Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Then, of course, there was the small matter of no weapon.

  Well, he had a weapon, but he’d pumped the last slug from the little derringer smack between the eyes of that damn cat.

  He shivered in the killing heat just remembering the way that she-devil had looked at his leg and licked her chops.

  After clawing his way out of that cave, he hadn’t really expected to last the day, much less run across Colton again. Not out here in the Mexican desert. And he was still in Mexico. He knew that much. He couldn’t remember when or why, but he’d been to this spot before.

  In frustrated rage, he ground his teeth and watched his quarry ride off. Then he smiled grimly. Matt Colton was riding off alone.

  What the hell difference does that make? he wondered. Caleb was on foot. He’d never be able to keep up.

  A loud snuffling startled him. The sound came from somewhere below in the rocks. He waited, breath held. Had he somehow given his position away? Had one of the Apaches snuck from the hideout to trap him?

  Terror gripped him. Would he end up staked out in the sun, like Abe?

  No, by God, he wouldn’t.

  The noise grew closer.

  Caleb chanced a peek over the boulder before him, prepared to end it right there. If someone was going to kill him, Caleb would make damn sure it was quick. No slow Apache torture for him, by God.

  A loud scraping sound, then a huge snort.

  Caleb flinched and ducked behind the rock.

  More shuffling. A low growl.

  What the hell? He peeked again, then wilted with relief. It was only a damn bear. Dangerous enough, but Caleb didn’t intend to provoke the huge, walking rug.

  He watched, curious, as the bear climbed down from the rocks. It took its time sniffing the ground, then, as if knowing exactly what it was doing, it followed Matt Colton’s trail like a hound on a fox.

  Caleb’s heart thudded. First he grinned, one-sided though it was because of the scars. Then it came, a deep chuckle at first, turning into full-blown laughter. He raised his face to the scorching sun and let the laughter fill him.

  The sound of it echoed along the ridge. It carried with it the chill of madness.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A week and a half after setting out for Mexico, Serena left Bonehead and the remainder of the herd at the foot of the narrow winding trail to Pa-Gotzin-Kay with the Apaches who had been helping her. She would let those in the stronghold decide how to get cattle with five- to seven-foot horns up a trail that in places narrowed to barely three feet. On one side rose a wall of sheer rock. The other boasted a drop-off of sometimes a thousand feet.

  Simply riding up the trail made her heart lodge in her throat. The pack mule was all the additional trouble she needed. If she had to worry about Bonehead trying to fit his long horns around those hairpin turns, knowing one single misstep would send him plunging to his death, she might never have made it up the trail.

  But she did make it up. Pa-Gotzin-Kay was the Apaches’ ancient Mountain of Paradise stronghold. Here the earth was red and fertile. An abundance of water, trees, and rich grass supported plenty of deer, bighorn sheep, turkeys and rabbits, as well as the wilder side of life, bears, cougars, even skunks.

  The air sang of solitude and should have soothed Serena’s troubled soul. That was why she had come here. For the peace, the privacy. The people here were a quiet people. She had always felt secure at Pa-Gotzin-Kay. She hoped she would this time, too.

  There was only one camp, near the center of the rancheria. Everyone lived there. As Serena neared, children came out to greet her, then adults. She wound her way through the twenty or so wickiups until she reached the center of camp.

  Standing just outside the ring of sacred stones surrounding his wickiup, a wrinkled old man closed his eyes, listened to the wind, and smiled. Then his snapping black eyes opened wide, as did his welcoming arms. “Shke’,” he cried. “Bizááyéń.” Child. Little One.

  Serena slipped from her saddle and ran to embrace him. “Dee-O-Det, my friend, my friend.” A lump rose in her throat. It had been so long since she had seen him, had benefitted from his timeless wisdom, his sharp wit. “I have missed you.”

  “And I, you, Child of Magic.”

  His strong arms held her tight, belying his more than eighty years. After a moment, he pushed her back and looked her over from head to toe. “I guess you are not really a child any longer, are you?”

