He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Get some sleep, darlin’.”
“Mitch…”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
With a sigh, she snuggled against him and closed her eyes. He was right. There was nothing they could do tonight.
* * * * *
Mitch woke abruptly, wondering what had awakened him. Sitting up, he saw a large group of warriors gathered near the lodge of Fights the Wind.
He glanced at Alisha, sleeping soundly beside him. Being careful not to disturb her, he slipped out from under the buffalo robe and went to see what was going on.
A warrior he didn’t recognize stood in the middle of the group, speaking rapidly. The Apache warriors gathered around him nodded, exclaiming, “Ai, ai!”
Mitch moved around the circle until he found Fights the Wind. “What’s going on?”
“Many Horses just arrived. He has come from our brothers, the Jicarilla. They want us to join them to fight the Blue Coats.”
Mitch glanced at the faces of the men gathered nearby. It was easy to see they were anxious to fight, anxious to strike back at the Blue Coats for the unwarranted attack at Apache Pass.
He couldn’t blame them. “How soon will you be leaving?”
“As soon as our women can be ready to go. Will you join us?”
Mitch turned as Alisha came up beside him.
“Go?” she asked. “Go where?”
Mitch gestured at the Jicarilla warrior. “He’s come to ask for our help in fighting the soldiers.”
“Another fight?” Alisha asked anxiously. “When? Where? Not here?”
“No, not here.”
“Mitch, you’re not going with them?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“Thank God.”
“We will miss you,” Fights the Wind said. “You fight like one of us.”
It was, Mitch thought, the finest compliment he had ever received. He felt a keen sense of regret as he turned away from the warriors. He had come to love and respect these people and couldn’t help feeling that he was turning his back on them, that he owed it to them to stay and fight.
But then he looked down into Alisha’s face, saw the worry and the fear in her eyes, and knew he couldn’t ask her to stay. She wanted to go home, and he couldn’t blame her for that.
“Mitch?” She gazed up at him, her expression troubled. “You want to stay, don’t you? You want to fight with them.”
He nodded. He had never lied to her before; he wouldn’t start now.
“How can you, Mitch? The soldiers are your people as much as the Apache.”
“Are they?” He shook his head. During the fight in the rancheria, the soldiers had been the enemy, nothing more. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll take you home.”
She looked up at him for several minutes, and then shook her head. “No, we’ll stay.”
“‘Lisha…”
“I don’t want you feeling guilty later, and blaming me.”
“And I don’t want to risk having you or Rides the Buffalo get hurt.”
“We’re staying,” she said firmly. And with a toss of her head, she pushed her way through the warriors.
Frowning, Mitch watched Alisha make her way toward Fights the Wind’s wickiup.
“She is a wise woman,” Fights the Wind remarked.
“Yeah,” Mitch drawled. “Pretty, too.”
Fights the Wind slapped Mitch on the back. “Come, there is much to do.”
In a remarkably short time, the camp was dismantled and the people were ready to go.
Mitch rode near the back of the caravan. His mother rode beside him. Rides the Buffalo shared a horse with Alisha.
Fights the Wind had told him it was only a short distance to the Jicarilla encampment. They would be there by late afternoon.
Mitch glanced at his mother, wondering if it was a mistake to move her. She looked haggard and worn out. Frail. He knew she was grieving for Elk Chaser, but her silence bothered him. She was too quiet, too withdrawn. It was if she had lost the will to live. He had to make her realize that her life wasn’t over, that Rides the Buffalo still needed her, that being his grandmother was as important as being his mother.
“Mitch?”
He glanced over at Alisha. “Something wrong?”
“Where’s Red? I just realized I haven’t seen him since we got back.”
“He went to be with his family. I reckon we’ll see him soon enough.”
Alisha nodded. She had grown quite fond of the man.
* * * * *
They reached the Jicarilla stronghold just before dusk. It was a larger village than the one in Apache Pass. An air of anticipation hung over the camp. She felt it as soon as they entered encampment. Everywhere she looked, she saw preparations for war. The men all seemed to be working on their weapons—cleaning and repairing old ones, or fashioning new ones. Old men sat in the sun, telling tales of battles past to wide-eyed youngsters. Boys not yet old enough to fight stood in small groups, bragging about their fathers, talking excitedly of the battle to come, of the time when they would be old enough to fight the Blue Coats. Women were preparing food and clothing. The shaman moved among the people, distributing hoddentin to the warriors.
Alisha saw Red Clements sitting in front of a lodge, cleaning a rifle. He looked up just then. Seeing her, he rose to his feet and walked briskly toward them.
“Wal, hell,” he drawled. “I never expected to see you here.”
“I never expected to be here,” Alisha replied with a smile.
Clements looked at Mitch and shook his head. “You crazy, bringing her here? We’re going to war.”
Swinging a leg over his horse’s neck, Mitch dismounted. “It was her idea.”
Clements looked at Alisha, his eyes thoughtful. “Is that so?’
Mitch slapped Clements on the shoulder. “She had some idea that I’d regret it if I ran out on…on my people.”
Red nodded slowly. “As wise as she is pretty,” he said.
