This Savage Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  He released her abruptly and stepped back. Before she could say any more, Elisa Thatcher appeared, her face twisted by anger and fear. "Listen to me, Derek Arnhardt. My husband is waiting for me, and it's your responsibility to see that I get out of this. I am not going to die here, and if I'm the only one of these idiotic women willing to leave, then I demand you take me out of here."

  Derek regarded her coolly and said, "Julie has changed her mind. I'm taking her and the baby and Sujen out of here. Get several canteens of water, as much food as you can carry, and dress comfortably and warmly. Be ready to go at midnight."

  Elisa's response was cut off as one of the men ran toward them, yelling. "Captain, there's a horse and rider coming in fast."

  Derek ran with the messenger back to the center of the compound. Julie started after him, but Elisa caught her arm and held her. "Listen to me. Once we get out of here, I'm leaving you and the Indian. I'm not going to take you to the fort, because I know you'll tell Adam... lies about Thomas and me. So just be ready to go your own way."

  Julie nodded, there being no point in arguing with Elisa, even when she was in a normal state. She ran toward the center of the compound just as the horse and rider reached the compound from the other side.

  The horse leaped into the circle. It was Lonnie Bruce's horse, and the boy's arrow-riddled body slumped off the animal and fell to the ground. His mother's screaming echoed clear across the plains to the pass.

  Chapter 18

  The sounds of weeping mingled with the night wind. The angel of death hovered over every man, woman, and child within the wagon circle. Esther Webber sat, trancelike, beside Susanna Jeeter, neither speaking. Half the men had sought oblivion in whiskey, but oblivion eluded them, for the time being. The children slept, apparently unaware that they might wake up only one more time before the final sleep.

  Julie looked for Sujen and, not finding her, decided she would be waiting at the supply wagon. Her rations were heavy and clumsy, strapped to her back, as she maneuvered to hold the baby tightly against her bosom. Derek had warned her that the baby must not make a sound, even if that meant gagging him.

  Elisa, wrapped in a heavy woolen cape, turned away as Julie approached the meeting point. Derek appeared out of the darkness and asked, "Where's Sujen? Damn it, we've got to leave now if I'm to be back by first light."

  Julie's worry was evident. "She knew what time we were leaving. I haven't seen her."

  "I saw her," Elisa said, explaining that she had spotted Sujen crawling beneath one of the wagons two hours earlier. "She's gone. It's just you and me, Julie," she said.

  Julie whirled on Derek. "You must go after her. Maybe she's decided to do what she offered to do. We can't let her!"

  Derek swore. "There's no way I can go after her. It'd be suicide. She's not going to buy us any extra time, anyway. They'll be done with her by dawn," he finished brutally.

  "Oh, she must have gone to the Indians," Elisa said airily. "She wouldn't admit it, but she'd gladly submit to every single one of those savages if it meant saving herself."

  Julie almost allowed herself to be goaded into fury, but she mustered restraint. There was no time for anger, no time even to mourn Sujen's brave but foolish decision.

  Derek gave them their orders. They were to remain close behind him, moving swiftly and as silently as possible, dropping to their knees to crawl if he signaled them. They would be moving directly toward the Indians, and that was the only thing in their favor, for the Indians would be watching in the directions that led away from them. He was confident they could make it to one of the caves on the outside of the mountain pass, where he would leave them.

  They crept through the night, the only sound that of gentle footsteps on the tiny rocks and sand of the desert. Derek walked between them, guiding their way now and then with gentle tugs on their capes. Julie held the baby close, a soft rag ready to press against his lips should he make the slightest sound.

  A loud shriek split the air, and Julie froze instantly. Elisa gasped, and Derek whirled angrily. "It's a mountain lion," he whispered. "Don't ever cry out like that. The Apache are alert to every noise. They always know an animal sound from another sound."

  The hulking shadow of the mountain pass loomed out of the darkness, and they were about a mile from the wagon train. Suddenly Derek jerked them to an abrupt halt. Before Julie had time to wonder why, they heard noises from somewhere ahead of them and upward—high-pitched wails, bursts of guttural laughter. A chill shook her. The Apache had Sujen. Derek had to tug at her to start her walking again. "There's nothing you can do," he whispered. "Keep moving."

