"You are with child," Zuniga said, each word cracking like a pistol shot.
"Yes." There was no point in denying it.
Zuniga's eyes narrowed. "You have only been married for eight weeks."
"So?" She knew suddenly what he was getting at, and her heart began to beat faster.
"You are more than eight weeks pregnant."
"Really?" Loralee replied sarcastically. "And when did you get to be such an expert on women in the family way?"
"Is the child mine?"
"No."
"No? Then you were sleeping with the white man while you were sleeping with me." A surge of white hot anger enveloped him at the thought of another man touching her, caressing her.
Loralee opened her mouth to deny Zuniga's accusation. How could he even think such a thing? The words of protest died in her throat. If she said she hadn't slept with Mike, Shad would know without a doubt that the child was his. And she did not want Zuniga to know he had fathered her child. Not now. Not ever.
"Well?" Zuniga prompted. His hands fell away from her face and balled into tight fists as he waited for her answer.
Loralee lifted her head proudly, her brown eyes flashing defiantly. "I'm only eight weeks pregnant," she lied boldly. "I've just been eating too much and"she shrugged nonchalantly, praying that Zuniga would believe her''I've gained a lot of weight, that's all. It's perfectly normal."
It was possible, Zuniga thought skeptically, and yet he knew, deep in his heart, that the child was his. Why wouldn't she admit it?
"I do not believe you," he said stubbornly.
Loralee took a deep breath. "Well, it's true whether you believe it or not."
Zuniga continued to stare at her intently. She was lying through her teeth and he knew it. But why? Was she ashamed to admit that an Indian had fathered her child? Or had she been sleeping with Schofield before they were married? Rage boiled through Zuniga. If Schofield had dared touch Loralee before they were married, he would die for it.
Zuniga swallowed his fury, and as he did so, a new thought occurred to him. Perhaps he had misjudged Loralee all along. Perhaps she was not the sweet innocent he had thought her to be. Perhaps she slept with every man she met and didn't know who the father was. Yet even as the idea crossed his mind, he knew it wasn't possible. Loralee had been a virgin when he took her the first time, and he was certain she had been with no other men but himself and Schofield.
Loralee licked her lips nervously. "I don't care what you believe," she retorted. "The child is Mike's, not yours, and there's nothing you can do about it."
Zuniga took a step closer, his dark eyes ablaze with jealousy. "Does the white man please you as I did?"
Loralee gasped, outraged that he would dare ask such a thing. Hot color rushed to her cheeks, and she turned away, refusing to answer him, refusing even to look at him.
"Do you call his name and claw his back as you once did mine?" Zuniga demanded. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. His eyes were like liquid ebony, deep and dark and angry. "Do you?"
"Shut up," Loralee hissed. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but his hand was like an iron vise, holding her immobile.
"Do you whimper softly when he strokes your sweet thighs, Loralee?" Zuniga taunted angrily. "Does he know the hills and valleys of your body as well as I do?"
"Shut your filthy mouth!" she shrieked. Tears welled in her eyes and she dashed them away with her fists. What right did he have to humiliate her in such a fashion, to make what they had shared seem cheap and degrading?
She gasped as Zuniga released his hold on her chin and grabbed a handful of her hair. Jerking her up against him, he pressed his mouth over hers, his lips grinding painfully against her own. Furious at his unwarranted assault, she bit down on his lower lip as hard as she could, and felt her stomach churn with revulsion as his blood filled her mouth.
With a wordless cry, she twisted out of his embrace. Arms wrapped around her swollen belly, she vomited until her stomach was empty and sore.
Face grim, Shad handed her the strip of cloth he used as a headband. Loralee accepted it grudgingly, embarrassed that she had disgraced herself before a man who only moments before had accused her of being no better than a harlot.
"Loralee." His voice was soft, all trace of anger and accusation gone.
"Leave me alone." She wiped her mouth with the cloth.
"Here. Drink this."
She took the gourd of water he offered her, and rinsed her mouth before taking a drink. The water was cool and sweet, but she refused to thank him for it.
