Love Forevermore

by Madeline Baker

  She paused at a long shelf stacked with Apache baskets. They came in a wide variety of sizes and shapes and were made of cottonwood, mulberry, willow, sumac, or squawberry. Some had intricate designs worked into them. After some consideration, she chose a small bowl-like basket called a tsa. The basket had a black star woven into the top and geometric designs on the sides. She also took a small water basket called a tus.

  She was waiting for the clerk to add up her bill when she saw the camera on the shelf. Impulsively, she bought that, too. It would be fun to take pictures of her class, she told herself, but all the while she was thinking about Shad Zuniga.

  The clerk was counting out her change when Zuniga entered the store. Loralee looked at him in surprise. Mike had said Zuniga never came to the fort, or accepted anything from the whites.

  She lingered at the counter, thumbing through a Sears mail order catalog, while she surreptitiously kept an eye on Zuniga. He selected only two items, a large can of coffee and a sack of sugar. She was stirred once again by how handsome he was. His hair, black and shiny as jet, hung to his waist. He wore a buckskin shirt, fringed along the sleeves and across the back, and a pair of snug buckskin pants. Traditional Apache moccasins hugged his feet. They were hard-soled, curving upward above the toe for protection against thorns and cactus. He was light on his feet, like a cat walking on eggs, she mused.

  His eyes acknowledged her presence as he came toward the counter.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Zuniga," Loralee said politely.

  Zuniga nodded as he placed his order on the counter top. "Miss Warfield."

  She moved slowly out the door while he paid for his purchases, and smiled up at him when he fell in step beside her.

  "Let me carry that for you," he offered, nodding at the bag in her hand.

  "Thank you." She handed him the sack. "I didn't think you ever came to the fort."

  "Every month or so," Zuniga replied with a shrug. "Whenever Nachi runs out of coffee or sugar."

  "Where did you get the money to pay for it?"

  Zuniga turned the full force of his gaze on her, one black brow arched upward in cynical amusement. "Do you really want to know?"

  "I think so," Loralee replied uncertainly.

  "I stole it."

  "Stole it?" Loralee echoed, shocked. "From whom?"

  Zuniga shrugged. "One of the soldiers. I didn't stop to ask his name."

  "But how?"

  "It is easy. I just wait for Saturday night. The soldiers drink too much, sometimes they pass out before they reach the barracks. It is easy to take a few dollars."

  "That's terrible," Loralee said curtly.

  "No more terrible than being forced to live on this reservation."

  She had no answer for that. What did you say to a man who was a prisoner of the United States government?

  "Thank you for carrying my groceries," she said.

  Zuniga nodded. Setting the bag down, he lifted her onto the back of her horse and placed the sack inside the mesh carryall looped over the saddlehorn.

  "I will see you at the school tonight," he reminded her.

  Loralee nodded. "Thanks again."

  She felt his eyes on her back as she rode away from the store.

  The lesson was strained that night. Every time Loralee looked at Zuniga, she could almost feel the heat of his lips on hers. Was he also remembering? She thought of him living up in the hills with Nachi, stealing ammunition from the sutler's store, stealing money from the soldiers to buy sugar and coffee for the old man because he was too proud to take charity from the whites. She could not condone stealing, yet she understood why he did it and she could not condemn him. The Indians didn't believe it was stealing when the victim was the enemy.

  She was hesitant to meet his eyes. Was she making too much of a few kisses stolen in the moonlight? He hadn't touched her since. Maybe he had been disappointed. Maybe he kissed every woman he met. Maybe he had just been curious to see how white women kissed, and now that he knew, he was no longer interested. And why should she care? He was nothing to her, only a student who was here to learn to read and write.

  As the lesson drew to a close, Loralee met Zuniga's eyes, saw her own desire mirrored in the depths of his gaze. She knew then that he had not been disappointed in her response, and that he was still interested. Extremely interested. A sudden warmth enveloped her and she glanced away, feeling shy. Whatever was between them was not over yet.

