They drew their horses to a halt on the low rise southwest of the fort. The land seemed empty of humans, but Matt knew better. Apaches were masters at concealing themselves. The scattering of rocks, cactus, and sparse brush could, and probably did at that moment, hide dozens of warriors.
A figure emerged silently out of the darkness.
Pace. Wearing moccasins, a breechcloth, headband, and nothing else. Except the carbine in his hand and the knife at his waist.
Not Pace. Matt had seen that look in his brother’s eyes before. This was Fire Seeker. Apache warrior.
Dani leaped from her horse, with Travis close on her heels. “What are you doing?” she hissed to Pace.
“Trying to stop a war. What took you so long? They won’t listen to me. Come,” he told Daniella.
Dani stepped forward. When Travis made to follow, Pace held a hand out to stop him. “No, Dad. Don’t come.”
“Where she goes, I go.”
Still mounted, Matt gripped his reins in a tight fist. He heard the steel in his father’s voice. He prayed Pace would heed it.
“You can’t help,” Pace told Travis.
“She doesn’t go alone.”
And that was that. Travis would go. But when Serena dismounted and stepped forward as if to follow, Pace was adamant. “No, Rena. Matt, keep her here.”
With that, Pace led Dani and Travis into the darkness.
Matt swung down from his horse and stood beside Rena. Neither moved or spoke for what seemed like an eternity. Matt ached to pull her close and hold her. He hungered for the taste of her lips, longed for the fire her touch always ignited in him.
But he stood beside her, not touching her, for she hadn’t invited his touch. Not since the trip home from Mexico.
“I’m scared, Matt,” she suddenly whispered.
He couldn’t see the expression in her eyes, for the clouds had caught up with the moon. But he heard the quiver of fear in her voice. Fear of what could happen if the warriors attacked the fort, and some other fear he detected but couldn’t define, some personal fear.
He gave up his struggle to stay away from her and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “So am I.” He pulled her close and felt her stiffen against him. “So am I.”
Serena felt her heart pound, and prayed Matt couldn’t hear it. For days she had ached for his touch, despite her decision to stay away from him. Now he was touching her. Knowing she should pull away, she wanted nothing more than to melt against him. Matt, Matt, how do I get you out of my heart?
With a forefinger, he tipped her face up to his. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
She tried not to meet his gaze, but couldn’t help it. She tried not to shiver at the sound of his low, intimate whisper, but that, too was beyond her.
“Rena?”
She ducked her head. “The fighting,” she managed. “I’m afraid there’ll be fighting.”
“So am I, but let’s give Dani a chance before we worry too much. What else are you afraid of?”
You, me, she thought frantically. Of what we’re doing to our family. But she couldn’t say the words. She merely shook her head and kept her gaze lowered.
The shock of his lips on hers took her by surprise.
“This?” he nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “Are you afraid of this?”
She should tell him yes. Instead, she tilted her head back to better meet his kiss. “You know I’m not.”
Both his arms came around her and pulled her flush against his chest. Serena wanted to weep at the exquisite beauty and pleasure of his embrace, of his deepening kiss.
Then came the soft scuff of feet along the hard ground.
Serena jerked from Matt’s arms, terrified of letting anyone see her kissing him. The family had more than enough to handle without her adding to the problems. Now was not the time to stir up the animosity that would be directed at Matt.
“Rena?” Matt’s hand brushed her arm.
“No.” She stepped away.
In the next instant, several figures emerged from the darkness. Her parents and Pace. The larger shadow following Pace explained why Serena had been able to hear anyone approaching. It wasn’t her brother or their parents who had made the noise, but Pace’s horse.
Then another figure emerged. A squat, dark-skinned man with a barrel chest and powerful shoulders. Her mother’s old enemy, Golthlay.
But no, Serena reminded herself, he didn’t go by that name any longer. He was now known far and wide by the name given to him by the Mexicans years ago, for reasons known only to them. Geronimo.
