Apache Summer

by Heather Graham

  And so she was gone.

  He felt his jaw lock anew. She had infuriated him. No matter how he touched her, she could hold herself aloof.

  And his anger and determination had brought them both down.

  Damn!

  He didn’t know that he had cast back his head and cried the word aloud with anguish until he saw that Jori was watching him. Until he saw the pity on his friend’s bold features.

  “It’s too late for recriminations, my friend,” Jon said quietly.

  “Yeah. Too late.”

  “If you want her back, you’d better forget your feelings. You can’t make any more mistakes.” “I won’t,” Jamie said.

  “You should let me go alone.”

  “A half-breed Blackfoot? The Apache won’t like you any better then they’re going to like me.”

  “Nalte isn’t going to be fond of either of us.” “I can deal with Nalte,” Jamie said. He spun’ed his horse forward, calling to Jon to follow him. He would deal with Nalte. One way or another, he would get Tess back.

  One way or another.

  Comancberos.

  They lined the dry, dusty hilltop that overlooked the desert, seeming to go on forever, covering the horizon. A hundred of them, at least.

  Her hands tied before her, Tess sat in her buckskins in front of Jeremiah on his big horse. She didn’t know how long or how far they had ridden that day, but they had finally come to this desert that stretched to the mountains— a beautiful area, with myriad colors, a barren, forbidding area where the vultures sat upon the branches of the few scrawny trees, where cactus eked out an existence, where most life was lived in the cool that settled over the golden landscape by night. Soon, the terrain would change again, as they entered the mountains.

  They were already in the land of the Apache. And Tess was realizing how little she knew of this feared tribe. She knew they were fierce, and that they did not go to reservations. She had read that President Grant had initiated a “peace policy” toward the Apache this year, but that meant one thing in Washington, quite another here. Apache. it took an Apache to track an Apache, so they said. Once Cochise had been a captive of the American Army, but the trap had infuriated him. He had drawn his knife, slit apart the tent—and disappeared. An entire cavalry company had 199 been unable to find him.

  She shivered. Perhaps more so than any other Indian on the Western frontier, the Apache could strike terror into the hearts of the people.

  But nothing could be more fearsome than the Comancheros who faced her now, staring down at their small group of three from the hillside and the horizon.

  Tremors tore at her heart. She had ridden with Jeremiah and David for a day and a night and through much of this day as well, and she had done her very best with Jeremiah.

  She had looked for eve~ possible opportunity to escape, but David had taken great care never to give her a chance. She was never alone. Even when she relieved herself, he was not more than a few steps away, and his promises of what he would do if she even tried to move made her weigh her circumstances very carefully. As long as she was with them, she was safe. Jeremiah wasn’t going to let David touch her, and David was frightened enough of von Heusen to listen to Jeremiah.

  Hour by hour she had dreamed. Jamie had to come for her. If he was alive, he would have to come for her. HIS sense of honor would let him do no less.

  But he had to come while she was still with David and Jeremiah. The odds would have been pretty even then, he could have ridden in with the sun and carried her away into the sunset. But he had not come, and although she could not allow herself to believe that he had been killed, she knew the odds were no longer even. Not even Jamie Slater could come riding into a throng of a hundred Comancheros, guns blazing, and carry her away. She was indeed here, and. The Comanchcros were all staring down at her. Suddenly, wild screams and shrieks filled the air, and the army of Comancheros came galloping toward them. The cries made her heart flutter, and as they came nearer and nearer, Tess felt an even greater terror growing within her. She began to see their faces, and they were frightening. Most were Mexicans, dark, with long, scruffy beards and heavy, dipping mustaches. They wore hats and shirts and trousers and boots; many wore blankets over their shoulders.

  All were heavily armed, some with shell cases crisscrossed over their chests.

  They would not run out of bullets in a fight. There were Indians, too.

  Renegades of many tribes, Tess thought, Apache, Comanche, Navaho, some in the Mexican regalia of their comrades, others in more traditional buckskin, at least two of them in simple breech routs riding nearly naked in the wind, hooting their triumph and their catcalls, racing around and around the three of them again and again.

