She cried his name as he moved inside her, exciting her, lifting her to heights never before explored. It was so right to be in his arms, to feel his muscles tense and relax beneath her hands. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the magical rhythm of his loving. His skin was hot against her own, his mouth hungry and demanding, his tongue like solid flame. And then his seed poured into her, and for that brief moment of time, they were two bodies forged into one being.
Later, sated in body and soul, Loralee drifted to sleep cradled in Zuniga's arms.
Shad held her close, one hand lightly stroking the silky mass of her hair. She was so beautiful. So sweet.
He swore softly as he felt his child move beneath his hand. He could not take the child away from Loralee, he realized. He could not break her heart. She had not mentioned the baby, nor his plans to keep it, but he had seen the pain in her eyes. Well, she need worry no more. He would take Loralee back to her husband in the morning. She would teach their son the way of the Apache, and he would be content with that.
He held her all night long, waking often just to look at her. He memorized each soft curve and plane of her face, the silky texture of her golden hair, her sweet womanly fragrance. How would he ever let her go?
Loralee woke slowly, a smile on her face. She had dreamed of Zuniga all night long, and now, as she opened her eyes, his face was the first thing she saw. The expression in his eyes drove the smile from her face.
"What is it?" she asked anxiously. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied quietly. "I am taking you back."
Loralee stared at him, certain she had misunderstood him. "What?"
"I'm taking you home, back to Schofield. It's what you want, isn't it? To go back to your white man?"
Loralee searched his eyes, but his expression was closed to her, impenetrable. His voice was cold, almost angry. What had she done? Why did he suddenly want to be rid of her?
"What about . . . what about the baby?"
"What about it?"
"I thought" Her voice trailed off. Something was wrong, but what?
"Get ready," he said tersely. "We leave in one hour."
Thoughts rushed around in Loralee's mind like ants fleeing a disturbed mound. He was taking her back to Mike. Why? What had happened to change his mind since they had made love so sweetly the night before?
She gazed deeply into his eyes. Was she mistaken, or was it love she saw reflected there, beneath the stern visage? Was that the cause of his sudden change in plans?
Excitement flowed in Loralee's veins. For once, she was going to take a chance. For once, she was going to pour out her heart to him, beg him not to send her away. If he rejected her, she would learn to live with the hurt.
"Get ready," he repeated.
"I don't want to go back," Loralee said softly, her eyes intent upon his face. "I want to stay here. With you."
Disbelief showed in Zuniga's dark eyes. Disbelief and hope. "Why?"
"I love you. Haven't you guessed that by now?"
"I thought you were in love with Schofield."
Loralee shook her head. "No, never. I only married him because of the baby."
"Why did you not tell me you were pregnant? I would have married you."
"I couldn't. I thought you hated me, and my pride wouldn't let me beg."
"It did not keep you from marrying the white man," Zuniga accused.
"I didn't ask Mike to marry me. Mike loves me. He was willing to raise your child as his own to spare me the embarrassment of being pregnant and unwed."
"He must love you very much," Zuniga allowed grudgingly.
"Yes." She touched his arm. "I never slept with him, Shad. Never."
The words rang true, and Zuniga was filled with exultation as he took Loralee in his arms. She was his, only his.
He held her close for several minutes, his face buried in the wealth of her hair, his heart swelling with love. What a fool he had been, but fool he would be no more. She was his woman now, and he would live and die for her.
The days that followed were the most perfect Loralee had ever known. Nightly she fell asleep in Zuniga's arms. His face was the last thing she saw at night and the first sight to greet her in the morning. Living with Shad, sharing every hour of the day with him, she learned things about him she had never suspected.
She discovered, to her amazement, that he was deeply religious. Night and morning, he prayed to Usen. When he killed an animal, he said a prayer asking the animal's spirit to forgive him for taking its life. He never killed for sport, but always out of need. He had a deep and abiding reverence for all life, the plants and trees that grew in abundance in the hills and valleys, the squirrels and deer, the eagles and the sparrows. He opened her eyes to the grace and beauty of the animals and birds that inhabited the stronghold, and helped her gain a keener appreciation of the beauty around her.
Once, as she made her way to the stream to bathe, she saw Zuniga standing near the bank, his arms lifted toward heaven. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on such a private moment, but she could not tear herself away. He was praying, speaking in his native tongue, and Loralee listened intently, feeling her heart expand with love as she heard him pray for her health and for the health of their unborn child. He prayed for his mother as well, and entreated the Apache gods to grant his grandfather peace and happiness in the world of spirits.
He looked beautiful standing there, she mused, like a Greek god cast in bronze. The early morning sunlight caressed his arms and chest. His hair, shiny black as a raven's wing, fell over his shoulders and down his broad back. Yes, he was beautiful indeed.
That night, wrapped in his arms, Loralee asked Shad about his past. She knew so little about him, this man who had stolen her heart.
"What was it like, living here in the mountains?" she coaxed when he seemed reluctant to answer. "How long did you live here? Why did you leave?"
