Apache Summer sb-3

by Heather Graham

  to his pinto and the animal obediently trotted over to him. Bracing

  Jamie's weight with his hand upon the pommel, he managed to somehow

  swing up with Jamie in his arms. Then he made a clucking sound and the

  animal took off at a smooth lope.

  At the ranch, Dolly, Hank and Jane were waiting with anxious concern.

  When Jori burst in with Jamie's half naked body, Jane gasped and turned

  white.

  "Don't you dare faint on me, young lady!" Dolly ordered her.

  "Bring him right to the sofa, Jori. Jane, you run upstairs and get

  blankets, lots of them. And you, Hank, I'm going to need a sewing kit

  for that wound.

  Some water and ~ome alcohol to clean him up, and maybe a little for the

  lieutenant to sip. My, that's a mean and nasty bash!" Hank was on his

  way out. Jane was still staring in horror. "Move!" Dolly commanded her.

  In a moment the young woman was back with blankets. Jon draped them

  around Jamie and rubbed his feet. Hank ~turned with water and a sewing

  kit, and Dolly began to clean the wound. A long gash ran into the left

  side of Jamie's temple.

  "It's amazing he's still breathing!" Dolly murmured. "He's Missouri

  tough," Jon told her.

  "He'll make it, you'll see."

  "I intend to do my best to see that he does," Dolly assured Jon. She

  looked at him anxiously.

  "What about Tess.9" Jon shook his head.

  "I don't know. I had' to get him back here before he died. I'm going

  back out to see what I can find." He liftext his hat to Dolly and left.

  At the door he paused and looked back.

  "Now, don't you let him die."

  "I'm just going to sew him up. And I'm going to pray." Jon hurried out.

  But when he returned to the river, he discovered that whoever had

  attacked Jamie and Tess had made an escape through the water. He would

  need daylight to track them. There was nothing he could do that night.

  But maybe there was. It was late, but saloons had a tendency to cater to

  the late crowd. Maybe he could find out more from casual conversation

  over a poker game than he could from a broken branch.

  He turned the pinto toward town.

  Jamie's d~s were occasionally dark and occasionally erotic, but always

  fevered.

  He fought giants with buffalo headdresses. Then the battle would fade

  away, the powder would dissipate, the roar of the guns would cease. He

  wasn't fighting Yankees anymore, he tried to tell himself in his dream

  world. He was a Yankee, dressed in blue. He was a specialist in Indian

  affairs, a linguist. And he knew Indians. He hadn't needed Jon Red

  Feather to tell him that the Apache didn't like scalping. It was a

  contaminating thing to them, and it had to be done with 191 careful

  ritual. He should have known from the very beginning that the woman

  hadn't lied.

  The woman. Tess. And the Yankees were gone, and the Indians were gone,

  and he was lying by still, cool waters, and she was walking toward him.

  Her hair was like the sun, falling in soft, delicate tendrils over her

  breasts and down her back, and her smile was at once wistful and

  innocent and full of the most alluring promise. She knelt beside him and

  her fingers touched him, raking gently over his naked flesh. He couldn't

  take his eyes from her. Her eyes were so giving, velvet and deep, deep

  blue, and startling in their honesty. He had thought that she would run,

  but she had not. And now, no matter whether he woke or slept, she was

  with him, the sun- ray webs of honey-gold hair spinning around him and

  wrapping him in the sweetest splendor.

  Her breath was soft against him. She leaned over him, and her breasts

  brushed against his chest, and he groaned aloud and waited. He wanted to

  pull her beneath him. He wanted to see her eyes widen and darken to

  mauve with the startling strength of passion. He wanted to feel her arms

  wrap around him.

  But the smoke was coming again. The powder. And people were shouting;

  they were at war again. The war was over, but the fighting hadn't ended.

  It was the Indians. It wasn't the Indians. That was it. They could dress

  up all they chose, but they were not Indians. They had Tess. he couldn't

  remember. yes! They had Tess, they had ridden away with her. By God!

  What they would do with her! He awoke and jerked up. A staggering pain

  seized his temple, and he cried out hoarsely, grabbing his head. The

  pain slowly subsided to a dull thudding, and he opened his Jori was

  sitting in front of him, watching him. Jamie groaned again.

  "what the hell happened? Where's Tess?"

  "Von Heusen's pseudo-Comancbe," Jon said calmly, still studying him;

  Alarmed, beginning to remember much more clearly everything that had

  happened, Jamie sat up. He saw that his legs were bare, that he had only

  been covered with blankets, and he saw that Dolly and Jane and Hank were

  hovering anxiously behind Jon. He gritted his teeth against the new pain

  that had come with his movement, frowning.

  "Tess?"

  "She was gone."

  "Gone! And you didn't go for her"

  "Wait a minute, my friend," Jori warned him.

  "You were supposed to have been dead--that's the way they left you.

  You would have been dead, if I hadn't brought you here. I couldn't trail

  them in the dark"--" You can trail anyone!" Jamie savagely reminded him.

  " Not when they ran the river, not without some light," Jon said'.

  "But I did find out where they're taking her."

  "Where?"

