Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Dee-O-Det assured Matt that he would personally deliver the message of thanks for him.

  “This, too, is for you, Little Bear.” The old man handed Matt what looked like a powder horn, except it had an extra hole, this one in the side, near the base. “It is from Cochise. You blow through here,” he pointed to the tip, “and move your finger over this hole, like so.” He showed Matt how to cover only part of the side hole.

  “Is it some kind of signal?” Matt asked.

  The wrinkled old face split in a grin. “Very good. Yes. It is a signal horn. When you come back to us, blow on this and we will know a special friend is coming.”

  Travis fought down the surge of jealousy over his son’s receiving such gifts from other men. He owed Hal-Say, Huera, and Cochise a great deal—more than he could hope to repay. Jealousy made him feel small.

  Last night Travis had learned that Apache law states the spoils of war belong to the entire tribe. Matt had been a “spoil of war.” If Hal-Say had not gone before the council and received permission to adopt Matt, the boy would have become a slave, led around on a leash, forced to fight the dogs for a scrap of food. Yes, Travis owed Matt’s “other parents” a great deal.

  He was glad he’d gone to see them this morning, to tell them Matt would come back to visit. Their profound gratitude made him see just how much they cared for Matt. But it bothered Travis more than a little to realize how fond Matt was of them. His son was establishing relationships outside the bounds of his immediate family. He was growing up.

  Oh, Matt, Travis cried out silently. Don’t grow up too fast. Don’t grow away from me.

  “Well, old man,” Daniella said to Dee-O-Det from atop her horse. “Can I assume that sometime today Travis will explain to me just what this is all about?” She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from demanding an explanation then and there.

  “What what is all about?” the shaman asked. He was the picture of innocence.

  “Humph!” she said. “I’ve never seen anyone so glad to be rid of another person as you are me.”

  “My child,” he protested. “You are imagining things.”

  “I don’t think so. But I must admit—at least it was all done politely. What was it you said? Something about it being a perfect day for traveling? And then there was that bit about how rude it would be of me to make Travis stay, when he was ready to leave.”

  Pounding hoofbeats brought Daniella’s head around sharply. It was seventeen-year-old Tahza, Cochise’s oldest son. His presence here meant things must be serious, for Tahza never had much to do with her.

  “Good morning, brother,” she greeted. “Let me guess. You’re here to show us the fastest way out of the mountains, and probably to reassure me, as your mother did earlier, that shitaa would feel terrible if his simple hunting trip caused me to delay my departure.”

  Tahza’s black eyes bored into her. He nodded once, hesitantly.

  “What is going on around here?” she demanded.

  “Núúghuyáhah—go on!” Dee-O-Det commanded. “Tonight, as you eat the dried venison I placed in your packs, Yellow Hair Colton will explain. I have also loaded extra blankets. You will need them on these cool nights, with no fire to warm you.”

  “No fire?” she repeated stupidly. This was much more serious than she had imagined. The caution meant someone might be following them.

  “No fires until you pass the place where we spend our winters. Ride swiftly, my friends.”

  They rode as swiftly as the narrow mountain trails allowed, with Tahza leading the way.

  That first night at camp, with no fire, Travis told Daniella of his visit from Cochise. She sat up all night thinking about what he said. Initially she was outraged that Golthlay should have such nerve. Then she felt hurt that Cochise believed she would cause trouble. But she realized Travis was right in one respect. Golthlay would think it a good way to get even. He probably thought he could take her back to his own rancheria, away from her powerful adoptive family, and make her pay for humiliating him.

  But then, Golthlay didn’t know her very well, and Cochise, it seemed, did. There would most definitely have been trouble. If she had somehow ended up married to Golthlay, she would have slit his throat the first night, if he didn’t slit hers first.

  She wondered if Cochise had also learned that Loco planned to offer for her, too.

  The night wind swallowed up her soft sigh. Cochise’s way was best after all. If she simply disappeared from the stronghold, she would never receive Golthlay’s or Loco’s offer.