To say that he and her parents shared a mutual respect would be stretching credibility. But the three did share what Travis sarcastically referred to as mutual tolerance.
Against the usual Apache custom of starting a meeting with a great deal of polite small talk, Daniella turned to Geronimo and struck immediately at the heart of the matter. “You must call off your warriors.”
In the darkness, one black brow on Geronimo’s forehead arched. “For a white woman, you are either uncommonly brave, or uncommonly stupid,” he said in a mixture of Spanish and Apache.
Serena saw her father clench his fists. She held her breath.
Her mother shrugged. “So I’ve been told. But surely you know to attack the fort is suicide.”
Geronimo folded his arms across his massive chest. “Better to die an honorable death in battle than to let them starve us, take away our dignity, kill our holy men.”
“Honorable,” Daniella said with a hiss in her voice. “What is honorable about fighting an enemy who cowers behind his closed doors?” she waved a hand in the direction of the fort. “Look there. They won’t come out to fight you. You’ve already defeated them.”
Geronimo narrowed his eyes. “Not while they still live.”
“The only way they’ll fight you is if you show yourselves out in the open. And they’ll kill you. All of you. Either right now, tonight, or tomorrow when they call in more troops. More troops than you have ever seen. What honor is there in throwing your lives away and leaving your women and children to the mercy of these enemies? Don’t the old men teach young boys it is better to live to fight another day, than to die uselessly?”
Geronimo was silent a long time while he stared at Daniella. Serena let out her breath, then drew in another and held it. Tension stretched her nerves taut.
“What makes you think,” Geronimo said, “that we need you to come tell us these things? Does Woman of Magic not think us smart enough to know the things of which she speaks?”
“I know you’re smart enough,” Daniella said. “But you are angry—justifiably so—over what happened today. I came to speak because I feared that in your rage you might forget you are surrounded by troops. Forgive me if I’ve been presumptuous.”
Geronimo chuckled and shook his head. “No more presumptuous than usual, Woman of Magic. No more presumptuous than this young pup of yours.” He took a playful swipe at Pace’s head.
Serena let out her breath. Geronimo was not angry with her mother. Not that he would dare lay a hand on her, but Serena knew her mother didn’t like to anger him.
“Go now,” Geronimo said, including Pace in his look. “Many here tonight are not my men, but I will talk to them. We shall see what will be.” He turned to go, then paused. “And Woman of Magic? I am glad you still care what happens to us.”
With that, he disappeared into the shadows.
Pace let out an audible breath. “Damn, Mother, I’ve never heard him say anything like that before. You must have really impressed him.”
Serena rushed forward, Matt on her heels, in time to see her mother’s wry grin. “Either that,” Daniella said, “or he finally realizes I do care.”
“Come on,” Travis said. “We’ve done all we can. Let’s get out of here.”
When they were mounted, Matt asked, “Where to?”
Travis looked hard at Pace. “Down the river a ways, where we can camp for the night. The canyo
n, maybe. Then I want an explanation for that telegram.”
“I know it’s impossible,” Pace cried. “But I know what I saw, damn it. I was there.”
“Just what did you see?” Daniella asked.
Pace closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “It was around noon,” he said. “And hot. Hot enough to send heat waves rippling from the ground. The old man sprinkled tádídíń in the air and started singing.”
Serena’s heart pounded. “Nocadelklinny?”
Pace nodded. “He called on all the dead warriors, the Chidikáágu’, the Mashgaléń, the Coyoteros, warriors from all the Apache tribes, to rise up from Where The Cottonwoods Stand In Line. He beseeched them to come back to this life and fight to rid the land of white men. Over and over he sang the words. His voice was the only sound. The creek, the birds, the wind—all were silent.”
Serena could picture it in her mind, could feel her heart pound harder, even knowing what Pace claimed could not be.
“He chanted for hours without end. Late in the afternoon, with that strange silence still hovering, the heat waves along the creek bank started changing.”
When Pace paused, Travis urged him on. “Changing?”
“The waves turned darker, reached higher. Tall shapes formed and shimmered away, then formed again.”
