In late August it rained for three days. Huge drops of water pelted the earth, pummeling man and beast like angry fists. Thunder rumbled through the heavens; great jagged bolts of lightning rent the sky. Zuniga murmured a quiet prayer of thanks to Usen as he made his way to the fort under cover of darkness. The rain would wash out his tracks. With luck, the Army would not find his trail again.
Tethering the stallion out of sight behind the fort, he padded across the muddy parade ground toward Schofield's house. A light burned in the front window. Peering inside, he saw Loralee curled up in the corner of a high-backed sofa, the infant nursing at her breast.
Zuniga stared at Loralee in wonder. She wore a white nightgown and fluffy white robe. Her hair fell around her face and shoulders like a soft golden cloud. She had never looked more beautiful.
With an effort, he drew his gaze from Loralee and glanced around the room. Where was Schofield? In another room? On duty? On patrol?
Muttering an oath, he rapped on the window.
Loralee glanced up, a frown furrowing her brow. She experienced a moment of alarm when she saw a face peering in the window, then felt her heart leap for joy as she recognized Zuniga.
Rising quickly, the baby clutched to her breast, she ran to the front door and flung it open. ''Shad!"
He stepped inside, shut and locked the door. "Where's Schofield?"
"Out looking for you."
"When will he be back?"
"Not before tomorrow."
Zuniga grinned broadly, pleased to think of his enemy slogging around in the mud, following a cold trail. "Close the curtains and turn down the lamp."
"Get out of those wet things," Loralee admonished as she drew the curtains. "You'll catch your death." She turned down the lamp, then watched unabashed as Zuniga shed his rain-soaked shirt, pants, and moccasins. She felt a thrill of excitement as he drew her into his arms.
"I've missed you," Loralee murmured.
Zuniga nodded as he bent to claim her lips. They kissed until the baby began to whimper.
"You interrupted his dinner," Loralee remarked, laughing softly. "Why don't you go put on a pair of Mike's trousers while I feed your son?"
Zuniga nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. A son, be thought exultantly. I have a son!
A few moments later, seated in a chair across from Loralee, be watched while she nursed the baby.
"I named him Shad," Loralee said. "Do you mind?"
Zuniga shrugged. "It is a hard luck name, but maybe he will change it."
When the child finished nursing, Loralee laid it in Shad's arms. She felt her heart melt as Zuniga carefully inspected the boy from head to foot, his eyes alight with wonder.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Loralee asked, stroking her son's downy black head.
"Beautiful," Zuniga murmured huskily.
He held the child until it fell asleep, marveling at the infant's tiny fingers and toes, at the perfectly formed features, at the changing expressions that played across the child's face as it slept.
Loralee could not take her eyes off Zuniga. The love she saw reflected in his expression as he gazed at their son was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Unbidden came the memory of what Shad had told her about his father. Had Nakai once looked at Zuniga with that expression of love that bordered on adoration? Had he once carefully examined his son's hands and feet, gently stroked a black-thatched head, murmured tender words of endearment?
She felt her heart swell with tenderness as Zuniga bent to place a kiss on his son's cheek. How did such love turn to violence? What had caused Nakai's cruelty? Had he always been a mean-tempered, violent man? If so, how had Nadina fallen in love with him?
Zuniga raised his head and looked at Loralee. There was a bemused expression on her face, confusion in her eyes.
"What is it?" he asked, speaking softly so as not to disturb his son. "What is wrong?"
"Nothing. I was just wondering . . . nothing."
"Tell me."
"I was just thinking about your father."
"Nakai? Why?"
"Was he always mean to you?"
Zuniga stared past Loralee, his hand absently stroking the baby's hair. "No, not always. When I was very young, maybe five or six, I thought he was the most wonderful man in the world. He used to take me hunting in the mountains with him. He was a fine shot with a bow and arrow, and I wanted to be just like him. But then he changed. He began to accuse my mother of being unfaithful to him."
"Was she?"
