Apache Runaway

by Madeline Baker

  Jenny had never known such happiness existed, had never dreamed it was possible to live in such harmony with another person. There was no tension between them, as there had been between herself and Hank, no distrust, as there had been between herself and Kayitah, only love.

  Just looking at Ryder filled her with such an overwhelming sense of well-being and love that she sometimes thought she would burst with the sheer joy of it. Often she found herself laughing for no apparent reason except that she was blissfully happy with her husband.

  It was only sometimes, at night, when she was too tired to sleep, that her joy dimmed and her arms ached for the son she had left behind. She tried often to tell herself that he was better off with his father, that he’d never known her and wouldn’t miss her, but it didn’t help. She missed her son terribly. He would be sitting up soon, walking, talking, and she wouldn’t be there to see it. She’d never hear the sound of his laughter, never dry his tears. He would grow up to be a warrior, never knowing who his real mother was, or that she had loved him deeply. He would never know how often she thought of him, or how many nights she wept in the darkness, aching to hold him just once more.

  She managed to keep her sadness at bay during the day. Now, as she prepared Ryder’s midday meal, she thought only of her husband. She wondered how long the excitement would last, how long they would live together, before the magic was gone and they started to take each other for granted, the way other married couples did. But she wouldn’t mind even that, she mused, so long as it was Fallon taking her for granted.

  Ryder smiled at her as she brought him his lunch, and Jenny felt her heart skip a beat. He was so handsome and she loved him so much.

  They ate together, sitting side by side in the shade of an ancient oak. Jenny had a hard time concentrating on her food. Fallon was naked from the waist up, and the sight of his broad chest, sheened with perspiration, excited her in a very unladylike way. She had a wild impulse to run her tongue over his sweaty flesh. The thought brought a quick flush to her cheeks.

  Ryder raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you plotting mischief of some sort?” he queried lightly. “You look guilty as hell. You haven’t poisoned my noonday meal, have you?”

  “Of course not,” Jenny murmured. “I was just thinking that…oh never mind.”

  “Thinking what, Jenny girl?”

  “Thinking how nice it would be to…you know.”

  Whispering her name, Fallon swept Jenny into his arms and carried her swiftly into the cabin. Inside, he placed her on the robes that served as their bed, then began to undress her slowly, deliberately, his mouth moving hotly over each new area of bared flesh.

  Jenny sighed with contentment as he shrugged out of his pants and moccasins and lowered his long body over hers. He smelled of earth and sweat and she breathed in the scent of him, savoring the musky male smell as if it were the finest wine. Her fingertips moved tantalizingly over his shoulders and arms, then slid down, down…

  Fallon sucked in a ragged breath as Jenny’s hands moved over him, teasing, caressing, giving promise of the pleasure to come.

  He felt a sudden wave of pity for Hank Braedon, who’d never been able to take advantage of Jenny’s passionate nature, and for Kayitah, who’d taken her body but had never touched her soul. She was his, wholly his, and the thought pleased him beyond words.

  When he was on fire for her, he became the aggressor, fondling all the soft secret places that only he knew, arousing her to fever pitch, her passion igniting his own.

  They came together with a knowledge all their own, each pleasuring the other, straining together until there was nothing in all the world but their need and the wondrous ecstasy that blended a man and a woman into one flesh.

  For a time, they didn’t move, content to lie in each other’s arms. Ryder stroked Jenny’s hair, loving the feel of it, the way it curled around his hand, as if her hair had a life of its own.

  Jenny sighed deeply as she kissed Ryder’s cheek. How marvelous, to feel so loved, so cherished. Her fingertips traced the curves and planes of his face, lingering on his lips. She gave a little cry of pretended pain when he bit her finger.

  Pouting playfully, she jerked her hand away and made a face at him.

  Fallon laughed, a deep rich sound filled with happiness. Then, yawning hugely, he put her away from him and bounded to his feet.

  “Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Let’s go for a swim.”

