“No. There are so many things I do not know about my people,” Shoshana said somberly. She gazed intently into his eyes as they rode onward. “I so want to know what I have missed learning. I’ve read as much as I could about our people, but that is not the same as living it.”
“You are still young,” Storm said gently. “You have time to learn all that you wish to learn.”
“For a while, after Mountain Jack captured me, I doubted that I had even another day to live,” she murmured. “It is a miracle that you came when you did and set me free.” She smiled radiantly at him. “I know that I have thanked you already, but I want to do it again,” she said softly. “Thank you, Storm. Thank you so much.”
“I feel grateful, too. If I had not found you, I would not know the wonder of these precious moments with you,” Storm said.
He noticed that she gazed slowly around her, absorbed in the beauty he had grown to love when he first escaped to this place where no white man had yet come.
He gazed at it, too, as awed by its beauty as the first time he had seen it. From this high place the valley was visible spread out below, surrounded by a scallop of weathered crests. Peregrine falcons soared overhead, and lynx could be seen romping here and there, as well as otters as they came and went from the river.
Wolf howls pierced the air, reminding him of the pups that he and Shoshana had set free. He wondered if the sounds he heard today were made by those animals as they tasted freedom now instead of captivity?
He smiled when he thought of the wolf pup that he had saved. The young brave he had given it to loved animals more than anyone he had ever known. Storm had entrusted the pup to this child, who understood that in time the wolf would have to be released to the wild.
They rode onward down one mountain pass, then another, until they reached the valley where Storm had once made his home with his family.
“It is such a beautiful, serene place,” Shoshana said as she, too, gazed at the valley where trees of all kinds grew tall and beautiful, and where the Piñaleno River meandered across the land, fed by melting snows from the mountain high above.
“Lovely, yes, in a way,” Storm said tightly. “But ugly in another. Many deaths occurred here.”
Shoshana heard the somberness of his voice and saw pain in his eyes. It had been a long journey down the mountain. She knew they had arrived where his village had once been, for he stopped and dismounted and now led his horse slowly across the land, his eyes studying the ground on which he walked.
Shoshana dismounted and walked beside him.
“This is where it happened,” he said stiffly. “This is where my people died.”
He stopped and knelt on the ground, running his hands through the grass. His stomach tightened when he felt rocks beneath the turf and recalled the day he and the others had placed the stones over the graves of their loved ones.
The stones were still there, the grass having made its way up between them.
“Here, beneath the ground and rocks, is where many are buried,” he said, his voice catching. “There was no time to take them to our true burial grounds. Each was buried where he or she had fallen. The lodges of my people have been gone for some time now. All traces of what once was a thriving village are gone.”
He stood and turned to Shoshana. “Those who are buried here today had no chance to flee the pony soldiers,” he said. “My ina and ahte are buried somewhere on this land, one next to the other. Mother died first, Father a short time later. I made certain they were together before I fled to the mountain heights.”
He took Shoshana’s hands in his. “It is my plan to soon take my people far, far away from all of this,” he said. “I will take them to a land where they will be safe forever.”
“Where will you go?” Shoshana asked, her eyes widening in wonder. “Your stronghold seems safe enough, and everyone seems to be so happy.”
“No one is safe on land claimed by the United States Government,” Storm said angrily. “Although the pony soldiers have not touched my people’s home in the mountain, they will some day, because they own the mountain as they own all this land that once belonged solely to the red man.”
He paused, looked around himself, then gazed at her again. “Where will I lead my people?” he said softly. “To Canada. We must leave before the arrival of the next cold winter.”
“Canada . . .” Shoshana said, surprised that they were fleeing the United States altogether. Yet why not? America had not been good to the Apache. She had heard that Canada welcomed the red man with open arms.
“Come with me to Canada,” Storm blurted out, his eyes searching hers. “Remember that the man who claims you as his daughter is not your father. Remember that he was a leader of those who massacred your people.”
