“As far as I know, yes,” Langdon replied.
“Any idea why they weren’t sent directly to Florida as planned?” Blake wanted to know.
Langdon shook his head. “All I know is that they were detained there by order of the President.”
Jessie bit back a groan. President Cleveland hated Apaches. He had no use for any Indians, but the Apaches, particularly Geronimo and his band, had made Cleveland and his officers appear as ineffective fools during the past several years. If he had personally ordered the train stopped in San Antonio, it could bode no good for any of the prisoners. Fear for Pace surged through her.
Through the window behind the commander, Jessie could see the other prisoners, Apaches—Chiricahua—who had been in Florida for weeks. They looked small and insignificant, surrounded as they were by the high granite walls of the fort, so different from the wide deserts and pine covered mountains they called home. There, cool or hot, the air was dry and light. Here, it weighed heavy against the skin and pressed down on her, sapping her energy.
Suddenly she stiffened. One of the men…“Sir, may I have permission to visit the prisoners?”
Langdon eyed her with doubt. His reply came slowly. “If you’re sure you want to, Miss Colton, but I must warn you, we’re housing twice as many as we have room for, and their conditions are pitiful. I’m trying to remedy the situation, but…”
“But Washington won’t cooperate,” Jessie finished for him. “I assure you, I understand.”
“Jessie,” Blake said impatiently. “It’s a waste of time. Pace isn’t here.”
“I know that.” She wondered at his impatience, but spared scant time worrying about it. “But now that I’m here, I simply cannot leave without being able to take with me information on the conditions here. My family will expect that.”
Langdon eyed the young woman thoughtfully. The telegram he’d received from Miles had been specific. Under no circumstances was Miss Jessica Colton to be allowed to visit the latest shipment of prisoners. Miles would take it as a personal favor, however, if Captain Renard were given free run of the facility.
Langdon nearly snorted. Who the hell did Miles think he was, issuing orders to him? How the devil was he supposed to keep Miss Colton out, when half the ladies in St. Augustine made regular excursions to the fort, some going so far as to take archery lessons from the Apache prisoners?
In any regard, since the prisoners in question were not here, Langdon didn’t see any reason to honor Miles’s “request.” I believe, he thought with a small smile, my aide has just misplaced that message.
Jessie saw Langdon’s decision in his eyes. With a polite nod, she turned for the door, knowing full well the commander and Blake would follow. She couldn’t help but notice the muscle that flexed in irritation along Blake’s jaw. He couldn’t—or shouldn’t, at least—be any more upset by this delay in finding Pace than she was, but after coming this far, she simply would not be able to face her family without being able to tell them something of the conditions here.
And the conditions, she quickly learned, were appalling. The ancient fort by the sea, begun by the Spaniards in 1692, was a nightmare. Huge granite walls had crumbled in places, but there was certainly no danger in the structure collapsing, as the walls were six feet thick. They only added to the dark, medieval atmosphere she’d felt earlier upon crossing the draw bridge over the moat.
That had been bad enough. But this…Nearly every square inch of ground was covered by tents, with barely any room to walk between them. More tents lined the tops of the walls. The Apaches were crowded together like sardines in a can. To freedom loving Chiricahua used to wide expanses and, even on the San Carlos Reservation, an unlimited view of the sky, Fort Marion must surely be a nightmare.
Yet even with the tremendous overcrowding, the grounds seemed eerily quiet. Apaches and soldiers alike turned to stare at her, the soldiers with curiosity, the Apaches with a look of dull defeat in their eyes. Although Jessie wasn’t close to The People the way her parents, the twins, and Matt were, even she could feel the despair in the air.
Jessie slapped at her cheek. Then her neck. Despair wasn’t the only thing in the air. “I’ve never seen such huge mosquitoes.”
Blake slapped his own face. “And bloodthirsty, too.”
Something else bothered Jessie, but it was a long moment before she realized what it was. “Children. I don’t see any children.” She turned to find Langdon gnawing on his lip. “Sir?”
“The children have been sent to school, Miss Colton.”
Jessie might have let the matter go, but for the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What school?”
Langdon cleared his throat as if preparing himself to reveal something unpleasant. “The Carlisle Indian school. In Pennsylvania.”
“What?” Jessie cried.
Even Blake looked startled at the news.
“Orders,” Langdon said tersely. “From—”
“Washington,” Jessie finished for him. “Dear God. It’s not enough to imprison an entire tribe in what to them is the same as a foreign land, for no better reason than someone dislikes them, but now they’ve taken away their children?”
“I assure you, Miss Colton, I—”
“Excuse me.” An Apache man of medium height stepped toward Jessie.
Startled by his perfect English, Jessie blinked. Beside her, Blake stiffened.
The Apache studied her with deep curiosity. “Did I hear the colonel call you Miss Colton?”
“Chee, really.” Colonel Langdon frowned. “It’s incredibly rude of you to—”
“Chee?” Jessie stared hard, studying the dark face, the eyes sharp with intelligence. “Is it…it is you! Oh, Chee, I’m so glad to see you. I know you don’t remember me, but—”
The Apache smiled. “You have to be Jessica, and of course I remember you. But you’ve grown some since we met.”
