ChasetheLightning

by Madeline Baker

  “Come on, boy.” She clucked to the horse. “Come on, let’s go.”

  With a shake of his head, the stallion backed up.

  “No!” Amanda drummed her heels into the horse’s flanks. She was so close! “Come on,” she coaxed. “Let’s go.” She smacked the horse on the rump with the flat of her hand. “Come on! Take me home!”

  The stallion’s ears went flat as it slowly rose up on its hind legs. With a startled cry, Amanda slid over the horse’s hindquarters and landed on her backside, hard. For a moment, she just sat there, too stunned to move, and then she became aware of a sharp pain in the region of her tailbone.

  Glaring at Relámpago, she gained her feet.

  “Forget it!” she said when the stallion rubbed his forehead against her arm. “Scratch your own ears.”

  Trey was still asleep when she limped her way back into the lodge. Relámpago trailed at her heels like an overgrown puppy. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the stallion was having a good laugh at her expense.

  “Go on,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hands. “Go on, you traitor, get out of here.”

  With a snort and a shake of his head, the stallion trotted back to the herd.

  Amanda scowled after him, then ducked into the lodge. “Ungrateful beast,” she muttered.

  “I hope you’re not talking about me,” Trey muttered sleepily.

  “What? Oh, no.” She closed the door flap.

  “Well, what ungrateful beast are you talking about?”

  “That horse of yours! I tried to…oh, never mind.”

  He started to sit up and thought better of it. “What about my horse?”

  She sucked in a deep breath, debating whether to tell him what she had done. Or tried to do.

  “I asked you a question.” He was fully awake now.

  “Oh, all right. If you must know, I tried to leave the canyon, but that horse of yours refused to leave.”

  Trey lifted one brow. “What do you mean?”

  She crossed the floor and sat down on a blanket. “I mean, he wouldn’t leave. He went right up to the entrance, and then he just stopped and refused to go any further. You’ve certainly trained him well.”

  “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “So, it was Relámpago’s idea?” she asked, somewhat sarcastically.

  “I don’t know. ‘Pago is a medicine horse. You have any questions, I reckon you’ll have to ask my grandfather.”

  “How long are we going to stay here?”

  “Until I’m ready to leave.”

  “Oh, you are the most impossible man I’ve ever known.”

  His hand captured hers, his thumb making lazy circles over the back of her hand. “And you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  “Stop that.” She tried to jerk her hand away, but he refused to let her go.

  “Why?”

  Her gaze slid away from his. It wasn’t fair, the maddening effect he had on her senses. His thumb continued to make circles on the back of her hand, his touch sending shivers of sensual delight down her spine. She must have been crazy to even think of leaving when everything she wanted was right here.

  “Amanda?”

  “What?” She met his gaze reluctantly.

  He gave a little tug on her hand. “Come here.”

  “Why?”

  “Come here.”

  She let him pull her closer, didn’t resist as his mouth captured hers. A flutter of excitement unfurled in her belly. Heat flowed through her veins as his tongue explored her lower lip.

  Moaning softly, she stretched out beside him. Needing to be closer, she pressed against him, her body molding to his, her hand sliding up and down his chest, reveling in the warmth of his skin, the way his body felt next to her own.

  He slid his arm around her, a groan that was half pleasure and half pain rising in his throat.

  “I’m sorry.” She started to draw back, but his arm tightened around her.

  “Don’t go,” he said, his voice thick.

  “But I’m hurting you.”

  “Not as much as your leaving will hurt.”

  His words sent waves of pleasure rolling through her. “Well,” she said, nibbling on his lower lip, “I can stand it if you can.”

  He grinned at her, then captured her lips with his once more. Ignoring the pain, he turned on his side and drew her up against him, felt the heat of her breasts against his chest. She fit him perfectly, he thought, soft and pliant, all woman from head to heel. He ran his hand down her shoulder, skimmed over the swell of her breast, dipped at the curve of her waist, slid over her hip, down her thigh and up again.

