Apache Summer

by Heather Graham

  The sun was still above them.

  “I’m afraid of you,” Tess admitted.

  He had been flat on the earth. He rose up on an elbow. “What?”

  “I’m afraid of caring too much.”

  He touched her cheek.

  “We’re all afraid of caring too much .”

  “I don’t believe you’re afraid of anything.” He smiled, a crooked, rueful smile.

  “Yes, I am. I’n afraid of losing you right now.”

  “Right now,” she repeated.

  “But what … what about tomorrow, Jamie?

  That’s what frightens me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head. She rolled away from him, rising to her feet, straightening her slip and dusting bits of leaf and dirt and grass from it.

  She smiled at him, then hurried toward the water.

  He must have stripped off the remnants of his for when he came up behind her, he was stark naked. placed his hands around her waist and kissed her nape.

  177 he whispered in her ear, so softly that she wasn’t sure she heard him.

  “Tomorrow? I’m not sure. But I think that I’m falling in love with you, Tess.”

  He left her, walking into the river, then ducking beneath the surface and swimming into the center of it. He rose, let out a cry and shivered.

  “It’s damned cold for summer!” he called out to her.

  Tess stooped and threw water over her face. She watched as Jamie dove beneath the surface again.

  A twig snapped suddenly behind her. She leaped up, spinning around.

  There were four of them. The so-called Indians. They were clothed in bronze paint and breech clouts

  “Jamie!” she whispered.

  But of course there was nothing he could do. The men were armed with bows and arrows, rifles, even a few tomahawks.

  They were going to kill her, she thought, and Jamie would never have time to reach the surface. And it would be her fault, because if she had talked to him this morning, he would never have brought her here, and he would never have become so involved with her that he forgot danger. “Jamie!” she screamed as one of the men lunged toward her. She fought. She kicked, she scratched, she screamed and struggled, but a second man came up, grasping her legs, and between them, she was tossed over a shoulder. She still fought, clawing, screaming, pounding.

  Bronze coloring came off in her hands. “Tess!” Jamie was charging, naked and unarmed, out of the water. She saw his eyes. They met across the distance and locked with hers; the pain and the horror of the moment was mirrored between them.

  “Tess!” He screamed her name again in a loud, long cry and he was speeding furiously toward the emthe man carrying Tess began to run with her. She craned neck, straining to see Jamie. She saw him reaching the shallows, and she saw him running, running to the shore. He rammed one of the armed attackers with such violence and force that the man fell. He spun and kicked his next opponent, then thrust his fists against him in a fury.

  But then Tess saw that another man was behind Jamie as he fought. She saw the second man raise a battle club and bring it down upon Jamie’s head with all his strength. She heard the cracking sound. And she screamed as she saw Jamie crumple to the ground, and then she saw no more, for blackness descended over the sun.

  Chapter Nine

  Tess didn’t know how much time passed before she regained consciousness. When she did, she was hanging facedown over the flanks of a sweating horse in front of the pseudo-Indian who had grabbed her. She was acutely uncomfortable.

  Although the sun was setting, it was still ferociously hot. The sticky, wet hair of the horse irritated her flesh, and the continual and monotonous thump-thump- thump of its gait was bringing a ferocious pain to her head.

  Her arms hurt, her back hurt, and her neck burned like blue blazes.

  She was a great mass of pain, and at first that was all ‘she could think of.

  After a while she remembered. She’d been kidnapped. The bronze paint worn by the “warrior” behind her was coming off on her flesh and chemise where the man’s thighs and knees rubbed against her.

  And Jamie Slater was by the river with his head bashed in. couldn’t be alive. He had fought for her, and he had b~n killed in the attempt.

  Scalding tears stung her eyes. She fought back the urge to aloud.

  Jamie could perhaps have survived. Maybe just been knocked unconscious.

  They had left her for once, and she had survived. Jamie was tough. He had the war, he had. She had seen the club come against his skull.

  Still, she couldn’t accept it. She had to believe that he was alive because if she didn’t she wouldn’t care if she lived or died.

  Maybe there wasn’t much chance of her surviving, anyway. Von Heusen didn’t know yet that there was now no way he was going to get his hands on the Stuart holdings. She wondered briefly about the other Slater brothers and their wives. Would they come to Wiltshire to accept an inheritance? When they saw what had been happening, would they pick up her fight? Why should they? Because they were probably close. Because Jamie wouldn’t have taken the time and the care to see that things were done the way they were if his brothers weren’t willing to fight. To fight for him. To avenge his death.

  No, no, he couldn’t be dead. Please! God in heaven! she prayed silently.

  Don’t let him be dead, don’t let him be dead, don’t let him’ be. “Let’s hold up here!” someone called out.

  The horse she was thrown over ceased plodding. A second animal trotted up beside it. The man spoke again.

  “We’ve come far enough. Even if someone manages to find Slater’s body, they won’t be able to track us. Not across the river. And we left plenty of Comanche arrows behind. She still out, David?”

  “Seems to be, Jeremiah.”

  “Well, that’s good. Still, let’s stop here for the night. By tomorrow afternoon we’ll meet up with the Comancheros and turn the girl over to them.”