Jessie laughed for the first time in days. “Yes, I guess I have.”
“You tell Spence when you see him that he owes me a dollar.”
“What?”
The Apache chuckled. “You must have been what, five or six that time your folks brought all of you to the mountains. Spence was complaining because you were following him around.”
“I remember,” Jessie said with a smile.
“He said you were just an ugly little peabrain. I told him he was wrong, that someday you’d grow into a beautiful woman. We bet on it. Looks to me like I won.”
Jessie laughed again but felt tears form. “Oh, Chee, I am glad to see you. I just wish we didn’t have to meet like this.” She gestured at their bleak surroundings. “And the children. I can’t believe they took the children away.”
Chee’s face hardened. “Believe it. My own LaRisa was taken last week.”
“Oh, Chee, no.”
“Yes. Tell your parents and Matt…” He closed his eyes a moment, then shook his head slowly. “Never mind. There is nothing they can do. There is nothing anyone can do now. It is done. Our people are dying here. The children will die in Pennsylvania, too. We are finished.”
Jessie pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling, and blinked to hold her tears at bay. “You’ve heard about Geronimo?”
Chee nodded.
“Pace is with him.”
Chee’s eyes widened with shock. “You don’t mean that. Pace would never ride with Geronimo. Never.”
“He didn’t. The Army asked him to interpret during the surrender. When it was over, they arrested Pace and all the scouts and threw them on the train with Geronimo. That’s why I’m here, looking for him. But now we’ve learned they’re all being held in San Antonio. I’m on my way back there as soon as I leave here.”
“Goddamn,” Chee muttered. “Where’s your father? How did you get stuck with this job?”
Jessie explained how scattered the family had been when the news of Geronimo’s surrender came.
She ached with the need to do something, to help Chee and
the others in some way. But there didn’t seem to be much she could do. She didn’t have enough money on her to buy food or clothing for everyone, and Chee, she knew, would refuse to take help for himself. If she offered, she would shame him.
Yet she couldn’t keep from asking.
Chee gave her a sad smile. “I doubt you can take the salt from our water.”
“What?”
“Our drinking water—the well is salty. And even if you could talk someone into providing more tents so we wouldn’t have five or six people in each one, you can see there’s no room for more tents. I would ask for more than our two tin washtubs—for five hundred people, that’s not enough. But the women have solved that problem by washing the clothes at the beach.”
“In salt water?” Jess was aghast.
“Not much saltier than what we get from the well. But there is one thing you might help us with.”
“What? Anything.”
“Stand witness while I ask, one more time,” Chee said harshly as he turned to face Langdon, “that the five hundred prisoners here in the fort be provided with more toilets.”
Jessie swallowed. “How…how many do you have now?”
A muscle along Chee’s jaw flexed. “Two.”
“Colonel,” Jessie cried. “How appalling! I demand you do something immediately. There is no excuse for such primitive conditions. None. Do I make myself clear?”
With fury and embarrassment staining his cheeks, Langdon agreed to remedy the situation. Whether he would or not, Jessie knew she might never know.
An hour later, nearly choking on regret, Jessie accompanied Blake back to the train station.
Regardless of the luxurious accommodations of her private compartment in the Pullman car, Jessie was getting heartily sick of riding the train. She eyed its length with resignation. “What time do we leave?”
“In about five minutes.” Blake took her by the elbow and urged her across the platform. “Your little reunion back there nearly made us late.”
Stung by his words and his tone, Jessie pulled her arm from his grasp. “That was uncalled for. No one asked you to stay with me.”
Blake clenched his fists at his sides, hoping to keep the ire from his voice. But seeing her open friendliness and easy going manner with that Apache had galled him. She’d never been that open and friendly with him, damn her.
Christ, he couldn’t believe what he was thinking. She’d only been talking to the man, and the man was probably older than he looked—probably old enough to be her father. Why should Blake care if she felt friendship for an Apache? But he did. Damn, but he did. “I apologize,” he said tightly. “I just don’t care much for Apaches.”
Jessie stretched herself to her full height—all five feet and two and one-half inches. “I was hoping we were past that, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Past what?”
With careful precision, Jessie lifted her skirt just enough to allow her to reach the step to the train. “Your dislike of Apaches, mine of soldiers.”
Blake merely grunted as he followed her aboard.
The conductor showed them to their private compartments. The two berths were joined by a common, tiny wash room. Their bags had already been delivered. Blake tossed his hat onto the seat in his compartment, then followed Jessie to hers. She was right. They should be well beyond his dislike of Apaches and hers of men of his profession. They should, but they obviously weren’t.
Since leaving Sierra Blanca and resuming their journey, he’d scarcely seen Jessie except at meals. Whatever closeness they had shared on the trail was gone. She had obviously remembered who and what he was. So why was he having so much trouble remembering? True, her relationship with the half-breed at Bowie wasn’t what he’d thought it was, but the truth was, for Blake, an even larger obstacle. The breed was her brother.
And Pace Colton was obviously not the only Apache Jessie was close to if today’s incident was any indication. It had been evident by her conversation with the one called Chee that she hadn’t seen him since her childhood, yet Blake was stung by the knowledge that the Apache seemed to know her better than he did. The Apache had made her laugh.
