Night Wind's Woman

by tiffy

  A bucket of water splashed across Night Windʹs face, then a second caused him to cough and choke as he slowly opened his eyes. The fire had been relit and illuminated the grisly carnage about the camp. Conal Quinn stood towering over him with a look of feral satisfaction radiating from his harsh face.

  Joaquín struggled to focus his eyes on his hated enemy. Giving his aching head a vicious shake to clear it, he began to rise, but strong Comanche arms held him fast as Conal placed one booted foot on his chest.

  ʺSo, Night Wind, after all these years, we meet again. I do regret the circumstances,ʺ he said grimly, looking over to where two of his guards were escorting Orlena and Fray Bartolome from the house. ʺBut you will pay dearly for taking her and my son.ʺ

  ʺHow did you find this valley?ʺ Night Wind asked calmly, his heart seized with terror for his band hidden in the winter stronghold.

  ʺJuanito would not tell Sergeant Ruiz where you had taken the priest, even under extreme duress. But when we brought his wife and children to the guardhouse . . . he did not want them disfigured.ʺ He gave Joaquín a vicious kick and spun to face Orlena, who stood frozen in horror at his words.

  ʺYou would torture a woman and her children?ʺ she said, incredulously. So much evidence had already damned Conal; this was but another example of the two men inside him that Fray Bartolome had described to her.

  ʺWhat has he done to you, Butterfly?ʺ Conal asked, ignoring her revulsion at his earlier words. ʺI did not expect the good fortune of rescuing you so soon.ʺ

  Night Wind broke free of the two Comanche and lunged at Quinnʹs back, but was quickly recaptured. It took three men to subdue him, and that only after Conal had threatened, ʺHold, or I will kill the priest!ʺ

  At once Night Wind ceased his struggling. He stood quivering with rage. A thin trickle of blood ran down his temple and several bruises discolored his face. Hate radiated from his eyes as he watched Quinn turn and reach for Orlenaʹs hand, pulling her from Fray Bartolomeʹs protection.

  ʺCome here, Butterfly. This filth cannot harm you again, nor can his renegade allies,ʺ he added with a cold look of contempt at the Franciscan.

  ʺNight Wind did not harm me, Conal,ʺ she replied quietly, resisting his attempt to enfold her in his arms.

  ʺHow can you say that when he kidnapped you and sent me word of his plans to abuse you in revenge against me? I will take you home, never fear. You will forget this as if it were only a brief nightmare.ʺ He held her close, hearing the struggle of the infuriated captive behind him.

  As he turned to gloat at the half‐caste, Orlena again pushed away his arm. ʺI will not ever forget my time with the Lipan, and it was not a nightmare, Conal.

  Finding out that you sold children into slavery was the true nightmare,ʺ she said.

  Conalʹs expression turned from triumph to fury. ʺWhat I did to some Apache animals years ago has nothing to do with you, Orlena. I have already told you that life in this hellish place is lived by different rules. You will forget the past.ʺ

  ʺI cannot! Even if the good people of Santa Fe would allow me to reenter their society, they would not accept my child, and I will not reject it.ʺ Her hands protectively cupped the slight swell of her belly as she pressed the loose buckskin tunic about it, revealing her pregnancy to Conal.

  A flash of fire shot from his eyes as he snarled at her, ʺYou do not seem at all shamed. Would you keep the child as a remembrance of your rape?ʺ

  ʺNight Wind did not rape me, Conal. I came willingly to him,ʺ she said in a whisper.

  His hand lashed out and he struck her with all his strength, knocking her backward into Fray Bartolomeʹs arms.

  Night Wind broke free of the Comanche holding him and grabbed Quinn by his neck, which he would have snapped but for the rapid recovery of the two guards and a soldier. As they restrained him, Conal turned, rubbing his throat.

  ʺSo, she was your squaw. Well, I have reclaimed her now, Green‐Eyed Boy.ʺ

  Quinn spat the words at the half‐caste. ʺYou had your way with a foolish virgin.

  I hope she was good, for now you will pay for your pleasures.ʺ

  ʺYou always were a coward, Irishman, murdering men in their sleep, then selling their women and children for Spanish gold,ʺ Night Wind flung back, straining to lunge again at his hated enemy.

  ʺThe woman and child in question were mine to do with as I pleased,ʺ Quinn said with contemptuous dismissal. Night Wind hissed a guttural oath in Apache as the older manʹs fist smashed into his midsection. He coughed, but did not double over in spite of the wicked blow.