  Heavy, smothering clouds obscured the moonlight. The total darkness was a blessing.

  Using instinct and memory, Derek groped his way around the rocky ledges and crevices. At last he found an opening that satisfied him. After abandoning them a little while to explore the inside, he returned to guide them inside. After they'd groped along for thirty feet or so, he announced, "I think it's safe to speak in here, but keep it low."

  Immediately Elisa whined, "This is dreadful. How long do we have to stay here? That sour smell! It's horrid, like... like wet animals."

  "Blood smells worse," Derek said brutally, then turned to Julie. "Leave the baby with Elisa and come with me for a moment."

  Julie didn't want to leave Darrell with Elisa, but she knew it would be for only a little while.

  He took her hand and led her on back toward the front of the cave. Finding a smooth place on the cave floor, he drew her down beside him. Each was aware of how precious and how final was this last time together. "Do you hear that?" He was smiling at her. She shook her head.

  "It's the sound of the sea," he went on softly. "Listen. The waves rolling and crashing, the stabbing cries of the sea gulls, the wind. See how the wind ruffles your hair?" He twined her soft tresses around his fingertips. "Taste the salt on your lips. It's the taste of you and me, misty eyes, because our love was born on the sea. We are the sea... its stormy depths, its gentle rolls and swells. Perpetual. Endless. Forever."

  She sobbed, unable to hold back any longer. "Not forever. We are ending, Derek. Here. Now, as you go to your death. Stay with me, Derek. If you love me—"

  His hand moved quickly to cover her lips. "Don't say anything more," he commanded. "I'm doing what I have to do. And you're wrong, Julie. We aren't ending. We'll never end, because our love can't be destroyed. Our love will become a spirit, and it will roll with the tides and blow gently with the winds. No. We'll never end. We'll live forever, Julie. I love you."

  As he held her, kissed her, Julie began to hear the sea... the cascading swells birthed into breakers to crash in white foaming triumph on the shore... creeping slowly back to be recreated as waves again, to be reborn, to know glory once more. They would not die, could not die, and this ethereal moment would live forever, like the sea.

  Bitterness overtook her, though, as he stood to go. "I lost my home, my mother, then Teresa, and a niece I never had time to know. And my dear brother. "But"—she shook her head wildly—"I didn't think God would do this to me, make me lose you."

  "We lost the mountaintop, Julie." He grinned down at her in the blackness. "The mountaintop was ours, and we lost it."

  "I don't understand." She was weeping.

  He held her hands very tightly. "I'm mad that God yanked the mountain out from under us, but I sure as hell appreciate the trip up. At least He didn't just let us stand at the bottom, staring up, wondering what it would be like to climb to the top of the mountain. We know what it's like at the top. We know. Most people never do find out."

  And then he was gone.

  She stared into the darkness, but he was gone.

  She sat there a very long time, then she got to her feet and made her way back to Elisa and the baby. Elisa's whining voice droned on, but Julie didn't hear. She took the baby and walked away. As she stood in the black cave, holding her nephew, she heard the sea all around her, crashing. She could smell th
e salt and see the foam, hear the sea gulls and the wind. She thanked God for the trip to the mountaintop... and prayed for the strength to rise from the terrible fall she was about to take.

  * * *

  Julie stared out into the faint dawn light. Blackness turned to dull gray, then faint gray. Soon the sun would leap over the mountains, above the junipers, heralding a new day.

  The baby stirred, whimpered. He was going to wake up any second and need to be fed, and what was she going to do? Her breasts had no milk. He would cry, the Apache might hear. She looked at Elisa, saw that her lips were moving. But she couldn't hear her. Then her gaze moved to little Darrell. His mouth was open, but she couldn't hear him, either.

  Irritably, the baby was snatched from her arms. Julie watched as Elisa took something from a pouch and stuffed it in the baby's mouth. He began to suck eagerly, and it came to Julie that Louella Bascomb had told her how to make a sugar tit. Had she made one and brought it along? Strange. It was hard to remember.

