“Beth, I…Beth.” He seemed unable to say anything but her name.
She smiled up at him, her eyes luminous. “I know.” She shook her head. “It’s like magic, isn’t it?”
Maybe that was it, he thought. The Apache were strong believers in magic. Medicine men, especially, were believed to possess powerful magic. It was believed that special virtue resided in the hair of the medicine man, and he took special care that no one touched it. Hoddentin was a bit of magic that each warrior possessed. Made of powdered tule, it was used for anointing the sick. A pinch was thrown toward the sun at planting time, and when a war party rode out. It was believed to restore the sick.
Chase lifted his hand to the small buckskin bag he wore beneath his shirt. It held a small amount of hoddentin, and a turquoise stone that was smooth and perfectly round.
He had never seen or felt anything more magical than the woman in his arms. Slowly, he bent his head and kissed her.
All her earlier doubts and fears vanished like morning mist at the first touch of his lips on hers. Her eyelids fluttered down, and she pressed herself against him, reveling in the solid strength of his arms around her.
After a moment—or was it a lifetime?—he drew back, shaken to the core of his being.
“Beth, I…” I have never felt like this before.
The words, unspoken, hovered in the air between them.
“I know,” she whispered. “Me, either.”
Reluctantly, he released her and took a step backward. “I must look after the horses.”
“I’ll help.”
Side by side, they unsaddled the horses, tethering them to a clump of brush growing out of the side of the draw. After spreading their bedrolls, Beth rummaged through the packs, looking for something to eat. Along with a variety of dried and tinned food, she found a small pot of salve and some clean cloth for bandages.
Since there was no wood available, they ate beef jerky and cold biscuits for dinner and washed it down with water from one of the canteens.
Later, they sat side by side, their backs propped against the hard-packed earth, Chase’s arm wrapped loosely around Beth’s shoulders.
“Do you feel all right?” she asked. “Does your wound pain you very much?”
“Not much.” Not at all, when you’re beside me, he thought to himself.
“Maybe I should change the bandage?”
Chase nodded, pleased by the thought of her taking care of him.
He removed his shirt, and she unwound the cloth from his middle, then checked the wound. “I don’t know much about such things, but it seems to be healing.”
Chase studied the wound a moment, then nodded. The hole had closed and the surrounding area didn’t appear infected.
With a hand that trembled only for fear of causing him pain, Beth spread a thin layer of salve over the wound, then placed a clean square of gauze over it and wrapped a strip of cloth around his side to hold it in place.
“There,” she said, sitting back. “How does it feel?”
“Better.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She glanced into the darkness. “I’ve never slept outside before. It’s kind of scary.”
“Scary?”
“It’s so dark. So quiet.” She shivered as a wolf howled in the distance. “Maybe not quiet enough.”
Chase drew her closer, glad for any excuse to hold her against him. “He will not hurt you.”
“Are you sure? He sounds hungry. Like the Big Bad Wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.”
Chase shook his head. “Who is Little Red Riding Hood?”
“It’s a fairy tale.”
“I have no knowledge of such things.”
“Fairy tales are stories mothers tell their children, like Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty.”
“What is the purpose of such stories?”
“Some of them have a message.”
“Like Apache hero stories?”
“Maybe.”
“Tell me one of your stories,” he urged.
“All right.” She frowned a moment, then took a deep breath. “Once upon a time…”
Idly, Chase stroked her hair as he listened to the story of Cinderella and her ugly stepsisters.
“…and they lived happily ever after,” Beth finished.
“Happily ever after,” Chase mused aloud. “Is there such a thing?”
“I think so. I hope so!” Beth turned her head to the side so she could see his face. “Were your parents happily married?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.” Beth shrugged. “I don’t know if my parents are happy together, but Dusty’s are… Dusty!” she exclaimed. “Oh, my.”
“What about Dusty?”
“Nothing. It’s just that I…that we…never mind.”
“Tell me.”
“He asked me to marry him.”
Chase stared at Beth as if seeing her for the first time. “My brother has spoken for you?”
“Your brother! Dusty’s your brother?”
Chase nodded.
Beth blinked at him. She could see the resemblance now. The same hawk-like nose, the same firm square jaw, the same wide shoulders. “Oh, my,” she murmured. “Oh, my! Does Dusty know you’re his brother?”
“Yes.”
“Where’ve you been all this time? How come Dusty never mentioned you?”
“He didn’t know about me until I came here.”
“Why did you come here?”
“To find my mother.”
“Your mother…you don’t mean Mrs. Fallon?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re…” Beth’s eyes widened.
“Apache,” Chase said, his voice carefully controlled.
“Oh, my.” Beth shook her head. “Dusty said his parents had some adventures in their youth, but I never thought…” She frowned at him. “Where’s your father?”
“He is dead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Chase. Where have you been all this time?”
“On the reservation at Fort Sill.”
Beth bit down on her lower lip. She didn’t have to ask if he had liked it there. The tone of his voice, the look in his eye, told her that it had been terrible. “You’re not thinking of going back there, are you?”
“No.”
