Sweat popped out all over Tom’s face. He knew Cochise would resist being kept on a reservation. He also knew the resistance would do Cochise no good if he really wanted peace. But Howard, it seemed, was a born diplomat. Tom eased a bit—but only a bit—as the general spoke.
“Perhaps some day that will be possible,” Howard said. “But there has been so much hostility between our peoples, on both sides. I’m afraid the first time you tried to go somewhere where there were Americans, they’d attack you on sight. For the time being, I believe all your people will be safer if they stay together on a reservation. It’s true you won’t be allowed to come and go freely, but we’ll also keep the white men from entering the reservation.”
When Tom had translated, Cochise reluctantly saw the wisdom in the suggestion but insisted the reservation for the Chiricahua be established in the Dragoon Mountains, rather than on the Rio Grande.
“How long can you stay, General?” Cochise asked. “Do you have the time to come to our rancheria? Can you wait for others to join us so we may talk about this?”
“My mission is to meet you and your people, and make peace. I’ll stay as long as it takes,” the general stated firmly.
A lump of pure emotion lodged itself in Tom’s throat as the two leaders shook hands again and smiled at each other. He had to look away quickly or risk making a complete fool of himself.
Raising his face to the sky, he blinked rapidly. When his vision cleared he noticed the sky was a brighter shade of blue than he’d ever seen before. The white glow of the sun touched his skin and warmed his soul.
The Apaches, if they were preparing for battle, would say it was a good day to die.
But these were not battle preparations; these were peace talks.
It’s not a good day to die—it’s a good day to live. To live, and make peace.
Tom lowered his gaze from the sky and met Matt Colton’s eager, hopeful expression.
Matt returned the look, finally relaxing the tight control of his facial muscles and allowing his excited grin to break loose. It was the only concession to his emotions he could allow himself without screaming and laughing and making a total ass of himself.
His grin widened a little when he read the same struggle for control in Tom Taglito Jeffords’ eyes.
It was a sign of how eagerly everyone here sought peace that the only introductions that had been made so far were between Cochise and Howard. Taglito was only now introducing everyone else. The second soldier was General Howard’s aide, Captain Joseph Sladen. The two Chiricahua scouts were Shanta and Fletcher, both from Camp Bowie.
“Fletcher?” Angela questioned.
Matt gave her a smile. “Well, his real name is Fle-Cha-Ka-Eda-Ty-gee.”
“Right,” Angela said. “Fletcher.”
“Matt! How the hell are you?” Taglito called as he finally broke free and approached. “And more important, who’s this pretty little thing with you?”
“Tom!” Matt grinned and shook hands with his old friend. “It’s good to see you. I’d like you to meet my wife, Angela. Angela, this is Tom Jeffords, an old friend of my family and of the Chúk'ánéné, known to some as Taglito.”
“Your wife! Well I’ll be da— Well, this is a surprise!”
Jeffords personally introduced them to the rest of his party. General Howard was a soft-spoken man whose white beard quivered when he smiled. His aide was young, nice looking, and overly serious. Fletcher was quiet and shy. Shanta, too, was quiet as he stared from Matt to Angela, then back again.
Matt quickly nudged Angela forward and introduced her as his wife. He felt her tremble beside him as Shanta eyed her carefully. There was no doubt the scout who’d taken the twins to the post that day at Camp Bowie recognized her. Something other than surprise passed across the Apache’s face. Something more like doubt. It passed quickly. “You wouldn’t be Angela Barnes, from the Hargrave wagon train, would you?” he asked softly.
Matt held his breath.
Angela’s face went white. “I-I…“
“We’ll talk later,” Shanta said, eyeing them both. Then he turned his back and walked away.
Matt let out his breath, but Angela’s trembling increased. Neither spoke as he lifted her to the saddle and mounted behind her.