  It was a day to remember forever. They swam and splashed and swam again, then stretched out on the cool grass to dry. Lying on his side, Ryder toyed with a lock of Jenny’s hair. She looked like Eve, he thought, pink and perfect in the Garden of Eden.

  They played by the river the rest of the afternoon, swimming, wrestling, then walked along the shore. Jenny laughed as Ryder waded into the water and caught a fat trout with his bare hands.

  “Laugh at me, will you?” he growled, and soon had her shrieking in protest as he threatened to drop the wriggling fish down the front of her dress.

  “Uncle, uncle!”

  “Do you admit that I am a mighty fisherman?” Fallon demanded, straddling her thighs, the fish held a few scant inches from her nose.

  “The best in the world!”

  “Do you admit that I am also a mighty hunter?”

  “The mightiest,” Jenny gasped breathlessly. “And also the heaviest. Ryder, do get up. You’re squishing me.”

  “You didn’t complain about my weight in bed,” he purred wickedly.

  “That’s because you’re also a mighty lover,” Jenny declared with a grin.

  “That’s true,” Ryder agreed with a salacious grin. Tossing the fish back into the stream, he helped Jenny to her feet.

  Happily weary, they walked hand in hand toward the cabin as the shadows grew long. Jenny sighed as they reached the house. The setting sun bathed the ugly little shack in a warm golden glow, magically transforming the crude structure into a thing of beauty. But Jenny hardly noticed the change in the cabin’s appearance. To her, it was home, and it was always beautiful.

  For Fallon, the days were achingly sweet. Not only did he have Jenny for his own, but for the first time in his life, he found himself accepted for what he was, a man trying to make a life for himself with the woman he loved. There were no derogatory remarks about his Indian blood, no insulting comments, no looks of contempt. If the townspeople knew he had once been a roving gambler, or that he had killed more than his share of men, they didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t a gambler or a gunman now, just a farmer.

  He worked hard during the day, clearing the land, chopping wood, pulling weeds, feeding the stock, and went to bed feeling tired but content.

  Like now. He held Jenny close, thinking that it was time to try to build a bed. The robes were cozy, but the floor was hard, and would seem harder and colder come winter.

  Jenny sighed and nestled closer to Ryder, her fingers toying with the thick pelt of black hair that curled on his chest. What had she ever done to deserve such a man, such happiness? Was he as blissfully content as she?

  “Happy, Jenny girl?” Ryder asked, for his thoughts had been following a similar path.

  “Happier than I’ve ever been,” Jenny answered softly. “So happy it frightens me. I’m afraid I’ll wake up one day and it will all be gone, like a dream.” Lifting herself on one elbow, Jenny gazed down at Ryder. “Are you happy here? Do you miss the freedom of your old life?”

  Fallon’s gaze moved toward the window. Outside, the night was dark and quiet save for the distant yap of a coyote.

  “Sometimes,” he admitted honestly. “There’s a lot of pretty country out there, Jenny girl. Hidden canyons rich with grass and game. Sparkling rivers. Mountains so high it takes your breath away just to look at them. Wild places where a good horse and a good rifle are worth their weight in gold.”

  He lifted a lock of her hair and pressed it to his cheek, a faraway look in his eyes. “You know, this is the first real home I’ve had
in fifteen years. It takes a little getting used to.”

  Jenny buried her face in his shoulder, troubled by his words, afraid he would see her tears. Had she detected a note of longing in his voice when he talked of distant places? Was he regretting his decision to stay here, with her? Unhappily, she remembered his words at the Apache camp. Don’t worry, Jenny, he had said, I’ve no intention of settling down here or anywhere else.

  In her mind’s eye, she saw him riding across the vast untamed wilderness that he loved, a tall man clad in fringed buckskins and knee-high moccasins, as free as the wind and the red-tailed hawk. Was he sorry, deep down, that he had traded the endless prairie for a few acres of ground in this valley? Would he find their little cabin too small, too confining, after the wandering life he’d led? Would he grow to hate it, and her too? Was he already longing for the wild places, wishing he was stretched out beside some lonely moonlit trail, as carefree as the moon and the stars?