"No! She never loved anyone else, but my father did not believe her. He started drinking heavily, and he never stopped. I was older then, and I was ashamed of him.
In my heart, I made Nachi my father. He was always there for me, always ready to listen. I could tell him anything without fear of being ridiculed or punished. It was Nachi Who taught me to be a warrior, Nachi who was there to comfort me when my mother died in my arms. His heart was broken, too, but he put his grief aside to comfort me."
"He must have been a great man," Loralee mused softly. "I wish I could have known him better."
For a few moments, they were silent. Then Loralee stood up and Zuniga followed her into the nursery. Reluctantly he placed the child in its bed. For a moment Zuniga and Loralee stood side by side, gazing lovingly at the sleeping infant; then, with a low moan, Zuniga took Loralee in his arms. They clung together for a long time, content to be quietly close.
"You look thin," Loralee remarked sometime later. "Can I fix you something to eat?"
"I would like that."
"You look like you could use a hot bath, too."
Zuniga grinned wryly. He smelled worse than his horse.
The next hour was a busy one. Loralee draped Zuniga's clothes over a chair in front of the fire to dry out, prepared him something to eat while he took a long bath. She fixed enough for two, then said she wasn't really hungry and insisted that he eat it all so it wouldn't go to waste. He didn't argue, but wolfed down both portions. Belatedly she wished she had made more. He looked so thin, so tired. It tore at her heart to know that he had been living in the hills like a wild thing while she lived in a comfortable house, wanting for nothing except his presence.
She smiled at him as he pushed his plate away and sipped a cup of coffee. "I can be ready to leave in twenty minutes," she said lightly. "Less than that, if you're in a hurry."
"No."
Her smile stayed in place, but lost its glow. "You're not in a hurry?"
"Loralee . . . damn."
"Isn't that why you're here?" she asked anxiously. "To take us away with you?"
"I cannot, Loralee. Not now. I have got nothing to offer you. No home, no future, nothing."
"But you promised."
"Loralee, I am a wanted man."
"I don't care."
"I care. I cannot drag a woman and a baby around in the hills. I have not been able to stay in one place for more than a few hours at a time. There are nights when I have nothing to eat. I sleep on the ground."
"I don't care. Please take us with you," she begged, but she was frightened by the way of life he was describing to her. For herself it wouldn't matter, but she had the baby to think of now. Still, even knowing he was right, she couldn't bear to be parted from him again.
"Loralee, do not make this any harder than it is. I cannot run forever. Sooner or later the Army will catch up with me. I do not want you to be there when it happens. I will come back and see you when I can."
She nodded, tears filling her eyes as she gazed up at him, silently pleading with him to make things right, to figure out a way for them to be together. Always she had known he would come back for her, that they would have a life together somewhere, somehow. It was all she'd had to cling to, the only thing that had made life worthwhile when missing him grew unbearable.
Her tears tore at Zuniga's heart. Murmuring her name, he walked around the table and took her in his arms, one hand lovingly stroking her hair.
"I'd take
you with me if I could," he said quietly. "You know that, don't you?"
"I know."
"I want to make love to you," he whispered.
His words, soft and low, were the words she longed to hear. Taking him by the hand, she led him into the bedroom. Then, slowly, she removed her robe and gown.
Zuniga sucked in a deep breath as she stood naked before his eyes. Her body was more rounded, the curves lush and womanly. Her breasts were fuller, heavy with milk, her stomach was almost flat again. Slowly she held out her arms, beckoning him.
"Is it all right?" he asked huskily. Not for anything would he hurt her.
Nodding, she drew him close, lifting her head for his kiss. Fire shot through her veins as their mouths came together and they sank to the bed.
Zuniga shed Schofield's clothes, and then he lowered himself over Loralee, his mouth kissing her nose and eyes, the curve of her throat, the delicate lobe of her ear.
They had been too long apart and they came together in a rush, eager to possess and be possessed, eager to be one flesh, if only for a little while.
