“Set it down, Pa,” Faith implored, taking a step closer.
With a snort of disgust Becket lowered the rifle. He swayed where he stood until Keith rushed forward to offer his support. Hobbling back to the wagon, muttering, Becket shook off Keith’s arm and stopped. Looking back to where Delaney still stood with his gun lowered but not holstered, he spat on the ground.
“You ain’t heard the last of this, Carmichael. Remember, I’m the one who’s paying you.”
“Paying me don’t mean owning me, Becket.”
Keith felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. He took hold of his father and forcibly made him return to the wagon.
When they were out of sight and Keith back in his bedroll beneath the wagon, Delaney holstered his gun and returned to Seanilzay’s side.
Faith stayed with Delaney, wiping sweat from the Apache’s brow while Delaney cleaned his wounds in a gentle manner that surprised her. She replaced water in the basin as he needed it, avid curiosity making her eyes bright. Delaney’s demeanor was forbidding, so she buried her questions about what herbs and plants he used or where he had gained such knowledge. Faith’s respect increased as his skill and touch brought few groans of pain from the wounded Indian.
But when Delaney heated his knife blade and asked her to hold Seanilzay steady, her stomach churned. She had to turn her face away while he seared the skin to close the wounds. There was a sigh of relief from both Faith and the stoic patient as Delaney spread an ointment he made from grease, dried leaves, and crushed roots.
He left her for a few minutes, only to return and heat piñon pitch, which he smeared over linen strips and, in turn, wrapped them over and around the Apache’s bare shoulder and chest. He burned the cotton shirt he had removed and replaced it with one of his own. The cutoff piece of legging went into the fire, sending up an acrid smoke. Once again he walked off into the woods, returning this time with branches thick as her wrist that he trimmed of leaves and bark. The leg was bandaged, and Delaney placed the branches around the leg, wrapping them together with still more linen to hold the leg stiff.
Using his own cup, he brewed a tea, then forced the Apache to drink it. Faith saw for herself how quickly it put the man to sleep.
With a neatness that she was coming to associate with Delaney, he cleaned and stored his belongings and then he came to her.
“We both owe you thanks for helping and for defying your father. Seanilzay will likely never say a-co-’d to you, but I will.”
“Why?”
“It’s simply the Apache way to show good will rather than say it.”
“No. I want to know why you helped him.”
“The Apache way makes it unthinkable not to help a family member in need.”
“Seanilzay is your family?”
“Not in any way that you would understand.” He raised his hand to her face, and with a gentle touch he stroked her cheek, her jaw, her throat. His grip tightened, not enough to hurt her, but just enough to let her feel his strength. He measured the beat of her throbbing pulse with his callused fingertips, feeling it become violent in seconds.
Like his own.
In the fading light her eyes had darkened so that the shimmer of gold flecks lay against the deeper, mysterious hue of shadowed turquoise. Delaney had to ignore the warming of his skystone against his skin just as it did each time he was near her.
“Go to sleep, Faith,” he whispered in a voice roughened by the need surging in his blood. His gaze was shielded by short, blunt lashes at the pleading look in her eyes. Her mouth became a target. She had a mouth that he thought the most fragile one he’d ever seen on a woman. He wanted nothing more than to take her mouth, take her body with his own, until he couldn’t reason why he should not.
“Delaney?”
“Go to bed,” he repeated, dropping his hand, then sitting beside Seanilzay, he began honing his knife.
Faith went, not because he ordered her to, but for the dismissal that rippled through his body, more sensed than seen. She was reminded of that first day she had approached him, and without a move he appeared coiled, tense, and ready to strike. She had had a taste of Delaney’s venom; only a fool would go back for more.
There was no sleep to be had for the rest of the night. She wished she understood what drove Delaney. There was a darkness inside him that seemed to cry out to her to heal it. She amazed herself that she knew he would never tell her what it was. To add to her sense of floundering in the dark, she was unable to tell anyone of her growing feelings for him. Every breath, every second that passed, filled her with loneliness.
