Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  How long would it take Pace to understand his own heart? How much pain would he inflict on himself and those around him until he came to terms with losing a part of himself?

  Then there was Travis. His initial reaction hadn’t surprised Daniella. She, too, had been shocked by the idea of Matt and Serena as anything other than brother and sister. But that had lasted only a second.

  She wondered why Travis hadn’t realized, as she had, that no amount of disapproval would change the feelings Matt and Serena had for each other. Serena’s feelings ran deep, Daniella knew. Matt’s, she wasn’t sure about.

  She didn’t for a minute believe he would toy with Serena’s affections. She thought maybe, though, that even Matt wasn’t sure of his feelings.

  What worried Daniella about Travis was, he should have understood by now what she herself had realized almost immediately. That Serena, raised half white, half Chiricahua, would never be happy with a man who didn’t completely understand both sides of her heritage. For Serena, Matt was the only man.

  Beside her, Travis shifted beneath the blanket and pulled her closer. She took comfort from his warmth and sought a way to make him understand how right Matt and Serena could be for each other. If only the family would give them a chance.

  A few feet away, Serena shifted abruptly. Something in her dream must have wakened her.

  The restless movements from Pace and Matt stilled. Daniella could almost hear them listening to Serena rise from her blankets and walk silently away from camp.

  Travis moved as if to follow. Daniella threaded her fingers through his and squeezed his hand. She, too, hurt for their daughter. But she suspected Serena had had enough family interference for one night.

  Let her go, love, she thought to Travis.

  As though he heard her, or at least understood the tightening of her fingers on his, he let out a breath and relaxed.

  Then Matt got up, pulled on his boots, and followed Serena. Daniella made no attempt to stop him.

  But when Pace rose a moment later and started past her after the other two, Daniella reached out and grabbed him by the ankle none too gently. With sharp hand signals, she motioned him back to his blankets.

  Pace loomed over her in the darkness a long moment before complying. His anger and frustration vibrated silently through the darkness.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  Serena jumped and nearly screamed. She had been so immersed in her own thoughts she hadn’t heard Matt approach. Now he stood so close beside her she could feel his heat. She took a step away. “I slept for a while.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. What could she say? She couldn’t tell him about the dream—no, the nightmare—that had wakened her.

  Fear shivered down her arms. The fear and guilt of watching her entire family destroy itself because of her feelings for Matt. She took a deep breath of cool night air, hoping to chase the remnants of the nightmare away, knowing how easily it could all come true.

  “Rena?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “If you’re worried about Dad and Pace, don’t be.”

  “Don’t be? With the way they treat you?”

  “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

  Serena shook her head back and studied the stars. “You certainly don’t seem to be taking any of this too seriously. Don’t you mind that because of me they’re treating you like a leper?”

  “I figured you were blaming yourself.”

  “Any reason why I shouldn’t? If I had kept my head in Tombstone, none of this would be happening.”

  “Maybe you’re right. But then I wouldn’t be feeling like a human being for the first time in years, either,” he said softly. With a hand to her cheek, he turned her face toward his. “I wouldn’t be standing here remembering what it’s like to hold you, wanting to hold you again so bad I ache with it, and relishing the ache because wanting you makes me feel so damned alive. Take the credit, Rena, not the blame.”

  The thought of him holding her, of him aching to hold her, turned her knees to water. It was all she could do to keep from rubbing her cheek against his palm, then turning and placing her lips there.

  “You’re trembling.”

  What could she say? He was right.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.” If her answer came too fast, if her head jerked free of his hand, it was out of desperation. If he thought she was cold, he might put an arm around her. If he touched her again she would fall apart. “I’m afraid, Matt.”

  “Not of me. You can’t be afraid of me.”

  She stared at the different shades of black across the land. She stared at the sky, the stars. Anything to keep from turning and throwing herself into his arms. “I’m afraid they’ll keep on blaming you and you’ll grow to hate me for it.”

  This time his soft laughter was tinged with sadness. “You must think I’m one shallow bastard if my feelings for you can be swayed by a few harsh looks.”

  Serena squeezed her eyes shut. “You know I don’t think that.”

  “You said you loved me, Serena. Have you changed your mind?”

  “No,” she cried softly.

  “Then will you have a little faith, give us a chance to work things out before you start imagining all sorts of horrible things? For me, Rena. For us.”

  Us. Would there be an us? she wondered. She knew his feelings for her weren’t as strong as hers for him. He’d never said he loved her. Yet all he was asking for was her faith. How could she possibly deny him that? “All right,” she whispered. “I’ll try.”

  Matt breathed a sigh of relief. Still, he couldn’t let go completely of his worry. Since Tombstone she had been adamant that she was—or could be—the woman for him. Now, when he was just beginning to realize how right she was, he felt her slipping away.

  For his own sanity, he couldn’t let her go. Not like this. Not simply because the family disapproved. He understood her loyalty to the others. He knew she would cut out her own heart to keep from hurting any one of them. Would she cut out his, too?

