Kane had hardly spoken to Miss Deveraux all day. He unsaddled his mount and removed his saddlebags and bedroll. By the time he tethered his horse, the girl had disappeared. The two men had gathered wood and built a campfire.
A short time later, he made his way down to the stream to wash his face. He was just returning to camp, when he heard the sound of gunfire coming from somewhere in the forest. The Indian men did not seem to be concerned. Apparently they thought the girl could take care of herself.
Kane sat down on a fallen log and watched the last dying embers of the sun. It was peaceful here, he thought. Nature had done her best here in these mountains. Somehow Kane felt attuned to this land, and he thought it would be a shame to see it taken over by the white man. The tall pine trees swayed gracefully in the evening breeze, and the musical sound of the nearby stream seemed to soothe him. He saw the girl coming out of the woods with a rifle resting on her shoulder and a dead rabbit dangling from her hand, and he thought that she was a part of this land. He was the intruder.
Kane rested his back against a huge boulder and watched as the girl skillfully gutted and cleaned the rabbit, then handed it to one of the men, who put it on a spit, to roast over the fire. Yes, he thought, she was a part of this country, as proud and as graceful as the tall pines that dominated the land. He watched quietly as she sat down not far from where he was and began cleaning her rifle.
Kane watched as her eyes traveled to the top of the boulder he was leaning against. At that moment he heard the horses acting up, as if they had been spooked by something, or someone.
"I better check that out," he said, starting to rise.
"No! Don't move, major. Just talk to me calmly," she told him as she slipped a bullet into the chamber of her rifle. "Don't move, there is a cougar right over your head," she said calmly, as she cocked her rifle and raised the barrel above him to aim at the top of the boulder.
Kane felt the taste of fear as the shot rang out. He jumped to his feet and looked above him just in time to see the cougar leap into the air and run into the woods. Then he turned back to face the girl.
"You missed," he said feeling as if his stomach was made of butterflies.
"I didn't miss, major. Had I intended to kill the cat, it would now be dead. An Indian will only kill for food, unless he is forced to kill to defend himself."
"What would have happened had your shot not frightened the cougar away?"
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "A cougar, like an Indian, will only kill for food."
Kane moved away from the boulder and sat down on his bedroll, trying to relax. He owed his life to Miss Deveraux, but he could think of no way to express his thanks. For the most part, she ignored him. Looking across the camp to where his three companions were talking together, he realized he was experiencing the chance of a lifetime. How many white men had had the chance to travel with three Indians? And he would soon meet Man-gas, whom very few white men had ever seen.
One of the Indian men was talking softly to the girl, and Kane heard her laughter. Suddenly he wished he could join in their conversation. He wanted to get to know them; he would like to have their friendship. He knew what the girl must think of him, but he was not really as bad as she thought.
Standing up, he walked across the camp to where the girl was sitting on a rock. She was listening intently to one of the old men and was smiling at whatever he was saying to her.
"The white man is not so bad, Maleaha. It is my belief that he speaks out of inexperience, rather than out of malice," Lamas said to her.
"You may be right, but I do not like him very much," Maleaha said.
Lamas laughed. "I think you like him well enough. Wait and see."
Maleaha shook her head. "When we return home, I never want to see him again."
Kane sat down on the rock beside Maleaha, and she slid him a sideways glance.
"Tell me about Mangas, Miss Deveraux," he said coolly. "I would like to know what kind of man I will be dealing with."
The two Indian men seemed to fade away as she turned her full attention on the major. Why did he have to be so handsome? She noticed the way his blue uniform fit snugly across his broad shoulders, and the way his pants hugged his long, powerful legs. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked into his beautiful silver eyes, eyes that she was sure could see into the very depths of her soul.
"I have not seen Mangas since I was thirteen. That was four years ago."
So she was only seventeen, a mere child, and yet she was bright and intelligent. He supposed Indian women matured faster than white women did. She would not be so sure of herself if she were put up against a woman dressed in silk, moving among the polite society that he was used to, he thought sadly.