  Her thoughts made her heart heavy, and her throat ached with unshed tears. And yet, even if her worst fears came true and he tired of her and rode out of her life forever, she would always treasure the memory of these warm summer days of laughter and the intimate nights they shared beneath the furry robes.

  “I’ll never tie you down, Ryder,” she promised solemnly. “I’ll understand if you have to leave here one day.”

  “Leave? Jenny, what in the great green hell are you talking about?” Fallon demanded, and when she refused to answer, he cupped her face in his hands and forced her to look at him.

  Her eyes reflected her thoughts as clearly as print upon a page. There, behind the tears she tried to blink away, he saw her love for him, and the unspoken fear that he would tire of life in the valley and ride away, alone. His heart swelled with love for the golden girl lying at his side. How well she knew him! But there was one thing she apparently didn’t understand, and that was how much he loved her.

  “I’ll not leave you, Jenny girl,” he vowed fervently. “Don’t you know that by now?” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips, kissing each damp spot, and then a slow grin spread across his face and a spark of deviltry danced in his eyes. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,” he murmured as his hand slid down her thigh. “You’ve got hills and valleys that put the Paha Sapa to shame.”

  It was as though he’d pulled a thorn from her heart. “Be serious,” Jenny scolded with mock severity.

  “I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Ryder drawled, rising over her. “Never more serious in my life…”

  The warm summer days paraded by, filled with love and laughter. Like two children on holiday, Ryder and Jenny spent the balmy summer days swimming in the stream or riding in the woods. Sometimes Jenny packed a picnic lunch and they hiked into the foothills or backtracked the southern stream to the waterfall that spawned it.

  There were dances at the schoolhouse, family picnics on the meadow near the pond. There were potluck dinners and social gatherings, a barn raising for a new couple in the valley, a rousing Fourth of July celebration that lasted until dawn.

  In August, Laura and Abel Patterson, who had five daughters, became the proud parents of twin boys, and Abel threw the biggest party the valley had ever seen. There were a lot of men with hangovers the next day, and a lot of women who sadly shook their heads at their foolish husbands, who thought they could drink all night and not pay the price.

  But it was not all play. There was a cow to milk, eggs to gather, weeds to pull. There were clothes to be washed and ironed and put away; they were crops to tend, animals to feed and water, wood to cut, fences that seemed to need constant repair, land to be cultivated for the next crop.

  Sometimes Jenny saw Ryder staring, bemused, at the fertile fields that lay behind the cabin. It was not hard for her to divine his thoughts. Who would have thought that Ryder Fallon, that no-account half-breed drifter, would ever settle down in one place long enough to plant a crop, let alone harvest it? Or that he would hang up his gun. Or find contentment in the arms of just one woman.

  Or that he would engage in anything as frivolous as dancing. Jenny had been appalled when she discovered her husband couldn’t waltz or polka.

  “Anyone can learn to dance,” she had assured him when he seemed less than enthusiastic to learn. “Even you.”

  Fallon didn’t care much for dancing, but he was in favor of any activity that put Jenny in his arms. Bless the girl, he mused as they whirled around the cabin, what a delightful change she had wrought in his life.

  Summer slipped into fall. The days grew shorter, the nights longer and colder.

  With the changing seasons, a restlessness took hold of Jenny. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her son. He’d soon be a year old, and she didn’t even know what he looked like. Was he happy? Was he walking? He’d call Alope mother and Kayitah father, he’d run around naked in the heat of summer, splashing in the river, eating wild plums and berries.

  In the winter, he’d slide down the snow-covered hills on a sled made of buffalo bones and sit around the campfire while the old men told thrilling tales of battles won and lost.