  He wanted to hold her, reassure them both that what they felt was too important, too right to give up, but he didn’t dare. He could feel three distinct sets of eyes drilling into his back that very moment. And if he held her, he would kiss her. If he kissed her, there in the quiet darkness of the night, he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop. And the eyes would see.

  “It’s time for me to relieve Carlos,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning. Get some sleep.”

  But Serena didn’t get any more sleep that night. Judging by the mood around the campfire the next morning, neither did anyone else. The situation did not improve as the day progressed. Her father glared at Matt, Matt glared back, and Daniella pursed her lips and stared at the horizon toward home.

  Something new was going on in Pace’s mind, though. Serena watched him pull more and more into himself all morning. By the time her father called a noon halt, Pace seemed practically oblivious to his surroundings.

  After the nooning, Pace was the first to mount. “I’m going to San Carlos,” he said.

  “Now?” Travis asked. “Why?”

  Pace frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know. Something…something is wrong.”

  Serena tried to catch Pace’s glance, but he wouldn’t look her way. She searched her mind for his private voice, the one he shared with only her, but it wasn’t there.

  “What is it you think is wrong?” Matt asked Pace.

  Pace shrugged, something obviously more important on his mind than his animosity toward Matt. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. I just…have this feeling.”

  No one tried to talk Pace out of heading for the reservation. If he had a feeling something was wrong, then something was most assuredly wrong. The only debate came about his riding alone into possible trouble.

  Matt knew he should offer to ride with him. Trouble or not, it was past time Matt renewed his old ties among The People
. He hadn’t seen them since before Angela’s death.

  The sharp pain, the stark, black emptiness he expected at the reminder of Angela did not engulf him. Instead, he felt a dull ache inside, smoothed over by years of warm memories.

  He had Rena to thank for that. How long would he have wallowed in his grief and self-pity had she not come and jerked him out of it?

  Neither Rena nor Angela would forgive him for staying away from The People so long. He would never forgive himself. Especially not if there was trouble he might be able to help ease. And trouble aside, he missed his friends. He missed Shanta and Chee’s companionship around the fire at night, missed Dee-O-Det’s stories of the ancient ones, his humor, his wisdom.

  Matt missed the old days of hunting through the woods and canyons of the Dragoons, or the pine forests of the Chiricahua Mountains, with Hal-Say.

  Those times, like Hal-Say himself, were gone. Another void in Matt’s life. Hal-Say had been Matt’s “second father,” Huera, his “second mother.” Both had died shortly after being moved from the Chiricahua Reservation in the Dragoons to the dry, dusty San Carlos Agency on the White Mountain Reservation.

  How many others had died since being forced onto Hell’s Forty Acres?

  He should go. He should ride with Pace to San Carlos.

  But as much as the old ties called him, Matt still wanted to go home to Joanna and the ranch. He wanted to spend time with his daughter, with Rena, his parents, the ranch hands he’d known since childhood.

  Still, if there was trouble at San Carlos…

  His father must have read Matt’s mind. “Why don’t you go with him?” Travis suggested.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Matt said.

  “No.” Pace shook his head.

  Matt could almost see the conflict in Pace’s eyes. Pace would love to get Matt away from Rena, Matt knew. But for some reason, Pace obviously did not want Matt with him on this trip.

  “You’ve been away too long,” Pace told him. “Friend or not, your skin is white, and The People’s mood is ugly. Even Mother might have trouble right now.”

  Even Mother? Shock held Matt silent. Since she was adopted into the tribe by Cochise himself some twenty years ago, Woman of Magic had been considered by every Chiricahua as one of them. For her to be unwelcome was unheard of. “It’s that bad?”

  “It’s not good. Not since the army started surrounding the place with troops to keep Nana from riding in and breaking everyone out.”

  Travis gave a snort. “As if The People needed Nana or anyone else to break them out.”

  “As if any number of soldiers could keep them in,” Rena added.

  Travis and Rena were right. All the troops would accomplish would be to stir up The People, frighten them with threats of arrest, make them angry. Maybe Matt should go, see if he could do anything to help ease the situation. The older warriors would not necessarily listen to Pace. But then, they wouldn’t necessarily listen to Matt, either. They might, however, listen to Dani. And if the army would listen to any Colton, which was doubtful, Travis had the best chance there.

  But in the end, Pace rode alone for San Carlos. If he thought the family could help, he would send word.

  Serena breathed a selfish sigh of relief. She would lay down her life for The People if the need arose. But she did not want Matt riding off alone with Pace, no matter how he might be able to help at the reservation. The relationship between the two was strained enough. Because of her.

  Matt’s relationship with his own father was in trouble. Again, because of her.

  The family was tearing itself apart because she hadn’t been able to keep her feelings for Matt under control. What was she to do? Could the balance in their family life be restored somehow?

  For the rest of the trip home, Serena worried about it. By the time they reached the ranch, she could see only one possible solution. Unless she was willing to watch Matt become more and more estranged from his father and Pace, Serena would have to end things between her and Matt before they went any farther.

