“That’s all right, Miss Amy,” Swift cut in when she started to explain. “Rules are rules.”
Amy knew Swift had no idea what a spelling bee entailed, and it was on the tip of her tongue to insist he sit this one out. But then it occurred to her that this might be the answer she had been praying for. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to spare Swift. But, if he insisted . . .
“All right, class,” she conceded. “Let’s pick captains.”
It immediately became apparent how the wind was going to blow. Swift was the last person to be chosen as a team member and only then because he was the last choice Jeremiah had. Swift went to stand on Jeremiah’s side of the room, his tall frame looming over the little girl in pigtails beside him. He looked ready for anything, his body slightly tensed. He truly didn’t have an inkling of what the competition was going to entail. In his experience contests were won by strength of arm, agility, speed and wit. Unfortunately Swift’s wit hadn’t been honed for this particular type of jousting.
“The questions should be easy for Mr. Lopez,” Jeremiah suggested. “Or it won’t be fair.”
Swift’s face tightened. Amy knew he had never had anyone make concessions for him and that having a child do so stung his pride. She already hated herself for having allowed things to go this far. Swift would be overwhelmed by even the simplest word, and she had let him go up there, like a lamb to slaughter.
The spelling bee began. Swift’s expression altered when Amy presented the first word. Indigo’s team went first, Indigo the lead speller. She zipped through the word dangerous. Amy turned toward Jeremiah’s side of the room, her gaze drawn to Swift. He looked back at her, his dark face solemn, his mouth drawn. The expression in his eyes could only be described as wounded. And perhaps accusing. Understanding had dawned.
To his credit Swift remained standing and faced the humiliation that was sure to come—like the warrior he was. When his turn finally came and Amy had to ask him to spell a word, she felt like the enemy about to destroy him. He raised his head, pride shining in his eyes, and met her gaze. Searching her mind for a word, any word, that he had the remotest chance of spelling, Amy seized upon his name, which he had been printing each evening on his homework papers.
“Swift,” she said shakily.
One of the children laughed. Amy’s cheeks felt as though they were on fire. She shot a glare in the direction of the sound. “That’s a perfectly fair word, Beth. It means fast and fleet of foot.”
Swift swallowed and stood a little taller. His eyes clung to Amy’s. “S-u-i-f-t,” he recited quickly.
Amy’s heart felt as though it dropped to her knees when a few of the children began whooping with laughter. “He can’t even spell his own name,” one of the boys cried.
“Soo-ift!” another inserted, dragging out the syllables.
A little girl leaped to Swift’s defense, saying, “He came close. He just got his u and w mixed up.”
“This isn’t fair,” Jeremiah grumbled. “Our team’s gonna lose just because we have one stupid player. What’s he doin’ in school, anyways! If he was gonna learn to read, my pa says he should’ve done it years ago.”
Before Amy could react, Swift shoved away from the wall. For a frozen instant, their gazes locked. And in that instant she knew Swift was hurt far more by her betrayal than he was by the ridicule. He stood there a moment; then, without a word, he left the schoolroom, closing the door very softly as he went out. Amy held herself rigid, hands clenched around the edges of her lesson book, one thought passing repeatedly through her mind. She had won, but at what cost?
The children’s laughter amplified in her ears. On the one hand, Amy understood how funny Swift must seem to them, a tall, dangerous-looking man hunched over in an undersize desk, his big hands struggling to wield a pencil. But, just the same, their laughter was inexcusable.
“Enough!” she cried.
Silence blanketed the room. Indigo pushed away from the wall, her large blue eyes blazing. Stepping to her desk, she picked up her lesson books. Turning back to Amy, she said, “That’s the meanest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. The very meanest.” And with that she fled the schoolhouse, slamming the door so hard the walls reverberated.
Numb, Amy called a halt to the spelling bee and dismissed school early, which once again earned her a word from Jeremiah. “My pa says we’ve been let out early so much since Mr. Lopez came we might as well not bother coming. He says the school committee’s going to hire a new teacher if it keeps up.”