  He’d worship heathen gods and never know about Easter or Thanksgiving or Christmas. He’d never hear the wonderful stories of Jesus, the miracle of His birth, His life, His death and resurrection. He’d fall asleep listening to the exploits of Coyote the Trickster, instead of the fairy tales she’d heard growing up.

  She threaded a needle and began to sew a rip in one of Ryder’s work shirts. It was funny, she mused. Not long ago she had been afraid that he would leave her and now she was thinking of leaving him, of going back to Kayitah in hopes of seeing her son. It would be foolish, dangerous, and yet she couldn’t put the thought out of her mind.

  She caught Ryder watching her at odd times during the next few days, his midnight-blue eyes thoughtful.

  It was on a cool night a week later while they were walking in the moonlight that he took her in his arms and kissed her, a soft gentle kiss.

  “What is it, Jenny?” he asked, gazing down into her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Jenny girl. You’re no good at it. If you’re not happy here, tell me.”

  “I am happy,” she said quickly. “Honest, I’ve never been happier in my life. But oh Ryder, I miss him so!”

  He let out a long breath as he drew her into his arms and held her tight. He’d seen the look of yearning in her eyes when she held one of Laura Patterson’s baby boys. He’d heard her whisper to the child, soft, meaningless words that were as universal as motherhood. The Patterson house drew Jenny like a magnet, and she often offered to sit with the twins to give Laura a rest.

  “What do you want to do, Jenny? What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You can’t go back to the rancheria, you know that.”

  “Why?” She looked up at him, her great green eyes filled with pain. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I know, but Kayitah might not give you a chance to explain about Hank and Charlie.”

  Two tears welled in her eyes, hovered there for a moment, then slid down her cheeks.

  “You don’t understand,” Jenny murmured, then bit back her words because he did understand. He’d lost a wife and a child. At least her son was still alive. She could be grateful for that.

  “Let’s go inside,” Ryder said. “I’ll fix you a cup of coffee.”

  She sat in the kitchen, watching him, knowing that she couldn’t leave him. He’d risked his life to get her away from the Apache, had sat beside her through the long hours of labor, endured her anger and her hatred, all because he loved her. And she loved him, loved him too much to hurt him.

  She took the cup he offered her and set it aside; then, taking him by the hand, she led him into the bedroom and drew him down onto the bed he’d made for them.

  “Love me, Ryder,” she whispered. “Make me forget everything else.”

 
“Jenny.” He murmured her name and she melted into his arms.

  He rained kisses on her face and neck, his eyes moving over her in silent adoration as he undressed her and then removed his own clothing.

  He made love to her with exquisite tenderness, hoping she’d know, with every caress, how much he loved her. He tasted the salt of her tears as he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, and knew the ache in her heart would never truly heal, and he vowed to make her happy in every way he could. He only hoped that his love would be enough; that, in time, she would learn to accept her loss, as he had accepted his.

  Jenny drew Ryder close, her body molding itself to his, as she merged her life with his, giving all she had to give.

  Later, wrapped in the security of her husband’s arms, she bid a silent farewell to the son she knew she would never see again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Fallon rose early that sun-swept morning and padded out to the corral. The gelding stamped and snorted as Ryder slipped a horsehair bridle in place, swung effortlessly onto the horse’s bare back.

  Armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows, and the knife sheathed on his belt, Fallon reined the buckskin down the dusty trail that led to the forest that reared up at the northern end of the valley, off to spend a day hunting, Cheyenne style.

  Deep in the heart of the sun-dappled woods, he dismounted and left the stallion tethered to a tree. On foot, he glided soundlessly over the moss-strewn ground, his eyes and ears alert to every sound, every movement.

  Alone in the deep-green cocoon of the forest, surrounded by a silence broken only by the hum of winged insects, the shrill cry of a jay and the gentle whisper of a sun-kissed breeze, he felt at home and at peace.

  As he rounded a deadfall, he spotted a fine three-point buck grazing on a patch of thick grass. Deftly, Ryder pulled an arrow from the hide quiver slung over his left shoulder, nocked it as the buck raised its head.