  Comancheros? Despite herself Tess felt a sizzle of terror sweep through her.

  They weren’t exactly Mexicans, and they weren’t exactly Indians; they were a wild grouping of both who savagely lived off the land. They raided, pillaged, murdered and raped without thought, and they made much of their income by selling arms illegally to the Apache.

  Von Heusen meant to have his revenge this time. He hadn’t planned a quick, easy death for her. He had consigned her to a living hell.

  She couldn’t let them give her to the Comancheros. Somehow, she was going to get the best of these men. And if they had killed Jamie, she had to see that they were brought to justice.

  “Come on, let’s get started setting Up a camp for the night,” the man David said. He started to dismount.

  “Boy, that did feel good, swinging that club against that bastard Slater.

  After everything he did to us out at the Stuart place the other night, I just wish I’d had time to gouge out his eyes.”

  “Or take ‘ ‘~” a scajp. Jeremiah suggested with laughter.

  “Yeah—or take a scalp.”

  “Do you think Hubert and Smitty have made it back with the good word for yon Heusen yet?”

  “Probably. I told them to head straight back. Someone will find Slater’s body soon enough. We want to make sure we can’t be blamed for it. Come on, now, let’s get her down and tied up before she comes to.”

  Jeremiah hopped off the horse. The one named David reached for her.

  The one whose hands would be forever stained with the blood of Jamie Slater.

  Tess let out a wild scream when those hands touched her. She was ready. He wanted to gouge out eyes? Her fingers were flying madly for his. She caught him completely by surprise. He howled like an infant when her nails swiped his face, missing his eyes but digging deeply into the flesh of his cheek.

  He stumbled, and she tried to right herself upon the horse.

  The animal, panicked by the screams, reared high, its forelegs kick
ing and flailing. Desperate as she was, Tess couldn’t quite gain her balance. The horse came down on four legs, kicking up great clouds of dust, then rose, pawing the sunset-hued air once again. Tess went flying into the bushes.

  She lost her breath and lay stunned for several seconds. David and Jeremiah were shouting at one another, David giving the orders.

  “Get the horse! Get the fool horse! I’m going for the girl.”

  Fear spurred her aching and bruised limbs into action. She managed to rise to her bare feet and race down a narrow trail between rows of dry bush. Her feet encountered rocks and stickers, and she gasped out and tried to pray.

  Despite the pain she kept running. She felt as if her lungs would burst, as if her calves would buckle, but she kept going, desperate to be free.

  But arms suddenly swept around her legs, and she plunged forward into the dirt. Mouthfuls of it seemed to choke her and fill her nose. She gasped and choked and wheezed and finally managed to open her eyes.

  David sat atop her, straddling her. He was still wearing a breech clout and streaked theatrical paint, but he had discarded his black braided wig. His own reddish hair looked strange against the melted bronze paint, but matched the blood-red welts she had drawn across his face. He wasn’t much past his early twenties, and might even have been halfway attractive if his way of life had not done things to his face and his eyes. Both were cold, and there was a permanent twist of dissatisfaction about his jaw. He smiled as he looked at her, enjoying her situation, reveling in his power and in her misery.

  She swung out again and managed to connect her fist against his cheek. He swore and secured her wrists, then started laughing as he stared at her.

  “My, my, Miss. Stuart, it is a pleasure to see you this way!”

  She was barely clad, she realized. Her chemise was dusty and pulled high, leaving her midriff bare. And her cotton petticoat was rucked up against her knees; her legs were bare 183 beneath it. As he stared at her she felt sick.

  She could see his intentions in his eyes, and she wanted to die. Not long ago Jamie had whispered on the breeze that he thought he was falling in love with her. And not long ago, he had taught her what it was to feel feminine beyond belief, to know the beauty of a mutual yearning, a soaring passion, all the sweet and fascinating things that should be shared between a man and a woman. Not long ago. And now this horrible man with blood on his hands was looking at her and laughing.

  “I always did want to get to know you better, Tess!” he assured her.

  He lowered himself against her. She twisted wildly, hating the feel of his greased flesh, despising him. He tried to find her lips. She twisted and thrashed and screamed, and still she felt him touching her.

  “That’s all right!” he hissed against her cheek.

  “It’s all right.

  You’ll come to like it soon enough. I’m real good. I’m real, real good.

  I’ll have you screaming in a way you just ain’t imagined yet, honey. And later on, you’ll be grateful.

  “Cause you’re going to Nalte, one of the chiefs of the Mescalero Apache.

  He’s wanted a blond woman like you for a long time. They say he tried a few raids to acquire one, but he kept coming up with brunettes. Our Comanchero friends promised him a beautiful young blond white woman. Nalte is tough, Miss. Stuart. You’ll be real glad that I initiated you into this …”

  He tried to secure both her wrists with one hand while he spoke. Tess fought him like a wildcat, delaying his purpose but losing her strength quickly.

  Nalte? An Apache? Then the Comancheros were the delivery men. Von Heusen was dealing with the Comancheros, and the Comancheros were dealing with the Apache. She would be safe from the Comancheros. Because she was meant for the Apache!