Pace opened his eyes and gave each of them a level look. His gaze finally settled on Daniella. “I saw my grandfather standing before me.”
“Pace,” Matt said.
“Next to him stood Uncle Tahza, then Mangas Coloradas. I saw them.”
“Pace, damn it,” Matt said.
Pace turned his gaze on Matt. Serena expected Pace to be angry at Matt’s skepticism. Instead, her twin gave Matt a look of…sorrow.
“I saw Hal-Say, Matt.”
From across the small campfire, Serena saw Matt pale at the mention of his long-lost “second father.”
“You didn’t,” Matt said. “You couldn’t. It’s impossible.”
Pace jumped to his feet, hands clenched into fists. Here was the anger Serena had expected.
“Of course it’s impossible,” Pace cried. “It’s impossible for me to have known there was trouble here. It’s impossible for a woman to be struck by lightning and live to tell of it,” he cried, reminding them all of what had happened to Daniella years ago. “It’s impossible for Mother to have visions. It’s impossible for Rena and me to know each other’s thoughts. At least we used to be able to,” he added with fury. “Until you decided to seduce your sister.”
“Pace,” Serena cried. The stab of pain to her heart nearly took her breath away. “Pace, no!”
“She is not my sister.”
“I notice you don’t deny seducing her, you filthy, stinking—”
“That’s enough!” Daniella shouted. “Not one more word.”
Matt opened his mouth.
“Not one.”
Oh, God, Serena thought, her stomach churning. It was starting again, this ripping apart of the family, before the last rends had even had a chance to mend. What am I going to do?
Long after the fire was out Matt lay awake on his blanket, too troubled to sleep. Being pissed off at Pace wasn’t keeping him awake. Hell, he’d been pissed off at Pace for weeks.
No, it was thoughts of Serena that wouldn’t let him sleep. She was blaming herself for the trouble between him and Pace, between him and his father. She was beating herself up, letting guilt dim the glow in her eyes. And Matt wasn’t sure what to do about it.
He should not have let Dani shut him up earlier. He should have had it out then and there with Pace and his father. Set them straight once and for all.
But then, he thought he’d done that already, more than once, on the trail from Mexico. Fat lot of good it had done.
His father, he felt sure, would come around in time. Matt thought he could leave that up to Dani. Pace seemed to be a different story. Matt would give him until they got back to the ranch. If Pace hadn’t stopped spouting off by then, Matt would take him out behind the barn and “discuss” the matter.
It hurt, this censure from the two men he loved most in the world. But he would be damned if he let either of them keep him away from Rena.
With his determination firmly in place, and word having come more than an hour ago that the warriors had left the fort without attacking, Matt settled down for some much needed sleep. Just as he dozed off, a duck quacked nearby.
A duck? In the middle of the desert?
He nearly laughed out loud. With a swift kick, he tossed his blanket aside and tugged on his boots, then stood and waited. A moment later, the duck quacked again. The sound was as out of place in that part of the country as a bull moose in church. But this time Matt caught the direction from which it had come.
Still fighting laughter, he left camp and made his way quietly beyond the surrounding scrub and rocks. The clouds had blown away, leaving ample light from the quarter moon. Matt had no trouble locating the spot from which the “duck” had “quacked.”
“So it’s true,” Came a voice from his left. “A white man cannot find his way in the dark.”
Matt grinned. “You moved.”
Chee grinned back. “I did.”
The two men, friends since childhood, embraced heartily. A lump rose in Matt’s throat for all the years he had spent away from The People, his family. His friend.
He cleared his throat. “So, how is it with you? How is your family?”
Chee’s grin died in the moonlight. “Our lives, yours and mine, seem to parallel one another.”
Unease rippled down Matt’s arms. “Meaning?”
Chee closed his eyes briefly. His thick chest expanded on a deep breath. “I, too, must now raise my daughter alone.”
Matt felt a sickness in his gut. “Maria?”
“Malaria. Last summer.”
