Simply Heaven

by Patricia Hagan

  Steve was wickedly enjoying how the banter made the boy squirm. Obviously, he was not experienced in the ways of manhood. "I'll wager you've never even had a woman, have you? Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do for you. Surely there are some whores on the reservation—women willing to give you a tumble for a few dollars. I'm going to make you a present of one when this is over. I'll have you bed you down for a whole week with the wildest little filly we can find. She'll make you so glad to be a man you'll want to run around naked and show off your—"

  "Shut up!" Raven cried, kneeing the mustang into a gallop. She would not listen anymore. In the past, when the scouts or soldiers would say such risqué things she had just gone away. Here, it was different. She could not escape.

  Steve did not immediately catch up. He was too lost in thought, wondering what caused Little Crow to be like he was. Something had sure made him shy, and he needed to get over it if he was ever going to make anything of himself, especially since he could speak English so well. And while the men at the fort seemed to regard him highly when it came to horses, he didn't need to hide in the shadows of a stable the rest of his life. It was also wrong for him to go around so dirty and unkempt all the time. Steve made up his mind that before their time together ended, he would try to reach him, somehow, and make him understand all that.

  Raven saw Diablo was working up a lather, which he didn't need in the sweltering weather. Spotting a creek up ahead, she reined him in to drink.

  Steve followed. He was thirsty himself, and, after splashing cool water over his chest and face, he put his shirt back on, because he could feel his skin starting to burn.

  "That's a nice horse," he said, making his first attempt to ease the tension between them. "Where did you get him?"

  Raven experienced a rush of pride. She was only too glad to talk about Diablo. "He was rounded up and brought in to the reservation. I knew right away he was special, because the best riders tried to break him and couldn't. The braves were getting angry and threatening to beat him to break his spirit, but the Indian agent would not allow it. He said it was wrong to beat a horse into submission."

  "I certainly go along with that."

  She was glad he felt the same. "The agent decided that the man who could ride him without whipping him would own him."

  "And you were the one to do it?"

  Raven smiled. "Just because I'm little doesn't mean I can't ride. Besides, that had nothing to do with it."

  He was amused. "Really? Then how did you break his spirit?"

  "I didn't." She wished she could look at Steve full in the face and see his reaction but did not dare. Keeping her head turned, as though watching Diablo drink, she explained, "He still has his spirit, because he sensed that it wasn't my intention to take it away from him, and that I was determined he wouldn't take mine from me. We understood each other. We still do. And that's the way it should be for animals and humans, to give each to the other without taking anything away."

  Steve was impressed and could well understand what Captain Puckett had meant when he said Little Crow seemed to have an uncanny way with horses.

  "Would you like to try to ride him?" Raven could not resist challenging.

  If what the boy said about the horse was true, Steve was not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing him thrown. "No, thanks. I've known horses like that. As a matter of fact, Mr. Ralston has one that nobody has ever ridden except him. The horse has almost killed anybody that tried. He threw one man up against the barn and broke his shoulder and tried to trample another one. But he's never thrown Mr. Ralston. Who knows? Maybe he's got the same gift you have."

  Raven felt a chill to think the ability she was so proud of might actually have been handed down by the father she loathed.

  Since Little Crow seemed to be warming up a little, Steve wanted to keep the rapport between them growing. He began to explain the attributes of the racking horses. "Starfire is a stud. He's sired some real beauties, and—"

  Suddenly, a demoniacal shriek ripped through the air, and they whipped about to see the Indian running toward them. He had dropped from an outcrop bordering the creek, where he had been hiding.

  Steve reached for his gun, but Raven was faster, grabbing his wrist and whispering, "Don't." Steve had seen the rifle the Indian was pointing with his right hand and figured to drop him before he could pull the trigger. Now he condemned Raven with a fiery glance for ruining his chance.