By the time they returned to the compound the entire camp was in chaos. A peace delegation directly from the President of the United States was big, welcome news to most. Runners had already been sent to the other camps to call in those leaders who’d ridden with Cochise over the years. The visitors were made welcome and appeared to be enjoying themselves. Pace and Serena volunteered their services as translators, and General Howard seemed delighted with them.
We’ll talk later.
The ominous words spoken that afternoon by the Apache scout she’d first seen at Camp Bowie filled Angela with dread. Her nerves stretched so taut she felt like her whole body was ready to snap. She spent the rest of the day tensing at every footfall behind her, starting at every shadow that loomed near, jumping nearly out of her skin at an accidental touch.
Now it was late, the entire camp dark and silent for the night, and still she couldn’t relax. A small blaze crackled merrily within its circle of rocks beneath the smoke hole of the wickiup, mocking her with its cheerfulness.
Next to her, Matt sat staring toward the door flap. He tried to hide that he was every bit as tense as she was, but she read the signs in his silence, his clenched jaw, his furrowed brow.
She heard a slight sound outside and stiffened. Matt placed a hand on her arm, she assumed to calm her. It didn’t. It merely let her feel his tension through his tight grip.
Low and soft, a voice came from just beyond the door. “Bear Killer.”
Angela choked back a cry, knowing instantly it was Shanta. Shanta, who somehow knew her name and that she’d been with Mr. Hargrave’s wagon train. What else did he know?
Tahnito and his friends had burned her wagon—a sure sign she hadn’t left peaceably. Shanta must know she’d been captured. And if he knew, did that mean the Army knew? Did General Howard know some of Cochise’s band had captured her? Would he question Cochise about her?
She felt all the lies, hers and Matt’s, tremble beneath their own weight and threaten to tumble, destroying the one thing Matt, as well as Cochise and others, wanted most in the world. Peace.
Angela straightened her shoulders and forced her trembling to a halt. There had to be a way out of this maze of lies. There simply had to be, and she would find it.
Even if it takes more lies? a little voice demanded.
Yes. No matter what it took, she couldn’t let Matt down.
Matt called for Shanta to enter. The scout squatted across the fire from them and started in with a rapid, guttural stream of Apache.
“In English, Shanta. Angela needs to hear this.”
“All right,” the scout said, his face as unreadable as a rock. “I wanted to warn you, Captain Sladen is going to start asking questions.”
“About what?” Matt asked.
“About your wife, and how she came to be here.”
Angela inhaled sharply and held her breath.
“Why?”
“Because nearly two weeks ago, a man rode in to Camp Bowie to warn the commander that the wagon train he scouted for had been attacked by Apaches.”
“That’s a lie!” Angela said hotly, forgetting momentarily about her own lies. “That had to be Abe Miller who carried that tale. He saw one lone Apache, Chee, and shot him. That’s what he calls an Indian attack!”
“Take it easy,” Matt said. “Let him finish.”
Shanta continued. “This man left the fort, then showed up again the next day. He said he’d found where one wagon, belonging to the Barnes family, had evidently turned back toward Bowie, but hadn’t made it. The commander sent me to check it out. I went out, scouted, and reported my findings.”
In a corner of her mind Angela vaguely noted Shanta’s English was every bit as good as
Chee’s. She wondered where he’d learned it.
“What did you report?” Matt asked heavily. His tone gave Angela a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“I reported a burned wagon, two fresh graves, the footprints of one survivor, and tracks from three unshod horses. It was Tahnito, wasn’t it?”
Angela felt the blood drain from her face. “What makes you say that?” she whispered.
“I’d recognize that troublemaker’s trail anywhere. I followed. It was a girl they took. They swung north, as if to leave a false trail, but made no attempt to cover their tracks. They were drunk. They made her run on foot the second day as they turned south. That night when they made camp, there was a struggle, and a fourth rider, Chee, joined them. They rode toward the hills and camped among the rocks. Chee left, met you, Bear Killer, and you returned with him.”
Good heavens. How could he know so much?
