Apache Flame

by Madeline Baker

  “Rides the Buffalo, go for the shaman,” Red said. He looked up at Fights the Wind. “Help me carry him inside, will ya?”

  With a nod, Fights the Wind dismounted and the two men carried Mitch inside and laid him on a pile of furs.

  Alisha followed close behind. It frightened her, how pale Mitch was, how still. His breathing was shallow, labored.

  Red and Fights the Wind spoke a few moments, then Fights the Wind turned to leave the lodge.

  Alisha laid her hand on the warrior’s arm. “Fights the Wind, thank you.”

  Fights the Wind shrugged. “I owed him a life.”

  Alisha nodded, remembering that Mitch had saved the life of Fights the Wind when they fought the Comanche.

  Alisha knelt beside Mitch and took his hand in hers. “Mitch? Mitchy, can you hear me? Mitch!”

  Red placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be all right.”

  She nodded, wanting to believe him. But how could she, when he looked so pale? When he lay so still? A fine sheen of sweat covered his brow.

  It seemed like hours before Red Shield entered the lodge. Red and his wife took Rides the Buffalo and their three children outside, but Alisha refused to budge from Mitch’s side. She sat there, clinging to his hand, while the shaman examined the ugly wound in Mitch’s side. White Robe sat near the fire pit, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

  Alisha turned aside, fighting the urge to vomit, as Red Shield dug the bullet from Mitch’s side, cleansed the wound, sprinkled it with healing herbs, then bound it in a length of clean cloth.

  When the medicine man had done all he could, he left Alisha some yarrow root for the pain, spoke briefly to White Robe, then left the lodge.

  Alisha stayed at Mitch’s side all that day, only vaguely aware of Mountain Sage moving about the lodge as she cared for her children.

  White Robe lingered close by, as did Rides the Buffalo, all of them waiting. Waiting.

  * * * * *

  He writhed in pain. Hot, burning pain that throbbed through his right side, burning, like all the fires of an unforgiving hell. He could see the flames all around him, shimmering fingers of fire that rose higher and higher, hotter and hotter, threatening to consume him.

  He cried out, begging for a drink. One drink of cool water to put out the fire.

  And an angel appeared beside him. An angel with a halo of honey gold hair and brown eyes filled with worry and compassion. And love. So much love.

  “Alisha…”

  “I’m here.”

  She offered him a cup of water and he drank and drank, then fell back on the robes, exhausted.

  When next he woke, it was to quiet darkness. Alisha slept beside him, her head resting near his shoulder.

  Turning his head, he brushed a kiss across her brow.

  She woke instantly. “Mitch?”

  “Shh.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  The wry tone of his voice made her smile. “I’ve been so worried.”

  He glanced around the lodge. “How did I get here?”

  “Fights the Wind brought you.”

  Mitch grunted softly. The last thing he remembered was someone hitting him across the back.

  “Fights the Wind said they’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “Leaving? For where?”

  “They’re going across the border to Mexico.”

  Mitch grunted softly. His mother had told him the Apache often sought refuge in the Sierra Madre Mountains of Mexico. It was a favorite hideout for Geronimo and his band.

  Alisha took a deep breath. “Are we going with them?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I just want to be with you.” She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, worried by the fever burning through him. “You should get some sleep.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Later. You rest now.”

  “Could you get me a drink?”

  “Sure.” She filled a cup and held it for him. He drank greedily, emptied the cup, and asked for more. Nothing had ever tasted better.

  “Rest now,” she said. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

  * * * * *

  He felt a little better when he woke again. His fever had gone down. The pain in his side had lessened, though not much. He started to sit up, but the movement sent pain splintering through his side and he fell back, cussing. From outside, he could hear the sounds of the camp being dismantled as the Apache prepared to move.

  Damn! He had to get up, had to find Alisha and decide if they were going to the Sierra Madre with the Apaches.

  Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself into a sitting position as Alisha entered the lodge.

  “Here, now!” she scolded. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Getting up.”

  Hurrying toward him, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down. “Oh, no, you ‘re not. You’re not getting up for at least a week.”

  “A week! I can’t lay here for a week.”

  “Oh, yes, you can.” She placed a hand on his brow. “You’ve still got a fever.”

  “Dammit, ‘Lisha, if we’re leaving, I’ve got to get ready.”

  “We’re not leaving.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “You’re in no condition to be riding a horse, or go bumping around on a travois. Besides, I don’t think I want to go to Mexico. Do you mind?”

  “No. But I’m not sure it’s safe for us to stay here alone, either.”

  “We won’t be alone. Red is staying, too.”

  “Is that right?”

  “He said he needs to go see his wife in St. Louis, so he’s sending Mountain Sage and their children to Mexico with Fights the Wind, and he’ll meet them there in the spring. Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  “You need to eat. Mountain Sage made some rabbit stew.”

  Mitch shook his head. “Just get me something to drink, will ya?”

  He drained the cup she brought him, then grimaced.

  “What is it?”

  “I need to go outside.”

  “What? Oh.” She glanced around the sparsely furnished lodge. “You need a bedpan.”