Amy stood rooted, watching all the children leave. Maybe Wolf’s Landing should hire a new teacher, someone who wouldn’t let personal feelings interfere with her dedication.
“Aunt Amy?”
Chase’s husky voice jerked Amy back to the moment. She turned, feeling strangely unattached to reality, and focused on Chase’s handsome features. His blue eyes searched hers.
“Indigo didn’t mean it,” he offered.
Amy took an uncertain step toward her desk. “I’m afraid she did, and I can’t really blame her. It was cruel of me to let him go up there.”
“He’s been just as cruel to you.”
Taken aback, Amy glanced over her shoulder. Until that moment, she had seen Chase as a child. Now, looking into his eyes, she realized the little boy she had entertained with stories so long ago had become a young man.
A flush crept up Chase’s neck, and he shrugged. “I know he doesn’t mean to be cruel, that to him it’s just—” He averted his gaze. “Indigo’s too young to know about stuff like that, so she hasn’t paid any mind to what’s been going on. I know Uncle Swift’s been making things pretty miserable for you.”
Tears nearly blinded Amy. “Thank you for that, Chase,” she said tightly.
He shrugged again, clearly uncomfortable wearing the cloak of manhood, even for these few moments. “Ma hasn’t ever said what happened to you exactly, but I’ve heard whispers when she and my father think I’m asleep.” He licked his lips. “I know that you’ve been feeling like we all stopped caring. I just—” He blinked and stepped toward her. “I love you, Aunt Amy.”
The next instant Amy found herself vised in Chase’s strong arms, her feet skimming the floor as he hugged her. Curling an arm around his neck, she returned the embrace, wavering between a smile and tears. It was tempting to cling to him, to weep and pour out all her troubles, but Amy couldn’t allow herself to do that. Hunter had made it clear that his loyalties lay with Swift. She couldn’t drive a wedge between Hunter and his son.
“I love you, too, Chase,” she whispered. “I appreciate your understanding. But warranted or no, I did a great wrong to your uncle Swift just now. And somehow I have to undo it.”
“I know.” He tightened his arms around her for one final hug. “Sometimes my father’s ways make things hard. I’m glad you’re my aunt, even though you aren’t truly, by blood. But it doesn’t seem fair that Uncle Swift is my uncle when he isn’t. Not when it makes us choose between you. I just wanted you to know I’m not mad at you. And that Indigo’s just too young to understand. I’ll go find her and talk to her. And I think once Uncle Swift thinks it over, he’ll stop being mad, too.”
Amy squeezed her eyes closed. She knew Swift wasn’t angry; he was hurt. “I’ll speak with him.”
“Would you like me to go with you?”
Amy pulled away, scrubbing tears from her cheeks and sniffing. “No, thank you. This is something I have to do alone.”
“You sure? I know you’re a little scared of him.”
Looking up into Chase’s worried blue eyes, it was all Amy could do not to grin. He truly believed she’d draw comfort from his presence while facing a man of Swift’s ilk? It would be like siccing a puppy on a wolf.
“Actually, Chase, your uncle Swift and I are old friends.”
It wasn’t a lie; she and Swift had been friends, once upon a time. The best of friends, as only children could be. Now he had grown into a man, she into a woman, and life’s realities f
ormed a wall between them. Wall or no, though, the memories still existed between them. Amy knew Swift had trusted her when he joined the spelling bee competition. She had betrayed him, not in what she had done or said, but by what she hadn’t.
Chapter 9
AMY FOUND SWIFT AT THE FAR END OF TOWN, sitting beneath a madrona tree, back pressed to the red trunk, one leg extended, his muscular arms draped over an upraised knee. Seeing him surrounded by the woods, with the wind tossing his black hair, his gaze fastened on some distant place she couldn’t see, she was transported back in time. For an instant, brief though it was, she glimpsed the boy she had once loved so dearly, in the regal lift of his head, the wisdom in his eyes, the solemn pensiveness of his expression. Swift Antelope, painfully proud, sometimes insufferably arrogant, as he had been raised to be, a blooded warrior, a hunter, a horseman without equal. And she had allowed him to be ridiculed by children.