  Jamie exploded. The sound of the word seemed to reverberate in his

  skull, and he grabbed it in an effort to ease the savagepain.

  "They're taking her to the Comancheros. And the Comancheros are taking

  her to a renegade Apache chief down in Mexico named Nalte."

  Jamie grabbed a blanket and staggered to his feet. Dolly cried out

  softly then scolded him, "Jamie Slater. What do you think you're doing?

  You can't go anywhere" -- Jon had risen, too.

  "Sit down, Jamie. rll go."

  "No! It's my fault they took her. I'm going after her."

  "You're in no condition" -- "I'm in damn fine condition!" Jamie roared.

  The sound of his own voice ravaged his temple. He shook his head.

  "I

  need my pants. And if you don't want to be offend&t, Jane and Dolly, I

  need you two ladies to disappear. Now!"

  "Jamie Slater" -- Dolly began. But he was already rising.

  "Jamie" -- She turned around, pinkening. Jane let out a little gasp and

  went tearing up the stairs.

  "Want to wait until I've got some clothes for you?" Jon asked dryly.

  "I'll throw something down the stairs," Dolly said. She let out an

  indignant little snort.

  "Although what good you think you're going to do that girl when you can

  barely hold your head up, I don't know." "I'll be with him," Jon said.

  Dolly was heading up the stairs.

  "I'll go saddle up your horse," Hank told Jamie, heading out.

  Jamie nodded his thanks, then confronted Jon.

  "You can't come with me. I need you here."

  "You can't ride alone. You're in no shape to do so."

  "Then I'll let you come as far as the border. Maybe we'll catch up with


  them before that. If not, you'll have to turn back.

  Jon, once I go after Tess, you'll be the only one who can stand against

  yon Heusen here. You've got to do it." He shuddered and sat on the sofa.

  "Comancheros! She could already be dead! And after yon Heusen's men" --

  He broke off, white, panicked.

  "I'll kill him," he swore.

  "I'll kill yon Heusen with my bare hands, and every other man who came

  near her.

  Jesus, Jon, it was my own damned fault"--" This was going on long before

  you came into it, Jamie. They meant to kill her on that wagon train. And

  it's not as bad as you think. Von Heusen's men won't touch her, and the

  Comancheros won't touch her, because Nalte wants his golden blond for

  himself, so I learned at the saloon."

  " At the saloon?"

  "There's a whore there named Rosy who knows yon Heusen well--personally,

  that is. Every once in a while yon Heusen sends for her, and she goes

  out to his ranch. Last time she was there, he was sending out messages

  and making plans. This Nalte has always wanted a blond woman for a

  bride. You know the Apache. They usually only take one wife, unless they

  consider themselves well able to afford more than one. Nalte does very

  well. He has an Indian bride, but he wants a white woman, too. A blond

  white woman. And his requirements go a little further. He wants an

  innocent white woman."

  Jamie stared at Jori blankly, then his face began to pale again.

  Jon frowned, then slowly sucked in his breath.

  "She isn't an innocent white woman any more, is that it?"

  "Jamie Slater, here are your pants!" Dolly cried, dropping a pair of

  trousers down the staircase. Jamie wrapped the blanket around his waist

  and went to retrieve them. His hands were shaking as he stumbled into

  his pants.

  Dolly tossed down a shirt, and he shrugged it on also. "Jamie?" Jon

  said.

  Jamie paused, looking at his friend.

  "Maybe they won't know. I doubt it's something that Tess is going to

  rush around telling them," Jori suggested.

  "First, yon Heusen's men are going to have to be damned afraid of him

  not to hurt her," Jamie said.

  "Then the Comancheros. Who the hell ever trusted a Comanchero?" He

  strode to the sofa and stared at Jori.

  "I've got to catch up with them before they get to this Nalte. Or I'll

  have to try to talk to Nalte himself."

  "Yes, you'll very definitely have to talk to him," Jon said gravely.

  "And carefully, Jamie. Nalte will not be easy to deal with. He's watched

  wars and treaties go by for years, and he is a law entirely unto

  himself. He eschews everything white--except for the white men's guns,

  horses and women.

  He moved his people into the mountains when the white men took over the

  plains, rather than have to deal with them.

  "He keeps to the old ways. His women do not buy cotton for their

  dresses, and his scouts do not wear cotton shirts. He moves about in a

  breech clout as do his braves in summer, in winter he warms himself with

  hides and furs.

  He is also intelligent, astute and very dangerous--an Apache to the

  core."

  Hank had come in.

  "You need the cavalry," he said. Jamie shook his head.

  "No, Hank. No. If I do that, they might ?dll her. If I don't catch up

  with them before they hand her over to Nalte, I'll have to speak with

  him personally and convince him to give her back. I_t's our only

  chance." Listen Hank, yon Heusen is going to think that he has both Tess

  and me out of the picture. If anyone comes around, act as if you haven't

  seen either of us. That lawyer will let out the information about the

  will, and that will stall yon Heusen for a little while."

  He paused, then strode over to the big desk, sat and drew out a piece of

  paper. He wrote on it quickly.