“So tell me about this Chee.”
Jessie nearly jumped out of her skin. “You scared the daylights out of me. I didn’t hear you follow me.”
He shrugged and sprawled on the seat closest to her. Jessie moved toward the other seat and took off her hat. “Is there something I can do for you?”
The sudden heat that flared in his dark eyes sent a quaking sensation spiraling through her midsection. Then he lowered his lids, leaving her feeling as if she’d just stepped from the warmth of a fire into an ice house.
“Tell me about that Apache back there.”
“Chee?” Good. Her voice barely shook at all. She spread her skirt and lowered herself to the seat facing him. “What is there to tell?”
“For starters, were does an Apache warrior learn to speak English with a Southwest drawl instead of the pidgin English most Indians speak, if they speak any?”
“Careful, Captain, your prejudices are showing.”
His eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”
Surprised by his admission, if that’s what it was, Jessie allowed herself to relax. After all, he’d already reminded her, or she’d reminded him, as the case may be, that Jessica Colton and Captain Blake Renard shared not so much as an inch of common ground. Expect they’d saved each other’s lives. The reminder brought a warmth she did not welcome, and the memory of kisses she tried to forget.
“Chee learned English from my family.”
“Your family spends that much time with the Apaches?”
“Some, but in this case, no. The way I remember the story, when Chee and Fletcher were young they got separated from their band and were captured by a white miner. My mother saved them from a lynching. When she took them back to Cochise—”
“Wait a minute. You expect me to believe your mother saved an Apache from a lynching? That she was friends with Cochise? And who the devil is Fletcher?”
Jessie smiled. Setting Blake off balance pleased her, perhaps more than it should. “Well, after my mother got into the thick of the lynch mob in Tucson, my father did give her a little help. That was before they were married. He still yells at her anytime the incident gets mentioned.”
“Why?”
“Because she got shot and nearly died. He says when he looked across the street and saw her trying to hold the mob off with her gun, he lost ten years off his life.”
“This is your mother?” Blake shuddered inwardly. He’d seen a few women in his time who were capable of such folly. Women who thought they were as strong and smart as any man. Most of them looked more like men than women, too. “Your father married a woman like that?”
Jessie’s grin widened. “Like I said, wait until you meet her.”
“Like I said, I doubt I’ll have that…pleasure.”
Jessie just kept smiling, as though she knew something he wished he knew.
“So your mother saved Chee and this Fletcher—”
“Fle-Cha-Ka-Eda-Ty-gee.”
“Right. Fletcher. You said your mother took them to Cochise? But she’s not Apache.”
“Not by blood, but she was adopted by Cochise.”
Again, as it had the last time she’d spoken of her mother, something brushed the back of Blake’s mind, then was gone.
“I don’t know all the details of what happened,” Jessie said, “but Chee and Fletcher were about Matt’s age, around ten or so.”
“Matt?”
“Another brother. Half-brother, actually, like Pace, only from the other half. Anyway, Cochise wanted his people to learn more about whites, so he sent Chee and Fletcher to work for my father on the Triple C. They worked at the ranch on and off for years. That’s where they learned English.”
“I think,” Blake said slowly, “you must have the strangest family I’ve ever heard of.”
Jessie laughed. “And you
haven’t heard the half of it.”
They spent the better part of the next couple of days together, mainly because Blake couldn’t seem to keep away from her. She was the flame, and he, fool that he was, was the damn, dumb moth. He told himself that sitting across from her throughout the day was better than sitting alone in his own private compartment. He told himself that was the only reason he stayed with her.
He lied.
Still, she was damn easy on the eye, was Jessie Colton. But he tried not to look at her too much. Looking at her made him want.
They didn’t talk much, but the silence they shared couldn’t exactly be called companionable. Too much tension sizzled between them. He knew from the look in her eyes when she failed to look away fast enough that she felt at least some of the attraction he felt. Innocent or not, she felt it.
Jessie felt the sizzling currents between her and Blake. They were so potent they were nearly visible. The suggestive heat in his eyes was certainly visible, and even though she knew better, she basked in it. Never had a man reacted to her the way Blake did. And never had she reacted to a man like this.
Every day the yearning for his embrace grew stronger. The hunger for his kiss increased by the hour. When he failed to join her at his usual time one morning after breakfast, she was dismayed to feel the threat of tears.
Stupid, she scolded herself. She was a grown woman. She didn’t need him to sit with her every minute. Whatever was she thinking to get emotional over his tardiness?
But emotional she was. And hot. Her compartment seemed stifling this day. But if that were true, why were her hands cold?
One by one, other discomforts made themselves know. Then came the pain.
Oh, God, she thought. God, not now, please…not now.
But apparently God wasn’t listening just then, because it was happening anyway, despite her pleas, and she knew there was nothing she could do except endure.
Some women called it the monthly curse. Jessie simply thought of it as “the curse,” for it wasn’t predictable enough to be termed “monthly.” Sometimes, if she was lucky, it was three or four months between her periods. When her luck ran out, it could happen twice in the same month.
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