"Mangas was very kind to me when I was a child," she continued. "Even then he was strong and powerful, and my grandfather was grooming him to be chief after his death. I found Mangas to be very kind and gentle."
Kane heard the reverence in her voice, and he felt anger. "It was not a kind and gentle man who raided the ranches and stole their livestock, Miss Deveraux."
Maleaha looked at him with returned anger. "Major, had it been a white man who raided the ranches, he would have received a trial before you condemned him, and yet you judge Mangas guilty without benefit of a trial."
"It has to be Mangas, Miss Deveraux, the evidence points to him."
Maleaha stood up and put her hands on her hips. "If you accuse Mangas of these deeds to his face major, you will die. I doubt even I could stay his hand should you speak so rashly to him."
"Why have you not seen him in four years, Miss Deveraux?" Kane said, ignoring her warning.
"I have been away, major," she told him as she walked over to the campfire and began removing the rabbit from the spit. They all ate in silence, and afterwards Kane lay down on his bedroll, thinking he would never win the girl's approval.
The next two days they rode hard and took so many twists and turns that Kane knew he would never be able to find Mangas's camp on his own. No words passed between him and Maleaha until the afternoon of the fourth day, when she halted her horse.
"From here on you shall be blindfolded, major."
"And if I refuse?"
"I shall ride away and leave you. I do not have the patience to indulge you in this."
Kane nodded his head in grim acceptance, knowing she would do just what she threatened if he did not consent to the blindfold.
"Does Mangas know we are here, Miss Deveraux?"
"We have been observed since we broke camp this morning. We are being followed even now," she told him.
Kane felt a prickle of fear, but soon pushed it aside. He was no coward, but somehow the elusive Mangas spelled danger to anyone with white skin. The only one who stood between him and disaster was the beautiful Indian girl, and he knew she did not feel too charitable toward him at the moment. "I am completely at your mercy, Miss Deveraux," he told her.
"Yes, major. You are at my mercy." She gathered up the reins of his horse and led him forward.
It seemed to Kane that they had been riding for over an hour, but in truth it had been only a few short minutes.
Suddenly, he could hear the sound of many horses, and he knew they had been joined by other riders. He could tell when they entered the village by the sound of children's laughter and the barking of a dog.
Maleaha reached across and removed his blindfold from his eyes. He blinked at the bright sunlight and saw that he had been surrounded by many fierce-looking warriors. Some of them wore long leather breeches, and others wore only a breechcloth. The many dark eyes were hostile, and Kane could feel the tension in the very air he breathed.
"Do not dismount, major," Maleaha warned, as she slid gracefully from her horse. Kane watched as she spoke rapidly to one of the Indians, who quickly disappeared into one of the teepees. Kane and Maleaha both watched the teepee, and the camp became silent.
Suddenly the tent flap was thrown open and a tall Indian eme
rged. Kane needed no one to tell him the man was Mangas, chief of the mighty Jojoba tribe.
Maleaha stood silently, hardly daring to breathe. Would Mangas remember her? He had changed but little, she thought. His bronze chest rippled with muscles, his whole body seemed to speak of undeniable strength. As she looked into his handsome face, his black eyes fastened on her. Moments passed and the silence lay heavy across the camp. At last Mangas gave Maleaha just the slightest smile as he walked toward her with wild animal grace. His black hair was encircled by a plain leather band and glistened in the afternoon sunlight. He wore long buckskin trousers, but his chest was bare. He stopped inches from Maleaha and his smile broadened.
"So, Little Flower, you have blossomed into womanhood."
She returned his smile. "I was not sure you would remember me, my chief," she answered him in the Indian language in which he had spoken to her.
He reached out and picked up the turquoise stone that hung about her neck, the stone he had given her that day so long ago. "I would recognize you always, Little Flower," he said softly. His eyes switched to the white man in the soldier's uniform, and Kane saw the distrust, or was it hate that was registered there?
