Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Still, most white men would have shunned an Apache captive, would have considered her less than nothing. “Your father must be a very special man.”

  “He is. Even her own father wouldn’t have anything to do with her, and that was before he knew she was with child. But Daddy knew, and he loved her anyway.”

  Blake felt a deep envy of Jessie’s mother. What was it like to have someone love you so much he was willing to overlook everything? Did that kind of love even exist? Was it possible?

  He shook his head. It was all just the imaginings of a romantic girl. Jessie was several years younger than him. She’d soon realize, as he had, that talk of love was all just nonsense. But he wouldn’t say anything. She was tired and hurt. If it helped her to believe in love, he’d leave her to it.

  They rode all night, with Jessie finally dozing against Blake’s chest. At sunup they crossed the Rio Grande. Blake would have stopped then, to shield Jessie from the rising sun, but there was no shade to be found. After resting the horse and pulling out strips of jerky for Jessie and himself, Blake slapped his hat on Jessie’s head and they rode on. He refused to contemplate how much of his decision was logic, and how much was from the agonizing thought of having to take his arms from around Jessie if they stopped to rest.

  Near midday they crested a low hill and Blake drew the horse to a stop. “There it is, Sierra Blanca.”

  Jessie spied the dusty little town just over a mile away. But her mind was on the man who’d held her all through the night and morning. If she didn’t know how relieved he must feel that they had finally reached civilization, she would have sworn she heard regret in his voice.

  Could it be that he, too, was reluctant to reach town, knowing that their time together would end?

  She turned to look up at him and lost herself in the intensity of his deep brown eyes. He was feeling it, too, just as deeply as she was, this need to postpone the intrusion of others between them. She had the strongest urge to tell him to turn the horse around. She didn’t want to share him with the world.

  As if of its own volition, her hand rose to his whiskered cheek. She whispered his name.

  At her touch, the sound of his name spilling from lips he hungered for, Blake forgot she was friends with the Apaches, that she had a half-breed brother. He forgot that he’d spent his entire life hating people she called friend.

  He only remembered the taste of her lips, the feel of her beneath his hands, against his chest. He saw those same memories in her eyes, and threw all his sensible thoughts to the wind. He closed his eyes and kissed her.

  The impact shocked him. Instant heat, an instant tightening in his chest and loins. He cupped her head in one hand and drew her closer, silently cursing the thick leather gauntlets that kept him from feeling the softness of her hair beneath his fingers. With lips and tongue and teeth, he devoured her, and she him.

  The kiss turned into so much more than he’d intended, so much less than he craved. He groaned and tore his mouth free, gasping for air.

  By the look on her face, she was at least as stunned as he was by what had happened. He tilted his face toward the blinding blue sky and closed his eyes. “I have the strongest urge, Jessie girl, to turn this horse around and kidnap you myself.”

  A deep shudder raced through Jessie. Do it, Blake.

  Then, shocked by her own thoughts, she buried her face against his shoulder. “Wouldn’t we make a fine pair?” she said, her voice shaking. “Me with the man who helped arrest my brother.”

  Blake sucked in a deep breath at the stabbing ache caused by her words. Then he exhaled and opened his eyes. “Yeah. Right.”

  He jabbed his heels into the horse’s sides.

  If they had thought to ride quietly into town and board the train, they were quickly disabused of the notion. Just past the edge of town three boys ranging in age from around nine to twelve chased a squealing pig from between two shacks. The pig, followed by the boys, darted directly in front of the horse. The horse shied and tried to rear. Blake swore and fought for control. “Damn fool kids. Watch where you’re going.”

  When Blake had the horse quieted, he looked up to find the boys at the edge of the road, staring at him and Jessie.

  “It’s them, I’m tellin’ ya,” the youngest said.

  “It ain’t neither.”

  “’Tis, too. Look at that there bandage on his head, and them captain’s bars.”

  “But she ain’t wearin’ no night dress. My ma says the lady what got kidnapped off the train was wearing nothing but her night dress.”

