Enchanted Ecstasy

by Constance O'Banyon

Jonas clenched and unclenched his fists. "What you meant to say was my wife was a Jojoba princess, wasn't it, Johnson?"

  "Yes . . . of course, Jonas," The colonel amended quickly.

  Jonas waved his hand impatiently. "It's very nice reminiscing with you this way, but I am becoming bored. Why have you sent for me?" There was steel laced through the man's words and Kane thought once again that he would be a dangerous man to cross.

  "I was hoping to convince you to ride along with a patrol to Mangas's camp. No one knows where his camp is but you, and you speak the language. Your daughter is . . ."

  Jonas's eyes narrowed to green pinpoints. "Let's leave my daughter out of this."

  "Will you help me, Jonas?"

  "Hell, no, I wouldn't give you a drink of water if you were dying of thirst."

  "The past is the past, Jonas. We are talking about the lives of your friends and neighbors."

  "My neighbors know me, and my friends would never expect me to put myself between the army and Mangas."

  "You are saying you refuse to help the army because of what a few misguided soldiers did a few years ago?"

  "Damn right," Jonas said, rising to his full height. "If that's all you have to say, I am leaving."

  Colonel Johnson stood up eye to eye with Jonas. "You cannot straddle the fence forever, Jonas. One day you will have to choose sides."

  "My choice was made long ago. I still remember vividly how you and your kind treated my wife. In the end, it caused her death. Don't ever send for me again."

  He walked to the door, then turned to Kane. "Major, you are new here so I am going to give you some advice, and it won't cost you a cent. If you stay in this land, and if you have any prejudices, get rid of them. You will be much happier, and you might live longer.'' With that as his parting shot, he walked out the door, closing it softly behind him.

  "What a strange man, colonel," Kane said, feeling at a loss as to how else to describe Jonas Deveraux.

  The colonel walked over to the window, and, looking out, watched as the rancher mounted his horse and rode out the gate of the fort'.

  "I would rather have that man's respect and friendship than anyone I know," he said softly, as though talking to himself.

  "I spoke the truth when I said he has the biggest ranch in the territory. Deveraux Ranch is as legendary as its owner. Jonas took this Indian princess, married her, if you will. They were married in an Indian ceremony, their marriage was never sanctioned by the church. Some people accepted her, many did not. My wife was one who did not." He turned to face Kane. "She was beautiful, had the darkest hair, it was almost blue-black, and her dark eyes were soft and gentle-like. Jonas was devoted to her. Her name was Cimeron. They had a child, a daughter. Cimeron was out riding one day, when she was brutally attacked and killed. Seven soldiers were suspected of the offense, but nothing was ever proven against them."

  Kane frowned. "They went unpunished?"

  "They never came to trial, if that is what you are asking, but they were punished all the same. Punished to death."

  "Who, how?"

  "The how was . . . have you ever thought how it would feel to be rendered manless with a knife? I am sure it was a very painful way to die." The colonel shrugged his shoulders. "The who, I'll leave you to guess. It could have been Cimeron's father, who was then chief of the Jojoba, or it could have been Jonas. No one knows for sure."

  "Why is it that I have never seen any Indians from the Jojoba tribe, colonel?"

  "That's because the Jojoba keep very much to themselves. You will never find them hanging around the fort, asking for a free handout. No one except a chosen few knows where their village is located. I am told that when an offense is committed against them, retribution is swift and sure. For years they have lived in seclusion. I wonder why they have suddenly tried to stir up trouble?"

  "I can understand why Jonas Deveraux didn't want to help us, colonel. One can hardly fault him for his bitterness."

  "Yes. I knew his answer would be no before I asked for his help, but it was worth a try. If we don't locate Mangas soon, there could be a lot of needless bloodshed. Tomorrow I want you to take a patrol and try to find his camp. I don't have a clue as to where you should start looking. I don't have to tell you how dangerous it will be. Had Jonas consented to take you to the Jojoba village, Mangas would not have attempted to harm you. The Jojoba are very loyal to Jonas. At one time it was because of his wife, and now it is because of his daughter, who is a Jojoba princess."

