“No,” she said, “but I think I have a name for her.”
“What?”
“I’ll give you one guess,” she said, “and it rhymes with witch!”
His laughter infuriated her still more.
During the next two days, Trey did his best to convince Amanda that the mishaps she had told him about were just that. After all, there was no reason for Red Shawl to be jealous. There had never really been anything between them. But once the seed was planted, his suspicion grew. Aware now, he noticed that wherever he went, Red Shawl was usually nearby. Several times he had caught her watching him. It was true that she had let him know, rather brazenly, that she was willing to be the second wife in his lodge, but he had put the thought out of his mind almost as soon as the offer was made. He didn’t need a second wife, didn’t want one.
Now, he watched Amanda prepare the evening meal. She had learned much in the short time they had been with the People. She could build a fire that cooked evenly. She rode for long hours without complaint. She could set up a campsite as well as any of the other women. The children clamored around her, charmed by her ready smile, captivated by the color of her hair. She treated his grandparents with respect, did her best to conform to the customs of his people. And she was, without doubt, the most beautiful, desirable woman he had ever known.
She looked up from the pot she was stirring, smiled when she saw him watching her.
“Are you hungry?” She picked up the spoon and licked it. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Starved.” He wasn’t talking about food, and they both knew it.
* * * * *
They were a day’s ride from the winter camp when the attack came. Trey had taken the horses down to the stream. Amanda was rolling her blankets into a neat roll when she heard a shout, followed by a gunshot.
There was a moment of silence, and then pandemonium as riders clad in dusty Army blue poured into the encampment, rifles blazing.
Amanda scrambled to her feet. Heart pounding, she looked around for Trey, but he was nowhere in sight. She saw women and children running toward the river, saw young men grab their weapons and ride out to meet the enemy, while older warriors stayed back, providing covering fire for the women and children.
She was trying to decide what to do, where to go, when she heard a whooshing sound behind her. Before she could turn, pain exploded through the back of her head, and then everything went black.
* * * * *
At the sound of the first gunshot, Trey had swung onto the stallion’s back, his only thought for Amanda. A trooper rode into his path, bringing his rifle to bear down on Trey.
Trey reacted instinctively. He drew his Colt from the gunbelt he wore over his clout and fired in one smooth motion. The trooper went backwards out of his saddle and Trey bent low over Relámpago’s neck and plunged into the thick of the battle.
The fighting raged all around him. The air was filled with dust and the stink of gun smoke, the sound of rifle fire, the war cries of the Apache, the shouts of the soldiers. Urging the stallion on, Trey thumbed the hammer of his Colt repeatedly, reloading from his gunbelt, as he fought his way to where he had left Amanda. She was nowhere in sight.
The battle was violent and bloody and quickly over. The Apache fought hard and when the fight turned against them, they scattered like ashes in a whirlwind, taking what they could carry and leaving the rest behind.
Trey took a last look around, and then rode for cover, his only consolation the fact that he hadn’t seen Amanda’s body lying with the others.
By late afternoon, the soldiers were gone. Heavy-hearted, Trey rode back to the camp. It was a grim scene. Wickiups had been knocked down, a few were in flames. He saw men and women moving through the rubble, gathering what blankets and foodstuffs hadn’t been destroyed or carried off by the soldiers. Others drifted in to the camp as the day wore on. The dead were quickly buried.
Trey found Walker on the Wind tending to a bullet wound in Yellow Calf Woman’s shoulder. Dismounting, he propped a rifle he’d picked up during the battle against the side of his grandmother’s lodge, which was miraculously untouched. The lodge he’d shared with Amanda was scorched on one side.
After making sure his Colt was fully loaded, he knelt beside his grandparents. “Have you seen Amanda?”
Walker on the Wind shook his head.
“I saw Red Shawl hurrying toward her soon after the battle started,” Yellow Calf Woman said.
“Are you sure?”
His grandmother nodded. “I only saw them for a moment, and then…” She gestured at her arm. “One of the Blue Coats shot me.”
“Where is Red Shawl now?”
Walker on the Wind pointed to a group of people standing a short distance away. “She was with her mother, over there.”
“Thanks.” Trey looked at his grandmother. “You gonna be all right?”
“Do not worry about me. I killed the yudastcin who did this.”
Trey grinned, amused by the fire in her eyes. “I need to talk to Red Shawl. I’ll be back to help you gather your stuff up later.”
“Aman-da is unhurt,” Walker on the Wind said as Trey stood up.
Trey stared down at his grandfather. “You’re sure?”
Walker on the Wind placed his hand over his heart. “I feel it, in here.”
Trey nodded. If there was one thing he had faith in, it was his grandfather’s intuition.
Looking around, Trey saw Red Shawl standing with her mother and sister. She looked up at him and smiled. He nodded at the other two women, then motioned for Red Shawl to follow him.
“Have you seen Amanda?” he asked when they were away from the others. “Do you know where she is?”
Red Shawl looked up at him. “How would I know? Perhaps she was killed.”
She sounded far too pleased about that possibility for Trey’s peace of mind.
“Did you see her before the attack?”
“I do not remember.” She placed her hand on his arm. “You will need a new woman in your lodge now.”