  The next day, Loralee took her camera to school. The Apache children were excited by the thought of being photographed once she explained what it meant. At first, she had planned to take a group picture, but the children were so anxious to see themselves that she took individual photos of each child. Only Short Bear refused to be photographed.

  She took a picture of Zuniga, too. He was reluctant at first, but eventually he agreed to let Loralee take his picture.

  The children were thrilled with the results. She dismissed the class early the day the pictures arrived. They were too excited to study, too eager to run home and show their families the photographs the magic box had taken.

  Loralee was equally thrilled with the picture of Zuniga. She had photographed him astride the big dun stallion with the timbered foothills in the background. The horse had posed beautifully, head up, ears forward, eyes alert. Zuniga, dressed in his customary buckskin pants and sleeveless vest, his long black hair flowing down his back, looked every inch the warrior Apache.

  Impulsively, Loralee pressed his picture to her lips, then giggled self-consciously even though she was alone.

  At home later that day, she placed Zuniga's photograph on her dressing table where she could see it first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

  5

  It was Friday evening and the lesson was half over. Loralee continued to be pleased with Zuniga's progress, and she began to wonder if he would consider going to college. She was certain he could obtain a degree in any field he desired and go on to make a success of his life. He could be a doctor perhaps, or a lawyer, and really do something for his people. She smiled as she envisioned him in a dark blue suit and tie, a briefcase under his arm.

  She shook her thoughts away as he asked a question. Pausing at his shoulder, she bent down so she could see the book spread open on his desk. They were working on nouns and verbs, and though Zuniga thought such knowledge useless and foolish, he listened intently as she explained the difference.

  Zuniga took a deep breath, inhaling Loralee's fragrance as she answered his question. She was so lovely, so close, it was all he could do not to draw her into his lap and ease his desire by claiming her lips. His eyes moved over her face and body, lingering on her mouth, her full breasts, the sweet curve of her hips.

  Loralee glanced at Zuniga, and their eyes met and held. She saw the desire lurking behind his dark eyes, felt it in the heat of his gaze. Suddenly nervous, she licked her lower lip, then quickly turned away.

  It was then she saw Mike standing in the doorway. She had not heard him come in, and she wondered how long he had been standing there, watching. Hot color suffused her cheeks as she moved away from Zuniga and ran a hand over her hair.

  ''Mike, is something wrong?"

  Schofield glared at Zuniga. "No, nothing's wrong," he replied stiffly.

  Zuniga stood up, his expression insolent as he returned Mike Schofield's stare.

  Loralee glanced from Mike to Zuniga and then at Mike again. "If nothing's wrong, I'll see you tomorrow, Mike."

  "I came to walk you home," Mike said.

  Loralee slid a glance in Zuniga's direction. She could feel the anger building within him. She had promised Shadow they would meet alone, and now he must be thinking that she had broken that promise. He gave her one quick, accusing look and stalked out of the building.

  "Zuniga, wait!"

  "Let him go," Mike said. His hand closed over her forearm as she started toward the door.

  Loralee whirled on him in a fury. "What are you doing here?" sh
e demanded angrily. "I gave Shad Zuniga my word that no one would be here during his lessons, and now you've made a liar out of me."

  "Loralee, I just wanted to"

  "If he doesn't come back, it will be all your Fault. And if he stops coming, the children might stop coming to school, too, and if that happens, Mike Schofield, I'll never forgive you. Never!"

  "I'm sorry," Mike apologized sullenly.

  "He's such a proud man," Loralee remarked. "Can't you understand why he didn't want anyone to be here? He's a warrior, being taught by a woman. You've been here long enough to know how proud the Apaches are."

  "I don't under-stand why he's here at all," Mike retorted. "I'd bet a month's pay he doesn't give a damn about learning to read or write or anything else."

  "I think you're wrong," Loralee said with conviction. "He's very bright, Mike. I hope I can encourage him to go on with his studies when I've taught him all I can."