  She moaned with pleasure, fanning the embers of his desire. “We’d better stop.”

  “Yeah.” She was right. He was in no condition to carry this through to the end but damn, he wanted her. Wanted her like he had never wanted anything, any woman, in his whole life.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  “Some water.”

  “All right.” She lingered a moment, hating to leave the warmth of his arms; then, with a sigh of resignation, she sat up and reached for the waterskin.

  * * * * *

  The next few days passed slowly. Peacefully. Trey spent most of his time sleeping, or sitting in the sun while his body healed itself. Yellow Calf Woman brought them food morning and evening; Walker on the Wind stopped by at least once each day to see how Trey was doing.

  Amanda was sitting outside a week later when a sudden commotion caught her attention. Rising, she peered inside the wickiup. Trey was asleep. Closing the door flap so no one would disturb him, she followed several other women toward the cause of the commotion.

  Five mounted warriors sat their horses in the midst of the crowd. Amanda glanced at them, wondering what all the excitement was about. And then she saw him. The bounty hunter, Langley. He was lying on the ground, his hands tied behind his back. There was a rope around his neck. Judging from his torn clothing and the scrapes on his skin, she guessed he had been dragged for some distance.

  The Apaches pointed at him, their voices filled with derision. A couple of young boys pelted him with rocks. An elderly woman struck him across the back with her walking stick.

  Langley suffered their abuse in silence, his face impassive, his eyes shuttered and cold. Until he looked up and saw her staring at him. Recognition flickered in his eyes.

  She watched as he was dragged away and bound to a post, and then, feeling sick to her stomach, she hurried back to Trey’s lodge. She had read books, seen movies. She knew what Indians did to captives. They burned them alive, or covered them with honey and let the ants eat them.

  Trey was awake when she entered the wickiup. He frowned when he saw the look on her face. “What is it, sweetheart? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

  “He’s here…they’ve captured him…”

  “Who’s here?”

  “That bounty hunter.”

  “Langley?”

  She nodded, her arms crossed over her stomach, her face pale. “What will they do with him?”

  He knew then what was bothering her, why she looked so stricken. The cruelty of the Apache was well-known. Pity was a trait unknown to the warriors of his people. Fighting was in their blood. They had fought with other tribes for generations. They had suffered much at the hands of the Spanish and then the whites. Little wonder they had learned to repay treachery with treachery, cruelty with cruelty. Loyal to their own, they considered all others to be their enemy. Wrongs against their own were quickly avenged.

  “Trey?”

  Gaining his feet, he closed the distance between them and took her into his arms. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? Or you don’t want to tell me?”

  “I reckon they’ll kill him.”

  “They can’t!” She clutched his arms. “You know they can’t. What about Rob? If they kill Langley…”

  “Yeah, we wouldn’t want anything to keep
old Rob from being born now, would we?”

  She gazed up at him, her eyes filled with silent condemnation.

  Trey swore a short pithy oath. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He found Langley curled into tight ball in an effort to protect his face and belly from the rocks and sticks being thrown at him by a handful of boys.

  Trey chased the kids away, then squatted on his heels beside the bounty hunter. “You lookin’ for me?”

  Langley sat up slowly, his eyes narrowed. “Long Walker.” He spat the name through clenched teeth.

  “I should think you’d be glad to see me,” Trey remarked. “After all, I’m the only friend you’ve got here.”

  Langley glared at him.

  Trey ran a hand over his jaw, enjoying the other man’s discomfort.

  “What are they gonna do to me?”

  Trey shrugged. “What do you think?”

  “I reckon you’ll be right in there with ‘em.”

  “I have to admit, I’d sleep a lot easier knowing you wouldn’t be coming after me anymore.”

  “If I don’t get you, some other lawman will.”

  “Hollinger killed my old man. Whatever happens to him is no more than he’s got coming.”

  “The law doesn’t see it that way.”

  “The law? What do you care about the law? You’re nothing but a leech, living on blood money.”