He knew, in that moment, that it had been Red Shawl behind the string of mishaps that had bedeviled Amanda, just as Amanda had suspected.
“Know this,” he said, lifting her hand from his arm. “You will never be my woman. And if you value your life, you had better pray that no harm comes to Amanda.”
“Long Walker…”
“I know you’re responsible for her disappearance,” Trey said, his voice cold. His hand gripped her forearm. “Where is she?”
“You are hurting me.”
“Where is she?”
“I do not know. You are hurting me!”
“I ought to break your arm.”
“Long Walker, let her go.”
Trey glanced over his shoulder to see his grandfather walking toward him, accompanied by a young boy.
“Let her go,” Walker on the Wind repeated. “Young Bear has information you will want to hear.”
Trey released his hold on Red Shawl’s arm. “Get out of here.”
Rubbing her bruised flesh, Red Shawl hurried away.
“Speak, Young Bear,” Walker on the Wind said. “Tell my grandson what you told me.”
“I saw Red Shawl hit your woman over the head and drag her away from camp during the battle. Red Shawl left her there.” Young Bear pointed to a large rock some distance away. “Two soldiers found your woman and took her away.”
“Was she alive?”
Young Bear nodded.
“Ashoge, Young Bear.”
The boy nodded, his chest slightly puffed out with pride as he walked away.
Trey stood there a moment, then ducked into his lodge. He quickly changed into his shirt and trousers, which the looters had left behind. Everything else of value, including Amanda’s dress, had been stolen. Going back outside, he picked up the rifle he had left propped against his grandmother’s lodge.
“You are going after her,” Walker on the Wind said. It was not a ques
tion.
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
Trey nodded. He was in a hurry to be on his way. He didn’t have time to wait for the Apache to mourn their dead, or for a war party to be assembled.
Walker on the Wind grunted softly. “Sometimes one is better than many.” He paused, his head cocked to one side, as though listening to a voice only he could hear. “I had a dream last night. You were riding with us, but then your path turned from ours and I saw you riding in a different direction. Your woman was with you, taking you to a faraway place. This morning, the spirits told me it was time for you to give up your quest for vengeance, that a new life awaits you.”
“A new life?”
Walker on the Wind placed his hand on his grandson’s shoulder. “We will not see each other again in this life, ciye. Remember who you are, and where you came from.”
“I will, Shinale.”
“Shortly before you returned to us, I saw you in a strange place,” Walker on the Wind remarked, his brow furrowed. “The woman, Aman-da, was with you. You were in a large wickiup, surrounded by the clothing of the white man.”
“You saw that?”
Walker on the Wind nodded. “There were many hats there. And on one wall, the head of a white buffalo.”
Trey shivered in spite of himself. He had known for years that Walker on the Wind communed with the spirits, but he’d had no idea that his grandfather could see into the future, as well. “What else did you see?”
Walker on the Wind shook his head slowly, his brow furrowed. “I saw you with the woman. You were sitting down, and you were going very fast. I do not know what you were riding. It was like nothing I have ever seen…”
Trey grinned. “It’s called a car, Shinale. And it was very fast indeed. I wish I had it now.”
“Go quickly,” Walker on the Wind said. “I shall pray to Usen on your behalf.”
“Ashoge, Shinale.” Trey handed the rifle to his grandfather. “This is for you.”
Walker on the Wind nodded his thanks as he tucked the rifle in the crook of his arm. “You will not need it where you are going.” He made a small gesture with his chin toward Trey’s gunbelt. “Your short gun serves you well.”
Trey hugged his grandparents, then swung onto Relámpago’s back. A last look at all he was leaving behind, and then he was gone, riding hard toward the east.
* * * * *
Amanda woke with the worst headache she’d ever had. Where was she? Raising herself up on one elbow, she glanced around. She was on a cot, in a tent of some kind. There was a folding table and chair across from the cot; a lantern on the table.
She sat up, groaning softly. What was she doing here? And why did her head hurt so much? She lifted a hand to the back of her head, winced as her fingertips encountered a lump the size of a golf ball. How had that happened? And why couldn’t she remember?
From outside came the shout of men’s voices, the blare of a bugle, the clank of harness, the whinny of a horse. It sounded like every Western movie she had ever seen.
The fabric was canvas, not buffalo hide. Sun beat down on it, making the interior hot.
Where was she?
Trey…
She stood so quickly, it made her dizzy. Pain lanced through the top of her head. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, walked unsteadily to the entrance of the tent and peered outside.
She was in the midst of a cavalry encampment. She blinked, closed her eyes, and looked again, half expecting to see John Wayne come striding down the line of tents. There were soldiers everywhere, engaged in various tasks. Some were cleaning their weapons, some were watering the horses tethered to a picket line a short distance away, some were sitting in the shade, drinking coffee.
A tall slender man wearing the bars of a lieutenant on his shoulders was talking to a trio of soldiers. He had a strong profile, blond hair and a sweeping, cavalry-style mustache.
There was no sign of Trey or his people.
She backed away from the tent flap as a rather portly man in a rumpled blue uniform strode toward her. His bars made him a captain. An Army doctor, she assumed, noting the black satchel he carried.
