eyes, fear of the pain that was to come. For all his brave front, he was still just a boy. She sent him an encouraging smile as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

  "Keep him as still as you can," Zuniga instructed.

  Loralee nodded. She felt Short Bear grow tense as Zuniga took hold of his broken leg, and she leaned across the boy's body, blocking his view as she held him down.

  The boy gave a hoarse cry of agony, then went mercifully limp as Shad pulled the bone into place.

  Sitting back on her heels, Loralee watched as Zuniga quickly and expertly sprinted the boy's leg.

  Seeing there was nothing more for her to do, she stood up, anxious to be away. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much to explain, yet the words would not come. With a curt nod, she left the lodge and swung into the saddle.

  "Thanks."

  He had followed her out of the lodge. She could feel his presence behind her, could feel his eyes on her back.

  Loralee nodded, afraid to speak, afraid to look at him for fear she would dissolve into tears.

  She did not go riding in the hills any more after that. Seeing Shad was too painful. She could tell herself she hated him until she was blue in the face, but in truth, she loved him desperately. Would always love him.

  But she never wanted to see him again.

  9

  Short Bear frowned at his cousin. "How much longer do I have to lie here?" he asked sullenly.

  "Another two weeks," Zuniga answered matter-of-factly.

  Short Bear groaned. Two more weeks of lying on his back, doing nothing, or sitting out in the sun, or hobbling around on the crutch Zuniga had improvised. Two more weeks of inactivity, when he longed to be out with the other boys, or riding the hills on that wretched horse that had thrown him.

  "Red Crow stopped by with your school work while you were asleep," Zuniga remarked.

  Short Bear groaned again. Miss Warfield made certain that one of the boys brought him his homework every day. Often she sent him encouraging notes, commending him for a paper that was exceptionally well done, or she penned a few words to say she hoped he was feeling better. Once she had sent him a box of oatmeal cookies. Another time she had sent a get well card that had been signed by the whole class. Zuniga seemed amused by it all, but Short Bear was confused. Only a few months ago, he had been trying to drive the new schoolmarm away, and now she was sending him homemade cookies and get well cards.

  With a sigh, he looked at the book Zuniga handed him, then dropped it onto the ground. "I don't feel like studying," he declared. "Tell me about the time you were in jail in Mexico."

  "It was a bad time," Zuniga replied, frowning at the memory. "Why do you want to hear about it?"

  "Because you were so brave," Short Bear answered.

  "You are the brave one," Zuniga countered. "You did not cry when I set your leg, and you have not complained once about the pain. You would have made a fine warrior."

  Short Bear's face glowed at his cousin's praise. To be a warrior was all he had ever wanted, all he cared about.

  "Tell me about California, then," Short Bear prompted.

  "California," Zuniga drawled, smiling. "A pretty place. Forests and valleys and mountains. And that beautiful blue ocean."

  "Murdock," Short Bear stated impatiently. "Tell me about Murdock."

  John Murdock was a wealthy rancher who owned a large cattle ranch that covered thousands of acres.

  "I was just passing through," Zuniga began, his mind going back in time. "It was shortly after I escaped from prison, and I had the urge to travel. It was about noon on a hot day in July. I was crossing Murdock's land when I heard a scream for help. I started toward the sound and saw a small boy in the middle of a lake. His shirt was caught on a snag and he could not get free. He was tiring fast, and he went under the water as I rode up. I swam out and got him and he asked me to take him home.

  "I thought Murdock was going to shoot me on sight," Zuniga said, grinning, "but then he saw the boy sitting behind me, and he came running down the porch stairs.

  "'What the hell happened?' Murdock demanded, and the boy began to explain how he had gone for a swim and got hung up. Murdock grabbed my hand and pumped it up and down, thanking me all the while for saving his grandson's life.

  "He insisted I stay on for a couple of days, and I took him up on his offer." Zuniga shook his head in wonder. "I never lived so good in my whole life. Three good meals a day, every day. And if I wanted something special to eat, all I had to do was ask. Murdock even offered me a job bustin' broncs, but I turned him down. Nice as his place was, it was not home, and I was just passing through."

  "But he said you could have the job any time you wanted it," Short Bear said.

  "Yeah. And he gave me the dun as a going away present," Zuniga finished.

  "Do you think you'll ever go back to California?" Short Bear asked.

  Zuniga shook his head. "No reason to go back."

  Short Bear studied his cousin intently for a moment, then blurted, "Why aren't you courting Miss Warfield anymore?"

  "I never courted her," Zuniga answered tersely.

  "It looked like courting," Short Bear said candidly. "Everyone on the reservation thought you would marry her."

  Zuniga stared at the boy, speechless. How did such rumors get started? Marriage, indeed!

  "I think perhaps you speak of that which you know nothing about," Zuniga said curtly.

  "I know more than you think. I saw the two of you together at Shadow Lake one day."

  "Have you taken to spyin
g on me?" Zuniga demanded angrily.

  "I was not spying," Short Bear answered with dignity. "I was hunting. I did not stay to watch what happened after you kissed her, but I know what goes on between a man and a woman."

  "Do you?" Zuniga asked, his anger momentarily forgotten.

  "Yes." Short Bear's face flushed guiltily.

  "And who taught you how to be a man?"

  Short Bear shrugged. "No one. A girl in town. A street girl."

  Zuniga grinned, amused by his cousin's unexpected revelation.

  "You are not going to marry the white woman?" Short Bear's query was more like a plea than a question.

  "No," Zuniga answered tonelessly. "I am not going to marry her."

  "But you would like to?"

  "Have you always been so full of questions? Go on, do your school work and stop pestering me."

  The sound of hoofbeats roused Zuniga from a restless sleep. Visions of Loralee responding to Mike Schofield's caresses faded into nothingness as he rose quietly to his feet, his hand automatically reaching for the hunting knife at his bedside. He glanced quickly at Nachi and Short Bear, still sleeping soundly, then slipped outside.

  The morning was cold, the sky overcast and dreary. He turned sharply to the right, his eyes narrowing in anger as he saw Sergeant Schofield and a dozen other soldiers surround the lodge.

  Schofield glared at Zuniga. The Apache was clad in a brief deerskin clout, nothing more, and Schofield thought derisively that he looked more like a wild animal than a human being. He had a fleeting image of Loralee bending over Zuniga's shoulder as she explained the difference between a noun and a verb.

  Anger washed through Schofield as he remembered the way Zuniga's eyes had moved over Loralee's face and body, lingering on the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. His hand caressed the butt of his service revolver. It would be so easy to unleather the weapon and place a bullet between Zuniga's eyes. So easy . . . revulsion welled within Schofield as he realized what he was thinking. He was not a man normally given to violence. How could he even contemplate killing a man in cold blood, even Zuniga?