  * * * * *

  By late afternoon, the Apaches were gone. Alisha stood outside Red Clements’ lodge, staring at the emptiness that surrounded her. Nothing remained but patches of blackened ground where lodge fires had burned. It was quiet, so quiet. Red had gone hunting. White Robe had gone looking for wild vegetables. Mitch was sleeping.

  She glanced at Rides the Buffalo, who was sitting in the shade. Thinking this might be a good time to get to know her son better, she went to sit beside him.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  Rides the Buffalo shrugged. “I am all right. Why did we not go to Mexico with Fights the Wind and the others?”

  “Because your father is badly hurt.”

  “Will we go with them when he is better?”

  “No.”

  “Will we stay here?”

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “We going home. To my home,” she added quickly. “In Canyon City.”

  Rides the Buffalo frowned. “Where is this place, Canyon City?”

  “Not too far.”

  “What tribe lives there?”

  “No tribe,” Alisha said, smiling.

  “There are no Apache there?”

  “No.”

  “It is the village of the white eyes then?”

  Alisha nodded.

  “They will not want me there.”

  “Maybe not at first. But only because they don’t know you. Your grandmother used to live there, long ago.”

  “She ran away.”

  “Yes,” Alisha said. “But she didn’t run away from the town. She ran away from her husband.”

  “Do we have to stay there?”

  “I don’t know. As soon as your father can travel, we’ll go home. And then we’ll see.�
� Alisha smiled cheerfully. “You might like it, you know. I’ll teach you how to read and write.”

  “What is read and write?”

  Alisha picked up a stick. She wrote Rides the Buffalo’s name in the dirt, and then pointed at it. “That’s your name.” She pointed to each letter and told him what it was. “Where I come from, people can read those letters, those words, and know what it says. We have books which are filled with words. Some of the books tell stories, called fairy tales. They’re like the stories White Robe tells you about Coyote.”

  “Write something else,” Rides the Buffalo urged. “Write my father’s name.”

  With a smile, Alisha printed Mitch’s name, and then drew a heart around it.

  Rides the Buffalo looked at her strangely. “What is that?”

  “It’s a heart,” Alisha said, giggling. “When you draw a heart around someone’s name, it means you love them.” She looked at her son, and then drew a heart around his name, as well.

  Rides the Buffalo smiled at her. “I think I would like to know how to read and write.” He took the stick from her hand and drew the letter R in the dirt. The lines were rough and wiggly, but it was definitely an R. He looked up at her, obviously waiting for her approval.

  “That’s very good,” she exclaimed softly, and praised him lavishly as he spent the next half hour writing his name.

  “What is this?”

  Alisha and Rides the Buffalo looked up at White Robe’s approach.

  “I am learning how to read and write,” Rides the Buffalo said proudly. He pointed at his name. “I wrote that.”

  “I see.” White Robe looked at Alisha. “Perhaps you will teach me, too.”

  * * * * *

  Six days passed before Mitch felt strong enough to travel, but Alisha insisted they wait another week. She said it was to give Rides the Buffalo injuries more time to heal, but Mitch knew it was on his account.

  On the day they were to leave, Mitch and Rides the Buffalo sat in the shade while Alisha and Red packed their belongings, and White Robe dismantled the lodge.

  Mitch looked at his son and grinned. “There are advantages to being laid up,” he remarked, though it galled him to have to sit there.

  “Laid up?” Rides the Buffalo asked curiously.

  Mitch pointed at his son’s broken arm. “Injured.”

  Rides the Buffalo nodded.

  “Alisha tells me she’s teaching you to read and write.”

  “Yes,” he said proudly. “I can write my name.”

  “Your name,” Mitch remarked. “What would you think about having a white name?”

  “White name?” Rides the Buffalo shook his head. “Why?”

  “Well, you do have white blood in you, too, you know. When we get back to town, you might be more comfortable if you had a white name. And you’ll be going to school soon. It might be easier if you had a name that sounded like everyone else’s.”

  “What name would I have?”

  “I don’t know. We’d have to talk it over with your mother and your grandmother.”

  “Do you have a white name?”

  “Yes, it’s Mitch Garret.”

  “Mitch Garret.” He spoke the words slowly. “What does it mean? How did you get it?”

  “Well, Mitch was my grandfather’s name. And Garret was my father’s name.”

  Rides the Buffalo thought about it a moment, and then nodded. “Will my name be Garret?”

  “Well, your last name will be Garret.”

  “Last name?”

  “White people have two names, a first name and a last name. Mitch is my first name.”

  Rides the Buffalo looked confused. “Can I wear your name?”

  “If you like.”

  “Is White Robe going with us to the white man’s city?”

  “Yes.” When Mitch had first mentioned it to his mother, she had said she would never go back to Canyon Creek, but she had quickly relented. Mitch and Rides the Buffalo were the only family she had left.

  “Wal, we’re jest about done here,” Red said. “You two ready?”

  Mitch looked at his son. “I’m ready. How about you?”

  “I am ready.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  * * * * *

  The journey, which should have only taken four days at most, took seven. Red had suggested a travois for Mitch, but Mitch had refused. He was tired of being treated like an invalid, tired of the weakness that plagued him, the ache in his side.