  The mere thought of never again tasting Matt’s kiss, feeling his arms around her, of never knowing what it was like to love him and be loved by him, had her crying herself to sleep her first night home.

  But she couldn’t see any other way to bring Matt and the rest of the family back together again.

  That night in her room, she vowed to talk to Matt the next day and tell him what she had decided.

  Serena never got the chance to talk to Matt. At breakfast the next morning Tomás, who had spent the night in Tucson, rode in with a telegram from Pace that sent the whole family reeling.

  As Travis read the message silently, his brow folded into deep creases and his mouth turned down hard at the corners.

  “What is it?” Daniella asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Travis handed her the telegram, and she read aloud: “‘I have seen my grandfather. Come. Pace.’“

  Matt stared sharply at Daniella. “What the—”

  “Nocadelklinny,” Serena whispered in shock.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Travis said. “You don’t believe that old shaman can raise the dead any more than the rest of us do.”

  “Neither does Pace,” Serena shot back. “So explain that telegram.”

  He couldn’t, and Serena knew it. That Pace had seen his grandfather was inexplicable.

  Daniella pushed back her chair. “We ride.”

  No one argued or questioned. They would ride to San Carlos at once. As they stared at each other around the breakfast table for a final, stunned moment, each one had the same thought.

  Pace had seen his grandfather. Cochise.

  Cochise, who had been dead more than six years.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The San Carlos area of the White Mountain Reservation was everything Matt remembered it to be. Flat, barren, and hotter than the fires of hell. The stiff searing wind carried with it a stinging grit that sheared off any plant that dared stick its head up out of the cracked, sunbaked ground. Nothing grew along this stretch of the Gila River. Not plants, not animals. Certainly not people.

  Actually, that wasn’t entirely true, Matt admitted. Some things did thrive at San Carlos. Things like rocks and heat, cactus, rattlesnakes, and insects—especially the biting kind.

  But no game, no edible plants.

  The Chiricahua were dying there, from disease, from starvation, from loss of freedom, loss of hope. From broken hearts and broken spirits.

  The political situation only compounded the problems. The brilliant plan to put all the area Indians on one reservation did not take into account that most of the tribes were fierce rivals, if not downright enemies. Add to that the usual compliment of corrupt, incompetent agents, conflict between civil and military authorities, white settlers with an eye to the more habitable parts of the reservation, and the current troop buildup of alarming proportions, and what chance did The People have of a decent life?

  Hell’s Forty Acres.

  Matt wanted to weep at the injustice of it all.

  But there was no time for tears. From the minute Matt and the others reached San Carlos and found it deserted of Apaches, there was no time for anything but action. No time to consider why Rena seemed to be purposely keeping him at a distance. No time to convince his father that Matt was the right man, the only man for Rena.

  Matt firmly believed that now, in his heart, in his mind. Rena was his. And he was hers. He knew now he was in love with her. Why it had taken him so long to realize it, he didn’t know.

  But there wasn’t even time enough to tell her how he felt. On the trail from home they were never left alone, not for a minute. At San Carlos, time flashed by in a blur of tension and fear.

  The wickiups around San Carlos were empty because The People had gone to Cibecue Creek to meet with other tribes. That, in itself, was alarming, as there wasn’t a tribe on the reservation that called the Chiricahua friend.

  At Cibecue Creek, the Colt
ons found total chaos, along with an unprecedented alliance between the Chiricahua and all the other tribes represented at the gathering. The army had decided Nokadelklinny’s anti-white preaching was a threat. They were, for once, quite possibly right, Matt thought. No one since Cochise had exercised enough influence to bring warring tribes together the way this old man had.

  Mere hours before the Coltons had arrived, Colonel Carr and his troops had been sent to arrest the shaman. The Indians, including the Apache scouts formerly loyal to the army, had protested vigorously.

  In the ensuing fighting Nocadelklinny had been shot and killed. The army claimed it was an accident. The Apaches said otherwise and took up arms.

  The old woman telling the tale moaned. “He made the dead walk again. For that, Los Goddammies have killed him, and now our men go to fight.”

  “Fight? Where?” Daniella demanded.

  “Tł’ók’al’íí.”

  Matt’s stomach tightened. Good God. The warriors, scouts included, had taken up arms and headed for Fort Apache.

  “Shit,” Travis said between clenched teeth.

  Yes, Matt thought. Shit.

  Daniella’s face paled. “Pace. Where is Pace?”

  “I do not know this Pace,” the old woman said.

  “My son. Shiye’. He is called Fire Seeker. Do you know of him?”

  “‘Au. I know of the young warrior of whom you speak. He rides for the fort with Geronimo.”

  Matt’s stomach clenched. “Shit.”

  It was dark by the time they neared Fort Apache. Dark, but for the lights inside the buildings at the fort, and the quarter moon playing tag with scattered clouds that would bring no rain. Empty, but for the feel of a hundred eyes piercing the darkness. Silent, but for the drums and chants and shouts of war Matt imagined from memories of the old days.

  But the sounds were only in his mind. The night was quiet.