“The next morning you put the girl on your horse and brought her here.”
“And you reported all of this?” Matt asked.
“I reported losing the trail in the rocks the first day. And I didn’t mention any names.”
Angela nearly sagged with relief. He was on their side.
Of course he was. He, too, would want peace for his people. He hadn’t told the Army all he knew.
She licked her lips nervously. All she had to do was come up with a plausible reason for the things he saw and reported.
A reason other than the truth.
She could feel Matt’s gaze on her, hear his unspoken question, feel his silent plea for her to keep her word.
After a long silence, she took a deep breath and stiffened her spine.
“My mother was very sick,” she said softly. “Chee knew I was to meet Matt in Tucson, but he saw that our wagon turned back toward the fort alone, so he sent Tahnito and his friends to make sure we got there safely.”
Angela locked her fingers together and forced herself to stare straight into Shanta’s eyes. She had to clear her throat three times before she could speak past the huge lump of fear. “But my mother never made it,” she whispered. “She died that night.” Tears gathered, but she blinked them back. “The next morning my father and I buried her. I went back to the wagon while he stood over her grave. The next thing I knew, there was a man in the trees pointing a gun at my father.”
“What man?” Shanta asked.
Angela shook her head and cleared her throat again, this time of sadness. “I don’t know. All I could see was the hand that held the pistol. He…shot my father, killed him. I shot back, somehow hit him in the hand, and he ran.”
Tears rushed again, nearly blinding her. Matt loosened his tight grip on her and ran his hand up and down her arm, soothing her, giving her courage.
“I buried my father, then Tahnito and his friends came. They knew they couldn’t leave me there alone, so they took me to meet Matt. Chee had gone after Matt to tell him my family and I had turned back. When Matt found me, we came here and got married.”
After an endless moment of silent tension, a slow grin spread across Shanta’s face. “You were meeting Matt in Tucson to get married?”
Angela glanced at Matt, then nodded.
Shanta’s grin faded. “Why did you act like strangers at Camp Bowie?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you go with him then?”
Angela’s eyes darted nervously from side to side, then met Shanta’s piercing gaze. “Because…because I hadn’t told my parents about him yet. They didn’t know who he was or that we were getting married. I’d planned to tell them once we reached Tucson.”
Shanta let his breath out loudly. “Stick to that story. It might just work.” Then he was gone, and Matt and Angela were alone. She was too sick with worry to even be glad the questions were over.
Suddenly Matt grabbed her and drew her to his chest, his lips crushing hers. She forgot the lies she’d just told, forgot her fear of being trapped by them, forgot everything as he kissed her thoroughly. His tongue danced in her mouth and her bones seemed to melt. Her arms wound around his neck of their own accord. Her heart slammed against her ribs, then seemed to stop altogether as the kiss continued.
Matt pulled away, and they both opened their eyes in shock at the emotions they each felt. “Keep looking at me like that,” he whispered, “and our annulment’s off again, Angel.”
Angela continued staring at him, her eyes wide, her wet, tender lips slightly open. Finally the fog in her brain began to lift, and she shook herself and turned away.
My goodness! Is that all it took, just one kiss, for her to completely lose control? She knew right then she was in trouble. This man who called himself her husband was too much for her. If he hadn’t stopped kissing her, she’d have done anything he wanted.
“You were perfect,” Matt said. “Thank you.”
It was a long moment before Angela realized he wasn’t talking about the kiss, but about what she’d said to Shanta.
“Perfect! I was scared to death. And besides, he didn’t believe a word of what I said and you know it.”
“Of course he didn’t. He knows exactly what happened. But he’s on our side, Angela. He knows if the truth comes out it could blow this whole peace mission to hell and back. If that captain asks questions, all you have to do is tell him what you told Shanta. It’ll work, I know it will.”
Angela thought hard while she removed her dress and crawled beneath the blanket. So much depended on her keeping her story straight. What if she couldn’t? What if she stumbled over all the lies? She shuddered at the thought.