“Ah, damn, Chee.”
“Yes,” Chee said softly, solemnly. “Damn.”
Matt wished there was something he could say to ease the pain in Chee’s eyes, but he knew from experience nothing would help. Chee had worshipped the beautiful Mexican slave he had taken as his wife. Nothing could ease the pain of her loss. Only time. And, he thought, a persistent stepsister. But then, Chee didn’t have a stepsister. He did, however, still have a daughter. “LaRisa?” Matt asked.
Some of the sadness left Chee’s face, to be replaced by smiling pride. “She’s five now. A more beautiful child you have never seen.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Matt said. “I’ve never seen one as beautiful as Joanna.”
“And smart, too,” Chee said, ignoring him.
The two men grinned, then laughed. “It’s good to see you again, my friend,” Matt said.
“I feel the same. Next time, don’t wait for trouble before you come to visit.”
Matt sobered. “I assume you were at the creek this afternoon when the troops came.”
With a sigh, Chee said, “Yes, I was there.”
“What happened?” Matt asked. “Pace told us some cock and bull—”
“It wasn’t bull. If he told of seeing dead ones walk the earth again, he spoke the truth.”
Matt couldn’t conceive of such words coming from one of the most intelligent, most practical men he’d ever known. Whatever had taken place at Cibecue Creek that afternoon, both Chee and Pace, and obviously hundreds of others, firmly believed they saw Nocadelklinny raise the dead.
Matt shook his head. “And after? That business at Fort Apache?”
“I was there, too. And before you ask, no, I did not think it wise. I went, along with others, to try to prevent an all-out battle. But yes, if it had come to that, I would have fought beside my brothers.”
Matt nodded. “I cannot fault you for that.” Because of his education, received mostly at the Triple C in his youth, Chee knew better than perhaps any other Apache what insurmountable odds the tribe was up against when they fought the whites. Yet Matt could not blame him for choosing to stand with The Peo
ple against those who lied to, cheated, and starved them. In Chee’s place, Matt knew he would do the same.
“So, what happens now?” Matt asked.
Chee heaved another sigh and looked at the sky. “Now, my friend, we go on from here. We grit our teeth and pray to Yúúsń that the troops pull back and let us breathe.”
Before leaving the reservation, Travis wanted to stop at the San Carlos Agency headquarters. Matt chafed at the delay, but after seeing how few cattle remained at the agency, he agreed with his father that there wasn’t enough beef to last until the November Triple C herd was due.
Travis coerced the agent into taking the next Triple C beef shipment at the end of September instead of mid-November, as previously planned.
“Something else I’d like you to consider,” he told Matheson.
“What’s that?”
“Let me take the herd and split it up among the Apaches. Deliver it directly to them.”
Matt held his breath. This was an idea his father had tried with every successive agent at San Carlos. Not one of them had gone for it yet. Because of the Coltons’ close ties with the Chiricahua, agents in the past had been reluctant to trust any of them. Most took particular dislike to Pace and Serena, feeling the two half-breeds should be confined to the reservation.
Matheson had, thus far, followed in his predecessors’ footsteps in his dealings with the Coltons.
“The hell, you say,” Matheson cried. “Why the devil would I agree to such an outrageous idea?”
If Travis’s smile tightened, along with the muscle along his jaw, Matheson didn’t seem to notice.
“Think about it,” Travis urged. “With more and more troops showing up every day, the Apaches are understandably nervous. Especially after that business yesterday up on Cibecue Creek. They need something to do. You’ve tried to turn them into farmers. They’re not farmers, never have been.”
Travis looked the man right in the eye. “Even if they were,” he said, “you and I both know the land around this agency won’t grow anything but dirt, and most of that blows away. Taking care of cattle would give The People something to do, keep them occupied.”
Matheson spat in the dirt and scratched one sideburn with a finger whose tip was missing. “Keep them occupied, yeah. And keep them away from the agency so I wouldn’t know what they were up to.”
Apache-Colton Series Page 100