Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  As her thoughts rolled on, her body began to relax more and more. It was not her intention to fall asleep, but she’d only had one short nap in the past two days. She was out before she realized she was even sleepy.

  Travis dozed, but jerked awake sometime in the middle of the night and reached for his rifle out of sheer reflex. The fire was no more than a few glowing embers, but the quarter moon was bright enough to light the clearing amply. Everything looked all right. The horses dozed where they stood.

  Then he heard it again—a deep moan. It was the girl! He threw back his blanket and raced to her side. “Daniella,” he called softly, dropping to his knees beside her thrashing form. Her face contorted in a soundless scream; her hands, doubled into small fists, struck out at some unseen terror. Moonlight highlighted the white hair sprouting from her left temple.

  “No!” she cried. “Noooo!”

  He reached out and shook her by the shoulders to bring her out of the nightmare.

  His touch brought her upright like a loaded spring, and she fought him with all her strength.

  “Daniella!” Travis said firmly, trying to dodge the blows pounding his head and shoulders. “It’s me—Travis. Wake up, Daniella!”

  His words had no effect at all. She shrieked and scratched and clawed at him. “No! Get away!” she screamed between sobs. “Stop! ¡Alto! ¡Alto!”

  Travis tried to still her hands, but she yanked loose and dug a deep gouge in the side of his neck with her nails. He swore and backed out of range of those sharp claws.

  In that instant she came sharply awake. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and frightened. With a jerk, she scrambled to her knees and backed away until she ran up against her grounded saddle at the head of her bedroll. Her breath came in great rasping sobs. Moonlight traced the pattern of tears down her cheeks.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She sagged, apparently recognizing his voice, and nodded.

  Travis reached out a hand toward her. She went rigid and slapped his hand away. “No!” she hissed. “Don’t touch me!”

  He froze. Her words of that morning rang in his ears. I don’t care if I fall off my horse and get bit by a rattler. You must promise not to touch me. He also remembered Lieutenant Lord’s words: She was captured by the Apaches. Spent over a month with them. Wonder how she liked it?

  Travis slowly lowered his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She didn’t respond, just stared at him. Her entire, rigid body radiated fear, a fear so great he could feel it. He spoke softly. “You were having a bad dream. You spoke Spanish.”

  She panted heavily. “Did I?” The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered like the heartbeat of a scared rabbit.

  “Apaches speak Spanish, don’t they?” he asked softly.

  “Sometimes,” she whispered with a nervous lick at her lips.

  “You…you were captured, weren’t you? Is that what your nightmare was about? Is that why you’re afraid to let me touch you? You think I’m going to hurt you?” How could she think he would ever hurt her? Then it dawned on him. “It’s not just me, is it? I can see it in your eyes. You’re afraid to let anyone touch you. You’re terrified of all men, aren’t you?”

  His heart went out to this slender young girl who was so petrified with fear. No girl should have that much pain and terror in her eyes. He watched as slowly, ever so slowly, sanity crept back across her face.

  “Christ, Daniella, what did those bastards do to you, to make you so afraid?” It was the wrong thing to ask. He knew it even as the words left his mouth.

  All expression left her face; she wore a cold mask of stone.

  “Use your imagination, Mr. Colton,” she hissed, her eyes shooting daggers at him in the moonlight. “You’re a smart man—I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” The cold lash of her voice struck him.

  He knew he deserved it for such a thoughtless question.

  “But do us both a favor, mister,” she went on. “And do your thinking on the other side of the fire. About five miles on the other side, preferably.”

  Travis rose slowly, his eyes sweeping over her crouched figure, briefly noting she had been sleeping in her poncho. “I’m not a molester of girls, or women, Miss Blackwood, and I don’t appreciate being treated like one.” He walked around the dying embers of the fire and lowered himself to his bedroll, disgusted, with himself for handling the situation awkwardly, and with her for overreacting so violently.

  Daniella sat up and rekindled the fire, refusing to raise her eyes to see whether or not Travis was sleeping. She sat with crossed legs and leaned her elbows on her knees, thinking what a mess her life was in.