  “Oh, good heavens.” Jessie groaned and leaned against Blake as if to hide.

  Blake chuckled. “I didn’t think it was possible for your face to get any redder.”

  “Oh, hush up, you, and get us out of here.”

  “What? You don’t like being famous?” Blake teased.

  “Infamous is more like it, and no, I don’t like it at all. Imagine, telling everyone I was in my night dress.”

  “Well, you were. And a very lovely one, too, I might add. Matter of fact, I kinda miss it.”

  “Oh, hush,” she hissed.

  Blake laughed, and got an elbow in his ribs. He laughed again, then gave a nod to the boys still arguing at the side of the road. “How’do, boys. This town got a decent hotel?”

  “Golly, yeah, Cap’n. Right straight down this here street. Casa Siesta. Ya can’t miss it. Are you really the one that got shot on the train, like Billy says?”

  Blake grinned. He knew what boys wanted. “You wanna see my bullet hole?”

  “Can we? Can we?”

  “Blake!” Jessie dug her elbow into his ribs again.

  “Uh, maybe later, fellas.”

  He urged the horse forward and reluctantly loosened his hold on Jessie as she straightened away from him. His arms felt suddenly empty.

  Much to Jessie’s consternation and Blake’s chagrinned amusement, the business with the boys at the edge of town was only the beginning of the tumult caused by the rescue of the fair maiden by the dashing cavalry captain. While the railroad would have preferred that no one remember the reason for Blake’s rescue of Jessie, there wasn’t much they could do to keep the story quiet. With more fervor than grace, the Southern Pacific Railroad was only too happy to accommodate Blake’s and Jessie’s every need, including presenting them with their belongings they’d left aboard the Pullman car. Railroad officials did not like to hear of passengers being robbed, shot, and kidnapped off their train.

  Jessie had only planned to take a short nap, but when she woke, it was the middle of the night. She shied away from remembering how quickly Blake had foisted her off on the mayor’s wife, who’d been among the townspeople who’d poured out of shops and houses when word of her and Blake’s arrival spread. It seemed one minute Jessie had been held safely in the cradle of his arms, and the next, she was being led to the doctor’s while Blake headed for the nearest saloon. The memory hurt. Terribly.

  Lying in the dark, unable to go back to sleep, she tried everything she could think of to occupy her mind. She tried to read the book she’d brought in her valise. She tried to think of a way to free Pace. She had even tried concentrating on the misery of her sunburn and bruises, but the cream the doctor gave her had given immediate relief. None of her efforts, however, could keep her mind from Blake for long.

  The simple truth was, she missed his company. She wondered if he sat alone in his hotel room and thought of her, remembered the heat and hunger, the sheer power of the kiss they’d shared. She wondered, because that kiss was all she could seem to think about. The kiss, plus the way he’d taken care of her, the way her body sang at his nearness, the way he’d held her before him all the way from Mexico to Sierra Blanca. The way his dark eyes flared with heat when she met his gaze. The way his mouth quirked at the corners when he tried not to smile. The glorious sound of his laughter. So many, many things.

  Who would have thought that practical, down-to-earth, level-headed Jessica Colton w
ould ever go all aflutter over a man? Especially a captain in the U.S. Army. One who had obviously been ordered to follow her to Florida, even though he had denied that the first day. She hadn’t had the nerve to ask him again. She was afraid she didn’t want to know why he was going.

  But none of that seemed to matter. When she thought of him, her heart quickened and a tingling warmth spread inside her.

  She very much feared that practical, down-to-earth, level-headed Jessica Colton was falling in love.

  Blake couldn’t wait any longer. The day was half over, the train would leave soon, and he had to see Jessie. He had to know that she was all right.

  When they’d left the boys on the street and ridden into town yesterday they’d been met by the mayor, the town council, at least a dozen citizens, and Randolph P. Randolph, Esquire, of the Southern Pacific Railroad. Blake had barely mentioned Jessie’s need for medical attention for her sunburn, and she’d been whisked from his side so fast she’d seemed to practically vanish into thin air. Much as he wanted her pain relieved, he resented the separation. He felt…empty when she wasn’t at his side.