  "Now Hank, you make sure that this telegraph gets out today, you

  understand?

  It's real important."

  "Yes, Lieutenant Slater, I understand."

  "Good. Jon will be back soon, and if I've any luck at all, I'll bring

  Tess home to you again." He paused.

  "If not, Hank, you hold tight. Help will come. Von Heusen isn't going to

  win this one." He stood again, gritting his teeth.

  I'll be damned in hell a thousand times over before I let yon Heusen win

  this one!" He strode around the desk again in his bare feet.

  "Hank, I need a pair of boots that will fit me."

  "Sure thing, Lieutenant.

  I'll find you something." Jamie nodded.

  "Jon--I need new guns."

  In silence, Jon left to fulfill the request. They'd come with plenty of

  guns, and he would know what Jamie wanted and what he needed.

  Twenty minutes later the guns were assembled and Jon and Jamie were

  ready to ride out. Dolly had made some coffee, and Jamie drank some

  quickly, wincing as the hot liquid filled him. He felt a twitch at his

  temple and felt the stitches there for the first time.

  "You sewed me up, Dolly?"

  "As pretty as a young girl's ball gown, Jamie."

  "Thanks."

  They moved outside. Jamie and Jon mounted with the others looking on.

  "You bring Tess home now, you hear?" Hank said. "Please, please, bring

  her home!" Jane added, her large doe eyes wide and damp.

  Jamie smiled at Jane.

  "I'll bring her home. I promise, Jane. I'll bring her home, or I'll die

  trying."

  He tugged on the reins, and he and Jon turned their mounts and started

  off.

  The sun was rising already. It was falling in orange and gold splotches

  across the dry earth. Beyond them, it shimmered upon the mesas.

  He'd been out a long time, Jamie reckoned. And von Heusen's men had

  already had Tess for a long time.

  His muscles clenched tight, his jaw locked, he damned himself again and

  again for what had happened. He should have been more careful. They

  never should have had the opportunity to sneak up on him. Hell, if he'd

  been that careless during the war, he'd have been dead half a dozen

  times over.

  He'd always been so damned good: he could hear a twig drop in a forest,

  he could hear the rustle of trees when it wasn't just the wind, he could

  hear bare footsteps against the dry ~rth. But when it had mattered, he

  had failed.

  He'd failed Tess. He'd forgotten everything, staring into her

  violet-hued eyes, feeling her against him, hearing the whisper of her

  voice, the tremor of her words. He'd just had to prove something.

  She'd been so aloof, and he'd been so angry, and he hadn't known why.

  Because she'd tried to draw away, and he hadn't been about to tolerate

  it.

  No, he hadn't been about to let it happen.

  He had just wanted her, and he hadn't wanted her to escape him.

  He was falling in love with her.

  So what? he mocked himself. He hadn't wanted to do so. He hadn't

  suggested that she marry him--he'd just wanted to touch her. To sleep

  with her. To feel her beneath him, her breath coming in a desperate

  rush, her hips and thighs moving, her eyes, those eyes, so wide and

  still, sultry u
pon his. But he hadn't been able to let her walk away

  from him. He just hadn't been able to give her time.

  And so she was gone.

  He felt his jaw lock anew. She had infuriated him. No matter how he

  touched her, she could hold herself aloof.

  And his anger and determination had brought them both down.

  Damn!

  He didn't know that he had cast back his head and cried the word aloud

  with anguish until he saw that Jori was watching him. Until he saw the

  pity on his friend's bold features.

  "It's too late for recriminations, my friend," Jon said quietly.

  "Yeah. Too late."

  "If you want her back, you'd better forget your feelings. You can't make

  any more mistakes." "I won't," Jamie said.

  "You should let me go alone."

  "A half-breed Blackfoot? The Apache won't like you any better then

  they're going to like me."

  "Nalte isn't going to be fond of either of us." "I can deal with Nalte,"

  Jamie said. He spun'ed his horse forward, calling to Jon to follow him.

  He would deal with Nalte. One way or another, he would get Tess back.

  One way or another.

  Comancberos.

  They lined the dry, dusty hilltop that overlooked the desert, seeming to

  go on forever, covering the horizon. A hundred of them, at least.

  Her hands tied before her, Tess sat in her buckskins in front of

  Jeremiah on his big horse. She didn't know how long or how far they had

  ridden that day, but they had finally come to this desert that stretched

  to the mountains-- a beautiful area, with myriad colors, a barren,

  forbidding area where the vultures sat upon the branches of the few

  scrawny trees, where cactus eked out an existence, where most life was

  lived in the cool that settled over the golden landscape by night. Soon,

  the terrain would change again, as they entered the mountains.

  They were already in the land of the Apache. And Tess was realizing how

  little she knew of this feared tribe. She knew they were fierce, and

  that they did not go to reservations. She had read that President Grant

  had initiated a "peace policy" toward the Apache this year, but that

  meant one thing in Washington, quite another here. Apache. it took an

  Apache to track an Apache, so they said. Once Cochise had been a captive

  of the American Army, but the trap had infuriated him. He had drawn his

  knife, slit apart the tent--and disappeared. An entire cavalry company