  If she had remained in Boston, as her grandparents had urged, she’d be safe right now. Her life wouldn’t be in ruins. But when the states in the South started leaving the Union, the talk of war had convinced her to go home while she still could.

  She tossed another stick in the fire and wondered if fighting had broken out yet. If it had, would Miss Whitfield close her School for Young Ladies? Would Daniella’s grandparents be safe? Would any of the young men she knew take up arms against the Rebels?

  All the young men she had picnicked with and gone to parties with paled next to the man on the other side of the fire. Travis Colton was one of the best looking men she had ever seen, in spite of the scar on his cheek. And he was all man, unlike those boys in Boston with their frilly shirts, fancy cravats and silk hats. Travis was big, and rugged, and sturdy, with muscles that rippled beneath the fabric of his clothes.

  Daniella felt herself blush at the very idea of noticing a man’s muscles. She must have been studying him more closely than she realized to have noticed such a thing.

  Perhaps in a different time and place, under different circumstances, he might have noticed her as a woman. She might have had a chance to gain at least his friendship, if not more. But in reality, he would never be attracted to her now, and she didn’t want him to be. She had nothing to offer him, or any other man. Just a ruined reputation, a soiled body that cringed from being touched, and nightmares.

  One corner of her mouth twitched slightly as Tucker’s voice floated through her mind. There you go again, girlie, afeelin’ sorry for yourself. Snap out of it. There’s people alots worse off than you, and don’t you forget it. Whatever would she do without Tucker?

  Travis woke when the sky was barely gray. Without a word, they shared a breakfast of more dried beef and the cold, leftover biscuits he’d brought from home.

  Daniella went into the bushes to relieve herself. When she returned, Travis had taken off his shirt and was shaving in a mirror propped on a tree branch. She tried not to notice how broad his shoulders were, or how smooth his golden skin looked. She concentrated on packing up their gear, but every now and then her eyes strayed to that huge expanse of bare skin across his back, and the lean waist, which tapered down to narrow hips bound up snugly in his dusty trousers.

  Her gaze traveled back up and was trapped by his reflection in the mirror. She was held captive by the tiny gold flecks dancing mischievously in his deep brown eyes. He moved slightly, and her gaze was drawn to the deep gash down the side of his neck, now encrusted with dried blood. Her eyes widened. She remembered flailing her arms wildly last night and striking something. This morning there had been dried blood beneath her fingernails.

  “Did…did I do that?”

  “What, this?” he asked, indicating his neck. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  She hadn’t meant to hurt him, to mark him like that, but at the time, he’d been all mixed up inside her nightmare. “I…I’ve got some salve, for cuts and such. Would you, uh, let me put some on it?” After the way she acted last night, she was surprised and relieved when he eagerly nodded his permission.

  She dug a rag from her saddlebag and wet it with water from her canteen. When she turned back and faced him her palms grew suddenly damp, and it had nothing to do with the wet rag she held. It had to do with the
man before her. If his bare back fascinated her, it was nothing to what the up-close view of his naked chest did.

  Golden curls formed a vee over the perfect sculpture of rugged muscles and tanned flesh. His stomach was flat and hard looking. While she stared, he sucked in his breath. His pants dropped a notch, revealing a narrow strip of white skin.

  She jerked her eyes away and felt a blush sting her cheeks. She cleared her throat and centered her gaze on his scratched neck. Touching him nowhere else but there, she proceeded to clean the dried blood away.

  Her gaze strayed briefly to his chest again, wondering if that mat of curls was soft and silky, or wiry and crisp.

  What a stupid thing to wonder, she thought, forcing herself to concentrate on her task. Unconsciously, she rubbed harder with the rag.

  “Ouch!” Travis cried. “Easy, there, girl. Leave me a little skin, please.”