  She smiled. “Sometimes I still feel like one.”

  His grin widened. “Only sometimes?”

  Then his gaze sharpened. He looked off toward the trail that had brought her to camp and tilted his gray head. “Where is Bear Killer?”

  Serena flinched. Why would he ask about Matt? What did he know? No one could have told him anything of her troubles, but then no one needed to. Dee-O-Det had always learned his secrets from the wind. That was his Power.

  But Serena was not prepared to talk about Matt. She managed what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “Home, I guess, or at San Carlos getting my father out of jail.”

  If she had hoped to distract the old shaman, she had underestimated him, and that was never wise. She should have remembered. Besides, Geronimo and others had already been to Pa-Gotzin-Kay and left. They probably told him all they knew of what had happened.

  Regardless, Dee-O-Det refused the provocative bait. Instead, he asked again about Matt. “Why is he not with you? He is your mate, is he not?”

  Heat flooded her face. “No,” she cried. No matter how she had reminded herself of Dee-O-Det’s Power, it still came as a shock to realize he knew so much.

  “Of course he is,” the old man said firmly. “The wind has told me so. The wind does not lie.”

  She searched his face for the disapproval Pace had warned her of, but all she saw was acceptance and affection. Thank God.

  But if Dee-O-Det knew about her and Matt…“Did the wind not tell you of my father and brother?”

  “The Yellow Hair and Fire Seeker? What have they to do with you and Bear Killer?”

  “It’s a long story, my friend, and I have ridden far.”

  “Then you will probably be tired by the time you have told me everything,” he said calmly.

  With a few sharp hand gestures, Dee-O-Det had her horse and mule cared for, her belongings stored in one of the extra wickiups the rancheria sported for its frequent visitors. A word to one of the men made certain her cattle would be brought up the mountain tomorrow, with someone to stay below with Bonehead.

  Serena only managed a brief hug of greeting with her dear friend Nod-ah-Sti before Dee-O-Det tugged her through the low doorway into his wickiup.

  Once they settled on blankets around the blackened remains of a small fire in the center, the old man waved his arm in a graceful arc encompassing several leather pouches and clay jugs. “You may eat, you may drink, you may recline and rest to your heart’s desire. But you will talk.”

  When Dee-O-Det took that tone, Serena knew she would do as he commanded. If not, he would badger and pester her until she gave in. With a weary sigh, she told him all—well, nearly all—that had happened to her since she went to Matt in Tombstone.

  Long before she finished her tale, the air chilled with evening coolness. Dee-O-Det built a small fire and urged her to continue. By the time she finished, it was late and the camp was quiet.

  A gnarled but gentle hand wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Why do you cry?” Dee-O-Det asked. “Is it because you are sorry Bear Killer is not worth fighting for?”

  Serena’s head snapped up.

  The shaman merely arched a brow.

  “You would have me fight my own family?”

  “You would rather fight your own destiny? Cut out your own heart and condemn Bear Killer to a life of loneliness?”

  “Dee-O-Det, you don’t understand.”

  “I understand, my child. I wonder if you do. Go to bed now. Sleep. Tomorrow, perhaps the wind will speak to you.”

  T
he hay beneath her blanket gave her a softer bed than she’d had since leaving home, but still Serena could not sleep. Dee-O-Det’s words haunted her. How dare he think Matt wasn’t worth fighting for. Of course he was worth it. He was worth anything. Everything.

  So why did you leave him?

  Serena rolled to her other side and tried to block out her own thoughts.

  Her father’s words on the cattle drive rang in her ears. You snuck out…like a coward?

  And Matt. I love you. I adore you. God, how I need you.

  Serena stifled a cry and covered her face with both hands.

  She hadn’t wanted to leave Matt. Didn’t anyone understand? Didn’t they realize leaving him was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life? The pain had nearly killed her, and hadn’t lessened in the days since she’d left. Dee-O-Det had been right about one thing. She did feel as though she had cut out her own heart.