In the dim glow of the dying fire, Matt chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was just wondering…is your name really Barnes?”
They looked at each other a minute, then burst out laughing.
In another wickiup, located near the center of the rancheria, two old friends passed a jug of tiswin back and forth.
Tom Jeffords took a swallow of the thick, yeasty corn beer and remembered. It had been over ten years since he’d sought Daniella Colton’s help in locating Cochise. As Cochise’s adopted daughter, known to Apaches a Woman of Magic, she’d been hesitant to give him any information that might harm Cochise.
But when she’d found out he’d gone to the unheard-of trouble to learn the language of the Chúk'ánéné, and that he planned to ride alone into the stronghold to ask Cochise to let the mail carriers ride through the territory unmolested, she’d reconsidered.
Goddamn, he’d been scared that first time he’d come here. He took another swig and passed the jug.
Cochise accepted it and took a swallow. He, too, was remembering. He remembered the first time this tall, thin white man with red hair on his face as well as his head rode into camp, alone, unarmed. Cochise’s first instinct had been to have the man killed when the trail guards first reported him two days earlier. He grinned at the memory.
He’d never regretted his decision to let the man ride in.
He might never have made that decision but for his adopted white daughter. Woman of Magic, her husband, Yellow Hair Colton, and Colton’s son, then known as Little Bear, had shown Cochise that some whites, few though they be, were honest and trustworthy. Cochise had gambled that Taglito would prove to be as honorable a man as Yellow Hair Colton. And he’d been right.
Cochise accepted the tobacco pouch and papers Taglito handed him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had real tobacco. And white man’s paper to roll it in. This ban on raiding had its drawbacks.
“So, my friend,” he said after he’d exhaled his first drag. “How is it that after staying away from us for years, you come after all this time and bring with you that which you could not know I wanted, but that for which I have prayed with all my heart?”
“It wasn’t so hard to know your mind,” Taglito told him. “I knew you were tired of war as soon as your band quit raiding last year. But I’ve not brought you any sure thing. All I’ve brought you is a chance.”
Cochise nodded solemnly. “A chance, my friend, is all I ask.”
Chapter Fifteen
No one had an opportunity to question Angela the next morning, because all the women were busy preparing a huge feast in honor of the visitors. Even with the limited use of her right arm, Angela was run ragged.
There was corn to be ground for corn cakes. There was fresh meat to clean and spit, then turn slowly over the many cook fires. There were herbs to be gathered for seasoning, fresh water to be hauled from the stream. There were wild, exuberant children to be kept out of trouble, and dozens of dogs to be kept from the roasting meat.
Huera and Serena stayed with Angela every minute, so Matt decided it was safe for him to leave her. Angela was relieved. His constant presence in the face of the questioning looks several women gave him only served to remind her that someone had tried to kill her. Besides, it would have looked odd if he’d hung around with the women all day, especially when Cochise requested his presence.
Everything went well until Matt came to her in the late afternoon wearing a tense look. “Angela’s tired, Serena. Why don’t you go see if you can help Nod-ah-Sti?”
“But Matt, we were just getting ready to—” Angela began.
“Your arm’s hurting. Put your sling back on. We’ll see you later, Rena.”
“What was that all about?” Angela asked once they were inside the wickiup.
“The trail guards just spotted my parents. They’re on their way in.”
“Your…your parents?” A sick feeling settled in her stomach like a rock in a pond. “What’ll we do?”
“They’ll run into the visitors before they get here, so we have to be there to meet them before anybody starts talking about you, congratulating them on their new daughter-in-law.”
“But—”
“And put that sling back on. It’ll give us something to talk about besides how you got here and where you came from.”
“Is this going to work, Matt?”
“I don’t know. They already know something, or they wouldn’t be here. We’ll just have to play it by ear. Come on.”
Apache-Colton Series Page 54