  Schofield laughed, shaking his head in wonder. Zuniga, go to college? It was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard. Given the chance, the man would be riding the war trail, killing and scalping and raising hell from here to Mexico, and Loralee wanted him to go to college. Sometimes there was no understanding a woman's thinking.

  "I don't see what's so funny," Loralee said irritably. "Shad Zuniga has a fine mind. The fact that he's an Indian doesn't change that."

  "The man's a heathen savage, for God's sake," Mike said, annoyed by the way she defended Zuniga at every turn.

  "I don't wish to discuss it," Loralee answered coldly. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going home."

  "I'll walk you."

  "No, thank you."

  "Loralee, don't be a fool. I'll walk you home."

  "Very well."

  She extinguished the light, drew on her shawl, and locked the door. They walked in silence, Mike leading his horse.

  "Thank you for seeing me home, Sergeant," Loralee said politely. "Good night."

  "Loralee, I'm sorry for what I said about Zuniga. Let's not quarrel."

  "All right." She smiled up at him. He was one of the few good friends she had, and she didn't want to argue with him.

  "Good night," Mike said. He touched his hat brim with his fingertips.

  "Good night." Loralee watched Mike mount his horse and ride away until he was swallowed up by the night, then she gazed up at the distant hills. Zuniga had been understandably angry. No doubt he thought she had arranged for Mike to meet her at the school. Had he been terribly embarrassed to have Mike see him sitting at a child's desk, being tutored by a woman? Would he refuse to return to school now? She rubbed her hand across the back of her neck. Should she ride up and talk to Zuniga tonight, or let things go until Monday and see what happened?

  Undecided, she paced up and down in front of the house, wondering what to do. She owed Zuniga an apology, yet she was hesitant to ride up to his lodge after dark. She was about to go inside when she turned on her heel and headed for the corral to saddle Lady. She had to know where she stood, and she couldn't wait until Monday night to find out.

  Loralee made her way slowly through the darkness, grateful there was a full moon to light her path. Lady snorted and shied at each sound and shadow, and Loralee kept a tight hold on the reins, fearing the mare might spook and bolt out from under her.

  She had ridden about halfway up the hill to where Zuniga's lodge was located when a deep voice reached out to her.

  "You should not be riding out here alone at night."

  Loralee reined Lady to a halt and turned toward the sound of his voice. "I wanted to see you."

  Zuniga guided his stallion out of the shadows. "Why?"

  "To apologize for tonight. I didn't know Mike was going to come to the school. It wasn't my idea, and I wanted you to know it."

  Zuniga grinned wryly. "Are you afraid I will stop coming to school?" he asked sardonically.

  "Yes," Loralee answered honestly. "I think you have great potential, and I'd hate to see it go to waste because of a misunderstanding."

  "No. You are afraid that if I do not come to school, the children will not come either."

  "That's part of it," Loralee admitted, wishing he would not stare at her in such a probing way. She reached down and stroked Lady's neck, feeling her cheeks grow warm as Zuniga continued to stare at her. Why not tell him the real reason you don't want him to quit? an inner voice taunted. Why not tell him the whole truth? Why not admit that your insides turn to jelly and your heart pounds a mile a minute whenever he looks at you . . . that you want more than his kisses, much more?

  Zuniga gazed at Loralee's bowed head. The moonlight danced in her hair, turning the gold to silver. He could see that her cheeks were flushed with color, and he wondered why. Was she embarrassed because she had come after him, or afraid he might read more into her little visit than she intended?

  The stallion danced restlessly beneath him, sidling up against Loralee's mare, its nostrils flared as he breathed in the mare's scent. The stallion whickered softly as the mare's tail went up, signaling that she was in season and willing to accept a mate.

  Zuniga grinned as he slapped the stallion on the neck. "Not now," he muttered to the horse. "Not for you, and not for me."

  Loralee glanced up. "What?"

  "Nothing. Do not worry. I will be there Monday night, just like always."