"Loralee?"
Reluctantly she met his eyes. For a fraction of a second, she was sure that she saw love reflected in his gaze, but the expression was so quickly gone that she thought she must have imagined it. The desire in his eyes was easier to read. Too late, she realized that he meant to kiss her again. She did not struggle this time; instead, she stood in his arms, stiff and unmoving as a slab of stone, determined to accept his kiss passively until he released her, and then she would leave. Hopefully, she would never see him again.
Zuniga grinned, well aware of her tactics. Gently, his mouth moved over hers, light as the wings of a butterfly as he endeavored to arouse her. His hands played over her back and buttocks, pulling her against him so that she could feel his body and thighs and the hard bulge of his desire.
Loralee squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying to think of Mike, of the cruel things Zuniga had accused her of, of how much she hated him. But his lips were warm, persuasive, reminding her of past pleasures, of present desires. His body was hard, exciting, demanding. Slowly, hardly aware that she was doing so, she began to kiss him back. Her eyelids fluttered down as she surrendered to his kiss, reveling in the warmth that swelled within her being. Her blood was hot and sweet, singing in her veins, humming in her ears. She swayed against him, wanting to be closer to his masculine strength, certain she could never be close enough to satisfy the longing he had aroused in her. This was what she wanted. This was what she had yearned for.
She felt bereft when he released her.
"Let's go," Zuniga said gruffly.
Loralee looked at him blankly. "Go?"
"I am leaving the reservation." He gestured toward the pile of ashes that had been Nachi's wickiup. "I have no reason to stay now, and I am taking you with me."
Loralee stared at Zuniga. She shook her head as he began to reach for her. "No."
"Do not argue with me," he warned.
Loralee backed away, still shaking her head. She couldn't go with Zuniga, no matter how tempting the thought was. She was married to Mike now. He had given her his name, saved her from a life of shame, saved her child from the awful stigma of being born a bastard. If she lived to be a hundred, she could never repay Mike Schofield for his kindness. She could not shame him by running away with Zuniga.
With ease, Zuniga caught Loralee by the waist and lifted her onto the back of her horse. Then he swung aboard the dun.
"Follow me." He started down the hill, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Loralee was following.
She urged her horse after Zuniga, pretending to be willing to do as he said. Gradually she let him get farther and farther ahead, and when the path leveled out, she swiftly reined Lady around and drummed her heels into the mare's flanks. The horse broke into a gallop, running hard for home.
Loralee felt her insides grow cold as a wild cry split the air. Zuniga was after her! She kicked Lady hard, begging the little mare for more speed, but her horse was no match for Zuniga's dun stallion. Tears of frustration stung Loralee's eyes as Zuniga pulled up alongside her. Leaning from his horse, he grabbed the reins from her hand and slowed her horse to a walk.
"Do not do that again!"
"Why are you doing this?" Loralee demanded.
"Because of the child. I will see for myself if it is mine."
Loralee glared at Zuniga. "What are you saying?"
"I am going to keep you with me until
the child is born. If it is mine, I intend to keep it and raise it to be Apache."
"And if it isn't yours?"
Zuniga's face grew ugly. "Schofield dies."
"How will you know if the baby is yours? It might look like me."
"I will know."
"And what are your plans for me once the child is born?"
"If it is mine, I will keep the child and send you back to your husband." The last word was spoken with a sneer. "If the child is Schofield's, you may keep the child. But Schofield dies."
"You must be out of your mind,"
Loralee murmured, truly frightened now. "Don't you think Mike will come looking for me when I don't come home tonight? He'll kill you for this."
"He can try."
"You can't fight the whole Army," Loralee declared, exasperated. "Anyway, the baby isn't due for months."
Zuniga shrugged. "Apaches are known for their patience."
Stunned, Loralee didn't resist when Zuniga began to lead her horse southward. What was she going to do? If she admitted that the child was Shad's, he would keep her until the child was born and then send her back to Mike, keeping the child for himself. If he decided that the child wasn't his, Mike's life was in danger.