“Will they come looking for you?”
“I do not know. I only know that I will never go back to that place. But you should go back. I will take you home tomorrow.”
“No! I don’t want to go home.”
“You belong to my brother.”
“I don’t belong to anyone!”
With a shake of his head, Chase stood up and walked away from her. Why hadn’t she told him she belonged to another man? Another man! She belonged to his brother. Dusty would never forgive him for this, he thought bleakly. He had to take Beth back to town, he had to try to explain…
He snorted softly. He didn’t dare show his face in Twin Rivers. And what could he say to Dusty? How could he explain how he felt when he looked at Beth? She was the first good thing to come into his life in more years than he cared to remember.
“Chase, listen to me.”
“How could you do this?” He whirled around to face her. “Why did you not tell me?”
“Because I didn’t think it was important.”
“Not important?”
“It’s not like we’re betrothed or anything. I mean, he asked me to marry him, but I never said yes.” She shook her head, wondering how to make him understand. “My parents would never let me marry Dusty anyway.”
“They do not approve of him?”
“Are you kidding? He’s part Cheyenne…” Horrified by what she’d said, Beth bit down on her lower lip, wishing she could call back the words.
She stared at Chase and even though she couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, she knew she’d hurt him, hurt his pride. Suddenly there was more distance between them than a few fe
et of dusty ground.
“Then why are you here with me?” he asked, his voice as cold as winter frost. “If they will not let you marry a man who is only a quarter Cheyenne, they will surely object to one who is half Apache.”
Even in the darkness, she could feel his gaze probing hers, weighing her reasons. Weighing them and found wanting.
“Perhaps you hope that, by running away with me, it will make my brother seem more desirable?”
“No. No, no, no!” She blinked rapidly, refusing to cry. “Why are you doing this? I love you. I loved you the first moment I saw you outside of Carson’s.”
He stared at her as if she were speaking a language he didn’t understand.
“Say something,” she begged. “Tell me you understand.”
Slowly, Chase shook his head. “I have no words,” he replied quietly. “I look at you, and my mouth goes dry. My heart beats fast, like the wings of a hummingbird. I hear your voice, and it makes my soul glad.”
“Oh, my,” Beth murmured tremulously. Never had anyone said such beautiful things to her before. She took a step toward him, but he held out his hand, warding her off.
“I am afraid to love you.”
“Afraid?” she asked. “Why?”
“I have lost everyone, and everything, I ever loved. My mother left me. The woman I had hoped to marry was killed by the bluecoats. My father died a prisoner in a distant land. My stepmother also.” Chase took a deep breath. “It is enough.”
“Oh, Chase, I’m so sorry. I wish I could make things better for you, that I could wipe away the past.” She slipped under the hand he held out to keep her at bay and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Let me love you, Chase. You don’t have to love me back.”
“Beth.” He groaned softly as his arms folded around her. It was impossible that she should love him, inconceivable that she would leave her home and family to be with him, and yet she was there, her arms locked tightly around him, her face pressed against his chest, and he knew he would never let her go, that he would kill anyone who tried to take her from him.
Chapter Ten
Chase glanced at the woman riding beside him. They had been on the move since early morning, stopping only occasionally to rest the horses. He had expected Beth to complain of the long hours in the saddle, the heat, the dust. He had expected her to slow him down, but she did none of those things. She marveled at the beauty of the desert, looked at him, her eyes shining with wonder, when they saw a hawk circling overhead. She drank sparingly from her canteen, recognizing the need to conserve water.
She had changed her clothes that morning, and now wore a long-sleeved blouse of pink gingham and a brown skirt spilt in the middle so she could ride astride. A wide-brimmed straw hat shaded her face, kidskin gloves protected her hands.
Feeling his gaze, Beth looked over at Chase and smiled. “Where are we going? You never did tell me?”
“Rainbow Canyon.”
“Is it far?”
“Another few days.”
“Have you been there before?”
Chase nodded. “I grew up there.”
Beth smiled, pleased by the prospect of seeing where Chase had grown to manhood. She drew in a deep breath, thinking she had never felt so free. There was no one to tell her what to do, no silly conventions to adhere to. All her life, she’d dreamed of having a great adventure, and now the dream had become reality.
“It’s beautiful out here,” she remarked. “You must have hated to leave.”
“Yes.” He drew rein in the scant shade offered by a small stand of trees. “We will rest the horses.”
Beth reined her horse to a halt alongside his. “It’s beautiful, but so desolate. How did your people survive? I mean, there are hardly any trees, and I haven’t seen any game. What did you eat?”
“Many things. There is food everywhere, if you know where to look. The central stem of the narrow-leaved yucca is edible. The new shoots of the tule rush, the agave. There are wild onions and potatoes, sumac berries and choke cherries. Mesquite beans can be ground into flour. There are acorns and pinon nuts. And honey.”
Chase grinned. Apache boys often made a war game of stealing the honeycomb from a hive, showing off their bravery by stoically withstanding the stings of the furious insects.