"It was a hard life," Zuniga answered quietly. "But we were free. There were only a handful of families still living in the stronghold after Geronimo surrendered, warriors who refused to go in because they did not trust the peace the white man offered. My uncle, Short Bear's father, was one of them. After my mother died, I went to live with my uncle and his family. We stayed in the mountains, raiding into Mexico for food and blankets and horses, until I was nineteen or twenty."
"Were you in many battles with the Mexicans?"
Zuniga nodded, a faraway look in his eye.
"Did you kill anyone?"
He shrugged as if it were of no importance. "A few."
Loralee grimaced. He sounded so unconcerned. "Didn't it bother you, killing those men?"
"No. They were the enemy."
Loralee nodded. The Mexicans and the Apache had always been enemies. "I'm glad I'm a woman," she remarked. "I wouldn't like to fight."
"Apache women often fight alongside their men," Zuniga said. "Sometimes they are more fierce than the warriors."
"Weren't you ever afraid?"
Shad smiled indulgently. "Afraid?" He shook his head. "There's no time to be afraid once the fighting starts. Your blood runs hot in your veins as you rush to meet the enemy, and your only thought is to drive your knife into his heart, to feel his blood on your hands."
He broke off as he felt Loralee shudder with revulsion. "I think I would have been glad to die in battle," he said softly.
"Why?"
"Because I knew what it would be like on the reservation, and I did not want to give up my freedom."
"After your people surrendered, did you go to the reservation?"
"No. I did not go in with the others. My uncle took Short Bear and my aunt, but I would not go. Short Bear was only a baby then, two or three years old. I hid out in the hills, sleeping in a cave during the day, scavenging for food at night."
"How dreadful. Surely living on the reservation with your people would have been better than living in the hills like a wild animal?"
"No. It is not better. Bread is no
t a fair trade for freedom."
"How long did you live like that?"
"A long time. Once, I went to Mexico and the ruales caught me stealing food from one of the cantinas. I spent two years in one of their prisons."
The look in Loralee's eye clearly expressed her horror. Mexican jails were reputed to be the worst in the world.
Zuniga nodded. "Living in a Mexican jail was worse than living alone in the hills, worse than anything I have ever known. I was beaten and starved. I spent a month locked in a dark cell with nothing to eat but stale bread and water and an occasional plate of fried beans."
"That's awful!"
"Awful. I thought I would go mad."
"How did you get out of there?"
"A woman came along. She was the captain's whore, and she liked to come down to the cells. She enjoyed watching the prisoners get punished, and she rarely missed a whipping or an execution. She was there one morning when I was being whipped for hitting one of the guards. She got mad when I did not scream and she took the lash into her own hands, determined to break my spirit. She said she would stop whipping me as soon as I cried out, but I refused to give her the satisfaction."
Zuniga laughed softly, ruefully. "It was a stupid thing to do. She was a stubborn woman, but I was young and proud and equally stubborn, and she whipped me until I passed out.
"When I came to, I was in her bedroom and she was bending over me, washing the blood off my back."
''Was she pretty?" Loralee asked. It was foolish to feel jealousy over a woman who had been so cruel, but she couldn't help herself.
"No. She had a heart like ice, and eyes as cold as death. She took care of me until my back healed. She said I was going to be her personal slave because I was as stubborn as she was, and she liked that. I went along with her until I regained my strength, pretending I liked doing her bidding, until the right opportunity came along and I escaped."
Zuniga paused briefly, as if looking back into his past, and then went on. "When I got back to Arizona, I went into the hills near the reservation. I spent a couple of days watching the place, hoping to catch a glimpse of Nachi. About a week later, Short Bear rode up into the hills. He was surprised when I stepped out in front of his horse. He told me that his mother had died and that Nachi was ill and there was no one to care for him. My uncle had lost his will to live and was no help to anyone. Short Bear was just a kid at the time, and he had a younger sister to look after."
"And that's when you surrendered?"
"No. I continued to live in the hills. I brought meat to Short Bear, sneaking in at night after everyone was asleep. When Nachi got better, I went wandering again. I drifted into Colorado and New Mexico, hoping to find a place where Indians still lived in the old way, but it was useless. There were no red men living free any more. They were all penned up on reservations. When I went back to see how Nachi was getting along, I learned that Short Bear's sister had died, and that my uncle was drinking more than usual. Short Bear had gone to live with his friend Yellow Deer, and Nachi was living alone. That was when I moved Nachi into the hills. The Army didn't like it, but we were still on reservation land, so they let us stay."
"How long ago was that?"
Zuniga shrugged. "Seven, eight years. Time has no meaning on the reservation."
With a sigh, Loralee snuggled against Zuniga. He had led a hard and unhappy life, but he would never be unhappy, or alone, again. Not if she could help it.
Her knowledge of the Apache language grew rapidly in the days that followed, and she felt herself slowly changing, becoming Indian in many ways. It was no longer a chore to cook outside over an open fire. Tanning a hide became easier with practice, and less disgusting, and she began to take pride in the fine robes and skins she turned into shirts and moccasins. She learned how to jerk venison, how to make ash cakes out of ground mesquite beans, tallow, and wild honey. She gathered acorns and sunflower seeds, pine nuts and juniper berries, wild plums and roots.