  They meant to terrify her! Tess thought angrily. Well, supposedly she wasn’t in danger yet, even if she was so frightened that she wasn’t sure if she could talk or move. David had been a nightmare, but this was far worse.

  Any dreams she had entertained of rescue fell crashing down into a horrible pit of despair. She had never felt more vulnerable in her life.

  She swore, though, that she would not cower before these men who were so determined to unnerve her. They wanted to see tears, she thought. Panic and hysteria. She was close to giving them all that they desired, but she locked her jaw against its trembling and raised her chin. And as the Comancheros raced by her one by one, she kept her eyes levelly upon them, and she ignored the dirt that rose to choke her, bringing tears to her eyes. She sat very still, and she waited.

  The horsemen rushed by, then doubled back, bringing their horses to a halt behind her. Jeremiah and David swung around to face them. Tess didn’t know whether to find pleasure or new anxiety in the fact that her captors seemed as unnerved as she by the rugged Comancheros. The Comancheros were all lined up again, and silent once more. The leader emerged, edging his horse forward. He was frightening indeed, with coal-dark hair and coal-dark eyes and a dark olive complexion. He had a great, drooping, handlebar mustache, and though he grew no beard, the rest of his face was not clean shaven. A western hat sat atop his head, the brim pulled low. His chest was crisscrossed with ammunition, and a long, lean cigarillo fell in a slash from the corner of his mouth.

  He paused before them and reached into his pocket, then struck a match against his boot to light his cigarillo. He stared at Tess, a smile forming on his features. “So, amigos, the goods are delivered, eh?” He smiled, staring at Tess. She returned his gaze. His smile deepened. “She stares at me hard.~Maybe she will be just what Nalte desires. Untie her hands.”

  “Chavez, she is dangerous,” Jeremiah warned him. “Dangerous? One little blond girl is dangerous when there are a hundred men around her? I told you—untie her hands. Send her to me.”

  Tess felt the movement as Jeremiah reached for his knife. She heard the rasping sound as he severed the ties that bound her hands together.

  Instinctively she brought her hands before her, massaging her wrists where the rope had burned them.

  “Come down here, nirut,” Chavez ordered.

  She was ready to defy him; Jeremiah was not. He dismounted quickly from the horse and reached for Tess. He set her hastily on the ground, then moved away from her as if she were a rattler.

  “There she is, good as new, just as we promised. Now, where is the gold, Chavez?”

  Chavez motioned to one of the men behind him, a half- naked Indian wearing a headband of eagle feathers, a breech clout twin leather strips of rifle bullets and nothing more.

  He carried a small leather satchel that he tossed to Jeremiah. Jeremiah instantly opened the bag. He let out a joyous whoop and looked to David. alpache Summer “Gold. I mean gold!” He bit the coins, smiling wolfishly.

  “See, David, it was all worth it!”

  “Wait, my friend,” Chavez said. He took a step closer to Tess.

  “These rat piss, they did not touch you?”

  Tess narrowed her eyes, then thought of her own safety. “No, they did not touch me
.”

  Chavez nodded.

  “Nalte, he does not like to be he- trayed.” He raised his voice, shouting in Spanish. A Mexican rode up leading a small pinto pony.

  “You,” he told Jeremiah and David.

  “You are done. You go. That is all.

  And you, woman, you will ride this horse.”

  She did not move. Jeremiah mounted his horse once again, but Tess made no move. Angry, Chavez urged his mount forward until his large buckskin was nearly stepping upon her.

  Still, she did not move.

  “Ni~a” — “I’m not a girl, Chavez, and I have a name. It’s Miss. Stuart.”

  Chavez started to laugh. He laughed so hard that he crunched down on his cigarillo. He nearly swallowed part of it and started to choke.

  When he caught his breath, he dismounted from his horse and thundered furiously over to her. He was a short man, she thought. One who looked much better on a horse than standing. She was almost as tall as he. She would be taller.