  Raven saw he was a Lipan Apache, dressed in breechclout, leggings, and moccasins. The hair on the left side of his head had been cut off even with the top of his ear, and the hair on his right side hung to his waist. He was a large man, and only a trace of warpaint was still on his face, but nonetheless it made him look fierce. Noting the strip of bloodied rabbit fur wrapped around a wound on his left arm, she had a good idea of why he was alone and how they happened to stumble upon him and quickly explained to Steve. "He's been shot, probably during a raid, and lost his horse. The other braves had to leave him behind, so he's hiding here, near the water, hoping they'll come back for him. Let me try to talk to him. Keep your hand away from your gun."

  Grimly, Steve argued, "If I do, he's going to kill both of us."

  "If he wanted us dead, we already would be, but he didn't shoot for fear he might hit the horses, and the horses are what he's after, so he can get out of here and try to catch up with his band. Now he's probably wondering whether he can get both of us before one of us gets him, because he's only got the full use of one arm."

  "Then try to get his attention so I can make my move. I won't miss."

  "Gunfire will bring the others if they're anywhere near." She focused on the Lipan and swallowed against fear. Seth had not only insisted she learn to speak English well, he had also made sure she understood the language of all the Plains tribes. Now she was grateful that he had, for it might be the only chance to save them.

  Speaking in the Lipan tongue, she began. "Your women did not have a victory dance when their men returned to your camp last night. But if you will listen to me and do as I say, tonight they will chant while you undergo the Lipan ceremony to cleanse you from the contamination of the enemy." She knew of the tradition of his people.

  While still wary, his expression softened, but only a little. "How is it that you know the ways of my people and speak our language? You are not Lipan. And why do you wear the blue leg pants of the pony soldier?" He nodded scornfully to her clothes.

  "I work as a scout, but I am Tonkawa, and I know how my people and yours have always had peace between them. I also know of how your great Lipan chief helped us many years ago when there was much trouble with the white chief, Sam Houston. I have always considered the Lipan Apaches my friends, and it will bring much grief to my people, and shame to you and yours, if you harm either me or my companion."

  The Lipan sneered. "You care about the life of a white man?"

  "Once he saved mine," she lied, then added, "as I am trying to save yours now."

  He hooted. "Save my life? I am not the one in danger. As you can see, I hold a long gun."

  "And if you fire it, the soldiers will hear and come, because they are not far away. You see, my friend is also a scout, and we rode ahead of the soldiers.

  Steve growled under his breath, "What's going on? How do you two find so much to talk about, for God's sake? Just get him out of here, or so help me I'm going for my gun and blast him to hell."

  "Be patient. If you make a move for that gun, we're both dead." To the Lipan, she said, "Let me help you. Take my pony and go quickly, before the soldiers get here."

  The Lipan was still leery. "It is the bluecoats you help. That makes you a traitor to your people."

  "No." Fighting to keep her knees from knocking together, Raven managed to smirk. "I lead the army in circles and make them look like fools, as I am doing now. Why else would I tell you they are close by?"

  He matched her smirk with one of his own. "To save your life."

  "Perhaps
. But if you heed my warning, you will save your own. Now go. Quickly." She motioned to Diablo. "He is faster than the white man's horse."

  The Lipan thought a moment and decided the Tonkawa was right. It was best there be no shooting. With a nod towards Steve, he ordered, "I do not trust him. Bring me his gun. Hold it backward, pointed toward you."

  Raven braced herself. The Lipan might laugh in her face for asking, but she had to try. "If I help you, if I hand over his gun to you, will you swear on the souls of your children that you will not harm either of us?"

  He gave a slow but sure nod.

  Raven breathed easier. She knew the Lipans did not give their word easily, and when they did it was kept. But convincing Steve was another matter. "Please listen to me carefully. He wants me to give him your gun."

  "No way." Steve kept his eyes on the Lipan.

  "You have to let me take it. If you don't, he's going to kill us both."

  "Are you crazy? He's going to do that anyway once he has my gun."