  The next day Tahza gave them the explanation planned regarding her swift departure. He would first escort them out of the mountains, then return to the stronghold. That would take five or six days. Meanwhile, Tesal-Bestinay, Tahza’s mother, would inform Cochise upon his return from the hunt that Tahza had taken the three whites exploring. No doubt they would return tomorrow, or surely the day after, she would say.

  When Tahza finally returned, alone, he would tell his father that they had intended to be back by the second day, but that Little Bear had fallen ill. Yellow Hair insisted on taking his son home, and Woman of Magic had gone with him.

  Someone, probably Golthlay, would surely ask what had taken Tahza so long to get home. He would say that the stupid white man was afraid he would get lost, and insisted Tahza lead them out of the mountains.

  “After all,” Tahza said innocently to Travis’s groan, “everyone knows a white man cannot even follow his hand in front of his face.”

  “I think I hear the words of a shaman somewhere in that last part,” Daniella said, not trying to hide her sarcasm.

  Tahza hooted with laughter. “He said you would blame him for that. But you are right, sister. That part was his idea.”

  Travis pursed his lips in chagrin. “You tell him I owe him one for that, Tahza.”

  “What does this mean, owe him one? One what?”

  “It means,” Daniella explained, “Yellow Hair Colton plans to get even with our shaman for the slur cast on his character.”

  As Tahza thought this over, they made their way toward a second cold, dark night. Having only had brief snatches of sleep for the past several days, Daniella couldn’t stay awake as she huddled beneath her blanket for warmth. After a few hours of restless slumber, the nightmares returned.

  A few feet away, Travis came awake. This time he knew what was wrong. He crept to her side and trapped her arms beneath her blanket. “Daniella,” he whispered in her ear. “Wake up, Daniella. You’re having a dream. It’s only a dream, love. It’s all right. Wake up now.”

  Finally her eyes opened. She gasped for breath and struggled to free her trapped arms.

  “It’s all right, Daniella. Just be still. Everything’s okay.”

  “T-Travis?”

  “It’s me, love. I’m here…you’re safe.”

  Daniella took in great gulps of cool night air. She couldn’t move her arms! She was trapped! “Let go of me!” she gasped in panic.

  “Are you awake now?” he asked, holding on to her firmly.

  “I-I’m awake. L-Let go of me, p-please.”

  Slowly, Travis released her and leaned away. She threw back the blanket and scrambled to her knees, then turned and doubled over, pressing her heated face against the cool, smooth leather seat of her saddle at the head of her bedroll. She sucked clean night air into her lungs. When she exhaled, her whole body shuddered violently.

  God, but the nightmare had seemed so real. In fact, she thought, it wasn’t even a dream—it was a memory. A black, terrifying memory that held her in its grip and refused to set her free. She opened her eyes wide, searching the darkness to reassure herself of where she was. She sensed Travis’s presence close beside her and felt both a little safer, and a little threatened.

  “Daniella,” he murmured quietly. “I won’t hurt you, you know that. But I’m going to touch you.”

  “No!” she gasped, too shaken and weak to move. “Don’t, please.”

  “Yes
,” he insisted. “I’m going to touch you and hold you, do for you what you told me to do for Matt. I can’t let you go through this alone.”

  Travis reached beneath her poncho and placed his palm on the small of her back. Daniella flinched and whimpered. She didn’t want to be afraid of him, but she was.

  It took her a long moment to realize the warm, firm hand on her back didn’t hurt, didn’t threaten. It massaged gently up and dawn her spine, spreading a tingling warmth in its wake.

  Somehow Travis shifted around, and Daniella found herself lying against his hard, wide chest while he leaned back against her saddle. She uttered a murmur of protest, but his arms beneath her poncho held her firmly in place.

  “Hush, love,” he whispered. “Just relax and let me hold you. You’ve done so much for me. Let me help you now. Let me hold you and keep the bad dreams away for a while.”