  2

  Jonas looked out of place in the elegant sitting room, with his denim britches, plaid shirt, and scuffed brown boots.

  The floor was made of highly polished brick. A beautiful hand woven turquoise, gray, and black rug covered the floor in the center of the room. Two sofas covered in gray velvet and three chairs of turquoise silk picked up the colors of the rug and enhanced it. Brightly colored Indian pottery was on display in a mahogany breakfront. Several western oil paintings hung on the wall. The room was a mixture of the White and Indian cultures, each complementing the other. The overall effect was of grace and beauty.

  The Deveraux home was a huge, two-story Spanish-style house, white limestone with a red-tiled roof. The entire house was built around a large enclosed patio, and each of the rooms on the ground floor had a door leading out to the patio, while the upstairs rooms opened onto a balcony overlooking it.

  Jonas stared at the glass of brandy in his hand. He leaned his head to rest against the chair back, his eyes going to the painting that hung over the huge fireplace. His eyes softened and he raised his glass in a silent salute to the woman and child in the painting. His daughter, Maleaha, had been only four when a local artist had come to the ranch to paint the portrait. His eyes caressed the image of his wife, Cimeron, lovingly. She had been dead nine years now, and there had not been a day that Jonas had not missed her. The pain was every bit as acute as it had been that awful day she had been killed. Jonas knew if it hadn't been for his daughter, Maleaha, he would have lost his mind. He had to go on for her sake; he knew Cimeron would have wanted him to look after their daughter.

  Maleaha was seventeen now. She had been only eight when her mother had been killed. Jonas had bitterly decided that his daughter would never be exposed to the prejudices her mother had been forced to endure. Maleaha had been only fifteen when he had forced her to attend the fancy boarding school for young ladies in Boston. She had loudly protested leaving her home, but Jonas, who usually gave in to her slightest whim, stood firm in his decision to send her away to school. Some of the edge had been taken off Maleaha's protest when her best friend, Betsy, had accompanied her.

  Jonas always bought Maleaha the best of everything. Her gowns were straight from Paris. He had all the money a man could want, and he spent it lavishly on his daughter, determined that she would never have to suffer as her mother had. He smiled. Maleaha often liked to dress in buckskin gowns, as her mother had, and he thought he liked it better when she was dressed that way.

  Maleaha was accepted into every home in Santa Fe. Welcomed by all the best families, she was treated with a respect that had never been offered to her mother. She had returned from Boston two weeks ago, and Jonas was glad she was home to stay. Maleaha should have been spoiled by her father's indulgence, but instead she was of a kind and loving nature, as her mother had been. Of course there were times when her temper would flare like her father's, and her green eyes would blaze defiantly.

  The two years Maleaha had been away at school had been long years for Jonas. Many times he wanted to go to Boston and bring her home. The first summer he had taken her and Betsy to England and France. It was during that trip that Jonas realized his daughter had blossomed into a beautiful young lady. More than once he had noticed the admiring glances directed at her. The gentlemen would stare at her in open admiration, but Maleaha seemed completely unaware of her beauty.

  "Father, I did not realize you had returned from the fort." The lovely, musical voice of his daughter brok
e into his thoughts.

  Jonas favored her with a smile. "I didn't even hear you enter the room. You move as silently as the mountain lion."

  "It's my Indian blood," she told him, laughing as she kissed him on the forehead. Sitting down beside her father, Maleaha rested her head on his shoulder. "It's good to be home. I never want to go away again. This is where I belong."

  He took her dainty hand and squeezed it. "I never want you to leave me again. Two years is a long time."

  "It wasn't my idea to leave, Father. You forced me to leave, remember?"

  He chucked her on the chin. "Yes, but look at you now. That fancy school carved off all your rough edges and gave you a certain class. You are now a proper lady."

  "Margaretta says ladies are born, and not created," Maleaha said, smiling at the housekeeper's words. "I never did understand why you wanted me to go away to school, but while I was there, I worked very hard so you would be proud of me."