Loralee savored each moment, each caress. Soon, too soon, he would be gone again and she would be alone. She could not bear the thought, and she cried his name, tears welling in her eyes as he brought her the fulfillment she sought.
Moments later, Zuniga shuddered to a halt, his breath warm on her neck, his weight a welcome burden. When he would have rolled away, she held him tight, not wanting him to move, wanting to be a part of him for a little longer. Zuniga shifted his weight to the side a little so that she was not supporting his whole body, and that was how they fell asleep.
Dawn was streaking the horizon with brilliant slashes of gold and vermillion when Loralee awoke. For a moment she lay still, smiling faintly as she remembered the night past. It had not been a dream this time, she mused happily. She placed her hand on the pillow Shad had slept on. It was cold to her touch, and she sat up, heart pounding with despair. Surely he had not left!
Throwing back the covers, she jumped out of bed and ran into the parlor, only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw him standing before the fireplace, his arms raised toward heaven, his lips moving in a silent prayer.
What an enigma he was, Loralee thought watching him. Was the real Shad Zuniga the violent man who had killed his own father? The tender lover? The angry warrior? The proud father? Or this quiet man standing before her, naked, primal, as he supplicated his god?
Zuniga dropped his arms as he became aware of Loralee's presence.
"I'm sorry," Loralee said. "I didn't know you were praying. I was afraid you'd gone."
Zuniga smiled at her, his eyes filled with love and sadness. "Without saying goodbye?"
Loralee shrugged. "I was afraid you might not want to say goodbye."
"It is not really goodbye," Zuniga said, drawing her to him. "For us, there will be no goodbyes. I will always come back to you, Loralee, as long as there is life in my body."
He was leaving her, and she felt as though her heart would break. The hardships he had described the night before, the danger to herself and her child, no longer seemed important. He was her life, and he was going away.
"Take me with you." She knew he would refuse even before she spoke the words.
"I cannot," he said heavily.
Loralee smiled wistfully. "I know. Promise me you'll be careful."
Zuniga nodded. "Fix me some coffee, and then I must go."
He dressed quickly. Going to the nursery, he bent over the crib and stroked his son's cheek. It was hard to leave, but he had stayed too long already. Soon, the fort would come to life.
He drank the coffee Loralee offered him in three hasty swallows, kissed Loralee deeply, and slipped out the back door. Silent as a shadow, he ghosted around the corner of the house, vaulted over the back fence, and ran to where the dun was tethered.
He heard the clear notes of a bugle playing reveille as he put the stallion into a lope.
Mike came home just before sundown, looking beat. He gave Loralee a wry smile as he shrugged off his uniform shirt and pulled off his boots. They had been trailing Zuniga for weeks, but they hadn't been able to catch him. Like a will-o'-the-wisp, the Apache managed to slip through their fingers.
Mike cursed under his breath. None of the Indians would scout against one of their own. He had offered to let them name their own price, but to no avail. Zuniga was the last hero they had, and they would not ride against him, not for any amount of money, not even for whiskey.
Mike went to bed immediately after dinner, his dreams haunted by visions of Shad Zuniga laughing at him and at all the men who had ever worn Army blue.
Loralee sat up late that night, the baby cradled in her arms. How much longer could she stay here with Mike? How much longer could she go on hurting him? Mike had never done anything but love her, and what had she given him in return? Nothing. She lived in his house, ate his food, slept in his bed. And repaid his kindness by loving another man.
Loralee hummed softly as she sewed a new gown for her son. Mike was out on patrol again, searching for Zuniga. He was becomming obsessed with the need to capture the Apache. His obvious hatred for Shad, his single-minded goal to capture Zuniga at any cost and see him hanged for the killing of Sergeant Blakely, frightened Loralee and put a new strain on their already strained relationship.
It was a subject they never mentioned, and the fact that they couldn't talk about it made other conversation uncomfortable. Mike knew that Loralee hoped he would never capture Shad, that he would give up the hunt and let him go. But that was something he had vowed never to do. The need to see Zuniga destroyed haunted Mike like a demon, driving him to spend long hours combing the hills. Often he did not come home at night. His men grumbled under their breath. For all they knew, the Apache could have left the territory by now. But Lieutenant Schofield refused to give up.