  They made quite a little caravan, with Clements riding at the head, followed by White Robe and Rides the Buffalo, with Mitch and Alisha bringing up the rear.

  They stopped frequently so Mitch and Rides the Buffalo could rest. Alisha hovered over Mitch, her expression perpetually worried.

  Rides the Buffalo was excited by the journey. Mitch had expected him to be reluctant, maybe even frightened, but his son seemed to be looking forward to seeing the white man’s world. He was eager to learn to read and write.

  Every evening after dinner he asked Alisha to teach him how to read and write a new word. At the end of the fifth day, he could read and write all their names.

  They rode into Canyon Creek at midmorning. Mitch took a back trail to the house, avoiding a trip through the center of town.

  Rides the Buffalo slid from the back of his horse, his eyes wide as he looked at Mitch. “Is this your lodge?”

  Mitch nodded.

  “It is very big.”

  “Yeah, it is that.” Lifting his leg over his horse’s neck, Mitch slid to the ground. He smiled at Alisha. “I’d like to carry you over the threshold, but I’m afraid I can’t quite manage it.”

  She laughed softly. “That’s okay. We aren’t legally married, you know.”

  Mitch grunted softly. “I guess you’re right. We’ll have to do something about that.”

  “We gonna stand here jawin’ all day,” Clements muttered, “or go inside?”

  “We’re going in, old man.”

  “Old! Who you callin’ old?”

  Mitch looked at his mother. “You coming, Ma?”

  White Robe nodded slowly. She stared at the house for several moments before dismounting. Her steps were heavy as she climbed the stairs, her eyes sad, making him wonder if it had been a mistake for him to bring her back here.

  As soon as they were inside, Alisha drew back the drapes and opened all the windows, then she stood in the middle of the parlor and looked around.

  “Well,” Mitch said, “what do you think?”

  “I think it needs a coat of white paint to brighten it up.”

  “Yeah.” Mitch grinned. “That’s what my mother always said, right, Ma?”

  White Robe nodded. “Living in this house was like living in a cave. Always dark.”

  “Well,” Alisha said briskly, “if you and Mitch have no objections, I think we’ll have to do some serious redecorating.”

  “Feel free to make any changes you want,” Mitch said, glancing from Alisha to his mother. “I want the two of you to be happy here.”

  Alisha winked at White Robe. “It might cost a lot of money.”

  “That’s okay,” Mitch said. “We’ve got a lot of money.” He sank down on the sofa. “Ma, why don’t you show Rides the Buffalo around. Let him pick out a room for himself. Red, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’ve a mind to.”

  “Obliged,” Clements said. He said down in the big leather chair that had been Con Garret’s favorite. “I reckon I’ll be movin’ on in the mornin’. I’m kinda anxious to get back east.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any food in the house,” Alisha remarked. “I think I’ll go into town and stock up.”

  Mitch nodded. “Good idea.”

  “I think I’ll go along with ya,” Red said. “Send Dorothy a wire to let her know I’m on my way.”

  Alisha glanced down at her tunic. “I can’t go into town like this.”

  Mitch grunted softly. “There’s a trunk full of my ma’s clot
hes up in the attic. My old man wouldn’t let her take anything with her when she left.” He looked over at Red. “There’s a buggy out back.”

  “I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Alisha told Red.

  With a nod, Clements went outside to hitch his horse to the buggy.

  Eager to get out of her worn and stained tunic, Alisha ran up the stairs. The attic was dark and musty. The trunk was near the door. She blew the dust off the top, then opened the lid.

  She pulled out several dresses, none of which suited her. She settled on a white shirtwaist with a froth of lace at the throat, and a dark blue skirt. She found some undergarments near the bottom, along with a comb and a brush and a package of pins. She also found some stockings and several pairs of shoes and boots. Gathering everything together, she went downstairs.

  There were several bedrooms on the second floor. She went into one, shut the door, and changed her clothes. The shoes were a little too big, but they would do.

  Taking up the brush, she ran it through her hair until all the tangles were gone, then she pinned it in a neat coil at her nape.

  She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked much the same as always, she thought, except for her sun-tanned skin.

  She met White Robe and Rides the Buffalo in the hallway when she left the bedroom.

  Alisha smiled at her son. “So, how do you like the house?”

  “It is very big. My…” He frowned, searching for the right word. “Bedroom is bigger than our wickiup. It has a bed that is softer than a buffalo robe. And a large kettle to wash in.”

  Alisha laughed as she moved down the hallway toward the stairs. “That’s a bathtub.” She glanced over her shoulder at White Robe. “I’m going into town. Can I get you anything?”

  White Robe shook her head. “No.”

  “I hope you don’t mind my wearing your clothes.”

  “No. You are welcome to them.”

  Alisha paused at the head of the stairs. “Are you coming down?”

  “No. I think I will go up and see if I can find a change of clothes.” White Robe looked at Rides the Buffalo. “And I think it is time this one had a bath.”

  “I think so, too,” Alisha said. She grinned at her son. “I’ll see you both later.”

  Turning, she went down the stairs.

  Red was waiting for her. “You ready?”

  “Yes. Do you want anything from town, Mitch?”