  His eyes went to the portrait once more. ' T wanted you to be able to hold your head up and be proud of who you are.

  "I always have been. There has never been any shame in me for the father who sired me, nor the mother who bore me. Why should there be, when I have known only love from both of you."

  "Never be ashamed of your mother, Maleaha. She was one of a kind. She would be so proud of you today."

  "I loved my mother, and I am proud of the Indian blood that flows in my veins."

  "Did you meet any special young man while you were back East?" Jonas asked, changing the subject.

  Maleaha smiled. "No one I couldn't live without. I suppose the men in Boston are too civilized for my taste."

  Her father laughed. "What you mean is they aren't as good at riding and shooting as you are. You are too used to the old cowhands on the ranch. I am glad that you didn't bring back one of those dandies, though."

  Maleaha stood up, "Have you had lunch?"

  "No. I missed it altogether, but I will wait until dinner.

  Maleaha walked over to the portrait and studied it silently.

  Jonas looked at her. Her movements were so graceful. She wore a simple white cotton blouse and a green cotton skirt that fit snugly about her tiny waist and flared out around her. Her hair, which was as black as ebony, hung down below her waist. Her skin was smooth—not white, what most white women treasured—nor was it bronze as her mother's had been, but a soft golden hue that caused the startling green eyes she had inherited from her father to appear more prominent. Delicately arched eyebrows and long silky lashes enhanced the emerald-green color of her eyes.

  Jonas could not help but feel pride that someone so lovely could have come from him. She appeared to be delicate, but Jonas knew she could outride and outshoot any woman and most men of her acquaintance.

  Turning to face her father, she smiled. "Would you like me to bring you a light snack, Father? It is at least two hours until dinner."

  "No. Come and sit with me," he told her, patting the cushion beside him.

  Maleaha sat on the arm of the sofa and slipped her arm about her father's powerful shoulder. "Why did Colonel Johnson want you to come to the fort?" she asked curiously.

  "He wanted me to take a patrol of soldiers to find Mangas."

  "Are you serious?" Maleaha asked in surprise. "I know Colonel Johnson is a bit misguided at times, but I never considered him to be a foolish man."

  Jonas's eyes narrowed. "He has no conception of how Mangas thinks. Mangas would never allow soldiers to ride into his camp. That man is going to send out a patrol in search of the Jojobas, and not a one of them will come back alive, if they do manage to find them, which I doubt!"

  "Why does the colonel wish to talk to Mangas?"

  Jonas looked at the ceiling for a moment, then he glanced at her. "There have been several raids lately on the outlying ranches, nothing serious, a few barns burned, some livestock stolen. The evidence seems to point to the Jojoba tribe."

  ' 'I can understand your refusing to go with a patrol, but could you not have gone with one man—say, the colonel?"

  "You think I should have?"

  "Yes, if it would help avoid bloodshed." Maleaha knew her father to be a kind and generous man, but he could also be ruthless if he was crossed. His dislike for the soldiers at the fort was all too apparent. "Father, please reconsider. Mangas will listen to you, he respects you."

  "That's exactly why I am not going, I have never thought the army dealt fairly with the Indians. You know my views on that subject and I will not lend my support to the army, for any reason!"

  "Do you think Mangas is responsible for the raids?" Jonas shrugged. "Who can say? It's possible."

  Maleaha had not seen Mangas since she was thirteen. She remembered him as being highly intelligent and very compassionate. She let her mind reach back to the time four years ago when her father had allowed her to spend the summer with her mother's sister in the Jojoba village.

  Maleaha had been watching as many of the Jojoba maidens splashed and played in the river that ran through their camp. The maidens had taunted and teased her because she would not go into the water. Maleaha, who did not know how to swim, had not wanted them to know of her fear of the water. She had set her chin stubbornly, and gathered up her courage while Wading into the water. The current had been swift and she soon felt her feet being swept out from under her. She felt the water closing over her head. Gasping for breath, she had tried to keep her head above water. She remembered thinking at the time that she was drowning and what grief her father would feel at her death, when she felt strong arms go around her waist. Relief washed over her as she looked into the handsome face of Mangas. He had saved her life! Her heart had raced as he smiled down at her just before he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the riverbank.