  A bird circled high overhead, catching Julie's eye, swooping and swirling, setting a circular orbit. A seagull? No. A seagull would be white, not black. She continued to watch his determined flight.

  Beside her, Elisa gasped softly. Did Julie imagine those other sounds, the whoops and shrieks? No. They were riding out of the pass, red-skinned men with wide shoulders and deep chests—bareback, smooth chests. Their bareback mustang ponies were kneed to a full gallop, no doubt urged on by the screaming as well. The men were sinewy, powerfully built, their long black hair flying in the wind, held away from their faces by headbands.

  Elisa, holding the baby tightly, shrank back inside the cave, but Julie couldn't stop watching. Her whole being was riveted to the scene below.

  Apache arrows rained through the air as the riders approached the wagon train and the men inside the circle began firing their guns. One brave fell, then another, bodies flailing in the sand.

  The air exploded with the demented sounds of thundering hoofbeats, war cries, the cracking of guns. One wagon was set on fire, the flames spreading to the next wagon and then the next. The pitiful little compound became an inferno as white canvas blazed skyward.

  The Indians, circling the wagons, broke through to the inside, tomahawks and knives slashing. They leaped from their ponies, crying shrilly as they moved among the wagoneers.

  It did not take long. Soon only one white man was left, standing on top of the remains of a barrel, fighting without even any ammunition. He was taller than his attackers, brawny arms and shoulders glistening as he swung an empty rifle at the Indians.

  Something bounced off his forehead, slicing his skin, and blood poured into his eyes. He could barely see the men closing in on him. How many? Two dozen? Three? They could take him any time they wanted to. He had only seconds to live. Yet he felt no terror. He was too goddamn mad to be scared. With his powerful right arm, he swung the rifle butt again and broke open the face of a brave jumping close by him, knowing he had sent one more to death before he faced his own death. But why didn't they take him? What the hell were they waiting for?

  A roar from the pit of his soul rose above the din. "Take me, you sons of bitches! Go ahead and kill me!"

  The Apache fell back, looking to their chief, who still sat, regal, upon his horse, witnessing the unusual defiance of a doomed white man who ought to have been begging and was not. The braves had been ordered to take the white man alive, and the chief had not changed his mind. He barked a sharp command to a brave directly behind Derek, who felled him with a quick blow of his tomahawk.

  Julie stood transfixed. Her eyes saw two Indians drag Derek's body to a horse and sling him up and over. She watched as the others gathered the dead wagoneers' guns and ammunition. Her eyes saw the Apache ride away, out across the plain, into the desert, toward the mountains beyond. Derek was with them, lying across a horse.

  Her eyes saw everything, but her mind took in none of it.

  * * *

  On a ridge to the south, Arlo Vance crouched behind a rock and smiled. The sons of bitches had paid, as he had sworn they would. The Indians had guns now, and he had his revenge. A frown creased his forehead. The only thing he didn't like was their taking Arnhardt with them. But no matter. Arnhardt must've been wounded, and if he wasn't hurt bad enough to die, the Apache would kill him later.

  He saw the buzzards swooping down toward the bloody bodies. The settlers wouldn't have liked it out there, anyway, he reflected wryly. It was tough out west.

  Chapter 19

  For two days, the women remained in the cave, sometimes looking down at the swooping vultures with dull, glazed eyes. Julie was in shock, Elisa decided. Even the grating crying of the baby couldn't wake her from her stupor. When it became obvious that Julie was unreachable, there was nothing for Elisa to do but tend Darrell as best she could. She complained endlessly, but Julie didn't hear. She was blessedly removed, in another world, far, far away.

  On the morning of the third day, as the sun rose in a fiery blaze, Elisa said, "I'm not staying here any longer, do you hear? I'm getting out of here." Her hair hung listlessly about her dirt-streaked face. She was exhausted. And she could no longer stand Julie's eerie, silent staring at the decomposing bodies below. Even the vultures had gone. "If the Indians were coming back, they'd have been here by now. Fort Bowie is north, and that's where I'm heading, no matter how long it takes me. If you want to stay here, it's up to you." She looked down at the baby, who was, thank God, sleeping for the moment. She supposed she would have to take him. Something was tickling her mind, something she could not quite put her finger on, but it had to do with the baby, she was sure. She would figure it out later.