  She raised her chin and met his stare.

  “Get on the horse,” he said. Still, she refused to move. “Eh, nifta, I am talking to you.” He reached out a hard, callused palm and set it against her cheek. Tess slapped him with all the strength in her.

  There was silence from every man there.

  Then Chavez let loose with a spate of Spanish oaths. Tess thought he would strike her, but he did not. He lifted her, setting her upon the bare back of the pinto. She fought and clawed at him. His hat went flying into the dirt.

  Her nail imprinted a bright line upon his unshaven cheek. He swore again, stooping to swoop up his hat.

  “Hey, Chavez!” David snickered.

  “We warned you she was dangerous.”

  Chavez calmly pulled out his pistol and shot David through the heart.

  Tess, who had despised David, nearly gasped aloud. She clenched her chattering teeth, managing to remain immobile and silent as she watched the red stain flare out on David’s shirt.

  His eyes widened, and then glazed over, and he crashed down from his horse.

  He had deserved it. He had savagely, heinously attacked Jamie. He had nearly raped her. And yet the cold brutality of his shooting sent waves of shock rippling within her. “You—you shouldn’t have done that,” Jeremiah stuttered, shocked.

  “Mr. von Heusen, he” — Jeremiah’s words broke off in a scream as he saw Chavez lowering the still smoking pistolin his direction. Chavez was not a man of mercy. The pistol barked again.

  That time Tess did scream. She catapulted from the pinto horse and threw herself against Chavez, clawing, raking, pummeling him. He swore, dropping the pistol, ducking her blows, trying desperately to seize her wrists.

  Finally he had her. His heavy arms locked around hers, and she was assailed with the scents of onion and sour breath and unwashed human flesh. A sickness nearly overwhelmed her, and she locked her jaw, standing very still as he stared into her eyes with his own coal-black ones.

  “Don’t be too dangerous—Miss. Stuart. You see how I deal with people who can no longer serve me. You will behave until we have delivered you to Nalte.

  Do you understand?”

  “No, I do not. I do not, because I do not give a damn!” He swore again, savagely. His arms tightened around her as if he intended to break every rib in her body, but as suddenly he released her, thrusting her into the dirt.

  The dust rose high around her. Tess started to cough and choke. Chavez wrenched her up and helped her onto the pinto pony. The horse protested, letting out a shrill sound and prancing back and forth.

  “You will ride!” Chavez yelled, his eyes black upon her. Trying to maintain her balance, Tess reached for the reins.

  She wanted to protest; she wanted to fight.

  But she said no more. She held the reins and leveled a glare at Chavez. She didn’t want to be bound once again. At least she was not tied, and the pinto pony was sound and sturdy. Her dreams had escaped her, but now they were finding a rebirth. There were a hundred men surrounding her, but feeling the power of the horse beneath her, the determination reawakened within her that she would escape. She would survive.

  “Ride!” Chavez roared again. She was going to obey him, and he knew it. He started to laugh.

  “Miss. Smart. Yes, Miss. Smart, you must ride! Nalte is waiting!” The Comancheros shrieked again. Men lifted their rifles in the air; some chanted.

  Horses pranced around, and their hooves hit the dust. Then they were off.

  Tess found herself holding tight to the pinto lest she be thrown and trampled in the stampede.

  “Damn?”

  High atop a cliff where the mountain range began its craggy rise to the sky, Jamie threw himself against a rock near his perch overlooking the broad, dusty plain below. He closed his eyes in pain, then opened them to stare across at Jon, who was still squatting on the flats of his feet, stating down at the riders who were racing away in a cloud of dust.

  They had ridden hard and long, and they had nearly caught up with Tess before David and Jeremiah had come upon the Comancheros. Nearly. Not quite. They had come in time to watch the Comancbero kill yon He, usen’s men in cold blood, and in time to see Tess hit the mustachioed Mexican bandit.

  And they had come in time to watch the men ride away with her.

