Apache Caress

by Georgina Gentry - Panorama of the Old West 08 - Apache Caress

  The day dragged on into dusk. There was a small window in the storeroom, and Cholla held Sierra up so she could see outside. What she saw made her apprehensive.

  “Well?” Cholla asked.

  “There’re many men on the street, lots of noise and activity from over at Sadie’s place. The men are standing around in groups, talking, and they keep looking toward the store.”

  “Doesn’t sound very good,” Cholla grumbled, setting her down.

  She stood looking up at him, feeling his hands on her small waist. A sense of electricity seemed to pass between them, and she swayed toward him. For a split second, she thought he would bend his head and kiss her. Then she pulled away.

  Outside, there seemed to be some commotion.

  “Let me look again,” Sierra said.

  He lifted her easily.

  There’s a bunch of men riding into town, several of them mounted on fine palominos. Those cowboys look mad.”

  “Wonder if it’s the Running B outfit? I should have known those horses were stolen.” He set her on her feet.

  “What do you suppose they’ll do?” Sierra sat on the floor, leaned her head on her knees.

  “Depends on how much they drink, what happens when they track the owner of that fancy rifle down, and whether the Army or a U.S. Deputy Marshal gets here in time.”

  She looked up at him, alarmed. “You don’t really think they’d lynch us, do you?”

  “Not you–me.” He paced the length of his short chain, and it rattled against the floor. “Of course what that fat pig has planned for you, you might prefer to be lynched. I wish I could get a message to Lieutenant Gillen. He was a friend of your husband’s, he’d try to help you ... I think.”

  She looked up at him not quite sure what emotion she felt. “How do you know that?”

  She saw a look cross his rugged face, a look that said he had revealed more than he’d meant to; then it was hidden behind the stoic eyes. “I ... I knew your husband.”

  Would he tell her? It seemed important somehow that she find out Robert wasn’t what she had perceived him to be. “Cholla. I have to find out. I didn’t know Robert very long before we married, and a woman always wants to know later what others thought of her husband. Was he brave and well liked?”

  “Of course,” the Apache said, but he didn’t look at her. “All the men thought well of the lieutenant, expected him to be promoted to captain because of his bravery, but then he was killed in action.”

  He wasn’t telling her everything he knew, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to press him further. If he was lying about her husband, did she really want to know the truth? “Thank you for that,” she said softly.

  He half reached out to her as if to touch her face, seemed to think better of it, sat down on the anvil with a sigh. “I’m sorry it came to this, Sierra.”

  “It’s okay. I was beginning to hope you’d make it all the way back. In spite of everything, people can’t help pulling for an underdog. I had even finally decided to help you. When you left me at the fort ... well, I wasn’t sure what I’d do then, but I wouldn’t be any worse off at Fort Bowie than I was back home.”

  “Don’t you have anyone anywhere?”

  She shook her head. “Robert had family at Austin, Texas. He said they have money and social position. I’d thought they might welcome a dead son’s widow, even if he had been a black sheep as I suspect he was.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “It’s kind of you to try to make me think well of him.” Sierra smiled ruefully. “I don’t really quite understand you, Cholla.”

  “Sometimes I don’t understand myself.” He sounded angry and annoyed as he stood up, the chains rattling. She wondered then what he was thinking.

  It had grown dark outside, but there was a full moon on this crisp autumn night and its glow shone through the tiny window. No one bothered to bring them any food, but there was a bucket of water and a dipper in the room.

  Outside, the noise increased as men came to town for a Saturday night of drinking and gambling–or maybe riders had carried word out to outlying ranches and settlements about what was going on in Sundance and the curious had ridden into town. There isn’t much entertainment around here, Sierra thought, so the prospect of a necktie party might sound interesting.

  Hours passed, and the rowdy crowd seemed to be growing, or to be getting drunker and noisier when Cholla held Sierra up to the window again so she could see out.

  This time, he lowered her slowly, letting her body slide down the length of his. He didn’t let go of her but held her tightly against him.