And then there was Mike to consider. What would he do when she didn't come home? How long would he wait before he began searching for her? Mike was a good soldier, and he had several young Apache scouts, but they had not been trained as Zuniga had been trained. In her heart, she was afraid that Mike would not be able to find her. Zuniga was Indian through and through. He could cover his tracks with ease. He could live off the land as his ancestors had, surviving on the food that nature provided. He knew where the waterholes were, where the rivers were.
She was equally afraid that Mike might find her. In his present state of mind, Zuniga might well try to kill her husband.
Loralee glared at Zuniga, riding ahead of her. He rode easily, his body moving in rhythm with the stallion's, his long legs dangling loosely at the horse's sides. His back was straight and broad, his shoulders wide. He wore no shirt, only the familiar sleeveless vest, buckskin pants, and moccasins. His arms were the color of dark copper, ridged with muscle. His hair, long and black, fell past his shoulders. He had beautiful hair, she thought absently.
Her thoughts turned to Mike. He was tall and handsome, yet he did not kindle her desire, only a warm affection and a feeling of friendship. Still, she was married to him. He had given her a home and security and a name for her child, things Zuniga could never provide. Things he had never offered to give.
Loralee shook her head. She had been raised to be a proper lady all her life. Happiness came from doing what was right. Those who defied the laws of civilization and morality were shunned by decent society. Never, before Zuniga, had she found the courage to fly in the face of convention. Always she had done what was expected of her, behaved as a lady was expected to behave.
She had never been sorry. Until now. For the first time in her life she was ready to defy the laws of decency and morality and follow her heart. Only Zuniga didn't love her. All he wanted was the child who had been conceived out of their lust for each other. And when he had the child, he would send her back to Mike.
Loralee laughed a silent, humorless laugh. Mike would not want her after she had spent five months living in the wilds with an Apache warrior. No decent man would want her.
A single tear rolled down her cheek as she thought of the child growing under her heart. For the first time, she thought of it as a living being and not just a problem that needed solving. How could she let Zuniga take her child? It would be like losing a part of herself, a precious part of her heart and soul that could never be replaced no matter how many other children she might have.
Lost in thought, she did not notice the passing of the hours, or pay any attention to the direction they were taking. It wasn't until Zuniga came to a halt that she realized the sun was setting.
Glancing around, she saw they were in a box canyon. A thick stand of timber screened the entrance.
Zuniga dismounted. Paying no attention to Loralee, he removed the bridle from the dun and turned the horse loose to graze on the sparse yellow grass growing beside a small seep. Opening his war bag, he removed a side of bacon, some biscuits, a coffee pot and a sack of coffee, a tin cup, a flying pan, and matches.
That done, he lifted Loralee from the back of her horse, then nodded at the supplies spread on the ground.
"Fix dinner," he said curtly.
Loralee cast a grim look at the bacon and biscuits. "Is that all there is?"
"That's it."
With a distasteful sigh, Loralee began to slice the bacon into the skillet while Zuniga laid a small fire, then unsaddled and hobbled Loralee's horse. Bacon, biscuits, and coffee were better than nothing, Loralee mused irritably, but not much. The bacon was old, the biscuits were stale and hard, and there was neither milk nor sugar to sweeten the coffee. Still, she ate all he gave her, refusing to thank him. She wasn't here as his guest, after all.
It was full dark by the time they finished eating and cleaning up. Loralee watched apprehensively as Zuniga spread his blankets by the fire.
He glanced up, grinning, and Loralee felt her stomach flutter nervously. He had made only one bed. Obviously, he meant for her to share it with him.
Turning on her heel, she stalked into the darkness, seeking a place to relieve herself.
"Watch for snakes," Zuniga called, and laughed softly at her horrified gasp.