  “And you’re nothing but a dirty…”

  “I wouldn’t say anything else if I were you,” Trey interjected, his voice hard. “Might make me change my mind about getting you out of here.”

  “Why would you help me?”

  “That’s none of your business. But if I can get you out of this, I want your word that you won’t come after me again.”

  Langley stared at him.

  “Well? Do we have a deal?”

  “Yeah,” Langley replied sullenly. “We’ve got a deal.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Amanda was waiting for him when he returned to the wickiup, her expression worried. “Where have you been?”

  “Talking to Langley.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “For the time being.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “It’s up to whoever captured him, I reckon.”

  “Trey!”

  “We’ll just have to wait and play it by ear, see what happens next.”

  “When will we know?”

  He glanced toward the doorway of the wickiup. Drumming could be heard from outside. “I’d say any time now. Come on.”

  A festive mood hung over the camp. Langley was bound to a post, his hands secured over his head. Several young warriors paraded back and forth in front of him, taunting him, while a handful of women poked him with sticks, drawing blood with every hit.

  Langley endured their abuse stoically, his eyes blazing defiance.

  “Stay here,” Trey said. He didn’t wait for a reply, but left her standing on the edge of the crowd.

  The warriors fell back as Trey approached. They murmured among themselves as he withdrew his knife from the sheath on his belt, their murmurs of approval turning to protest as he cut Langley free.

  Elk Runner strode forward, his dark eyes angry. “What are you doing? The white man is mine.”

  “I claim him,” Trey replied, “by right of blood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We are blood brothers.” It was the truth, and a lie, Trey mused. He had shed Langley’s blood; Langley had shed his. “I will give you a horse in exchange for his life.”

  Elk Runner considered Trey’s offer. Then, apparently deciding a good horse was worth more than the captured pinda-lick-o-ye, he nodded his agreement. Gesturing for the other warriors to follow him, he left the area. The rest of the crowd drifted after them.

  “Come on,” Trey said gruffly. “Let’s get you cleaned up. My people will expect me to take care of you now.”

  “I don’t like this any better than you do,” Langley retorted.

  “I guess it’s a good thing you won’t be staying long then, isn’t it?”

  It was left to Amanda to tend Langley’s wounds. Besides the one in his shoulder, inflicted by Trey, he had numerous cuts, bruises and abrasions from head to foot. She couldn’t help staring at him as she worked. His resemblance to Rob, or, more correctly, Rob’s resemblance to him was remarkable. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought they were the same man.

  Langley frowned under her scrutiny. “Something wrong?”

  “No. It’s just that you look like someone I know.”

  “Is that right?”

  She nodded. “An old boyfriend of mine.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, he was a fool to let you go.”

  She smiled at the compliment as she treated the last of his injuries. “There, that does it.”

  “Obliged, ma’am.”

  “You’re welcome. Would you like something to eat?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I surely would.” He glanced over at Trey, who was sitting near the fire pit. “I don’t reckon that buck will give me back my horse or my weapons.”

  “I reckon you’re right,” Trey answered.

  “How am I supposed to get back to civilization?”

  “That’s not my problem, is it?”

  Amanda shook her head. For a couple of grown men, they sounded like two schoolboys.

  Langley shrugged. “Reckon I’ll just stay here, being your blood brother and all. I hope that won’t inconvenience you too much, ma’am.”

  “I know when I’m licked,” Trey muttered sourly. “I’ll get you a horse.”

  * * * * *

  It was Walker on the Wind who provided a horse for Langley the following day, as well as a shirt to replace the one that had been ruined when he was captured. Amanda fixed him some food for the trail.

  “I’m obliged to ya for what you’ve done,” Langley said.

  “I’m counting on you to keep your word,” Trey replied.

  Langley nodded. Taking up the reins to his horse, he pulled himself onto the animal’s back. How am I supposed to make it out of here without a gun?”

  “My people won’t bother you. They think we’re blood brothers.”

  “Yeah, well, your people aren’t the only Injuns running around out here.”