Each day was an adventure. She and Zuniga played together and worked together and made love beneath the bold blue sky and the quiet envious moon. Loralee's love for Shad Zuniga grew stronger, deeper, more intense with the passing of each day. They talked often of the baby, wondering aloud if it would be a boy or a girl, if it would be dark-skinned or fair. Loralee hoped for a boy that would look like Shad, and she counted the days until her child would be born, anxious to place their child in Zuniga's arms, eager to give him a son.
For Shad, each day was better than the last. Never had he known such happiness. He was living in the land he loved, living the life he yearned for. And he had Loralee at his side. Each day saw her becoming more Indian in her speech and beliefs, in her way of thinking. She would have made a fine warrior's wife in the old days, he thought, and could think of no finer praise for any woman.
The long lonely days when he had lived in the hills like a wild animal faded into the mists of time, almost forgotten. The years he had spent in prison no longer mattered. Loralee's love had healed all the old hurts, soothed his anger, and given him a reason to go on living.
20
Summer came, mild and balmy. The sky was a clear cerulean blue, the trees were green and fruitful, the river water cool enough to turn away the midday heat.
Their lodge was comfortable, just big enough for the two of them, and life had settled into an easy routine. Zuniga hunted or repaired his weapons during the day, looked after the horses, and made certain everything was secure. Loralee gathered wood and water, prepared their meals, and sewed tiny garments for the baby. In the evening they took long walks together, pausing to admire the way the setting sun turned the mountains and parapets to flame and touched the valley floor with gold. Life was perfect, and Loralee would have asked for nothing more save that her child be born strong and healthy.
By the end of May, their supplies were running low. Loralee knew a moment of panic when Zuniga told her he was going to town. They had been together night and day for weeks and she could not bear the thought of being parted from him, not even for a few hours. The baby was due in less than two months, and she grew more and more apprehensive as her time drew near. Childbirth was normal and natural, babies were born every day, but not to her. This was her first pregnancy, and doubts and fears plagued her mind. What if something went wrong? What if the baby was breech? What if she had no milk? What if she died? What if the baby came today, while Zuniga was away and she was alone?
She had never voiced her anxieties to Shad. He was so strong, so eternally sure of himself, she was afraid he would think her a terrible coward, unfit to be the mother of an Apache. Yet, as he held her in his arms, he seemed to know what was troubling her.
"I will be back before dark," he promised, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "Do not worry, Loralee. Everything will be fine. You are young and healthy, and I will be here to help you. Do not be afraid."
"I can't help it," Loralee murmured.
Closing her eyes, she held him tighter, trying to absorb his strength and confidence into herself "I have to go," Shad said gently. "We need supplies." He lifted her chin so he could see her face. "You do not want to live on nothing but meat, do you?"
Loralee shook her head. He was right, of course. They needed vegetables and fruit.
"I will bring back some seed," Zuniga remarked. "Perhaps it is not too late to plant a garden."
Loralee smiled. "Are you going to become a farmer, after all?" she teased.
Zuniga let out a long breath. "I cannot let the mother of my son go hungry," he said with a wry grin. "Maybe I will buy a few chickens. And a cow."
"Truly? Oh, Shad, that would be wonderful. We could have fresh milk and eggs."
"Have you ever milked a cow?" he asked, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.
"No."
"Such things are woman's work," he pointed out. "Shall I still bring a cow?"
"Yes," she said, laughing.
"Do not worry," he said as he kissed her cheek.
He gave the shopkeeper the last of his cash to pay for the supplies. Outside, he lashed his purchases onto the back of Loralee's mare, then went down the street to the feed store. He had no money left with which to buy a cow or chickens, so he would just have to take them. You did not consider it stealing when you took something from the enemy. It was the Apache way of life. It was only stealing when you took from a friend.
He looked over the stock on hand, noted that the feed store closed at six o'clock, and then rode out of town. He found a good place to hide out until dark, tethered the horses in the shade, and stretched out to take a nap. He knew that Loralee would worry when he didn't show up before dark, as promised, but it could not be helped.
He napped until sundown, then sat up, knowing he would have to wait a few more hours before he dared go into town after the cow and chickens.
He gazed into the darkness, content to wait as Nachi had taught him to wait, until the time was right. Then, slow and silent, he made his way to the feed store. It was a simple thing to break a window. Inside, he grabbed a burlap bag, tossed three chickens inside, and climbed out the window. In the corral behind the store, he dropped a rope around the neck of a young heifer and led her out of the pen.
"That's far enough," a voice warned. "One more step, and I'll empty this scatter gun into your back."
Zuniga froze, his eyes searching the shadows. Three men materialized out of the darkness. One of them was the clerk from the general store. The second man owned the feed store. The third man was the town marshal.
"Get those hands up," the marshal ordered. "Clem, get his gun. Luke, put the cuffs on him."
Zuniga swore, softly as the men walked toward him. It was now or never, he thought, and with a wild cry, he darted for the cover of the trees a few yards away.
Love Forevermore Page 20