For him to have lowered himself to the status of a student, to have sat hour after hour letting a squaw teach him anything, had been a great concession. In retrospect, she could hardly believe he had done it. She could have saved him this. There was plenty of time after school to tutor him privately. Instead she had forced him to publicly admit to his own ignorance, a thing most white men wouldn’t have done. The fact that Swift had, and that he had done it mainly for her, made her feel ashamed—deeply, horribly ashamed.
She approached him slowly, seeing a vulnerability in him that she hadn’t looked for until now. He couldn’t go live in Jacksonville with strange whites and attend school any more easily than she could take up quarters in the saloon and support herself the way May Belle, the local pleasure dove, did.
Her shoes crunched on small twigs and dried autumn leaves as she drew near him. She knew he was aware of her presence, but he didn’t betray that by so much as a flicker of his eyelid. “Swift?”
He kept his gaze locked straight ahead. Swallowing her own pride and a great deal of uneasiness, Amy sat down beside him. The wind funneled leaves around them, a dizzying cone of burnished orange and yellow, beautiful yet somehow depressing, significant to her because autumn was the death of spring’s bounty, and she felt that she was fast approaching the autumn of her life, childhood and its beauty far behind her.
For a long while, they sat in silence. Amy wasn’t certain what to say, and when she at last found the courage to speak, her words seemed pitifully inadequate. “I’m so sorry, Swift.”
He finally stirred but didn’t look at her. “I know.”
Pain cut through Amy. He could have said anything but that. She started to reply that she hadn’t meant to hurt him, but that wasn’t entirely true, and if there was one thing she and Swift had always shared, it had been honesty. “It was so uncomfortable having you in the classroom. I wanted to get rid of you.”
“You have. I won’t come back.”
She bit her lip until tears filled her eyes, but the new pain in no way took the edge off the other inside her. “Swift, I could tutor you privately, after school.”
“It’s no use, Amy.” He sighed, the sound so weary and defeated that she ached. “Jeremiah’s right. I’m too stupid to learn. You’ve no idea how hard I worked just to make the right lines on paper. I’ll never get them memorized, so I can spell any word I want. I realized that today. I’m lucky I’ve learned to speak English as well as I have. Even that didn’t come easy. I had to practice constantly while I was out riding fence lines.”
“You aren’t stupid!” she cried. “And you wouldn’t think you were if I’d given you a halfway fair chance.”
He still refused to look at her. Studying his profile, Amy realized she wasn’t the only one who felt ashamed. What had she done to him? Since his arrival in Wolf’s Landing, she had been so preoccupied with her own concerns and feelings that she had forgotten Swift had feelings as well, that she might have as much power to hurt him as he had to hurt her.
“Suvate, it is finished,” he said softly. His dark eyes trailed over the leaf-swept clearing. After a moment he swallowed and added, “Many great men before me have had the wisdom to say those words. Even Quanah finally said them.”
“Quanah?”
“He fought the great fight for the People. Defeat came for him when Mackenzie slaughtered our horses. I rode with him on Adobe Walls. I know he would have died, rather than surrender, but sometimes dying won’t come. Winter always does. The babies began to cry with hunger. Quanah surrendered so they might eat.” A bitter smile twisted his mouth. “They didn’t defeat him with war, but by leaving him no way to feed his people. One of the greatest warriors of all time, and it was the wails of children that made him lay down his weapons. It’s funny, isn’t it?” He tipped his head, as if he were listening for something, tasting the air. “And I’m defeated by lines on paper. I don’t know why I came here, Amy. The world I belonged in is gone.”
“No.” Her voice came out in a raw whisper.
He smiled, but his eyes didn’t warm with the gesture. In fact, Amy had never seen anyone’s eyes look so empty. He studied her for a moment, as if he were looking at a memory, then glanced away.