  Without meaning to, she pressed her face against his chest. “I’m scared.”

  “I know.” He slipped his arms around her shoulders and held her as if she were a frightened child. “If they come after me, Sierra, I’ll try to create a ruckus, a big fight. Maybe, with the commotion you can get away.”

  “That won’t do you any good.”

  “I never expected to come out of this alive, but I want to die with dignity. A rope around the neck is no death for a warrior. If you do manage to escape, contact my friend at Fort Bowie, Sergeant Tom Mooney. We’ve saved each other’s lives a couple of times. He’s almost a sikis, a brother to me. He’ll help you.”

  They heard the rattle of a key in the lock, and then Koger stuck his fat face in the door. The smell of him and the ruddy color of his face as he peered in, holding a coal-oil lamp, told them he had been drinking as much as the others. “I got someone here who wants to see you.”

  The other man came in, staying carefully out of Cholla’s reach. Sierra immediately recognized the lieutenant as the man she had seen near the East St. Louis bridge.

  She glanced up, saw the hatred and bitter anger on Cholla’s face. “So, Gillen, you finally caught up with me.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sierra looked from one to the other.

  The officer smiled and pulled out a paper bag, popped a peppermint in his mouth, crunched it noisily. “Well, Cholla, I understand you may be lynched later tonight. It couldn’t happen to a more deserving Injun.” He looked curiously at Sierra.

  “I’m Mrs. Robert Forester,” she said, going over to him.

  He took off his hat, made a courtly bow. “Mrs. Forester. Forgive me for not recognizing you, but with you dressed as an Injun–”

  “Just get her out of here,” Cholla snarled, “before that mob gets any more liquor in them.”

  She was safe. At long last, she was safe. She heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, Lieutenant, I’m so glad you came.”

  He offered her his arm, and she took it. “Ma’am, let’s go somewhere where we can talk, out of the earshot of this ... this . . .” He seemed to realize he was in the presence of a lady. “Forgive me, Mrs. Forester, we’ve been so worried about you. After all, your husband was my dearest friend.”

  He escorted her out of the storeroom, and the fat man padlocked the door again. The officer turned to Koger. “Is there somewhere the lady and I can converse privately?”

  The storekeeper seemed dumbfounded. He scratched his triple chin and nodded. “My cabin, right behind the store. Honest, Lieutenant, we didn’t know she was white. She looks purty Injun with that dark skin and her hair done up in braids. I’ll see there’s food and stuff.”

  He hustled out the back way. Sierra smiled at Gilien. “Merciful heavens, I’m so glad you got here, Lieutenant.”

  “There, there.” Gillen patted the arm that was linked through his. “Blast it all! I know this whole ordeal has been a terrible nightmare for you. And that drunken crowd out there is getting uncontrollable.”

  A bottle smashed against the front of the store, as if to confirm the mob’s mood.

  They walked out the back door to the cabin. “Lieutenant Gillen, you’re an answer to my prayers. I’m so glad you and your men have arrived in time to save us.”

  “Us? Dear lady, I came to rescue you.” He fumbled in his jacket for the little sack
of hard candy, offered her some. Sierra shook her head, but he crunched a lemon drop with relish. “Mrs. Forester, I only have one other man with me, and Corporal Finney’s over at the railroad station. As time passed and the trail grew cold, the others were called back to duty. I’m not at all sure the two of us can do anything about that mob if they decide they want to hang that bloodthirsty savage.”

  They paused in the door of the cabin. Sierra looked at him, unbelieving. “Does that mean you don’t even intend to try?”

  He seemed to be weighing his words; then he patted her arm again in a condescending manner. “I realize you are exhausted and maybe a little hysterical. Any woman would be under these circumstances–”

  “I am not hysterical.”

  He was beginning to sound just like Robert. It dawned on her suddenly that in the past few weeks she had changed. No longer was she afraid to stand up for herself. Was it her mother’s blood, or had the Apache’s attitude rubbed off on her?