  “There was nothing to be done. Not now,” Jon said unhappily.

  Jamie nodded bitterly.

  “Tonight. We have to catch up with them tonight.” He was silent for a moment, then he pulled off the low-brimmed hat he was wearing and slammed it against the dirt.

  “What the hell is the matter with that woman? Doesn’t she realize that Chavez is a cold- blooded killer? He’s going to rip her to shreds if she keeps that up! I could rip her to shreds myself right at this moment.” ~ “She can hardly know that we’re sitting up here watching her,” Jon reminded him.

  Jamie stood up, retrieved his hat and set his hands on his hips as he stared at the sun. Twilight was coming soon enough. He didn’t want to follow so closely that they stood a chance of the Comancheros doubling back on them, but he didn’t want to be very far behind.

  “She’s getting closer and closer to Nalte’s territory. I have to get her back before she winds up in Apache hands.” He paused.

  “Before Nalte discovers that he hasn’t been brought …”

  “A virgin bride?” Jori suggested.

  Jamie scowled. He was staring down where the dust still rose in the wake of the horses.

  “I met Cochise once,” he murmured.

  “I admired the man. He was willing to meet with me under a flag of truce in spite of the number of times the cavalry betrayed his trust. He is our enemy, he is dangerous, but I would not hesitate to go to him. I wonder if this Nalte is a man like Cochise.”

  “Nalte is powerful,” Jon said.

  “He is the head of his family, and the chief of many families. He usually makes war with the Mexicans because of the war they have made upon him, but he will deal with the Comancheros because they bring him the arms he needs to fight his battles. He is fiercely against the reservation life, and will battle for his land to the bitter end. But from what I have heard, he is still a man with ethics and honor.”

  Jamie inhaled and exhaled.

  “I just don’t know. I’m going to try to get her back tonight,” he said.

  “I daren’t risk waiting to deal with Nalte.”

  He turned and started sliding down the cliff toward the small clearing in the rock where they had left the horses.

  “Coming?” he called to Jon.

  “I’m fight behind you,” Jon assured him.

  The Comancheros rode hard alongside the range until the daylight waned and night began to fall upon them,~ Then they moved into the mountains. The terrain became very rugged, and their pace slowed.

  Chavez dropped back to ride beside Tess.

  “This is Nalte’s territory.

  You will meet your bridegroom very soon.” He sneered a
t her, very pleased with himself. Tess said nothing, but watched the man with as much disdain as possible.

  “Wait until you meet Nalte. He is tall and as strong as the rock.

  He crushes arrogant little girls between his fingers. He is fierce in his paint and breech clouts and he is merciless upon his enemies.”

  “Chavez, he cannot be anywhere near as repulsive as you,” she said pleasantly. So pleasantly that it took several long moments for the smile to fade from his weathered features. He shook a fist in her face.

  “I have not given you to Nalte yet, little girl! You hold your tongue, or you will pay!”

  He rode forward again. Tess shivered but kept her eyes straight ahead in the growing darkness. She could feel the horses and the men bunched around her, could feel their eyes upon her, could smell the sweat of their bodies. But she kept her eyes on the trail, looking neither left nor fight, trying desperately not to acknowledge them—or her own fear.

  The rocks stopped suddenly. They had come upon a small plateau studded with crude buildings barely discernible in the dusk. An open fire with a huge spit set above it burned in the center of the clearing, and there were women there and a number of armed men awaiting them. Tess figured it had to be a headquarters of sorts for Chavez in the mountains.

  Perhaps his last stronghold before it became Nalte’s territory in full.

  She remained on her horse as the men rushed into the clearing, yelling, screaming, calling to their women, cavorting as they dismounted.

  Chavez rode over to her.

  “Welcome to my home, little girl.” He laughed.

  “Mi casa es su casa. Always, my house is yours. Tomorrow, Nalte’s tepee will be your home!” He roared with laughter, as if he had just said the most amusing thing in the world.

  He dismounted from his horse and lifted her down from hers. He pulled her close against him, still roaring.