Reaching up, Mitch lifted Alisha to the ground.
“I see you found the boy,” Clements remarked. “How ya doin’, son?”
Rides the Buffalo grinned. “I am well.”
Clements glanced at White Robe, then looked over at Mitch. “How’s yore ma doin’?” he asked quietly. “She don’t look so good.”
Mitch blew out a sigh. “She’s grieving for her husband. This business with Rides the Buffalo has got her down, too.”
“Wal, I reckon I kin understand that,” Clements replied. “But, hell, it ain’t like she’s gonna lose the kid forever. She’s his grandma, after all.”
“I know. She’ll come around,” Mitch said. And hoped it was true.
“The boy and yore women can stay in my lodge,” Red offered. “Course, you and me’ll have to bed down outside.”
“Thanks, Red.”
Reaching up, Mitch lifted Alisha from the back of the horse. He held her close a moment, then lifted Rides the Buffalo to the ground. He smiled at his son, then turned to help his mother dismount.
“Ashoge, ciye,” White Robe murmured.
With a sigh, Mitch folded his mother into his arms and held her close. “It’ll be all right, shi ma.”
Looking around, watching the warriors prepare for battle, Alisha wondered if anything would ever be all right again.
* * * * *
The battle, when it came, came quickly. Scouts rode into the village the following afternoon, advising that the army was less than an hour away. The news spread quickly through the village. The women hastily gathered their children to them. The men ran for their horses, then collected their weapons.
Alisha stood outside Red Clements’ lodge, along with White Robe and Rides the Buffalo, watching as Mitch and Red Clements got ready. Red Clements’ wife, Mountain Sage, sat nearby. She was a lovely woman, much younger than Alisha had imagined, with a round face and huge dark eyes. Her three children, a girl of about six and two boys which she gu
essed were about two and four, sat beside her. Mountain Sage’s expression was solemn as she handed Red a small pot of paint. He smiled at her, then dipped his finger in and began to apply it to his face.
Alisha watched with a sense of trepidation as Mitch spread a thin layer of black paint over the lower half of his face. It reminded her of a night when she had gone down to the river to meet him. She had been nine or ten at the time.
He hadn’t been there when she arrived. She walked along the riverbank, noticing the way the moonlight danced on the water, listening to the sounds around her. Mitchy had taught her to be aware of the creatures that lurked in the shadows, those who only came out in the dark.
She paused near their rock, gazing down at the river. It glistened like a twisting black ribbon as it snaked its way along. She held her breath as a deer picked its way down to the edge of the water on the opposite side of the bank. The animal tested the wind a moment, then lowered its head to drink. She stood, frozen, until the deer bounded away.
Deciding that Mitch wasn’t coming, she turned and started up the narrow path that led home.
She was about halfway up the hill when the most horrible creature she had ever seen jumped out at her from behind a tree. She had taken one look at its face, screamed, and ran for home.
“Alisha, wait! It’s me.”
She ran a few more steps; then, recognizing his voice, she turned. “Mitchy? You scared me half to death!” Hand pressed to her heart, she had stared at him, at the bold black slashes that covered his face. “What are you supposed to be?”
“A warrior!” he said proudly.
“What’s that stuff on your face supposed to do? Scare your enemy to death?”
It had scared her then, she thought. It scared her even more now. He hadn’t been in any danger when he’d been a boy; now he could be killed. Why hadn’t she insisted on going home? She could live with his guilt better than his death.
All too soon, the warriors were ready. They were going to ride out and engage the cavalry on the prairie rather than let the cavalry bring the battle to the camp.
There was a last flurry of activity as the women bid their men farewell.
Alisha blinked back her tears, stifled the urge to beg Mitch to stay with her, as he came to tell her goodbye.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he pulled her into his arms.
She nodded, knowing she would burst into tears if she tried to speak.
She clung to him tightly, then stepped aside as he hugged Rides the Buffalo and his mother. He kissed her one last time, and then he was riding away with the other warriors, leaving her feeling cold and empty and wondering if she would ever see him alive again.
* * * * *
Mitch rode between Red Clements and Spirit Walking, his heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. There hadn’t been time to be afraid back at Apache Pass, no time to think, no time to worry. The soldiers had attacked, and he had responded.
But now…thoughts of Alisha, of his mother, his son, crowded his mind. Never had he had more to live for, more to lose.
He rubbed his shoulder, which was still sore. He thought of Elk Chaser and the other Apaches who had been killed by the soldiers. He thought of his mother, who might have been killed, of the women who had been shot trying to protect their young, of the little boy he had seen clubbed to death, of the old woman who had been trampled beneath a cavalryman’s horse, of the old man who had been bayoneted while trying to protect his aged wife.
The need to avenge their deaths rose up within him. He looked at the warriors riding ahead of him, and he knew their anger, their pain, their need for vengeance. The spirits of all the Apaches who had been killed, who had died protecting their families, who had watered the earth with their blood, seemed to call to him, demanding they be avenged. He heard the voices of Elk Chaser, of Cheis, of Diyehii, felt his own spirit swell within him. The blood of warriors flowed in his veins. It tied him to the People, to the land. Though he hadn’t been raised as a warrior, he was one of them, accepted as such. He was suddenly ashamed of the white blood that flowed in his veins.