  “Sorry,” Daniella mumbled, completely unrepentant. “If you’d told me about this last night, it would have been much easier on you. It’s your own fault for ignoring it. I’m almost through.” She finished cleaning the scratch, then took a tin of salve from her saddlebag and applied its contents liberally. “There.”

  “Thank you. But, last night I was under the distinct impression you didn’t want to be touched,” he reminded her.

  Daniella bristled at his tone. “That’s right. I still don’t. This isn’t the same thing. This time I’m touching you. Anyway,” she continued. “A-About last night.” She lost her bravado, and the words stuck in her throat. She forced herself to go on. “I-I’m sorry about last night, Mr. Colton. I didn’t mean to wake you, or…scratch you. I’ll try not to let it happen again.” The words came hard, and her downcast eyes focused on the loose gravel at her feet; she couldn’t face him.

  “Look at me, Daniella.” Travis waited while her eyes traveled slowly, hesitantly, up his chest. He could almost feel those eyes touching him. Finally she met his gaze. She licked her lips nervously. He had to force his eyes away from her tongue and her moist lips.

  He cleared his throat. “In the first place, I seriously doubt you had that nightmare on purpose, just to wake me up, so forget it. In the second place, my name is Travis. You keep calling me Mr. Colton, I’m liable to break my neck looking around for my father. And in the third place, the only thing in the world I was trying to do last night was help you. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  “I realize that,” she said softly.

  Travis tore his gaze away from her and shrugged into his shirt. There were so many more things he wanted to know about her. As he fastened the buttons, he kept his voice deceptively casual. “Do you have nights like that often?”

  She took a slow, deep breath, then let it out. “I normally wouldn’t answer a question like that, Mr. Colton—”

  “Travis.”

  “Travis,” she acknowledged. “But it’s likely your son may suffer similar problems when he gets home, so you should know what to expect. Since he’s been with the Apaches this long, he’s undoubtedly seen some pretty terrible things. They don’t shield their children from life, or death, or anything in between. In answer to your question, the only time I have nightmares is when I happen to fall asleep at night, so no, it doesn’t happen often. I usually sleep during the day.” Her words were clipped and curt, as though by keeping the feeling from her voice, she could keep the memories locked away.

  “Is there anything I can do to make it easier? For Matt, I mean,” he added quickly.

  “Just hold him, tell him he’s safe, that you’ll take care of him.” She blinked as her eyes filled with sudden moisture.

  “Is that all it takes?” he murmured, taking a step closer.

  She backed away slightly and turned her head. “Believe me, the support of his family, his father’s love, will make all the difference in the world.”

  “And where is your family, Daniella Blackwood?” he asked quietly, confused by the ache he felt for her. “Why are you out here in the middle of nowhere with a man you’re afraid of, instead of nestled snugly in the bosom of your loved ones?”

  Every drop of color drained from her face, leaving her so pale he feared she might faint. Instead, she turned away abruptly and began saddling her mare. “To coin a popular phrase, Mr. Colton, we’re burning daylight. Let’s ride.”

  And ride they did. This second day on the trail was at least as grueling as the first had been. This time, when they rested the horses and Daniella slept, Travis was tempted to let her sleep for a few hours. The dark circles under her eyes told him she needed it. But if he let her sleep, it would just take them that much longer to get to Matt, and Matt was waiting.

  It startled and hurt him to realize that aside from setting out on this trip with the sole purpose of finding Matt, he really hadn’t thought much about his son in the past thirty-six hours. All his thoughts had been centering on one Daniella Blackwood.

  It made him feel guilty, like he was somehow cheating Matt, which was, of course, ridiculous. If Daniella was telling the truth, Travis was doing everything possible to reclaim his son by riding wherever she led.

  Was she telling the truth? The only thing he really cared about was that she could take him to Matt, and then get them all away from Cochise in one piece. Nothing else mattered.

  And if she wasn’t telling the truth? Well, it was like she said—he’ll only lose a few days. He certainly hadn’t been making any headway on his own. So, if she was lying…if she was lying…if she was lying, he’d damn well break her neck!