  Which was just plain stupid. Damnation, he’d only known her a couple of days, and had resented the hell out of her the first half of that time. How could he miss her presence so much?

  But he did. And he was getting ready to miss her a hell of a lot more, he admitted as he climbed the stairs to her hotel room.

  He shouldn’t do this, he knew. There were more than enough sly speculations about Jessie’s reputation, about what had happened down below the border when he’d gone after her. He shouldn’t be knocking on the door to her room. But he couldn’t just leave without a word, not after what they’d been through together.

  Which was also just plain stupid. Leave without a word was exactly what he should do. Get out right then and there, while he still could. But he couldn’t. He had to see her one more time.

  Besides, he was worried about her. He hadn’t seen her since yesterday afternoon when the mayor’s wife had whisked her away to have her sunburn tended. Jessie hadn’t come down for supper last night with the Southern Pacific agent. Blake had lingered in the tiny hotel dining room all morning waiting for her to come down for breakfast, but she hadn’t. Neither had he seen her come down for lunch. She was, at the least, exhausted from her ordeal. But was she in worse shape than he’d thought?

  With a deep breath, he tapped lightly on her door.

  In the final stages of repacking her valise, Jessie froze. Blake.

  No, it wouldn’t be Blake. He wouldn’t come to see her. Not after the way he’d shed himself of the burden of her so quickly yesterday.

  It surely wouldn’t be that odious little man from the railroad again. And please, Lord, not the mayor’s wife.

  “Jessie, it’s Blake.”

  Her heartbeat tripped. Good heavens. Just the sound of his voice through a closed door and her breath scattered. She simply had to cease losing control of herself every time he came near. With shaking hands, she smoothed her hair, ran her palms down the front of her seersucker traveling dress, then opened the door.

  They stared at each other a long moment, until Jessie felt herself blushing. “You shaved,” she blurted.

  Blake frowned. “You’re dressed.”

  “Well…” With a matching frown, Jessie looked down at herself, then back up at him. “Yes. I always am when I open my hotel room door to a man.”

  “I mean, I thought you’d still be nursing your sunburn. Doctored up with some fancy cream or something from the doctor.”

  “I have been. It’s much better now.”

  The awkwardness of the conversation was not lost on Blake. He hadn’t come to talk about sunburns. He’d come to say good-bye. He cleared his throat. “There’s a train headed east in an hour.”

  Jessie nodded. “I know.”

  “I just wanted you to know that I’ll do what I can for your brother. I can’t promise it’ll do any good, but I’ll try.”

  “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to help. I’ll appreciate whatever you can do. But not if it’s going to cause you trouble with the Army.”

  “It won’t. Just tell me where you’ll be and I’ll send word.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “I’ll be with you, if you’re going to see about Pace. Why would you—”

  “With me?” Blake cried. “You’re burned from head to toe, you shouldn’t even be standing on those feet, let alone wearing shoes, you’ve been dragged to hell and back against your will. What do you mean you’ll be with me? You oughta be in bed, taking care of yourself.”

  Jessie gaped. “Well, I never.”

  “Well you damn sure should.”

  Jessie braced her hands on her hips and stuck out her chin. “I realize you haven’t exactly seen me at my best since we met, but I don’t know why you would think I’m so weak that I should take to my bed after I’ve recovered. For heaven’s sake, Blake, I’m perfectly capable of riding in a train.”

  “Sure you are.” Blake waved a hand in disgust. “Look at you. Burned six shades of red, and you’re still pale. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, you’ve lost weight—”

  “Enough!” Jessie held out a hand to shut him up. “I’m going, and that’s that. Do you honestly think I could sit here in this room, in any room, and forget where my brother is?”