“My feelings for George are a mixture of many emotions—gratitude for sparing my life, hatred for having had a role in the massacres, and pity that he has no understanding of the horrors he perpetrated in his past,” Shoshana said, her voice breaking.
They walked onward slowly, hand in hand.
“After I realized that I was Apache, it was hard to live in the white world,” she murmured. “Even before that, the white children saw my skin color. They knew I was an Indian. Many treated me as though I carried the plague!”
She stopped and gazed up into his eyes. “But I came through it all right, and I am even a better person for it,” she said softly. “As for now? I must return to the fort one last time, and then I will never be a part of the white world again. I want to be with you. I want to be with Mother. I want to live as an Apache. We are already far from your stronghold and not all that far from the fort. It would be a good time for me to go there and do what must be done.”
Storm took both of her hands in his. He frowned at her. “I cannot allow that,” he said, his voice drawn. “Shoshana, I cannot allow you to return to the fort, especially to George Whaley.”
“What?” Shoshana gasped, searching his eyes and finding cold determination in them instead of the kindness she’d come to expect.
She yanked her hands free. “Did you say what I thought you said?” she asked. She took a slow step away from him. “Did you say you won’t allow me to go to the fort?”
“I cannot allow it,” he repeated, stepping toward her. “There are two reasons for my decision. The first is because I love you and I do not want to chance losing you by allowing you to return to George Whaley. The second reason is because I do not want George Whaley to know what has become of you. I want him to struggle, sweat, and hurt as he searches for his beloved daughter but never finds her. Just as our Apache people have been hurt through the years by inhumane treatment from the white-eyes, George Whaley in particular.”
“You are serious about this, aren’t you?” Shoshana asked, stunned to realize that he was. “You won’t allow me to go there, will you?”
“If you stop and think about this, you will understand my reasoning,” Storm said thickly. “I want George Whaley to feel empty inside when he realizes that he will never see you again. I have wanted vengeance for so long against that man for what he did to my people and so many other Apache. But dying is too easy for him. Living the rest of his life filled with regret and loneliness is what he deserves.”
“I understand how you feel and how this need for vengeance must have lain heavily on your heart through the years, but things are different now,” Shoshana tried to reason. “You and I have met. We are in love. That is all that should matter.”
“It does matter, but I still cannot allow you to go back to that fort,” Storm said flatly.
“Because you are afraid they will not let me return to you?” Shoshana asked, trying to understand his reasoning.
“No, that is not my only reason,” Storm said flatly. “I have already told you the whole reason. How can you not understand it?”
“How can you not understand how I feel when you tell me what I can and cannot do?” Shoshana said, her eyes searching his. “It isn
’t right, Storm. I never want to feel imprisoned by you. Never! I will not be anyone else’s captive.”
“You should not look at it that way,” Storm said, sighing heavily.
“If you refuse to let me come and go as I please, I am no less a captive than when I was chained in Mountain Jack’s cabin,” Shoshana said. “If you love me, you will not do this to me. How can I love a man who would? I cannot.” She swallowed hard. “Do you choose vengeance . . . over . . . me?”
He didn’t respond quickly enough.
Shoshana turned and ran to her horse. Quickly mounting, she rode away at a hard gallop, tears blinding her as her heart broke.
Storm leapt on his own horse and rode after her, soon catching up with her.
“Yes, come and make sure you keep an eye on your captive!” she shouted, her heart aching over how things had suddenly changed between them.
He grabbed her horse’s reins, stopped the animal, then forced it to turn alongside his own, back in the direction of the stronghold.
Shoshana felt drained of emotion. How could this be happening! She had thought she’d found a man she could love, but he had turned into someone she did not know at all!
How could he treat her like this?
They rode silently up the steep mountain pass, each tormented by the strain that had developed between them. They both feared it might never go away.