  His hands stroked her through the thin cotton of her shirt, warming her, relaxing her. She could no longer find the strength, or the will, to protest. She couldn’t believe how good it felt to have him touch her and hold her this way. Her head fit perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder. She’d never felt so safe in her life.

  He knew what the Apaches had done to her, yet instead of scorn and contempt, he offered her comfort and tenderness. She knew it was only his way of thanking her for taking him to his son, but she didn’t care. If she never saw him again, it would still be worth this one night in his arms.

  She relaxed against him, and soon her breathing was deep and even. Travis frowned at the thinness of her frame. He’d never seen her without the damn poncho, but now his fingers could trace her delicate ribcage. When he spanned her waist with both hands, his fingers met.

  This trip had been hard on her. Surely at home she slept more and ate real meals. What kind of a woman gave up the comfort of her home, unasked, to help a total stranger? The journey so far had been grueling, the food scarce, her sleep practically nonexistent, and at one point, they’d both come uncomfortably close to being killed, yet not once had she complained.

  She was extremely independent, as hard as nails, at home in the wilderness, and at ease with a bowie knife in her hand.

  That was by day. By night she was a frightened child.

  Somewhere in between those two extremes must be the real Daniella. That was the woman he was determined to know.

  A few hours later, before the sky even hinted at dawn, Daniella came awake with a start. Immediately, Travis’s arms tightened around her.

  “Ssh,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”

  When she realized where she was, she relaxed again against his broad chest. After a moment, she tried to rise.

  “Be still, love. It’s early. Go back to sleep,” he murmured. He’d lain awake all night savoring the feel of her in his arms.

  “Let me up, Travis,” she urged.

  “No. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you later.” He didn’t want to let her go. She wasn’t likely to slip back into his arms anytime soon. That much he knew. He wanted to hang on to her as long as possible.

  “Travis, let me go,” Daniella insisted. “If Tahza wakes up and finds us like this, there may not be a shotgun wedding, like you feared, but there would certainly be at least a bow-and-arrow one.”

  And a young girl like you wouldn’t want to find herself tied to a thirty-year-old man like me, he thought with surprising bitterness.

  What the hell was the matter with him, anyway? He didn’t want to get married any more than she did. He’d been married once. That was more than enough for any man. He’d learned his lesson, hadn’t he?

  Besides, what did he really know about Daniella Blackwood?

  The girl had quite a few more problems than he was prepared to deal with, not the least of which was her fear of men. The only reason she was in his arms right now was because she had temporarily found something she feared even more than she feared him. He sighed deeply and released her.

  To Daniella’s mind, she mentioned the word “wedding” and instantly found herself alone on her blanket. So much for knights in shining armor, she thought with disgust. She’d been right about him all along. He didn’t want “tainted goods” any more than the next man did.

  Across the small clearing, Tahza watched through narrowed eyes as the Yellow Hair returned to his own bedroll. Interesting, he thought. Yes, shitaa will find this very interesting.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The morning of the fourth day, Tahza left to return to the stronghold. Travis stared thoughtfully at the youth’s retreating figure. His troubled frown stayed with him while they started down out of the mountains.

  “Something wrong?” Daniella finally asked.

  Travis looked at her for a moment, then at Matt. He shrugged and returned his gaze to her. “I liked him,” he admitted.

  “Who?”

  “Tahza.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?” Matt wanted to know.

  “I don’t know,” Travis said, troubled. “I liked Cochise, too, and Dee-O-Det. I even liked Hal-Say and Huera, Matt, and I know you like them. You probably have quite a few friends back there.” His eyes shifted back to Daniella. “And you have what amounts to a whole family. Yet they’ve done something to each of us that should make us hate them. Instead, we make friends.”

  He shrugged again, not sure if he was saying what he meant.

  “I guess it boils down to individuals,” he reasoned. “I’m sure if I’d known which ones attacked our stage I wouldn’t have liked them, but then for all I know, I could have sat beside them and never known.”