"Why have you brought this soldier to my village, Maleaha? I am not pleased with you for doing this."
Maleaha swallowed hard, then she looked into Man-gas's eyes. "This is Major Kanen Benedict, my chief. I beg you to grant him an audience. He has something of great importance to say to you."
"Who asks this of me, the white side of you, Maleaha, or the Indian side?"
"Both, Mangas," she replied. She refused to lower her eyes, but stared bravely back at him, knowing that to show weakness would only gain his contempt.
"I will speak to this white man, but you shall act as an interpreter.''
"But you speak English very well," she said, puzzled by his request.
He smiled slightly. "I can observe him and assess his sincerity better if he does not know that I understand him. Bring him to my teepee."
Maleaha watched as Mangas strolled back to the tent, then she turned to the major, who had remained silent while she was speaking with Mangas.
"Dismount, major. Mangas says he will speak with you."
Kane obeyed and followed her across the camp to the big teepee that Mangas had entered only moments before.
Inside, Kane saw the huge buffalo robes that covered the floor, and he was immediately impressed with the cleanliness of the teepee. He had also observed earlier how neat and clean the women and children appeared. It did not fit what he had been told about Indians.
Mangas was seated with his legs folded. He motioned for Maleaha to sit beside him and indicated that he wanted Kane to sit across from him.
“Tell the lying white eyes to speak,'' Mangas told Maleaha.
Kane saw the black eyes boring into him, and he felt the man's contempt.
"Mangas asks you to speak, major."
Mangas laughed. "Why did you not translate exactly what I said, Little Flower?"
She smiled in response. "It is the white side of me that will be your translator, my chief."
He looked at her with an amused smile. "This should prove interesting."
Kane took a deep breath, "Tell Mangas I come to him on behalf of the American Government, and in the name of peace." Kane paused and looked straight at the chief. "Tell Mangas I am honored to meet the mighty chief of the Jojoba."
Maleaha spoke to Mangas, not bothering to translate since he understood every word spoken by the major. "I believe this man to be honest and sincere, Mangas."
"I have found no white man who speaks the truth, but your father, Little Flower.''
Maleaha turned to Kane. "Mangas says you are welcome in the Jojoba village, major," she said daringly.
Mangas laughed deeply. "See, Little Flower, you prove my point. The white side of you lies to the major."
"Not so, Mangas, I merely anticipated what your next words would be," she said, giving him a mischievous smile.
"You have grown into a beautiful woman, Maleaha, as I always knew you would."
Maleaha looked at Kane. "Mangas asked if you had a pleasant trip, major."
Kane saw the way Mangas was looking at Miss Deveraux, and in any language the look would have been the same. He was admiring her, his black eyes were almost caressing as he stared at her.
"Tell him the trip took one day longer than it should have, due to the roundabout way you escorted me to his camp," he said bitingly.
"Mangas, I was very careful to bring the major a way that he would never be able to trace."
"I have always been fascinated by the color of your eyes, Maleaha. Never have I looked into eyes that were so lovely, so open, so desirable," said Mangas.
"Major, Mangas wonders if you would like something to drink?"
Kane was becoming angry. It seemed that Miss Deveraux was playing some kind of game. He was not a fool, he knew the chief was speaking passionate words to her.
"Tell him I want nothing but to talk," he replied angrily.
"Please hear him out, Mangas," Maleaha said, hoping Mangas would not continue his bold conversation, for he was making her feel very uneasy.
Mangas frowned. "Have him state the reason he is here. I confess I am curious."
"Mangas asks that you tell him the reason you are here," she said to Kane. Mangas no longer probed her face with his dark eyes, but looked at the major instead.
"Tell him that the raids on the ranchers must stop or there will be bloodshed, and many people, both white and Indian will die."
"Mangas, did the Jojobas raid the ranchers? I cannot believe you would be a party to such mischief.''