“Rainbow Canyon has good grass and water,” he remarked. “We hunted deer and antelope, turkeys and rabbits. And when game was scarce, we went raiding into Mexico for food and blankets.” Pride filled his voice. “Our warriors knew every spring and waterhole, every crevice and canyon, for hundreds of miles. Our men required little to survive. A little food and water would last for days. If necessary, they could travel great distances on foot. I was taught early to read the signs of the sky and the earth.”
He had been a warrior. It was a thought that hadn’t occurred to her before. “Did you ever go to war?” She asked the question, certain she would not like the answer.
“I fought with Geronimo.”
Geronimo! Beth shuddered. She didn’t know much about the Apache, but everyone knew the name of Geronimo. He had cut a wide and bloody swath throughout Mexico and the Southwest, and had been among the last Apaches to surrender.
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
“Sixteen!” Only a year younger than she was now. “How old are you now?”
“I have seen twenty-four winters.”
“Did you…did you kill many men?”
“I did not count them.”
“Oh.” Staring out into the desert, Beth felt the blood drain from her face. She could almost hear the hellacious cries of the Indians, the sound of gunfire. She took a deep breath, and imagined that she could smell gun smoke, and death. “It must have been awful.”
“I did not think of it in that way. I was a warrior fighting to protect my home, my people. We fought even when we knew we could not win, fought until even Geronimo said he had had enough.”
Chase paused, his thoughts turned inward. Though he had never been a chief, Geronimo had been feared and respected as a medicine man. The Apaches believed that no bullet could kill him. As a young warrior, Geronimo had been resourceful, daring and impudent; he had, on occasion, also been cruel. Though he was now an old man and a prisoner of war along with the rest of the Apaches, the People still viewed him with a sense of awe. As enterprising as he was shrewd, the old warrior had recently taken to selling photographs of himself to the whites for a dollar a piece.
It had shamed Chase to see their people brought down, their pride crushed, everything they had loved and fought for lost to them forever.
“We surrendered,” he went on, his voice heavy with defeat, “and they sent us away. To Florida, and then to Alabama, and finally to Fort Sill. Geronimo is still there. He is an old man now, and he will die there, in the land of his enemies.”
He gazed into the distance. “I will never go back there. I will die first.”
Beth stared at him. His profile was strong and cleanly chiseled, like a statue carved from bronze. His hair fell to his waist like a river of ebony. She had never seen such beautiful hair.
“It must have been a hard life,” she mused.
“In many ways. And yet we were free as no white man is ever free.”
He turned to face her then, and she saw the sadness in his eyes.
“And now my people are free no more. The government sends our children away to school. They dress them in the clothes of the white man. They cut their hair, and forbid them to speak their native language. They refuse to let us worship our gods. Our old ones grieve for the past. Our young men have no hope. The hearts of our women have turned to ashes.”
“I’m sorry,” Beth murmured, stricken by the kind of life his words painted in her mind. “I wish there was something I could do for you, for your people, but…”
He looked at her, his expression bleak. “There is nothing anyone can do now. Whether our people live or die is in Usen’s hand.”
“U-sen?
”
“The Great Spirit.”
“Oh.” It had not occurred to her that the Apache were a religious people, or that they worshipped a god different from the one she believed in.
She pondered that as she urged her horse after Chase. She had been taught there was only one God. If that was true, then Usen must be the same God she believed in. Wasn’t it Shakespeare who had wondered, “What’s in a name?”
She studied Chase’s profile as they rode across the barren land. As always, just looking at him filled her with a tingling feeling of warmth, as if a thousand fireflies were dancing in her heart.
It was most peculiar. Even since she’d been a little girl, she had loved to read, especially fairy tales. Time and again she had read stories of the handsome prince rescuing the fair princess, of love at first sight, of brave and noble knights saving maidens in distress. Though she had dreamed of such things, she had never really expected it to happen to her. And yet, Chase the Wind was the embodiment of every fantasy she had ever had. He was tall and strong and brave. She knew he was an honorable man, and that he would never hurt her. Just how she knew these things was a mystery, and yet she knew they were true, knew that she had nothing to fear from this man she hardly knew.
That night they made camp a short distance from a winding stream. Sitting on one of the saddle blankets, Beth watched Chase water the horses, then hobble them in a patch of sun-bleached grass.
She watched him stroke Dusty’s roan, shivering as she imagined his hands stroking her neck, her shoulders, her back. She knew it was wicked to entertain such thoughts, and even more wicked to welcome them.
Mesmerized, she watched him walk toward her, admiring the way he moved, silent and supple, like a jungle cat. The moonlight silvered his hair.
She felt the fireflies take flight in her stomach as he drew nearer. She looked up at him, felt her breath catch in her throat. How handsome he was, like a bronze statue come to life.
“I…I’d better fix something to eat,” she stammered.
“That would be good.”
She nodded, unable to draw her gaze from his. His eyes were deep and black, filled with hurts she yearned to heal. He lifted a hand as if to touch her, and she went suddenly still, waiting, wanting.
Chase the Wind (Apache Runaway Book 2) Page 9