  ʺOnce I swore to kill you. I am yet alive to keep my oath.ʺ

  Orlenaʹs eyes flashed from one tall, slim man to the other. Their coloring was startlingly different, Conal with his fair skin and curly red hair, Night Wind bronzed, with inky straight locks. But both arrogant, chiseled faces matched in profile as two pairs of icy green eyes glared at each other.

  She felt the breath sucked from her body and nearly fainted as Fray Bartolome supported her. ʺBlessed Virgin, Conal is his father!ʺ she cried.

  ʺHis baptismal name was Joaquín Maria Alejandro Quinn,ʺ the priest replied sadly.

  Chapter 17

  ʺI give no Apache bastard my name,ʺ Conal snarled at Bartolome.

  ʺGod gave him life through youyour name went along with the act,ʺ the friar replied calmly as he faced the livid mercenary.

  ʺYou sold your own son into that living hell?ʺ Orlena whispered, almost in disbelief. The horror of it all made her violently ill and she choked back bitter bile as she looked at Conal, truly seeing him for the first time in her life. The blinders of childhood were removed now, and Bartolomeʹs words made sense.

  So this was Joaquínʹs darkest secretsharing the blood of a monster like Conal Quinn!

  Conal saw her recoil from him and swore again, looking with disgust at her thickening figure. Damn the savage, he had kept the promise made in his letter!

  He turned back to his half‐caste son. ʺI will kill you for thisso slowly that you will beg for death before I am done!ʹʹ

  ʺYou cannot kill your own sonany more than he can kill you. This insanity will send both of you to your eternal damnation!ʺ Fray Bartolome thundered. Setting Orlena gently aside, the big Franciscan strode boldly to where the two men confronted each other. Several of the soldiers crossed themselves in fear. Even the Comanche, sensing the aura of power about the white holy man, backed away.

  Conal laughed harshly. ʺYou would damn me, Priest? I am already bound for hell.ʺ

  ʺTo send him there, I would join him,ʺ Night Wind added.

  ʺStop it! Both of you may be damned until the end of eternity for all I care, but I will not let you destroy your son.ʺ Orlena turned from Joaquín to Conal. ʺOr your grandson!ʺ

  ʺLet me marry you and give the churchʹs blessing to your child,ʺ Fray Bartolome asked Orlena. When she looked back to Joaquín, the priestʹs level gray eyes fixed on him as well.

  ʺI forbid it!ʺ Conal shouted.

  ʺWould you have me return to Ignacio in Santa Fe carrying a bastard?ʺ Orlena interrupted, suddenly needing to have the words spoken before a priest. I love you, Night Wind had said. Did he? Did Joaquín Quinn love her?

  Conal considered her words. So the meddlesome Franciscan had told her of her brotherʹs arrival. I must deal with Ignacioʹs wrath when he finds Orlena pregnant by a savage. God and all the Saints preserve me, if Ignacio learns the savage is my bastard!

  ʺBind him securely to one of those saplings until I decide what to do,ʺ he ordered the guards. ʺWatch the good father. Upon threat of death for his renegade compatriot, I do not think he would do anything rash. Wait for me, Priest,ʺ he barked to Bartolome.

  Then he strode over to Orlena and said, ʺCome with me to the adobe. You must rest, lest you harm your babe,ʺ he added sarcastically.

  Orlena watched the Comanche guards roughly lash Joaquín to a tree, using rawhide bonds that bit cruelly into his arms and chest. He never looked at her.
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  Turning, she walked to the adobe hut. Conal was seated inside, sipping from a small silver flask.

  ʺThis is good aguardiente, but in your condition, I doubt you should indulge,ʺ he said, wiping his mouth with his cuff.

  ʺYou must let Father Bartolome marry us, Conal. That way, no matter what else you do, you can tell my brother I am not dishonored. The priest can give him assurances as well.ʺ She waited in dread, knowing there was little hope of saving Night Windʹs life. But if Conal was afraid enough of Ignacio, this might be a way to delay the inevitable. Perhaps Fray Bartolome could come up with a plan.

  Conal observed her Lipan clothes and sun‐gilded skin. She had become the Apacheʹs creature, even as he had boasted! ʺWe both have problems, it would seem, Orlena. You are unwed and swelling with a bastardʹs bastard.ʺ

  She glared at him with contempt. ʺIf Night Wind is a bastard, ʹtis you who made him so. It would go ill to repeat the mistake in a second generation.ʺ His eyes flashed fire, then became cold green shards, reminding her eerily of Night Wind.