  "No, he won't. He gave his word. He won't harm us."

  "And you believe him?"

  "Yes. And you have to believe me when I say this is the only way."

  "This is what I get for depending on a boy," Steve grumbled as he handed his gun over to Little Crow to carry it to the Lipan.

  The Lipan, meeting Steve's steely gaze, ordered Raven to get a rope and tie him. "I have a bad arm, as you can see, and he might try to attack me as I mount. But you are scrawny. I do not worry about you." He snickered.

  Doggedly, Raven took the loop of rope hanging from the saddle on Steve's horse.

  Shaking with fury, Steve said between tightly clenched teeth, "If I get out of this mess, so help me I'm going to break your neck with my bare hands, Little Crow. I should have known you'd turn traitor. Hell, why don't you ride on out of here with him? Indians are all alike anyway."

  "Trust me." She quickly bound his hands behind his back.

  Steve bit back a torrent of curses amid a sudden flare of hope as he saw the Lipan walk toward the mustang, "Did you tell him to ride Diablo?" It seemed prudent to whisper, even if the Lipan could not understand English.

  Raven nodded proudly, fighting to keep a stern expression on her face, rather than grin in anticipation of what was about to happen.

  "Then untie me," he cried, struggling futilely against the rope. "I can grab him when Diablo throws him. Why did you tie me so tight, damn it?"

  "So you won't do something stupid that will get us killed." She stepped away from him, not liking the way he was looking at her. Now was no time for him to discover the truth of her gender. She prayed he never would.

  Steve continued to rage. "I wish to hell I had followed my instincts and never left the fort with you. Don't you realize once Diablo throws him, he's going to know you tricked him and come up shooting, you idiot?"

  Raven ignored him, intent on watching the Lipan hoist himself on the horse's back.

  Steve also watched and waited tensely for the instant when the mustang would begin to rear and buck. All he could hope for was that the Indian would be sent flying through the air to land head first on a rock and die instantly.

  Otherwise, he and Little Crow would be the ones to die.

  But nothing happened.

  Diablo was completely docile, as though obediently waiting for his rider to indicate what he wanted him to do.

  The Lipan raised his rifle in a grateful salute to Little Crow and reined Diablo about. Once he was past the trees and the rocky bluff bordering the stream, he dug in his heels to urge the mustang into a full gallop.

  Raven went to untie Steve's hands. She could feel the blistering fury emanating from him as he stood, rigid, waiting to be freed, and she leaped back as he whirled upon her menacingly, his wrath exploding.

  "Now you're going to wish you'd gone with him, damn you!"

  He lunged for her.

  Chapter 6

  Raven quickly scrambled away and up on the rock cropping where the Lipan had hidden. Steve was right behind her, but she was wearing moccasins, which made her sure-footed, enabling her to feel for a grip with her foot, while he slipped and slid in his boots.

  He yelled in fury, "You lied about how you came by the mustang, claiming you're the only one who can ride him. Hell, you probably stole him from an old lady who rode him to church every Sunday."

  Raven kept going. There was no time to argue with him, and he was beyond reason anyway.

  He slipped again, scraping his hand and cursing. "Damn it, get back down here or I'll turn you over my knee and give you the thrashing a lying kid like you deserves. And you're going to walk the rest of the way to the Sabine, you hear me? I'm not about to weigh my horse down in this heat by making him carry double. You didn't have to give yours away. I could have shot that blasted Indian right between the eyes if I hadn't been fool enough to let you give me orders."

  "You probably could have," she yelled down to him, relieved the distance between them was increasing. He obviously knew nothing about rock climbing, because for every step he took, he slid back two. "So could I—with my knife—but why kill somebody if you don't have to? There's too much killing in this world. You must have a thirst for blood, Mr. Maddox."

  "That's not so, but when it comes down to my life or somebody else's, I'll do my best to make sure they're the one that goes in the ground."

  "You're still alive. I don't know what you're so mad about."