  “I told you I’d do what I could. If that’s not good enough for you—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I said I appreciated your offer. That doesn’t change the fact that Pace is not your responsibility. He’s my brother, and I intend to follow him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish packing. As you pointed out, the train leaves in an hour.”

  “Stubborn woman,” Blake muttered as he stomped down the hall.

  Jessie closed the door and leaned back against it. She’d done it. She’d faced him and kept her control. Sort of.

  Did shaking knees and a raging temper count?

  Wade Sinclair paused in the act of cleaning beneath his fingernails with his pocket knife. A low growl rumbled in his chest. “What did you say?”

  Sven pulled off his hat and ran thick fingers through his sweat soaked hair. “Renard is not dead.”

  “Goddammit!” In a gesture of pure rage, Wade hurled the thin-bladed knife straight at the Swede’s head.

  Sven ducked. The knife buried itself in the wall directly behind him, beside the door.

  Neither man seemed to notice, aside from Sven’s quick movement, that Wade had nearly impaled him. Wade roared in fury. “Son of a bitch! Motherfu—”

  “He killed Hank, Boss. And he got the girl.”

  Wade narrowed his eyes. “Hank’s dead?” he demanded sharply.

  Sven swallowed and ran his fingers through his hair again. He nodded glumly. “Ya.”

  “Where’s the money?”

  Sven hefted the saddle bags draped across his shoulders. “I got the money.”

  “Good. Good.”

  Wade’s mind spun. Okay, so the lucky bastard was still alive. Wade knew Blake well enough to know his cousin would never let the matter of a train robbery or kidnapping die. He would dig and search, as much as the Army would allow him, until he’d uncovered every fact to be found. In Wade’s favor, the only living connection between him and the holdup was Sven. The woman, and now Blake, had seen Sven.

  Wade pursed his lips. No, it just wouldn’t do to leave such a loose end. He could always try later for Blake. In fact, Wade knew just where to find him.

  All that was left to be done, then, was remove the connection between himself and the holdup.

  Ah, poor Sven. He was such a friendly, trusting soul. Wade was sure gonna miss the dumb Swede.

  He schooled his features into a suitably sorrowful expression. “Hank’s dead,” he said again. “Damn shame, that.” He slapped Sven on the back. “What do you say we go across the street to the saloon and raise a glass in his honor?”

  Sven swallowed again, his mouth
hanging down at the corners. “Ya, Boss. I think Hank would like that. It’s the least we can do for him.”

  As he followed Sven out into the hall, Wade grabbed his knife from where it stuck in the wall. With a familiar one-handed gesture, he snapped the blade closed and slipped it into his pocket.

  They did not go to the saloon. Instead, at Wade’s suggestion, they held their own private wake in a dark alley. With a burst of what he considered real genius, Wade led the Swede to the alley behind Hostedter’s.

  At seven o’clock the next morning, hours after the 2 A.M. train to El Paso blew its whistle and carried Wade Sinclair out of town, Jesus O’Roark, the town drunk of Lordsburg, New Mexico—and damned proud of it, he always said—found a body in the alley behind Hostedter’s Funeral Parlor. The dead man was big and yellow haired, and nobody in town recognized him.

  His throat had been slit.

  Chapter Seven

  Jessie stared in outraged disbelief at the commander of Fort Marion. “Sir, you cannot expect me to believe that five passenger cars filled with United States soldiers and their Apache prisoners have simply vanished into thin air somewhere between Arizona and St. Augustine.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Loomis E. Langdon looked to the young woman’s companion, Captain Renard, but to no avail. If anything, the captain seemed even more angry than Miss Colton over the news that Geronimo and his band were not in his custody. The commander cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels. “No, ma’am. You are, of course, welcome to see for yourself. However, the prisoners you’re seeking have been detained in San Antonio.”

  “But we just came from…” Jessie closed her eyes in frustration. They had come through San Antonio at night, and neither she nor Blake, that she knew of, had stepped foot off the train. They’d had no reason to.

  “Fort Sam Houston?” Blake asked. “Isn’t it still under construction?”