He frowned. "I would not consider it wrong had I raided the white man. They are the intruder, they take our lands and treat us with contempt, but in this I am not guilty. I do not know what he speaks of, believe me, Little Flower."
"Yes, I believe you. The Mangas I know would never sneak around under the cover of night to wreak mischief and steal a few horses. He would meet his enemy face to face, giving them even odds. I remember your kindness one summer to a half-white girl." She had spoken with such conviction that he stared for a long time into her eyes.
"I am pleased that you should believe this of me. I have often thought of you these past years. I have waited patiently for you to grow up, Little Flower."
Maleaha turned to the major. "Mangas says he is not responsible for the raids on those ranches."
Kane looked at her doubtfully. "Do you believe this man?"
"Yes, Mangas does not lie. What would be the purpose? He is safe from retribution; the army could never find him here. He is innocent, major. As are the people of the Jojoba tribe. You will need to look elsewhere for the guilty ones."
Kane considered her words. She seemed sincere in her beliefs. Was it possible that Mangas spoke the truth, he wondered?
"Ask Mangas if he knows who is responsible for the raids."
"Do you have any idea who is responsible, Mangas?"
"Yes, it is the Arapaho. They sweep down out of the Colorados to spread mischief, hoping the Jojoba will be blamed. As you know, they are our sworn enemies, and I believe the time will come when they will go on a bloody raid, hoping to place the blame on us. But I doubt you can convince this white man, or any of his kind that I speak the truth."
Maleaha sighed deeply as she turned to the major, fearing Mangas might be right. The white man was always suspicious of that which he did not understand. The Jojoba tribe had never conformed to what was expected of them. They were a nomadic tribe that followed the game trail, never bothering to put down roots, nor to plant corn, and they refused to live off the charity of the United States government, but only wanted to be left in peace.
"Major, Mangas says it is the Arapaho who are responsible for the raids. The Jojoba and Arapaho are enemies, and the Arapaho seek to implicate the Jojoba."
"There was overwhelming evidence that it was the Jojoba. I did not tell you th
is before, but there was an armband with the sun and the moon engraved on it, the Jojoba symbol, found at one of the burned-out barns. I assume your father told you about the knife that was found."
"You do not believe that Mangas is telling the truth, that the Arapaho deliberately implicated the Jojoba?"
Kane looked directly into the eyes of the chief, and in that moment he did believe that this man spoke the truth.
"Tell him that if he can convince me that he is innocent, I will do all in my power to see that the Jojoba tribe is exonerated of all suspicion, and will strive to see that the guilty party is punished."
Maleaha turned to Mangas. "I believe this man, my chief. Have you any proof?"
"Why should I prove that I am innocent in this? I have done nothing wrong. This white dog will pay for his insult!" Mangas's eyes were blazing dangerously and Maleaha saw the danger to the major.
She placed her hand on Mangas's arm and spoke softly. "It is not the fault of Major Benedict. He is merely the instrument of the United States Government, and while I, like you, do not think the army deals fairly with the Indian, there is nothing much we can do to stop it."
Mangas looked down at the delicate hand that rested on his bare arm, then into her beautiful green eyes.
"My heart often overrides my good judgment, Little Flower. Were it within my power to drive the white man from this land I would do so, but your grandfather, in his wisdom, convinced me that soon the white man would have all this land. Where then will the Jojoba tribe go? Where will my people live? What will I feed the women and children? I will never go begging to the white man for his handouts."
Maleaha was moved by his words and his sadness. "I do not know, Mangas. I wish I had the answers for you, but I do not."
Mangas stood up. "Tell him I will deal with the Arapaho in my own way."
Maleaha stood up, and Kane also rose to his feet. "Major, Mangas says he will deal with the Arapaho himself."
"No! Tell him that is exactly what he must not do. The army will not stand by and watch two Indian tribes wage war among themselves. Tell him it would lead to serious consequences."
Enchanted Ecstasy Page 5