  Maleaha had always thought Mangas was handsome, as did all the young maidens of the tribe, but he had never paid the slightest attention to any of them. He had been in his twenty-second summer that year. Her grandfather was grooming Mangas to take over as chief after his death, since he had no sons or grandsons to succeed him.

  Maleaha could still remember how it had felt to be carried in Mangas's strong arms. When he had reached the riverbank, he had not set her down immediately but had held her in his arms, speaking to her while the other maidens looked on enviously. He pushed a strand of wet hair gently from her face.

  "Poor, brave Little Flower. You do not know how to swim and still you went into the water.'' His black hair hung down to his shoulders and was encircled with a leather band. His eyes, which were as black as his hair, looked at her with such compassion, and his handsome face was creased into a worried frown. Maleaha could feel the powerful muscles in his shoulders since her hands had been clasped about his neck.

  "I shall teach you to swim, Little Flower, and soon you will out swim all the other maidens who mocked you today."

  Maleaha remembered how her young heart had raced at his soft-spoken words. She had thought he never noticed her, and had felt happy that he would want to teach her to swim.

  Mangas had kept his word. The next morning he had come to her aunt's teepee and taken Maleaha to the river for her swimming lesson. He was gentle and patient with her, and, wanting to please him, Maleaha had tried her best.

  That summer the days and weeks seemed to fly by, and all too soon her father had come to take her back home. She remembered the last time she had seen Mangas. He had stood tall and proud beside her grandfather, with his arms crossed over his powerful chest. His dark eyes had been unreadable as he watched her.

  Her grandfather had hugged her tightly. "I shall miss you, little Maleaha." He then spoke to her father. "I thank you, Jonas, for allowing Maleaha to stay the summer with us. In her I see her mother. She is as sweet as she is lovely."

  "Cimeron would have wanted our daughter to get to know her people, Catana, and I want her to respect the Jojoba, as I do."

  That summer was the last time she had seen her grandfather. He had placed his hand on
her head. "When you leave here, little Maleaha, know that you take with you your grandfather's heart. It is a difficult road you walk, with one foot in the Indian world, and the other in the white world. Have courage, and always feel pride in the Jojoba blood that runs in your body." Maleaha had grown very close to her grandfather that year, and it saddened her that he had died while she was away at school.

  She remembered being surprised when Mangas had touched her cheek. He then slipped a silver chain with a huge turquoise stone attached to it over her head.

  "A reward for learning to swim so well, Little Flower."

  She had been moved by his kind words, and was unable to speak.

  "I like a maiden who does not talk much. Go to your home and blossom, Little Flower. We shall meet again one day."

  Her father seemed to read her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. "Mangas is not the young buck you remember. He is now chief; he is dangerous as well as ruthless."

  "I find that hard to believe, Father. He was always kind to me."

  "Yes, I remember being troubled by the attention he showed you the last time you were in the Jojoba village."

  "Do you know if Mangas has taken a wife?"

  Jonas shrugged. "I have had little contact with him in the last two years. The last time I saw him was when your grandfather died and I went to the village to pay my respects. I didn't think to ask Mangas if he had taken a maiden to wife, and he didn't volunteer the information. He did ask about you, though."

  Maleaha smiled, feeling pleased that Mangas should remember her. She pushed her memories aside and returned to more important matters.

  "I wish you would take Colonel Johnson to the Jojoba village, Father. Please reconsider."

  Jonas stood up abruptly. "No, and that's my final word on the subject. I have some important business in Albuquerque. I am leaving in the morning and will be gone for two weeks. If, by the time I return, there have been more incidents, I will ride to the Jojoba village and talk to Mangas, but I go alone."

  Maleaha knew better than to argue with her father, but she feared that anything could happen in two weeks. She shuddered when she thought about a war between her mother's people and her father's race. Either way it turned out she would lose. She stared at the brightly patterned rug, while a plan formed in her mind.