  Loralee smiled up at him. Everything was not lost. He would keep coming to school. She would see him as before, talk to him, hear his voice. She admitted now that she had been afraid, not that he would stop his lessons, nor that the children would refuse to learn, but that Zuniga would go out of her life for good.

  Shad drew a ragged breath. Loralee looked so beautiful sitting there in the moonlight, her eyes shining brightly, her smile dazzling. She wanted him. He knew it suddenly, surely, without question. But did she know it?

  Throwing caution to the wind, Zuniga reached for her, his arm curling around her waist, dragging her from the back of her horse to his. His dark eyes burned with the memory of the kisses they had shared as his mouth closed over hers.

  Loralee made no protest, nor did she think of resisting when his arms closed around her. She had been wanting him for days and now he was here, holding her, kissing her. Her arms went around his neck, drawing him closer.

  "Loralee." He whispered her name as his hands removed the pins from her hair, allowing the golden mass to cascade down her back.

  Loralee shuddered with pleasure as his fingers moved through her hair, then began to massage the back of her neck.

  "Loralee?" His voice was deep and rich, husky with longing. She heard the question he did not ask, and she nodded, her eyes not quite meeting his.

  He breathed her name yet again as he urged the stallion higher into the hills, and she settled back against the hard wall of his chest, content to be there. She did not ask where he was taking her, nor did she care. She wanted only to be forever in his arms, to feel the hard smoothness of his skin beneath her hand, to hear his heart beating beneath her cheek, feel his breath upon her face.

  The hills were lovely in the moonlight. The stars were clear and bright, sparkling like early morning dewdrops against the indigo velvet of the night sky. The world was quiet save for the muffled thud of the stallion's hooves and the occasional cry of an owl or the lonesome wail of a coyote.

  It was like a dream, Loralee mused as they traveled on through the darkness. Nothing seemed real, and yet reality had never seemed so sweet. She gave a little sigh as she snuggled closer to Zuniga, smiled as his arm tightened around her waist. She felt his lips move in her hair, and she hoped that she would not awaken to find herself alone in her narrow bed, cold and alone.

  She turned a little so she could see his face, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek. It was not a dream after all. He was real. Content, she rested against his chest, a little smile of anticipation playing over her lips.

  Higher and higher they climbed until they came to a small lake surrounded by timber. Moonlight turne
d the water to liquid silver, and Loralee gave a little gasp of pleasure. It was so beautiful, the lake and the trees and the star-studded night.

  Zuniga reined the dun to a halt beside the shimmering pool, then stepped to the ground, still holding Loralee in his arms. Gently, he placed her on the ground, then stretched out beside her, his arms pulling her close. A thrill of exhilaration skipped down Loralee's spine as her body molded itself to his. He looked handsome and wild lying there beside her, his long black hair spilling over his shoulders, his dark eyes aglow with the warmth of his desire. His hands moved lazily over her body, the heat of his flesh burning through the fabric of her dress.

  Slowly, his eyes never leaving her face, he began to unfasten the long row of tiny pearl buttons that started at the neckline and went all the way down to the hem.

  Loralee sighed as he opened the bodice of her dress and began to unfasten her undergarments, gently fondling her breasts as the flimsy material parted beneath his questing fingertips. She shuddered with pleasure even as a little voice in the back of her mind warned her that she was letting him go too far. All her life she had been taught it was wrong to let a man kiss her intimately, or caress her in any way. It had been drummed into her head time and again that nice girls did not engage in any form of sexual activity before marriage. But, somehow, that no longer seemed important. Zuniga's hands were turning her flesh to flame, making her heart pound as though she had been running for miles. He lowered his head, his teeth nibbling at her neck, her breasts, her flat belly. Murmuring her name, he removed her dress and petticoats, sucked in a deep breath as his eyes wandered over her body. It was slim and beautiful, perfect in every detail.

  Loralee blushed as Zuniga's eyes moved over her bare flesh. No man had ever seen her unclothed before, yet she was not ashamed, only a little nervous. What if he did not find her attractive? With some trepidation, she met his gaze and saw the admiration mirrored in his eyes.