  But she wasn’t safe from David. She sobbed as she fought to free her wrists. She threw his weight from her hips, but he seemed to enjoy feeling her move against him. She twisted and sank her teeth into his fingers.

  He shouted out in pain and sat hard on her, plunging his fingers into his mouth and stating at her murderously. Then his palm connected sharply with her cheek, and the world seemed to spin. His hands were upon her, upon her breasts, tugging at her petticoats.

  “No!” she screamed in desperation and horror. But there was no one to help her out here. Jamie was by the river, dead. The vultures might well find his body before anyone else could.

  David’s hands were upon her, and he was tugging on her clothes. He was about to violate the only beauty she had ever really dared to reach out and hold.

  “Get off her!” someone suddenly roared. And David was plucked away from her.

  Tess crawled quickly backward on her elbows. Her heart soared as she saw that David and Jeremiah were involved in a fistfight with one another. David was swinging and screaming at the same time.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you, Jeremiah? You can have your damned turn when I’m done” — “No! Von Heusen said no! He promised the chief an in- noeent woman ” — “What do you think she was doing by the river with Slater?”

  “I don’t know anything! I saw the girl washing her face, and I saw Slater going for a swim. That’s all I saw. Von Heusen promised the Comancheros an innocent. And he made us swear not to touch her. I’m not getting my balls shot off for your entertainment, and that’s a damned fact.”

  “I give the orders here” — “Von Heusen gives the orders here!”

  Tess realized that she was just staring at them. They were fighting like madmen and not paying the least bit of at ten- 185 finn to her, and she was just staring at them. She rolled over and stumbled to her feet. It was time to start running again, before David convinced Jeremiah that she was no innocent and that no one would ever know if the two of them used her, too.

  She hadn’t gone three steps before fingers laced into her hair, dragging her back. She gasped and sobbed, swinging and flailing out, but she was so exhausted, and in so much pain, that she knew that no matter what her will, she could not fight much longer.

  “Stop it! Stop it! Come on, Miss. Stuart, calm down, and make the night easier on all of us! I won’t touch you, and he won’t touch you, you understand? Just calm down.” It was Jeremiah who held her. He was as young as David, she decided. He had lanky blond hair and colorless blue eyes, but they didn’t yet hold that absolute cold, cruel streak that touched David’s.

  He almost smiled.

  “I’m going to get you something to wear. Then I’m going to tie you up. I have to. But I’ll get you water, too, and something to eat. We’re not going to touch you.”

  “Speak for yourself!” David snarled from a few steps away.

  “We’re not going to touch her?” Jeremiah snapped. “We’re going to turn her over to the Comancheres, just like we promised yon Heusen.”

  Tess didn’t know who would win out. Jeremiah kept a firm grip upon her arm and pulled her along. She saw that there was a third horse on the trail, and that a number of rolled packs were tied on the animal’s back. Jeremiah kept one hand and one eye on her as he tugged at the bundles to free them.

  When they fell to the ground, he pulled her down with him to dig into one.

  “Here,” he said roughly.

  “Take this. And get into it. But if you try anything funny, I’ll turn my back and close my ears and David can do whatever the hell he wants.

  Understand?”

  She understood. She hadn’t the strength to fight them. She needed some sleep. She needed a little time to think and plan.

  She snatched the clothing Jeremiah handed her. Apache, she thought.

  There were fine, soft trousers and a traditional blouse of buckskin with beadwork and tin cone pendants. She slipped into the bushes with the garments.

  “You stay where I can hear you!” Jeremiah called. “I’m here!” she replied.

  The buckskin garments concealed much more than the tattered remnants of her clothes had. She couldn’t believe she could be grateful to Jeremiah for anything,
but she was glad of the clothing. If—not if, when! —she found her opportunity to escape, she would be much better able to weather the elements.

  “You still there?” Jeremiah demanded.

  Tess tossed her torn undergarments into the bushes and stepped ‘out in the Apache attire.

  “She should have had a skirt. No warrior trousers,” David commented.

  “She couldn’t ride in a skirt,” Jeremiah retorted. Tess stood quietly.

  Jeremiah was the one to work on, she thought. He seemed to have a few human qualities left. She lowered her eyes and stood still.

  “Miss. Stuart, you come over here and let me tie your hands,” he said.

  She didn’t move.

  “Please …” she murmured softly. “Well …” Jeremiah began.

  “Well, nothing! She’s taking you strictly for a fool, that’s what she’s doing!” David strode over angrily and snatched the rope from Jeremiah’s hands. He walked roughly toward Tess. Seeing his face, she almost panicked.

  She almost ran.

  “Try it. I’d love it if you did!” he told her, his eyes narrowing. He meant it. He liked the chase, he liked the fight and he even liked the smell of blood.

  She held out her hands mutely. David looped the rope around them tightly, tugging hard on the knot. Then he caught her arm and dragged her past the horses to the center of the little clearing where they had paused. He shoved her down to her knees and warned her, “Sit! Just sit? He looked over to Jeremiah.

  “There’s a creek down past the scrub bush over there. Nothing much. But you can go get rid of that paint. Then I’ll decide if I trust you to keep an eye on her so I can do the same!”