She had no answers or any hope of getting them. The change in him tonight was one she couldn’t ignore. He had called her by name, not the hated duchess. Even his touch on her face had been tender, almost a caress. Could a man like Delaney want someone like her?
Restless, she turned and twisted on her hard bed, tucking her hand beneath her cheek, surprised to find there were tears. Foolish woman, she admonished herself. Delaney did not want to get tangled up with her. He had made that plain enough.
Angry with herself, she brought forth from memory the stinging insult of his calling her a whore and his payment for a look.
If that memory did not cure her of foolish thoughts and daydreams about Delaney Carmichael, nothing else would.
The sun raised its curtain on a new day while she watched, spilling the soft brightness of pinks, golds, and blues across the sky. And she still thought about Delaney.
Birdsong sweetly pierced the chilled air, forcing her to reach for her shawl. The loud crack of a rifle shot close by sent her sitting upright. Listening intently, she was ready to grab the loaded rifle from the wagon’s corner.
Hushing Pris and Joey as they woke, frightened, Faith released a sigh when the birds began to sing again. She pressed her hand over her breast to still the furious beat of her heart.
A shadowed silhouette stood before the back opening, and she saw that it was Keith, but before she could call out to him, he had moved away.
Pris crept into her lap, hugging her tight. “I was so scared. Papa said the Apache were going to come and slit our throats.”
“No, honey, no,” Faith murmured, rocking her. “Pa is wrong.”
“Delaney won’t let them,” Joey offered bravely, but he found his way on the other side of Faith and hid his face against her shoulder. “B-but if I’m wrong, Faith, will they try to steal Beula?”
“I don’t think so, Joey. And there was only one shot. If anyone was going to attack us, we would hear more.” Even as she whispered this reassurance, Keith appeared near the back of the wagon.
“Delaney shot a deer. He’s down by the river, dressing it out.” Keith reached inside and ruffled Joey’s hair. “Had you scared, scout?” His eyes met Faith’s. “I was scared for a few minutes there myself. Best we get moving.”
Faith helped the children to dress, and when they were outside, she hung a blanket across the open canvas for privacy. She heard her father’s voice, but it was muffled. Keith yelled out that he had coffee on, and she hurried to dress, realizing that the lack of sleep had made her slow and clumsy. She had her shoe half-buttoned when she heard Delaney’s voice raised in anger. The strong feeling that her father was not going to allow the matter of Seanilzay traveling with them rest made her leave off fastening her shoes, and with her hair falling to her waist, she climbed down from the wagon.
Hurrying to the fire, she saw Delaney kneeling by Seanilzay’s side, her father and Keith both standing away from them. After pouring a cup of coffee for herself, she began to slice bacon, wondering if she should say something or let Delaney go on ignoring her. Her hands stilled as she overheard Seanilzay.
“Leave me,” he whispered, gripping Delaney’s arm. “I have told you what I have done. I am not worthy to claim your care.”
Tugging his arm free, Delaney rose, trying to stem the anger that churned inside him. Before dawn Seanilzay had ca
lled to him, desperate to talk. He had listened to the confession of what amounted to betrayal, but the years and times between them were older, their good memories deeper, than the fresh cuts Seanilzay’s words now made in him.
He tried to understand how hunger and the loss of pride had driven Seanilzay to make promises of help to Major Ross that he knew Delaney would never keep. But it was his promise to find Delaney for Adam Brodie, knowing what stood between them, that brought an unforgiving anger to consume him.
But how could he abandon Seanilzay, no matter that he pleaded for him to do just that?
He glanced over to where Becket stood with his son and knew he wasn’t finished demanding that he leave Seanilzay behind, either.
“Well, Carmichael? I’ve waited long enough. You gonna leave him?”
“Becket,” he warned, “you’re piling up grief for yourself. The man is helpless. I can’t leave him here alone.”
Robert clamped his lips together, unable to stop the fury that was building over Delaney’s refusal to leave the savage. Much as it galled him, he tried to reason with him once more.
“He’ll slow us down. Even you can’t deny that. You can’t scout and hunt and then tend to him. My girl won’t touch him if I say no.”