Loralee sighed as she put her sewing aside for the evening. It was almost time to feed little Shad.
She felt his presence even before she felt his hand on her shoulder. Heart pounding, blood singing, she rose to her feet and melted into his arms.
''I could not stay away," Zuniga murmured, his lips moving in her hair. "I started out for Mexico, then circled back and hid out in the hills."
His words warmed Loralee's heart through and through. With a sigh, she laid her head against his chest, content to be held in his arms, to know he missed her as much as she missed him.
"When will he be back?"
"I don't know. Not before tomorrow night."
Zuniga nodded, his arms hugging her tight.
They made love before the fireplace, bathed together, shared a cup of coffee, and made love again. Later, when the baby woke for its midnight feeding, Zuniga sat beside Loralee while she nursed their child, his arm around her shoulder.
Loralee's heart ached with a bittersweet pain. How right it felt to have Shad at her side, to be able to reach out and touch him, look at him. For this moment, they were a family as they were meant to be. It was a moment to be treasured.
When her son finished nursing, she changed his diaper, then placed the boy in Zuniga's arms. "You two should get acquainted," she said, smiling.
Zuniga nodded. The child was small and fragile, and he felt awkward cradling the infant in his arms. Still, it was a good feeling, holding his son. He had cared for only a few people in his life: his mother, Nachi, Loralee, and now this tiny scrap of humanity that he had created without thought or consideration. The baby caught hold of Zuniga's finger, clasping it tightly in its small fist, and Zuniga felt a rush of love for the boy. This was his son, flesh of his flesh, and he would live and die for the child, and for Loralee.
He held the baby until it fell asleep in his arms, then gently placed the child in its bed. Loralee was waiting for him on the sofa, her soft brown eyes warm and loving.
He made love to her one more time before slipping out of the house, promising to return when he could.
Mike cam
e home the following night, his face drawn, his eyes weary and filled with discouragement. They had ridden for hours, hoping to pick up Zuniga's trail, but all in vain. The rain had washed out his tracks completely, and Mike was at a loss as to where to pick it up again. Where would the bastard go? Back to the Dragoons? To Mexico? Into the Sierra Madres? Who the hell could say what an Indian would do?
He bathed and changed into a pair of clean trousers and a shirt, then went into the kitchen. Loralee was warming a pot of soup for him. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, he watched her as she stirred the soup, poured a generous amount into a large bowl, sliced a loaf of fresh-baked bread, and poured him a cup of coffee. She looked different, he mused thoughtfully. There was a sparkle in her eye, a bounce in her step that had not been there before.
She sat at the table with him while he ate, filling him in on the latest news at the fort. The Colonel's wife had ordered a whole houseful of new furniture from an Eastern catalog. Sally Stockman was pregnant.
Mike nodded absently. He didn't care if Stella Freeman ordered a new house from the East, couldn't care less if Sally Stockman had one child or twenty, but he did care about Loralee, and he knew her well enough to know that something had happened while he was away.
"What did you do while I was gone?" he asked, keeping his tone casual.
"Oh, the usual things. Cleaned the house and looked after the baby. You know, like always."
Nodding, Mike left the kitchen and went into the parlor to stand before the fireplace. He stared into the cold hearth, eyes thoughtful, and then swore softly as a bit of color caught his eye. Bending, he picked up a narrow piece of buckskin. He stared at it for a long moment, not wanting to believe what he knew to be true.
He did not turn around when Loralee came into the room.
"So you did the usual while I was gone," Mike said in a tight voice. "Cleaned the house and looked after the baby." He whirled around, thrusting the bit of buckskin into her face. "And played the whore for that bastard Indian!"
Loralee stared at the piece of fringe dangling from her husband's hand, her heart in her throat. What could she possibly say to defend herself?
Love Forevermore Page 24