  "Because he could have killed us, damn it, and also because I can't stand liars. What else have you lied about? You don't even know the way to the Sabine, do you?"

  "Yes, and I'll get us there in good time. Trust me." She inched higher.

  "If you do anything else stupid, so help me, I'll ride off and leave you. Now stop this foolishness and get down. You've got a long walk ahead of you, Little Crow."

  At last Raven reached the top. Shading her eyes against the glaring sun with her hands, she could see Diablo galloping away. "I won't have to walk," she declared happily.

  "Well, you're not riding double with me. I told you—"

  He was interrupted by the sound of a long, loud, piercing whistle. Looking up, he saw that Little Crow stood with feet apart, head held high, two fingers of one hand at his mouth as he whistled again.

  Diablo heard and gave one mighty buck and toss to send his rider hurtling through the air.

  The Lipan hit the ground and did not move.

  Diablo then obediently whirled about, and, ears back, nose high, dug his hooves into the earth to run as fast as his legs would carry him, straight back to where Raven waited.

  With Steve watching, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, Diablo came to a stop just below the rock. Raven had climbed halfway down but jumped the rest of the way to land on his back.

  Taking the reins, her face beamed like sunshine as she boasted, "When he hears my whistle he comes to me... and also bucks off anybody trying to ride him."

  Steve was speechless.

  "Come on." She kneed Diablo into a trot. "Let's get out of here. We don't have to worry about that Lipan, because he won't be moving around for a while, but his friends might be close by."

  For the rest of the afternoon, Steve rode in back, brooding as he tried to convince himself it made no difference that he had been bested by a boy. They were both alive. Everything had turned out all right. Still, it needled.

  It was dark when they stopped for the night. Raven remembered where there was a small pool made from an underground stream and wanted to camp there. She had not had a chance to bathe since they had left the fort and looked forward to slipping quietly into the cool water once Steve fell asleep.

  Still irritable, Steve dug down into his saddlebag and took out a canteen of whiskey he kept for times when he needed a drink. This was one of them.

  Raven licked her finger and held it to the sky. "There's no wind and plenty of clouds. Smoke would blend in with them and not drift and smell. It's safe to have a small fire if we cook quickly."

>   "Cook what?" He scowled. "I don't see a rabbit around anywhere waiting to jump on a spit."

  "Maybe I can take care of that." Raven went to the mustang and unfastened the small bow and arrow she always kept laced to his neck. Her mother had taught her that Tonkawas kept their tools and other possessions to a crude and simple minimum. The most important weapon, however, was the bow and arrow, and Raven had practiced till she seldom missed. She had even made her bow herself, using the sinewy tendon from a bison for thread and strings.

  She left Steve with his whiskey and grumbling and went a short distance to wait patiently for an unsuspecting rabbit to come hopping along in the moonlight. When one did, she felled him with a single arrow and then returned to camp to skin him and set him roasting on a spit.

  Later, between delicious mouthfuls, Steve said humbly, "Little Crow, you were right. I'm sorry I doubted you."

  Raven suppressed a smile. She did not want to appear to gloat and could sense he did not find it easy to admit when he was wrong. But, to his credit, he was willing to set things right between them, which was, in her estimation, the true mark of a man. She admired him for it and offered her own concession to making peace between them. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you about my plan, but there wasn't time. I knew I had to get him out of there before he got suspicious."

  "I understand." Steve held out the canteen. "You behaved like a man today. You deserve a man's drink."

  She waved it away. "I don't like whiskey. I've seen how it makes some people crazy."

  "A few sips won't hurt, and it will make you relax. We've had a rough day. We're both worn out." He continued to hold out the canteen as he went on to say, "I can't believe a young boy like you isn't eager to try it."

  And since Raven feared he might wonder about it too hard, she took the canteen, tipped it to her lips and drank, then grimaced as it burned her throat, finally hitting her stomach like a hot coal.