Shoshana drew rein abruptly as Storm, with an exclamation of dismay, stopped suddenly ahead of her. Lying on the ground a little distance away was his sister, Dancing Willow. She appeared to be unconscious.
Storm dismounted and ran to her. He lifted his sister’s head onto his lap and tried to awaken her, but her eyes remained closed, and her breathing was strangely shallow.
Wanting to revive her, Storm lifted her into his arms and carried her to a stream. He bathed her face with water, yet still she did not awaken.
Dancing Willow smiled to herself. She was feigning unconsciousness in the hope that Shoshana would flee. Dancing Willow had sneaked up on Storm and Shoshana and had overheard what they were talking about. She knew how angry Shoshana was and that she would flee at her first opportunity.
Well, Dancing Willow had made a plan that would give Shoshana all the opportunity she needed. While Storm was seeing to his sister’s welfare, her rival could ride away. Surely Dancing Willow’s brother would see to his sister first and Shoshana second, giving Shoshana the chance to return to the fort. Dancing Willow wanted Shoshana to disappear from their lives forever.
Suddenly realizing that he had left Shoshana alone, Storm looked quickly over his shoulder. She had disappeared. While he was seeing to his sister, she had sneaked away. She was probably well on her way down the mountainside by now.
Then he gazed down at his sister. He was torn. His sister was apparently ill. Perhaps she had been thrown by her horse, which was nowhere to be seen.
But if he didn’t go for Shoshana, she might become injured or lost before she arrived at the fort. Two evils might befall Shoshana before she reached the fort.
Mountain Jack!
The elusive panther!
“The panther,” Storm whispered, looking quickly down at his sister. He couldn’t leave his sister alone and unconscious, not with the panther on the prowl.
Storm had no choice but to let Shoshana go while he took Dancing Willow back to safety at their stronghold. He carried her to his horse, his heart bleeding at having surely lost Shoshana forever.
With his sister on his lap, he rode up the mountain. When he reached their stronghold, he carried Dancing Willow to the shaman’s lodge.
Storm stood aside as White Moon performed a ritual over Dancing Willow. Finally her eyes slowly opened.
As her gaze met Storm’s, he stepped back in dismay. He saw that he had been duped. The look in her eyes told him as much.
“Sister, you have shamed yourself in the eyes of not only your chieftain brother, but also our shaman,” Storm said tightly as he glared into her eyes. “I know you well. I can see in your eyes what you have done, so do not even try to deny it.”
He leaned down into her face. “Did you ever think that by allowing Shoshana to return to the fort, you have endangered our people? She might be angry enough at what I had planned for her to bring white-eyes to our stronghold,” he hissed. “She is the only outsider who has been allowed to know where we make our home! I allowed it, sister, but only because it was my intent for her never to leave except with us when we departed for Canada land.”
He didn’t give his sister a chance to defend what she had done, or tell him she was sorry for her mistake. He ran from the tepee, leapt onto his horse, and rode away, down the mountain pass.
If he did not find Shoshana before she reached the fort, then he would have to ride into the fort and ask for her. He would risk everything now to have Shoshana.
He was wrong to have told her she was his captive. Those words might have turned her into his enemy.
Only time would tell. If she hated him now, he might be the one taken captive.
Chapter Twenty-one
Beauty is but vain doubtful gain,
A shining glass that fadeth suddenly.
—William Shakespeare
Worn out and weary, and afraid he would never see Shoshana again, George sat slumped over in the saddle as he and the soldiers rode back in the direction of Fort Chance.
His eyes rose quickly when a soldier shouted in alarm. When George saw why, he felt sick inside.
A horse with an empty saddle and a bloody left flank was limping from the shadows of the aspen forest.
As the animal approached, it became obvious how the wound had been inflicted. There was a huge claw scratch, raw, red, and bloody on its flank.
“God almighty, I wonder whose horse it was,” Colonel Hawkins said as he grabbed the reins. His gaze went to the blankets covering something behind the saddle.