  Daniella was quiet for a moment, then said, “I know what you mean. They’re supposed to be our enemies, yet we like them. At least some of them. Not very popular in this territory.”

  “Well, I hope you didn’t eat with the one called Loco,” Matt said heatedly.

  Daniella stiffened. The dark face of the one Matt mentioned rose up before her, vicious, menacing. She pictured him as he appeared in her nightmares, cradling his bleeding hand against his chest, his other hand reaching toward the fire. She pictured him as he was the other night, looming over her in the dark forest, talking of marriage.

  “Daniella?” Travis questioned. Then more sharply, “Daniella.”

  “What? I-I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t listening.” She forced the pictures to the back of her mind, knowing full well Loco’s face would escape again to haunt her in the dark.

  “Who is this Loco?” Travis looked from Daniella to Matt.

  “He’s the one who shot you and took me,” Matt said with emotion. “He put a slave leash on my neck, and he didn’t want Hal-Say to adopt me. I hate him!”

  Daniella stared straight ahead, her back rigid, trying to keep her mind a blank.

  “Do you know him?” Travis asked her.

  Instead of answering, she kicked her horse into a gallop and raced ahead. She couldn’t stand to hear any more. She couldn’t answer any more questions.

  Matt turned solemn eyes on his father. “I think she knows him, Dad.”

  Travis was shocked by his son’s eyes. They were so old!

  Too old for a ten-year-old. They’d seen too much for one so young. They were like Daniella’s eyes. Dear Lord, what has he seen to make him look so ancient? Travis shied from the answer. He didn’t want to know; he was afraid he already knew.

  They reached the lowlands, and the noon sun beat down with oppressive heat. Daniella realized with a start that she’d been concentrating so hard on keeping her mind blank that she hadn’t even felt the dampness of her own sweat beneath the oven-like folds of her poncho. She was glad when Travis suggested they stop to water and rest the horses. As soon as she’d seen to her mare, Daniella reached for the bottom hem of her poncho and peeled it off over her head. The slight breeze felt cool as it penetrated the thin fabric of her shirt.

  Travis eagerly watched her remove the heavy garment, like a boy might watch his Christmas present being unwrapped. When she turned her profil
e to him and threw back her shoulders, taking in a deep breath, his mouth went dry. Her shirt was stretched tight across generous breasts, and the breeze cooled her skin until her nipples puckered beneath the thin, worn fabric. He swallowed heavily and nearly choked. If she breathed any deeper, at least one button would succumb to the stress. He almost groaned allowed when he remembered from the night he’d held her that she wore nothing beneath that shirt.

  He watched as she shook out her poncho, folded it, then knelt in the shade of an enormous cottonwood and bent forward to brush some twigs away. Her hair slid sideways as she moved, exposing her back and hips, which happened to be pointing at Travis. He tried to maintain an outward appearance of calm while his pulse pounded in his ears. He drank in the first sight of her slim back and trim waist. He’d felt them in the darkness, but he’d never seen her without the poncho. Dampness gathered on his palms, which yearned to fit themselves over the soft curves of her buttocks, outlined perfectly by the tautness of her breeches.

  She placed her folded poncho at the base of the tree to use as a pillow, then lay down on her side with her back to him. He’d seen her nap this way several times before, but this time was different. This time he felt a hardening in his loins and had to fight the urge to lay down beside her and press himself against her softness.

  Christ! What was he thinking? She wasn’t much more than a girl. She didn’t need a man his age in her life, he reminded himself. But still, he couldn’t deny any longer how much he wanted her. He wanted her with an intensity he hadn’t felt in years.

  Forget it, man. Even if he could get past all her defenses, when she found out she had nothing to fear from him she’d probably show her true colors and turn as cold and grasping as most other women he’d known.

  He waited for Blaze to nudge Daniella awake. Once on the trail again, he watched the girl sway in the saddle. She looked numb with exhaustion. When he finally called a halt late in the afternoon, she was almost asleep in the saddle. A few minutes later she stretched out on her bedroll and was asleep for real.