  It was so unfair! Why couldn’t her father and Pace see how much she and Matt loved each other? How right they were together?

  Maybe, that damned voice in her head shouted, because you never really tried to make them see.

  Stunned, Serena sat up. Was it true? Had she not tried?

  She thought back to the day the family had arrived at the canyon in Mexico, to when all the trouble had started.

  “Oh, my God.”

  It came to her, sharp and clear. When she had meant to explain her feelings for Matt, defend his for her, what had she done? She had popped off with that stupid, outrageous statement about how she had stripped off her clothes and tried to tempt him.

  She couldn’t even give herself credit for trying to ease the situation. She had thought she’d tried, more than once, to make Pace and her father see reason. Hindsight told her otherwise. Her puny efforts had been ineffectual, at best. Until she’d met her dad on the cattle trail, she had never even told him how she felt about Matt. All those weeks, and she’d kept quiet.

  She laughed sadly. “Oh, Matt, I’ve really messed things up, haven’t I?”

  If she went home, would he be able to forgive her? Twice he had asked her to marry him. Twice she had refused. She had hurt him. Badly. Then, that last night, he had assumed…

  But going home and agreeing to marry him, if he would even still have her, would not solve the problems with her father and Pace.

  “…Bear Killer is not worth fighting for?”

  Serena’s pulse quickened.

  Could she? Could she fight for him? Could she possibly win? She would not only have to fight the rest of the family, but now, because of the way she had left him, she would probably have to fight Matt, too.

  Could she do it?

  A gust of wind whispered down through the smoke hole above her. You are a woman. You are Apache. A Child of Magic. Were you not born to fight?

  Serena jerked her head up. Dee-O-Det?

  She tossed off her blanket, scrambled to the door, and pushed aside the rawhide flap. The camp was dark and deserted. Not even a shadow moved.

  Slowly, she lowered the flap into place and returned to her bed.

  Were you not born to fight?

  She smiled in the darkness and felt the pressure in her chest ease. Stranger things had happened than hearing an old shaman’s voice on the night wind.

  Her heart started thudding sure and strong in her chest.

  Matt, not worth fighting for?

  “The hell you say, my friend.” If Matt Colton wasn’t worth fighting for, then Serena might as well just curl up right where she was and wait to die.

  He was worth it. She would fight, by damn. No longer would she let her father and Pace call the shots. Tomorrow, as soon as the cattle were brought up, Serena would leave for home. And Matt.

  A quiver of anticipation raced alongside two equally strong ones of fear and regret.

  “Oh, Matt, can you ever forgive me for being so foolish? For being such a coward?”

  Rena, Rena, I love you.

  She prayed to God he still did.

  Serena had hoped to be able to leave Pa-Gotzin-Kay by midday, but bringing the cattle up the treacherous trail proved slow work. By the time the herd was up and the trail was passable, it was late afternoon.

  “Stay tonight,” Nod-ah-Sti urged. “Let us thank you properly for the cattle. We will celebrate. You can leave at first light.”

  Because it would be rude to refuse, Serena agreed to stay one more night. She told herself her staying had nothing to do with trepidation over facing Matt and her family again. Nothing at all.

  “Besides,” Dee-O-Det told her, “the wind is speaking. There is no need to leave tonight.”

  Serena pursed her lips. “Are you going to tell me what that means?”

  The shaman grinned. “No.”

  At dusk, he said the words again. “The wind is speaking.”

  “Dee-O-Det—”

  “Look.”

  She looked where he pointed. Her heart jumped to her throat and stuck there. Matt!

  Matt saw her instantly; his pulse leaped. With gloved fists, he gripped his reins so tight his horse halted.

  God, she was beautiful. He drank in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. What was that look in her eyes? Caution? Fear? He forced his hands to relax and nudged his horse forward.

  Maybe not fear, but definitely caution.

  He didn’t know what to do.