“Ah,” he said, entering the tent. “You’re awake.”
“Yes.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Where am I?”
“In the back end of beyond, by the looks of it,” he replied good-naturedly. “I’m Captain Rathburn. You’ve had a rather nasty blow to your head.”
She nodded. Not a good idea. The tent seemed to spin out of focus.
“There, there,” the doctor said, grasping her arm to steady here. “Here, I think you’d better sit down.”
She didn’t argue. She sat on the cot while he pulled a stethoscope from his bag and listened to her heart, checked her pupils, examined the lump on the back of her head.
He tucked the stethoscope back into his bag. “Do you know your name?”
“Amanda Burkett.”
“Where do you live?”
“Canyon Creek, Arizona.”
“Do you know who the president is?”
“George W. Bush.”
The doctor frowned. “Who?”
She realized her mistake then, but couldn’t recall who had been the president in 1869.
The doctor patted her knee in a fatherly gesture. “It's only temporary, dear, I'm sure. That was quite a blow you got. Give your memory time. Do you remember how you got here?”
“No. Why can’t I remember?”
“It’s not unusual, when one receives a blow like that, to forget what happened immediately before and after. It might come back to you, it might not.”
“How long have I been here?”
“A few hours.”
She started to rise. “I’ve got to go…”
Rathburn put his hand on her shoulder, holding her down. “We’ll be moving out first thing in the morning. I think you should rest until then.”
“No. I’ve got to go back…”
“Now, now,” Rathburn said soothingly, “you’re free now.” His gaze moved over her, taking in her Apache dress and braids. “How long were you a prisoner?”
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll take you back to the fort and get in touch with your people. Do they live very far away?”
“Far?” She thought of her parents, a hundred and thirty-two years in the future, and started to laugh. She sounded a little hysterical, but she couldn’t help it. “Doctor, you have no idea just how far away they are.”
* * * * *
Trey left the stallion at the bottom of a ridge. On hands and knees, he climbed to the top and peered over the rim down into the Army encampment. Below, he could see soldiers going about their business. A large tent was set up in the middle of the rows of smaller tents belonging to the soldiers; the stars and stripes flew above it; below the flag, the red and white troop guidon fluttered in the breeze. There were sentries posted at regular intervals. Those men not on duty were at mess.
There was no sign of Amanda.
He stayed there, watching, as the sun sank behind the distant mountains.
The soldiers made ready for the night.
The Lieutenant bedded down on a cot outside the large tent.
Trey grunted softly. That was right strange. Could it be that Amanda was in the shavetail’s tent? If she was here, it was the only place she could be.
Settling in, he waited.
* * * * *
Amanda turned over on her stomach and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. The doctor had looked in on her several times. Each time, he had asked her name and if she knew where she was. A trooper had brought her dinner, leaving her to wonder how the Army survived. The bacon, beans, hardtack, and black coffee were hardly a gourmet feast.
With a sigh, she rolled onto her side. Where was Trey? Had he survived the attack? What about Walker on the Wind and Yellow Calf Woman? She wished she could remember what had happened, how she had come t
o be here, but her mind was a blank. She remembered watching the women and children run for cover and nothing after that until she woke here.
Trey…he had to be alive. She’d know if he wasn’t. Somehow, she would know. Tears stung her eyes. What if she was just fooling herself? What if he was dead? How would she live without him? She knew women in love said that all the time. I can’t live without him. But, in her case, it could be literally true. She was smart, computer savvy, able to get around in the city on her own, but sadly ill-equipped to survive in the Old West.
She blinked back her tears. He wasn’t dead, and she refused to consider the possibility.
Closing her eyes, she listened to the sounds of the night. The wind scratched against the tent. She heard the stamp of a horse’s hoof, a sentry calling that all was well…
* * * * *
With the patience instilled in him by Walker on the Wind, Trey watched and waited until the camp was bedded down before he made his way back to his horse. The stallion whinnied softly as he approached.
“Quiet, ‘Pago.” He patted the stallion’s neck, then took up the reins and swung into the saddle.
It took three-quarters of an hour, moving slow and quiet, to come up behind the lieutenant’s tent. Dismounting, he ground-reined the stallion. Pulling the knife from his belt, he inserted the razor sharp tip into the canvas, then stroked downward gently and quietly, opening a shoulder high gash. Silent as a shadow, he slipped through.
Amanda was asleep on a narrow cot.
Padding silently across the floor, he put his hand over her mouth, then shook her gently.
She woke with a start, her eyes wide, then threw her arms around his neck.
He hugged her close for a long moment, then moved away from the cot, motioning for her to follow him.
Amanda did so without question, her heart pounding with happiness at seeing him again.
Relámpago was waiting outside. Trey lifted her onto the stallion’s back, then swung up behind her and walked the stallion away from the camp.
She leaned back against Trey, her heart overflowing with gratitude that he was alive.
They hadn’t gone far when a shout roused the camp.
Muttering an oath, Trey slammed his heels into the stallion’s flanks, and Relámpago took off at a dead run, streaking across the land like the lightning he’d been named for.
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