“Mountain Jack’s horse?” George gulped out. “God, it might be Mountain Jack’s. If so, where . . . where . . . is Shoshana?”
Everyone circled around the horse as Colonel Hawkins began unwrapping the blankets. The colonel’s face drained of color at what he saw. “Pelts—but, Lord, there are also many scalps here,” he said. “This had to have been Mountain Jack’s horse.”
“Lord,” George groaned, hanging his head.
“The wound on the horse seems to be the work of either a panther or a bear,” Colonel Hawkins said as he examined the wound. “It must have happened when the animal attacked the rider. It surely killed its victim, then took the body to its den.”
George swallowed hard as he tried to compose himself. “Is . . . there . . . a sign of another horse anywhere?” he asked, his eyes searching around him. He stared into the aspens. “If Mountain Jack had Shoshana with him, who is to say what might’ve happened to her?”
The colonel, along with the others, followed the trail of blood on the ground. It seemed the ambushed man had been dragged away by the animal, disappearing into the trees for a moment, then out again into open space.
Colonel Hawkins’s eyes locked with George’s. “I see no signs of anyone else having been here, George,” he said tightly. “I have no idea what to think, except I imagine the scalp hunter has got his due. As for Shoshana? George, I . . . just . . . don’t know.”
“Send several soldiers to search further,” George said, tears filling his eyes. “Maybe there is a chance. . . . There is one thing that gives me some hope.”
“What’s that?” Colonel Hawkins asked as four soldiers rode back into the aspens.
“Since there is no sign whatsoever of Shoshana being with the scalp hunter at the moment of the attack, just maybe she managed to escape his clutches earlier,” George mumbled. “Perhaps she was found by someone else. Perhaps even now she is being held by the Apache chief.”
He gave the colonel a hard stare. “I say turn around,” he said thickly. “Our destination should be the stronghold, not the fort.”
�
��George, you’re not being rational about this,” Colonel Hawkins said. He sidled his steed closer to George’s. “Your grief is keeping you from thinking clearly about things.”
“I’m as rational as you, and I say let’s go and search for Chief Storm’s stronghold and not stop until we find it,” George growled out. “I say you’ve been too lenient on him. Why? Do you two have a secret pact, or what?”
“Listen to yourself,” the colonel said, his face an angry red. “Pact? Do you truly think I’d do that? George, you’re tired. I see it in your eyes. I hear it in your voice. You’re drained. We must return to the fort for now. You can get some badly needed rest, and then we’ll meet again and make plans. But as for now? We’re headed for home. Those I’ve sent to investigate will be enough for now.”
George felt a sudden tightening in his chest. He raised a hand and grabbed at his heart, his breathing coming suddenly in short, sharp rasps.
“George, are you all right?” the colonel asked, his eyes widening. “Is it your heart?”
“Seems so,” George gasped out, pale, his eyes showing his fear. “I guess I have no choice but to return to the fort. But, by God, as soon as I’m rested up, I’ll go myself to find the stronghold. To hell with you.”
He inhaled a deep breath, the pain cutting like a knife in his chest as he snapped the reins against the horse’s muscled body and rode away from the others.
Colonel Hawkins took off after him. As he pulled up on his right side, he saw a strange gray pallor on George’s face, and noticed perspiration on his brow.
“George, stop! Slow down,” he shouted. “You’ll not be worth anything to Shoshana dead. Think of Shoshana.”
“You go to hell,” George shouted back at him and rode away as fast as his wooden leg would allow.
The colonel refused to give up. He reached George’s side again. “Okay, George,” he shouted. “I give you my word that after we all rest for one night, we’ll set out again and we will search for the stronghold. But I must warn you, if you think the travel we’ve done so far is backbreaking, what lies ahead is twice as bad.” He gazed down at George’s wooden leg, then up at his face. “I’m not sure you can make it up the steeper passes of the mountain.”
Savage Courage Page 13