  What he wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms and carry her off. He wanted to kiss her until they were both breathless. Wanted to bury himself so deep inside her he’d never find his way out. Wanted to love her until she couldn’t possibly live without him.

  But a man got gun shy after being shot down three times. Maybe he should stick to his original plan. He had agreed to come and make sure she was safe. She looked safe enough to him. She looked tired, though. The trip had been hard on her. Yet despite the dark circles below her eyes, she still took his breath away.

  He wanted to grab her and hold her and kiss her senseless.

  He wanted to run from the pain she was capable of inflicting.

  But a man could do neither. Not now. Not here. Running away would be the supreme act of rudeness to The People. Grabbing her and kissing her would be scandalous. Among Apaches, single men and women simply did not do such things. Not even married ones. Not in public.

  In the end, he dismounted and stood before her, unable to do anything but look his fill and try his damnedest not to show his pain, his indecision.

  But Serena read both on his face. “Hello, Matt.”

  After a long silence, he took off his hat and whacked it against his thigh. “I promised Dad I’d make sure you were safe.”

  Serena quailed. Was that the only reason he had come? Because he’d promised Dad? “Is he…did he get out?”

  “Just before Pace and Dani and I got there. He finally scared Matheson so much about bringing the governor down on him for arresting a civilian, Matheson let him go.”

  “I’m glad.” It was hard, so hard to pretend casualness with Dee-O-Det, Nod-ah-Sti and others looking on, listening to every word, even though no one understood the English she and Matt were speaking.

  Dee-O-Det relieved the silence. In Apache he said to Matt, “I expected you yesterday.”

  “Why?”

  Dee-O-Det rolled his eyes to the sky that was by now turning dark. “Stubborn. Both of you.”

  Matt eyed Serena, then Dee-O-Det. “Would you care to explain?”

  “No,” the old man said bluntly. “Niño,” he called to Nod-ah-Sti’s son. “Take care of Bear Killer’s horse.”

  Serena clenched her fists at her sides. This was it. She couldn’t afford to pass up such a perfect opportunity, no matter how hard her insides quaked. As she reached for the reins, her hands shook. “Never mind, Niño, I’ll take care of it.”

  Nod-ah-Sti gave her a look of stunned amazement. Dee-O-Det merely nodded as though he had expected such an action from Serena.

  Matt’s eyes widened in shock, then n
arrowed with suspicion. “What are you up to, Serena?”

  Serena took a deep breath. What she was doing was bold beyond convention. When an Apache maiden cared for a warrior’s horse, she signified she was accepting his proposal of marriage. Her next step would be to carry the man’s belongings into her wickiup. He would follow her, and they would spend the night, which meant, in the eyes of the tribe, they were married.

  The only tiny little problem here was, Matt had not proposed. Not since the last time, when she had told him no.

  He had not given the horse to her father, who would have tied it to the wickiup to await his daughter’s decision.

  Serena didn’t care, just then, about convention. This was her chance, and she was going to take it. If her knees didn’t collapse. She studied the sky a moment. Stars were popping out one by one.

  With a deep breath, she looked back at Matt and answered his question with one of her own. “What does it look like I’m up to?”

  Matt’s face went carefully, deliberately blank. Light from the huge central campfire a few yards away danced along the planes of his face. “I didn’t come here for this,” he said in English.

  “I know. You came to see if I was safe. I’m not safe, Matt. I’m not happy. And up until this minute, I haven’t even been very smart. I’m trying to change that.”

  Matt felt every muscle in his body stiffen to ward off another emotional blow. He knew what her actions with the horse represented. But then, he had thought he’d known what her coming to his room that night had meant. The pain of that particular misconception had nearly killed him. Did he dare trust her that she really meant to change things this time?

  “How?” he demanded harshly. “By teasing me again? By deliberately making me think you mean it this time?”

  He saw the effect of his words in the way her face paled.

  “I was wrong, Matt,” she whispered.

  The trembling in her lips made his eyes sting.

  “I was a fool. I thought…I thought I was doing what was best for you, for both of us.”