  She could tell by his suddenly pursed mouth that the lieutenant was displeased and not quite sure how to proceed. “Mrs. Forester–Sierra–why don’t we eat a bite and talk? I intend to get you on a train as soon as possible.”

  Out in the street, the noise seemed to be increasing. The sounds of men laughing, of bottles breaking, drifted back to the cabin. Was Cholla in any real danger ? Did she give a damn? My! She had changed. The prim trodden-on Mrs. Robert Forester would never have cursed.

  They went inside, and Koger’s squaw hurried about, fixing them food. Then she slipped out a side door, and Koger decided to go back to the store. “That crowd’s getting out of hand,” he complained. “I don’t want them to break my windows or destroy anything.”

  Sierra excused herself, went into the back room. She washed her face and unbraided her hair before she came back to the table.

  “Well, now.” The officer smiled, evidently interested in her. “I hadn’t realized you were so pretty, ma’am. Robert had said ...”

  His voice trailed off in confusion, and she knew that whatever her husband had said, it wasn’t complimentary.

  “I think even poor Robert would have to admit I’ve changed a lot, if he were alive. Nothing improves a woman’s appearance like self-confidence.” She began to eat. The meat and bread were hot and delicious, and she wondered suddenly if anyone had taken a plate to the Apache. Why the hell should she care? For kidnapping her, he deserved whatever he suffered.

  “Somehow, Mrs. Forester”–Gillen smiled as he ate–“I expected to find you a total wreck after what that savage must have put you through.”

  His voice trailed off again, and it occurred to her that he was curious as to whether Cholla had slept with her. She decided to appear totally ignorant of that. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Lieutenant.”

  “Well, yes, of course.” He cleared his throat in confusion and went on eating.

  “I understand there’s a reward on the Apache’s head. Don’t you need to protect the scout from that mob.”

  “The reward will be paid whether he’s dead or alive,” Gillen said pointedly. “You know, he’s wanted for murdering that banker in East Saint Louis.”

  She paused, her fork in midair. “What banker?”

  “Why, the one who held the mortgage on your farm, dear lady. Otto Toombs was found stabbed with a letter opener.”

  Sierra shuddered at the thought, but shook her head. “The scout’s innocent of that. He’s been with me ever since he abducted me.”

  Gillen almost glared at her. “Would you swear to that in court?”

  “I certainly would! I want to see the Apache get what’s coming to him, but I also believe in justice. Cholla and I both saw Otto alive the day he came to the farm to foreclose.” Gillen was trying to hang this murder on Cholla, and she wondered why. She looked straight at him. “Are you afraid of the scout for any reason, Lieutenant Gillen?”

  His face flushed. “Of course not.”

  “I can see that you might be.” She smiled a little too sweetly as she drank her coffee. “I understand you had him chained and were beating him half to death when he managed to overpower you and get off that train.”

  He looked furious and seemed to be fighting for control of his temper. “You are baiting me, Mrs. Forester, and I do not understand why. I am here to rescue you, and after all, I was your husband’s friend.”

  “Were you there when Robert died?” She was a little angry at herself. He had come to save her, and now she felt driven to annoy him.

  “I don’t know what that savage told you about that day at the arroyo or what happened–”

  “The Apache was on that patrol with Robert?”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Now it was Gillen’s turn to be glib. “Cholla was Robert’s scout. Somehow the patrol ended up riding into an ambush. When my patrol heard the noise and came as fast as we could, there were five of them left alive, Cholla, that Sergeant Mooney, Corporal Schultz, and two others. I got there just as they were burying poor Robert.”

  An uneasy doubt gnawed at Sierra’s mind. “They seemed to have been in an awful hurry to get him under ground. Wouldn’t it have been more likely that they would have taken the body back to the fort cemetery?”

  He hesitated and finally said, “Mrs. Forester, Robert was my friend, and I would like to be yours.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.” She put down her cup, stared at him. “Lieutenant, what actually happened out there that day?”

  “I wish to hell I knew!” He slammed down his fork, stood up, his chair going over backward with a clatter. Then he turned away for a long moment. “What I can’t figure out is why they would all lie and make him out to be a hero when they all hated him so much!”