  Julie didn't answer. How could she even hear Elisa when she was on Derek's ship, moored off the coast of Bermuda?

  Shaking her head, Elisa set about gathering what supplies remained. The baby whimpered, and she railed, "Damn you, shut up! I've enough misery heaped on me without your whining!"

  Hurt, frightened, hungry, the baby began to howl. Elisa slapped him. "If you don't shut up, I'm going to wring your goddamn neck, you little brat!"

  Julie turned to look at the baby. "Don't hit him," she commanded coldly, ominously. "Don't hit him again."

  "Then you tend him," Elisa cried, picking him up and thrusting him roughly into her arms. "Keep him quiet, and let's get moving. If we must die, at least we'll die moving."

  She started down the rocky incline, and Julie stumbled along behind, clutching the baby. He snuggled his little body close against her bosom, feeling better.

  Elisa remembered the direction in which Lonnie Bruce had been told to ride, decided that was north, and began trudging that way. Julie walked behind, allowing her to lead their way.

  When the shadows of night spread across the flat, vast plains, the pitiful trio was hardly out of sight of the wagon train massacre. There were no mountains, no shelter, and they lay down on the rock and sand floor and slept in exhaustion, the cold desert winds whipping across them.

  The next morning, Elisa chewed a piece of hardtack till it was mushy, then forced the baby to eat it. He promptly spat it up, and she cried, "We don't have food to waste, you little bastard!"

  "Don't you call him that!" Julie said quietly. "I'll kill you if you hurt him."

  Elisa stared at the woman threatening her and felt chilled. Was Julie insane? Her first impulse was to leave both her and the baby there, but if they did encounter Indians, she might use them in some way. And she didn't want to be alone in the desert, so she would keep them with her.

  Julie drank water, but she couldn't eat. Food had no appeal. She was in the bottom of a deep, deep pit, with walls of sand that collapsed upon her each time she tried to climb out. It was easier just to stay in the pit, allowing the tiny grains to slowly cover her, bit by bit. At some point, she supposed, she would disappear.

  "Drink some water and let's go." Elisa got up when Julie had finished drinking, and began to plod along, shoulders already hunched against the
merciless sun.

  That scorching day bled into cold night, and the next day was horribly hot. It was mid-morning on the third day when Elisa fell to her knees and sobbed, "I can't go on. I can't. We're going to die here." Her fingers opened and closed in the tiny rocks as though grasping for strength and finding none.

  Julie stared down at her in confusion. The warm buzzing that had been filling her for the past several days had become a hot, giant roaring. She could not see, could not speak. It was becoming difficult to understand anything at all. Who was this woman?

  She continued to watch the woman beating her fists against the ground, and after a while, she laid the baby down beside her. Maybe he would like to wriggle and kick, too. But, no, he just lay there, opening his eyes against the glaring sun, then squeezing them shut and moaning.

  Shading her own eyes against the glare, Julie gazed toward the ridge in the distance. They had wanted to reach it by sundown, but they weren't going to if that woman didn't get up again. She could not understand why they were going to the ridge, anyway.

  With parched, painful lips grinning, Julie waved at a man who was waving wildly at her. He was on a big horse, and he was wearing blue, a blue uniform. She watched quietly as other soldiers appeared on the ridge and then began to ride down after him. One of the men carried a flag that snapped smartly in the wind. There were two dozen men riding hard, fast, headed straight toward them.

  The soldiers descended the reach and kicked their horses into a full gallop, their shouts of triumph splitting the air across the plains. Elisa struggled slowly to her knees, eyes wide. As realization swept over her, hope lifted her to her feet and raised her exhausted arms above her head. The cavalry! Dear God, the United States Cavalry!

  "Thank God!" Elisa cried as the big burly man with the stripes on his shoulder brought his men to a halt, then dismounted. "I thought we were done for," she called to him in a quavering voice.