* * * * *
Alisha wandered through the camp, too nervous to sit still, too upset to eat, to think of anything but Mitch. Had the battle started? What would she do if he were killed? How could she live without him?
She studied the other women, noting that they, too, seemed to be filled with nervous energy. No doubt they were wondering and worrying, too. Some of them were tanning hides, others were drying meat, others were sewing, or sitting outside, nursing their babies. She wished she had something to occupy her hands, her time, something to take her mind off the fearful present, the uncertain future.
Finally, needing someone to talk to, she sought out White Robe. She found Mitch’s mother sitting in the sun, staring off into the distance. Rides the Buffalo lay beside her, his head in her lap, asleep.
“May I sit with you?” Alisha asked.
For a moment, White Robe didn’t acknowledge her and then, with a wave of her hand, she gestured for Alisha to sit down.
“Tell me about Mitch,” Alisha said as she sat down.
“I would think you would know him as well as anyone,” White Robe replied.
Alisha shrugged. “What was he like when he was Rides the Buffalo’s age?” She hadn’t known him then.
“Much like this one,” White Robe said, stroking Rides the Buffalo’s cheek. “Curious, always wanting to know why.”
“He’s still yours, you know,” Alisha said quietly. “All that’s changed is that you’ve taken your rightful place in his life. He still needs you. He still loves you. I only hope that some day he’ll love me as much.”
“Alisha.” White Robe studied her face a moment. “I remember you.”
“We never met.”
“No, we never did. But I knew who you were. Otter spoke of you often. I remember seeing you one day.”
“You do? When? I don’t remember.”
White Robe smiled faintly. “Of course you don’t. You were asleep.”
“Asleep! Where? When?”
“It was by the river. I went looking for Otter and found the two of you. He was sitting with his back against a rock. You were asleep beside him.” She glanced down at Rides the Buffalo and smiled. “You had your head in his lap. I don’t remember now why I had gone looking for my son. I only remember that he told me he couldn’t come with me because he didn’t want to wake you. You were the only friend he had.”
“I’m sorry we never met before,” Alisha said quietly. “It might have made all this so much easier. For everyone.”
“I have behaved badly. Please forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
White Robe placed her hand on Rides the Buffalo’s shoulder, a world of love and tenderness in that simple gesture.
“You’ve done a wonderful job raising him,” Alisha said. “No one…no one could have done better.”
“Ashoge, my daughter.”
Alisha drew a deep breath as she glanced into the distance, wondering where Mitch was, if the battle had started. She turned as she felt White Robe’s hand on her arm.
“The waiting is never easy,” White Robe said.
Alisha nodded, thinking how awful it must be for Mitch’s mother, not knowing for certain what had happened to Elk Chaser. She didn’t think she could bear it if Mitch didn’t come back, if she never knew how he was killed, or where his body lay.
“Mitchy…oh, Mitchy,” she whispered. “Please be careful.”
* * * * *
The noise. It pummeled him from all sides. The sound of gunfire. The shouts. The high-pitched scream of a dying horse. The gasps of the wounded. The sound of flesh striking flesh. The thunderous beat of his own heart.
Dust filled the air, so he saw everything through a dun-colored haze. Gun smoke stung his eyes, filled his nostrils, along with the cloying scent of blood.
His own blood, oozing from a bullet hole in his side.
It seemed the fighting had been going on forever. He had no idea who was winning. Did anyone ever really win?
The numbness was wearing off the wound in his side, to be replaced by a throbbing, burning pain. Blood soaked his shirt, his leggings.
He fired at another trooper, missed, and fired again. He was lining his sights on another soldier when everything went black.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“They come!”
The words were shouted through the village. Women, children, and men too old to fight hurried from their lodges, their faces anxious as they searched for their husbands, sons, and fathers among the returning war party.
Alisha stood beside White Robe, hardly daring to breathe as she searched for Mitch. Oh, Lord, where was he?
A high-pitched keening wail filled the air. It sent shivers down Alisha’s spine. Mitch, Mitch…
She glanced at White Robe. “Do you see him?”
White Robe shook her head. “No…”
So many wounded.
So many dead. Alisha stared at the blanket-wrapped bodies. Was he one of them?
She looked down as Rides the Buffalo slipped his hand into hers and gave it a squeeze. “There,” he said, pointing.
She looked at the travois behind Fights the Wind’s horse. Red Clements rode beside Fights the Wind. Mitch must be alive, she thought. They wouldn’t haul him on a travois if he wasn’t. With a cry, she ran across the sun-bleached ground.
“Mitch. Oh, Mitch.” His eyes were closed. His face was pale. A bloody cloth was wrapped around his middle.
Fights the Wind reined his horse to a halt before Red’s lodge. Mountain Sage embraced Red when he dismounted, then stood aside so he could hug his children.
White Robe and Rides the Buffalo had followed Alisha and now they stood on the opposite side of travois.
Apache Flame Page 24