Amy’s heart wrenched. “Swift, you have to at least give it another try. You can’t just give up.”
His nostrils flared. “I tried, and I failed.”
With a sinking sensation, she realized he would be just as stubborn about quitting as he had always been about everything else. Once he got something in his head, swaying him from his course was nigh unto impossible. She knew what she had to do . . . if she wanted him to stay. The question was, did she?
For a moment, fear held Amy paralyzed. Until today she had wanted him to leave, prayed for him to. Her reasons for that hadn’t changed. This man had the power to rip her safe world apart, then to rebuild it under his iron rule, to suit his fancy. If he remained here, he would do just that. It was as inevitable as rain during a cloudburst. What no one knew was that eight years ago she had fled a living nightmare, and she had sworn never again to allow anyone dominion over her. Was she going to let the emptiness in Swift’s eyes make her forget that?
Hopelessness filled Amy, for she knew that question had already been answered long ago, a lifetime ago, when a gentle young man had rocked a sobbing twelve-year-old girl in his arms.
Clenching her hands into fists, she leaned toward him. “Don’t be an ass, Swift. You started something, and you should finish it. You’re the last man on earth I ever thought I’d see feeling sorry for himself.”
His gaze flew to hers, and she knew she had chosen the right tactic—the only tactic. She didn’t allow herself to think about the trouble she might be inviting. The important thing now was that she had done him a terrible injustice, and she desperately wanted a second chance to put it right.
“I never realized you had it in you to be such a quitter.”
A glint crept into his eyes.
She gave a little laugh. “I can’t believe you’ve had me quaking in my shoes, terrified of you. Don’t flatter yourself, comparing your situation to Quanah’s. He had babies crying. The only crier you’ve got to worry about is yourself. Look at you, beaten after one measly week, giving up because you’ve failed to learn in five days what it takes other people years to conquer.”
The glint in his eyes had turned to fire. “I’m no quitter. And you know it.”
“Really? Look at you, moping because a few children laughed at you. You don’t belong in this world? Hog spittle! What’re you going to do, Swift? Go back to Texas and starve on a reservation, daydreaming about the good old days? Or maybe go back to the comancheros? You supposedly came here for a new start. Today went badly, and I apologized for that. I even offered to tutor you privately, and you turned that down. That’s a quitter in my books.”
“Be careful what you say, Amy.”
She sprang to her feet. “Oh, yes, intimidate me and prove what a big, brave man you are. A physical battle with me would be easy. Learning to read isn’t. It takes courage to face a boo
k day after day. Your problem isn’t between your ears, it’s in that backbone of yours.”
He rose slowly to his feet. “Amy, I’m warning you, I’m not in the right frame of mind for this. You can accuse me of a lot of things, and I’ll take it, but don’t call me a coward.”
“Coward, quitter, it’s all the same.” She met his gaze. “I’ll be at my house tomorrow at three o’clock, lesson book ready. If you’re not a quitter, be there.”
The next afternoon Amy paced the floor of her sitting room, glancing repeatedly at the clock. Five minutes after three. Swift wasn’t going to show up. She sighed and sank onto her dark blue velvet settee. The world I belonged in is gone. If she couldn’t convince Swift to give book learning one more try, those words were going to follow her to the grave.
She would have felt bad about discouraging anyone who had come to her for instruction, but she felt doubly bad about failing Swift. Whether she liked to admit it or not, he had been her salvation once, the only person who had cared enough to spend endless hours forcing his company upon her, giving her hope where she had none, pride that had been stripped from her, and renewed self-confidence. And he had given her all those things with unfailing gentleness and an understanding far beyond his years.
In return, when he had fled his destroyed world in Texas and come to Wolf’s Landing seeking old friends, she had scorned him, spurned him, and then crowned everything by humiliating him beyond repair. No matter what he had become these past fifteen years, no matter what he had done, he deserved better than that, especially from her.
Comanche Heart Page 14