  Why had she never noted it before?

  ʺLet us put aside the morality of Apache by‐blows for the moment and consider more significant problems. We both face your devious brother and his political machinations. What should we do, I wonder?ʺ He wanted her to beg, to pleadif not for her loverʹs life, then at least for her own reputation.

  ʺYou toy with me, Conal. But it will not work. I know how well‐favored Ignacio is now that the prince is king. He wants me alive for his own designs, and he blames you for my escape. He is a very clever and vengeful man, my elder brother.ʺ

  ʺSo am I, by all the saints!ʺ Conal swore, leaping up from his chair. ʺI loved you, indulged you, risked my very neck spiriting you from Madrid to the colonies.

  And you betray me with a half‐caste renegade!ʺ

  Orlena felt the hysterical laughter begin to bubble up in her. ʺThe irony of it, Conal. Long ago Ignacio accused us of being lovers, and I struck him for the obscenity of the idea. But he was right, wasnʹt he? You wanted me that waynot as a daughter, but as a mistress!ʺ

  ʺI would have had you as wife if the Church allowed it! More fool I. You obviously prefer the sweet caress of filthy red hands.ʺ He swept her from head to foot with disgust in his eyes. ʺNow you must crawl before I will take you as mistress.ʺ

  ʺBut you know I will not crawl and that galls you, does it not, Governor Quinn?

  Best beware my brother or you may not remain governor for long.ʺ

  He took two quick strides around the table and raised his hand to strike her, then stayed it at the last moment. She stood her ground, unflinching.

  ʺWhat serves this?ʺ he sighed wearily. ʺThe renegade will be executed. I will be hailed as a savior and you will be disgraced. Make no mistake, Orlena, when I bring the infamous Night Wind back to Santa Fe in chains, Ignacio will not have power enough to suppress the adulation I shall receive.ʺ Again he waited, letting his words sink in, gambling that he could strike a bargain with her. Orlena sagged in defeat. He was right. Here in the wilds of New Mexico, he was a military hero and Ignacio merely a foppish foreigner. He had outmaneuvered them all. ʺYou would see your own flesh and blood die that horrible death?ʺ Her voice broke as she realized how a raider such as Night Wind would be punishedbeaten, starved, caged up like an animal, then hung and decapitated, his head stuck up on a pike above the presidio guardhouse. ʺWhat kind of a monster are you?ʺ

  ʺOne willing to make you a bargain,ʺ he said coldly, once more in control. ʺI will let the priest wed youwhich will not only save your honor, but also keep you from Ignacioʹs clutches. He has yet another bridegroom awaiting you back in Madrid.ʺ

  ʺIf I am so soon to be a widow, how will this marriage help me?ʺ she countered with narrowed eyes. This new Conal was unreadabletruly two men, as Fray Bartolome had said.

  ʺI will release your husband. He will make another of his miraculous escapes.

  But you shall not be a squaw for him any longer, Orlena. You will do exactly as I say if you would save his life.ʺ He waited.

  ʺPray, continue,ʺ she prompted in a tight voice, already dreading what he would say.

  ʺYou shall wed my bastard here and now, then tell him you have done so to save yourself from disgrace. You must convince him that you despise him and all Apaches. Your brother Ignacio has made you a splendid offerthe brilliant life of a Spanish noblewoman in the City of Mexico. You will await your delivery with the priest in Chihuahua City, then travel south to join Ignacio. The child will be placed in an orphanage. But mark me, Orlena, you must make him believe this, or I will kill him and his bastard!ʺ

  Orlena stood with her fists clenching the back of a rough oak chair. The room spun crazily and she felt ill. I love you his words came back to her again. Perhaps he did, but if she did this to save his life, he would hate her forever. ʺWhy should I trust you, Conal? I could do as you bid and you could yet kill my husband.ʺ

  ʺAh, but you do not see the future, Orlena, my beautiful golden Butterfly.ʺ He walked over to her and touched her sun‐kissed cheek, feeling her flinch in disgust. ʺThe Apache has marred you, but when you are delivered of the babe and your skin is again pale and soft, you will be a beautiful woman. I will let your lover live and I will let you keep your child. In return, knowing I have granted you all of this, you will await my pleasure . . .ʺ

  Her face was chalky and her hands clammy. Her stomach churned as she fought to keep down the bits of dried meat she had eaten earlier. ʺYou want me as your whore.ʺ

  ʺYou were that savageʹs whore! You will endure my touch or I will not only kill him, I will first lock him in a small, dark box for days, rather like a mine tunnel.