  She felt shattered. Was it because she was finding out what she had feared to be the truth about Robert, or because the Apache had lied to her? And if he had, why?

  Outside the drunken shouting had increased. On a nearby shelf, a clock ticked. It was after eleven, late for such noise in a small town, even on a Saturday night.

  She licked dry lips. “Are you ... are you telling me that Robert didn’t deserve those medals, that he was a coward?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You hinted at it!” She stood, her voice rising in anger.

  “Mrs. Forester”–he used that soothing tone again–“I realize you’re tired and distraught–”

  “Damn it, Lieutenant, don’t patronize me! I am tired of being treated in such a condescending fashion by the men in my world! Every woman is tired of it!”

  He turned livid as he popped a piece of candy in his mouth, crunched it hard. “Very well. I’ve been trying to treat you like a lady, but I find you aren’t one. Small wonder, considering you’ve survived all these weeks with that savage. I presume you let him do anything he wanted with you rather than kill yourself to keep from being disgraced.”

  She must not lose her temper with him. He had information that, for her own peace of mind, she needed. She would try a different tack. “Lieutenant Gillen,” she said softly and went over to put her hand on his arm, “forgive me. As you said, I have been under a lot of stress. I am completely alone in the world, with no man to protect me.” She pressed herself against his arm. “Since you were my husband’s friend, perhaps I could count on you?”

  He looked at her a long moment, visibly stirred by her proximity. “Robert was wrong about you,” he whispered. “Maybe he was just the wrong man.”

  “And maybe you’re the right one?” She almost cooed as she looked up at him, and then she reached up and kissed him.

  She felt his sudden movement of surprise, and then he grabbed her, pulled her up against him, and kissed her with abandon. “Robert was a fool,” he muttered, and his mouth ravaged hers. “A fool ...”

  She forced herself not to pull back from his wet mouth that still tasted of peppermint. “Was he a coward as well?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered almost absently as if he
couldn’t remember. He held her tightly now, his manhood hard and throbbing against her. “He had to be, I guess. Running from the enemy when he was killed ...”

  Of course she had suspected that all along, but how did Gillen know Robert had turned to flee the battle? She let him fumble with the top of her dress, let his hand close over a breast. He does this so clumsily, she thought with distaste, and was surprised to realize her thoughts were on the big Apache, on his skillful, supple hands and muscular body.

  “Lieutenant, what was that patrol doing in the arroyo that day?”

  He kissed her eyelids, wetly, as his hands fumbled with her breasts. “Don’t know ... guess Robert thought there was gold-there.... The Injun warned him it was hostile territory.”

  Gold. Of course Robert would be looking for gold. Wasn’t that why he had married her? For the very first time, she faced the truth. But there were other mysteries she wanted answers to. Why would Cholla and the troopers lie, make Robert appear heroic, when they hated him? To coverup something. Of course this was some kind of cover-up. But of what?

  Gillen held her tightly, rubbing himself against her. “You hot little chit. There’s a bed back there.”

  The thought made her gag. She wondered if he took a sack of candy to bed? Maybe she was opening up a Pandora’s box, but she suspected there was something else he hadn’t told her. “Of course,” she murmured. “Sure.”

  She let him lead her to the back, sat on the edge of the bed and watched him peel his clothes off. He wasn’t built nearly as well as Cholla.

  He looked down at her. “Aren’t you going to get undressed?”

  Sierra looked around. There was an empty oil lamp on the bedside table. A big, heavy lamp. She gave Gillen her most provocative smile. “I thought you might enjoy undressing me, Gill.”

  “Blast it all! Lady, your husband was sure wrong about you!” He flopped down on the bed, reached for her.

  She leaned over and kissed him teasingly. There was bound to be more to all this than she knew, and she felt she would never rest until she found out. She told herself it was because it had to do with her opinion of Robert, but it dawned-on her abruptly that it had more to do with what she thought about Cholla and about why he might have lied to her. “Gill, why did you and Robert hate the scout so?”