  Somehow, during the course of Daniella’s short nap, Travis had swung from feeling sorry for her to wanting to strangle her. Before he could decide which end of the scale was the most reasonable, the black and white mare nudged Daniella awake.

  That night when they made camp they were both too tired to talk. Later, when Travis slept, Daniella was afraid to move—she might wake him. She was afraid to sit still—she might fall asleep. In the end she gave up worrying about him and concentrated on keeping herself awake. She did wake him once when, for lack of anything to occupy her mind or hands, she decided to clean her rifle and pistol. The flickering firelight wasn’t exactly adequate, but she didn’t care; she had all night. At the first metallic click of the cylinder of her pistol, Travis bolted upright, rifle in hand, and nearly shot her.

  “Christ Almighty, girl! What in the hell do you think you’re doing? I could have killed you!”

  After an instant of paralyzing fright, Daniella forced herself to relax and concentrate on what she was doing. “So I noticed,” she said tartly. “I’m only cleaning my gun. Go back to sleep.”

  “It’s the middle of the goddamn night.” He put his rifle down and glared at her. “Why the hell are you doing it now?”

  “Because I’ve never mastered the art of doing it while I’m riding. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you just before sunup.”

  “You planning on staying awake all night?”

  “Yes, if you must know. And unless you’re planning the same, I suggest you stop badgering me and go back to sleep.”

  “Badgering you!”

  “Mr. Colton—”

  “Travis!” he shouted. “Goddamnit, girl, my name is Travis!”

  “I do believe, Travis, that you swear more than any man I’ve ever met.” For an otherwise seemingly stable man, he sure was easy to rile, she thought.

  “And if I had a bottle of whiskey, I’d probably start drinking more than any man you’ve ever met, too,” he growled. “You just have that effect on me, Miss Blackwood.”

  “Good night, Travis,” she sang sweetly.

  His only answer as he turned his back and settled down into his bedroll was an angry snort.

  On the third day they cut through Texas Canyon and turned south along the west edge of Sulphur Springs Valley. Late in the afternoon, Daniella swung due west. The Dragoon Mountains loomed before them in all their rocky, rugged splendor. Daniella led the way toward the harshest, most inhospitable part of them.
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  “Sweet Jesus,” Travis murmured. Before him lay a section of the Dragoons that appeared to be solid rock, punctuated by cliffs and crevices and outcroppings. “No wonder the Army’s never found Cochise yet. Is there a passage?”

  “I know the way, but before we go in we need to talk.”

  “About what?” he asked impatiently. They were so close! He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to get to Matt. To get him away from here.

  “I know you don’t have any use for Apaches. I can’t blame you. But if we’re to get your son back, you’re going to have to put on some show of politeness.”

  “Meaning? “

  “Meaning, we’re not going to just ride in and demand they hand Matt over. The matter will probably have to go before the council for a vote.”

  “I thought you said you could get him free. Now you tell me they’re going to vote on it? When did the Apache nation become a democracy?”

  “I can get him free, Travis, if you’ll just stay calm, do what I say, and don’t go off half cocked. The Chiricahua admire courage. They’ll respect you for riding in alone.”

  “What do you mean, alone?” he demanded. “Where are you going to be? This whole thing was your idea.”

  “I’ll be with you, but…to them, I’m one of The People. I’m a member of the tribe.”

  Travis was bewildered. “What are you talking about? How can you be a member? Is it because they took you captive?”

  “Only indirectly,” she replied. “I was adopted into this band by Cochise himself. That’s why I know they’ll listen to me, and they’ll let you talk. You do speak Spanish, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I don’t know you very well, but I think you’re an honest man. In case I’m wrong, I’ll warn you, the Chidikáágu’, as the Chiricahua call themselves, don’t tolerate deceit of any kind. They’re a very, very honest, honorable people, despite what you may think.”

  “How can you—”

  Daniella raised her hand to stop him. “We’ll get into that some other time. All you need to do for now is follow me into these rocks. When we dismount at camp, take off your gunbelt and hand it to the nearest woman.”