  It would mayhap bring back memories ofʺ

  ʺNo!ʺ she choked out with a shudder. ʺI will make the bargain, Conal. Only see that you keep your word. Night Wind must ride free. In return, I will await you in Chihuahua City.ʺ

  He stared at her beautiful face, blanched white beneath her sun‐darkened complexion. He had truly frightened her, mentioning the sweat box and the mines. I shall have to remember that.

  The sergeant walked toward the tree where Night Wind was bound. With a dark scowl he said to the Comanche guards, ʺRelease him and bring him to the adobe.ʺ Roughly they cut the rawhide lashing, which left his wrists and chest abraded with red weals. He rubbed his numbed hands, struggling to regain circulation. Whatever Conal planned, he must be prepared to face his hated enemy.

  It was a cruel irony that after all those years of focusing his hate on the father who had betrayed him, now he was far more concerned with what would happen to Orlena. He cursed himself for writing that arrogant, hateful letter to Conal. How blinded by his blood‐lust he had been! That hate had grievously hurt the woman who loved him, the woman he loved most dearly in the world!

  Admitting he loved her had come too late. Now Conal would exact his revenge on them and their innocent child. He tried to clear his head as he walked slowly toward the adobe hut.

  Fray Bartolome stood at the door, his face grave. ʺI have been given permission by the governor,ʺ he said in perplexity, ʺto marry you and Orlena. Beyond that, his excellency will say nothing further.ʺ

  What game does Conal play now? Both men exchanged the unspoken question as their eyes met. They entered the building under the guns of several Spanish soldiers and the Comanche militia. Conal and Orlena were in the center of the room. The second in command, Lieutenant Terris, stood beside them. Joaquín quickly took in the three armed guards crowding the perimeter of the small area.

  With all the others surrounding the building, there was no chance of escape for them.

  He then centered his attention on Orlena, trying to read her expression. She appeared pale, but calm. If only he could make her understand how bitterly he regretted hurting her! ʺFather Bartolome is to give us the Churchʹs blessing, Orlena,ʺ he said, reaching one hand out palm up, praying she would take it. She stepped forward and placed her ice‐cold hand in his, sayi
ng nothing. Oh, please, Night Wind, forgive what I must do!

  Conal filled the silence. ʺI am allowing this marriage to save Orlenaʹs reputation.

  She is a Spanish noblewoman and must be protectedunlike an Apache squaw who needs no benefit of clergy to whelp!ʺ

  Night Wind fought the urge to fly at the cruel, mocking face and smash it, but he knew how useless the attempt would be. ʺLet us be wed then. I assume this is the last request of the condemned man, but what of my wife and our child after Spanish justice has dealt with me?ʺ

  ʺWe will discuss that after the priest has done his office,ʺ Conal replied smoothly, nodding to Bartolome.

  ʺWhatever is to be, this child and your woman shall be blessed by the Church,ʺ

  the Franciscan said sadly. He motioned the young couple to kneel on the rude, bare earth.

  Joaquín felt the stiff coldness of Orlenaʹs hands as he assisted her. She looked up at the priest, not at him. Sharing the pain he knew she must feel, he covered her hand with both of his.

  The exchange of vows was brief and simple. With their future so precarious and the past so confused, neither of them could appreciate the ceremony as they had their Lipan marriage. Each spoke the words in a strained voice. When he had finished the prayers and bade them stand, the priest looked warily at Conal.

  ʺI think we can give the bridal couple a few minutes in which to talk in private, eh, Father?ʺ He motioned to the lieutenant, who dismissed the guards. Everyone filed out but Conal, who paused in the doorway. Smiling, he said. ʺDo not take overlong. You have little left to say each to the other.ʺ

  When they were alone, Joaquíin looked at Orlena with a question in his eyes.

  Reaching for her hand, he said, ʺCome here, wife. We must at least have a bridal kiss. I would have you understand my heart.ʺ

  Orlena felt she would shatter if he kissed her. Every fiber of her being cried out to fling herself into his arms and confess Conalʹs blackmail, yet to do so would consign the man she loved to a ghastly fate. Whether he loved her or had used her did not matter nowonly saving his life and their childʹs life! Pushing free of his hypnotic touch, she turned and walked around the table, taking the moment to steel herself. I must do this quickly, lest my courage fail me.