“Girl?” Delaney asked with a sarcastic tone just as Faith rose and went to stand beside her father.
“This is men’s talk, Faith.” Grabbing hold of her arm, he shoved her away. “Go fix your hair proper.” And to Delaney, “We got a standoff. I don’t want him with us, and you won’t leave him.”
Delaney glared at him.
“Pa,” Faith interrupted, rubbing her arm, “you can’t speak for me. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“You’ll do as you’re told if you know what’s good for you,” Becket shouted.
Faith glanced at Delaney and saw him dig into his pant pocket and pull out money. Money her father had paid him.
“No!” she yelled, running to him. “Put it away. My father doesn’t want you to leave us. And I will help you tend to Seanilzay until he’s strong no matter what he says.” She searched his features, hoping for a softening, for some sign that he relented. Delaney stood there, counting out bills. “Must I remind you, Mr. Carmichael, that the deal was made between us?”
“Quit prodding me.”
“I’ll prod or do whatever it takes to get you to keep your word,” she snapped, incensed that he would be so stubborn. Ignoring her father’s mutterings, Faith’s gaze drifted from Delaney’s face down to Seanilzay. She was surprised to see that the Apache’s lean, hard face wore a smile. Faith took it to mean that he was offering her encouragement to argue with Delaney.
Stuffing a small fold of bills into his pocket, Delaney handed the rolled balance to Becket. “Take it. And don’t bother to count it, it’s all there.”
He gave a sharp jerk to the front brim of his hat, shadowing his eyes, and turned to Faith. “Duchess, it’s been a pleasure. Take care of Pris and Joey.”
“Will you feel any guilt at all over our deaths, Mr. Carmichael?” she asked, dogging his steps.
“I’ll be riding ahead and leaving sign. Follow it and nothing will happen to you.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Duchess, you keep biting on me, an’ I’ll bite back.” He lifted his blanket and saddle, walking to where Mirage was staked.
“Go ahead,” she whispered.
He spun around so fast she sucked in her breath and stepped back. “Women like you can make a man vicious.”
Faith sighed with relief and didn’t care that he knew it. “Listen to me,” she pleaded, touching his arm. He went still, and her gaze followed his to where her hand rested.
“You like danger, duchess?”
“I don’t know. Do I?” she asked with innate honesty.
Delaney didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. While the spirit of unrest burned in his blood, she was a complication to him.
Faith decided she had been far too bold and removed her hand. “I know my father is wrong about the Apache people. He’s scaring the children with talk of them being stolen or of having their throats slit. If you stay, you can stop them from hearing these things. Delaney, we want to make a new life in this land. Will you bear the guilt of knowing that you could have taught Keith, Joey, and Pris to be understanding of the Indians’ ways? Do you want them to learn from a man like my father?”
He searched her eyes and found the truth, but the darker shadows were there, too. “You don’t much like your father, do you?”
“There are reasons. And don’t ask me. I can’t tell you.”
“No one knows what the Apache will do with children. They might kill them right off, or take a cotton to them and raise them like one of their own with as much care and love. Mostly, it’ll depend on a child’s age, on how they react, on how fast the Apache have to move.”
“You’re telling me the truth,” she murmured, wanting to know more and not knowing how to ask.
He saw the uncertainty in her eyes. Absently rubbing Mirage’s neck, he said flatly, “You’re owed that much from me. I’ve never seen a white child with any of the bands. That’s not to say they’re not there. Talk is that if they steal them, they run and hide in Mexico up in the Sierra Madres. Since the Mexican government refuses to allow the army to cross the border in pursuit, it’s pointless to ponder. If you’re still worried, there are men who work to take action to get permission for the soldiers to cross and search for them.”
“Well, then,” she returned, placing her hands on her hips, “if Pris or Joey are stolen, I’ll know where to look for them.” Faith waited. She reminded herself that he was hardheaded and hard-hearted. Delaney glanced aside. Her body swelled with temper. “Maybe Chelli would’ve been the better choice. I was warned of what he would do by a man I thought I respected, but you just proved how wrong I could be. I trust you.”