Eyes darting warily from side to side, Loralee squatted behind a clump of gray-green chaparral, cursing the day she had left the East. Her friends had been right, she thought dourly, she should have stayed home where she belonged. Then she wouldn't be relieving herself in the dirt like a wild animal. She wouldn't be pregnant by a man who was more savage than civilized. She wouldn't be married to a man she didn't love.
Zuniga was sitting on the blankets staring into the fire when she returned to camp. He glanced up, his eyes thoughtful, when he heard her footsteps.
Loralee remained standing, not wanting to sit beside him.
''Get some sleep," Zuniga said. "We're going to get an early start in the morning."
Loralee glanced pointedly at the blankets, and then at Zuniga.
With a wry grin, he stood up and handed her one of the blankets. Loralee felt a moment of disappointment when he didn't insist on sharing her bed. Then, admonishing herself for even considering such a thing, she curled up in the blanket and closed her eyes.
It seemed as if only moments had passed before Zuniga was shaking her awake. Wordlessly he handed her a cup of hot coffee, then began saddling her horse.
His stallion stood a few feet away, bridled and ready to go.
Loralee drank the bitter coffee, and then threw the grounds on the ashes of last night's fire. Rolling her blanket into a tight cylinder, she packed the skillet, coffee pot, and cup into Zuniga's war bag. Going to the seep, she rinsed her hands and face in the cold water. She wished fleetingly for a comb and a bar of soap.
By the time she had finished her crude toilet, Zuniga had the blankets strapped behind her saddle, his war bag over the horn.
Without a word, he helped her into the saddle, vaulted lightly onto the dun's bare back, and rode out of the canyon, heading southwest.
15
Mike was late getting home that night and he wasn't surprised to see that the house was dark. Loralee's pregnancy was making her more tired than usual and she often went to bed early.
Unsaddling his mount, he turned the horse loose inside the corral behind the house, forked the animal some hay, then stepped inside the house.
Moving quietly, he went into the kitchen and warmed up a pot of coffee. Sitting in the dark, he removed his sidearm and boots, unbuttoned his shirt, and sat back in the chair, his eyes closed. Married life agreed with him, he mused, even though he was living more like a monk than a bridegroom.
His love for Loralee grew with e
ach passing day, and he was certain that she was beginning to care for him. Though he hadn't made further attempts to make love to her, they shared the same bed, and he enjoyed seeing her lovely face first thing in the morning and last thing at night. There were times when it took every ounce of will power he possessed to keep from taking her by force, times when her very nearness was the worst kind of torture. Her pregnancy helped keep his desires in check, but in a few months, the baby would be born. He hoped by then that Loralee would have grown to love him as he loved her.
Thinking of her, wanting her, made his blood run hot, and he stood up abruptly, poured himself a cup of coffee, and gulped down the contents in three long swallows.
"Patience," he murmured. "Just have patience."
Placing his cup in the sink, he went into the bedroom.
The bed was empty, the covers neatly in place.
Frowning, he lit the lamp beside the bed and looked around the room. Everything was in its place. He checked the closest and the dresser; all her clothes were there, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't left him, as he had at first feared.
Moving into the parlor, he lit another lamp and looked around for a note. There was none. It occurred to him that her horse had been missing from the corral. Perhaps she had ridden over to the schoolhouse, though he couldn't imagine what she would be doing there at such a late hour. Nevertheless, he pulled on his boots, saddled his horse, and rode to the school. There was no one there.
He rode to her former house, but that too was empty and dark. Truly worried now, he rode back to the fort and checked with Stella Freeman and the other women, but no one had seen Loralee since early that afternoon.
Back at home, he unsaddled his horse, then went into the house, his steps heavy, his mind in turmoil. There was nothing to do now but wait until morning.
He paced the parlor for an hour before he went to bed, but sleep would not come. Where could she be? Please, God, let her be all right, he prayed.
Rising, he wandered through the house until the eastern sky began to turn gray. Downing a quick cup of coffee, he saddled his weary horse and rode to the Agency office. Summoning his Indian scouts, he quickly explained that his wife was missing, and they rode back to Mike's house to look for signs.
Love Forevermore Page 15