  Trey loosed a sigh of exasperation. “You’re lucky to get out of here with a whole skin. From now on, you’re on your own.”

  “I’m obliged to ya,” Langley said. “Ride easy.”

  “Yeah,” Trey replied. “You, too.”

  The next several days passed peacefully. Amanda stayed close to Trey, watching the activity in the village, picking up a word here and there. Shima meant mother, shinale meant grandfather, shiwoye meant grandmother, ma’ye was the word for coyote, chaa meant beaver, shikeshi meant follow me, ch’ide was the word for blanket, gahee meant coffee, nada was corn.

  She grew accustomed to bathing in the stream in the Apache way. She felt nervous and exposed the first time she did it, but Trey’s grandmother stood nearby to reassure her. Yellow Calf Woman had offered her a chunk of soap that Trey later told her was made from yucca, but Amanda had her own soap. She handed it to Trey’s grandmother, who sniffed it, and smiled. From then on, the two of them shared the lavender-scented soap until it was gone.

  His grandparents were frequent visitors. Amanda quickly grew fond of them both, especially Walker on the Wind. He was a wonderful storyteller, and she listened avidly as he talked of Trey’s childhood days with the Apache, a sure sign that she was falling in love, she thought, since women were always eager to know everything there was to know about the men they loved.

  Why did she love him? That was the question uppermost in her mind as they sat outside a week later. She studied him surreptitiously. He was handsome, yes, but there was more to it than that. He made her feel safe, alive, important. Of course, the fact that his kisses made her go weak in the knees probably had so
mething to do with it, too. That, and his smile, and the way he made her forget her own name when he looked at her. He had occupied most of her thoughts by day and her dreams by night since the first day she had seen him. Maybe it was nothing more than a simple case of lust…

  “Amanda?”

  His voice scattered her thoughts and she looked up to find him watching her. His left eye was still swollen but was no longer black. Instead, it was a rather garish shade of purple tinged with puke green.

  “What?”

  “Do you feel like going for a walk?” he asked. “I’m almighty sick of just sitting.”

  “Sure, if you feel up to it.”

  “Let’s go.”

  They walked away from the camp toward the river. She had lost track of the days, but she’d been gone long enough that Rob would be missing her by now, wondering why she hadn’t returned his calls. Earl Hennessy would be wondering why she hadn’t come to work, why she hadn’t called in. Her parents would be wondering why they hadn’t heard from her. But there was nothing she could do about any of that now. Or about those horrible men who had come looking for Rob. Had they found him? Was he okay? She didn't want anything to happen to Rob, even though she wasn’t sure how she felt about him any more. She felt bad about leaving Earl Hennessy in the lurch, but that was really the least of her worries. As for her parents, there was no way to assure them that she was all right. Even if she could find a phone, assuming they had been invented, she was pretty sure she couldn’t call home. She grinned at the very idea, thinking that a call from 1869 to 2001 would really be long distance.

  She drew in a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a long sigh. In some ways, being in the past wasn’t as bad as she had feared it would be; in other ways, it was worse. The one constant was Trey. You had to hand it to Western men, she thought with a wry grin. They were made of strong stuff. At least Trey was. Considering all he had been through in the last couple of weeks, he seemed to have remarkable powers of recovery.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Trey remarked.

  “I’m sorry. Are you feeling all right? Do you need to rest?”

  “I’m fine. This is a pretty place though. Let’s sit awhile.”

  “Okay.”

  Amanda sat down on the grass, and he sat beside her. It was quiet here, away from the camp. Peaceful. He stared at the river, watching the water swirl and eddy around the rocks. There had been precious little peace in his life. And now he had a price on his head. Langley might be out of the picture, but there were plenty of other bounty hunters who’d be on the look-out for him. He cursed Hollinger, cursed himself for not killing the man when he’d had the opportunity. Why hadn’t he pulled the trigger? He’d probably never get another chance, not now. But he’d never been a cold-blooded killer. Much as the man deserved killing, it looked like someone else would have to do it.