“Stop kicking up hell’s own noise, duchess.” She trusted him. Delaney’s mouth kicked up in a reckless grin. He found that fact to be as infuriating as it was tempting. “You’re a real sassy-mouth. Ain’t ever been called a coward before this—and never by a woman.”
“I’ll call you the devil’s own if I have to. I’m asking you again,” she said, reaching out with her hand to still the movement of his on the mare. “Don’t leave us alone.” Delaney had heard that tone before. His mind shot back to the first time she had approached him. No begging, no flirting, just Faith and forthright demands. He already agreed with himself that neither one of them had the sense God gave a mule, and he couldn’t deny the duchess had his respect for standing up to her father. He did owe her a debt for helping to care for Seanilzay. With a shrug he shook his hand free of her hold and lifted the blanket to Mirage’s back. Smoothing it out, he finally answered her.
“Square it up with your father, Faith. We’ll be pulling out in half an hour.”
“Thank you, Delaney.”
“Don’t bother. I owe you.” He looked at her, a grin creasing his lips. “Duchess, I like your hair loose. It goes with that sassy mouth.”
Faith reached up to gather her hair away from her face. She wasn’t sure what to say. But there was no way she could mistake the frankly male appreciation in Delaney’s eyes.
“What about Seanilzay?” she asked, still flustered.
“I’ll tend to his travel.”
And Faith saw that he did. She envied Pris being able to stand and watch Delaney work. There was smooth, easy grace in every move. She caught glimpses of him cutting strips from the fresh deer hide. By the time she had doused the fire and returned from washing out the coffeepot, he was using the strips to tie crisscrossed saplings over Mirage’s withers. The mare balked until Delaney soothed her with words Faith didn’t understand. The vee-shape poles widened from the mare’s hind legs, and Delaney tied more strips across them to form a web. Faith had to make sure the tops of the water barrels were secure, so she didn’t have a chance
then to ask him what he was making.
Once the children were up on the wagon seat, she walked over to him. Seanilzay was bound in what appeared to be an upright bed. Her quilt cushioned his body, and Delaney’s blanket covered him.
“Will he be able to rest in this?” she asked.
“Snug and safe as a baby.”
“Mirage doesn’t seem to be pleased about pulling—”
“She’s never had a travois on her, but I’ll keep her to a walk.”
“He’d be better off riding in the wagon,” she said, taken aback by the scathing look he shot her. “I guess that was foolish to suggest.”
“You said it, not me.” He leaned down to whisper to Seanilzay, nodded at his answer, and stepped up into his saddle. Checking the rope that rested beneath his thigh, Delaney looked down at her. “About ready?”
Faith glanced around and saw that Keith had finished harnessing the mules and was up on his wagon. “Yes,” she answered, gathering up her skirt and petticoats to run to her own place.
Slapping the floppy-brim hat on, Faith waited until Joey settled close by her side. His hand covered hers to help hold the reins. “Move out,” he called without any reminder.
Delaney had intended to stay close and skirt the mountains, but the way would be a rough ride for Seanilzay. He led them out, closer to the Hassayampa, keeping them parallel with the river.
Mirage settled down after a few minutes of accustoming herself to her new burden, and Delaney allowed her to pick her way. His own thoughts wandered a bit. Major Ross had to pay for what he had done to Seanilzay. But he would have to wait until the Beckets were out of his way. Delaney could not have them involved. Yancy Watts and Brodie were buried in a sealed-off corner of his mind. There was a debt that needed settling with them, too, but that had been a long time in the making. He would wait. It wouldn’t be hard on him. He kept telling the duchess how patient a man he was, didn’t he?
Low spots in the rivers helped the crossings, but the days began to pass in a blur to Faith. She did not try to deny there was peace to be found in this land. The sight of towering pinnacles and buttes in the distance that arose from the desert floor was sometimes staggering. She would watch when she could, the shifting angles of the sun reflecting light and throwing shadows on the chiseled worn rocks. Red shales, yellow-gray limestone, brown sandstone, pink granite, and all the shades in between created a rainbow for anyone to gaze upon.
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