“I doubt that.”
“Are you disrespectin’ us, mister?”
“You don’t own this land,” Cale said. “And what you’re doin’ is harrassment.”
“Well, I think if you just give us the girl, then we’ll call it even, and you can be on your way. You said she’s a prisoner. So what difference does it make what happens to her?”
Cale shook his head. “You’re not very smart, are you? She’s an Apache prisoner, and I’m taking her to Camp Bowie for interrogation. We’re being hunted by the tribe we took her from as we speak.”
Tobacco sat up taller in the saddle and glanced around, concern etching his face.
“You can take her,” Cale continued, “but I don’t think I have to tell you what the Indians will do to you if they catch you. And they will catch you.”
“Why would they care about one Mexican girl?”
“She’s a wife of Geronimo.”
Tobacco’s face registered shock. “No she ain’t. You’re makin’ that up. Besides, I hear that scrambly bastard is locked up at San Carlos.”
“That doesn’t make her any less his wife. If you take her and sell her in Mexico, you’re bringing a load of trouble to your doorstep that’s really unnecessary.”
Tobacco frowned, clearly contemplating this new turn of events.
“We should just go, Tobias,” the man beside him said. “Juan’ll get us some other girl later.” He shifted in the saddle and his horse danced in agitation. “I don’t like them Apache,” he said under his breath. “It ain’t worth it.”
Tobacco grunted in disgust. “Yep. You’re probably right.” Then, to Cale, “Hope you don’t get scalped before you get to Bowie, mister.”
Tugging on the reins, the two men turned their mounts back the way they’d come and departed.
Cale remained where he was to be certain they didn’t change their mind.
“Do all your negotiations go that well?” Tess asked.
Cale kept his eyes on the cloud of dust receding on the horizon. “Sometimes.”
“Hank wouldn’t have been as patient.”
“I know. And as long as you’re the faster draw, it isn’t a problem. But one day, your luck will run out.”
“Do you think Hank is dead?”
He glanced down at her. “Honestly? I say it’s fifty-fifty. It might explain why he never made contact with you.”
“But what about the lead in Tubac? That happened in the last few months.”
“Someone else could be using Hank’s alias.”
“Why?”
Cale shrugged. “I don’t know.” Confident that Tobacco and his pal were gone, he knelt before Tess and removed the rope. “You did a good job.” He indulged himself by holding her green-eyed gaze for a moment.
“I learned to keep quiet when I was with Hank. Mostly.” Distress pinched her face. She donned her hat, deflecting any more discussion, and grabbed the Remington.
Cale had the distinct impression she referred to the assault that had left her permanently injured. But he knew further inquiry would cause her to shut down even more. He offered his hand and helped her to her feet.
* * * *
Tess relaxed as she trailed Cale into a ravine at dusk. They’d been exposed all day, and after the encounter with two men ready to snatch her, she felt more secure making camp in an out-of-sight locale.
Shaken by the earlier events, she had nonetheless retained her composure. She’d been ready to grab that gun resting on her skirt, and it buoyed her confidence. She’d felt ready and capable. After the attack by Saul, despite losing her virginity—a loss she hadn't dwelled upon because the grief was too deep—she'd also forfeited something far more devastating: the strength to navigate the world.
Today, a tiny piece had come back to her.
Cale stopped and dismounted, as did Tess, and almost immediately, the horses pulled at the reins in agitation.
So much for feeling safer.
“Whoa. Easy.” Cale tried to calm Bo.
Tess jumped when an elderly couple appeared.
“What're you doin' here?” the woman yelled, holding a shotgun. Bedraggled and thin, her bony fingers gripped the weapon tightly. Gray hair escaped her filthy hat, but her eyes glowed with purpose.
“You're not welcome,” the man said, just as unkempt and slightly stooped, like the woman.
“We didn't know you were here,” Cale replied, still trying to settle his horse.
Tess had managed to calm Gideon, crooning and stroking his neck while holding the bridle.
“We mean no harm,” Cale continued. “We're just looking for a place to camp.”
“Not here. Get outta here!” The woman waved the shotgun for emphasis.
Tess was unwilling to waste an opportunity to find some clue about her papá. “We're looking for a man named Hank Carlisle.”
The woman let the gun go slack in her grip. “Why're you lookin' for him?”
“He's my father.”
“Well don't that beat all,” the old man said softly. Both he and the old woman didn't take their eyes off Tess. “She's the one, Mariah.”
Chapter Six
Cale stepped around Bo so that he was side by side with Tess. “Do you know Hank Carlisle?”
“Yep, I do,” the old man answered.
It was farfetched, but based on talk he heard back in Tubac, he had to ask. “You’re not, by chance, Henry Worthington, are you?”
The man cocked his head slightly, likely to hear better. “That’s right.”
“My name is Cale Walker and this is Tess. Maybe we could set up camp and have a talk?” He really wanted Mariah to put down that shotgun.
“I think that’d be alright,” Henry answered. “Come on, Mariah.”
“I dunno,” she answered. “We been wrong to trust strangers before.”
“You won’t hurt us, will you?” Henry asked.
“No, of course not,” Tess cut in. “We have food. We’d be happy to share.”
“You got any coffee?” Mariah asked.
Tess nodded.
“We lost our tin a week ago. You can stay if we can have whatever you got left.”
While he would’ve preferred to give them the tobacco, Cale silently agreed to the deal.
Mariah lowered the weapon and Cale marveled that she could hold it at all, appearing more a ghost than an elderly woman. For a moment he wondered if the espíritus were perhaps playing with him and Tess, alone in the wilderness as they were.
Were Henry and Mariah really here, or were they ghastly apparitions bent on taking advantage? The Apache believed that spirits could linger close to the earth, especially immediately following death. Cale decided he should probably make a sweep of the area later to make sure the Worthington’s dead bodies weren’t lying somewhere. There’d been no vultures in the sky, but he should keep an eye out.
He and Tess unpacked the gear, and Cale settled the horses and Moses. Soon they sat around a campfire across from the Worthington’s. Turned out the couple had been married for forty-eight years and hailed from Ohio. They hunted gold, and had for some time. The desert sun had turned their faces into brown, wrinkled leather and Cale was certain it had also baked their brains.
“We hide, mostly,” Henry said. “Them Apache can't find us. We see them, though. Hafta be careful around here.”
“Don't ask us about the gold, though,” Mariah cut in. “We won't tell ya.”
“Can you tell us the last time you saw Hank Carlisle?” Cale asked, deciding not to mention Henry’s supposed connection to Hank’s alias.
Although Tess had cooked up an aromatic pot of beans that she’d soaked in one of the canteens all day, Henry still arrived to the campfire with a plate of what appeared to be entrails.
He swung the fixings toward Tess, but she declined. Cale refused, too. Caution whispered in his ear. Recluses like these two could be highly unpredictable.
“When was it?” Henry looked at Mariah.
“Oh, I dunno,” she answered. “A few weeks back, a few months. Sometimes Henry brings him his mail.”
“Do you know where he might be now?” Tess asked. “Does he have a camp?”
“Don’t know,” Henry answered. “Hank never talks about that, but he might be in the Chiricahuas.” He started eating the bloody slop on his plate with a bent fork.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some of my beans, Henry?” Tess’s tight voice revealed her revulsion. Cale’s stomach soured a bit as well.
“I’d be obliged,” he said. “Let me finish this first.”
“Tell ’em, Henry.” Mariah nudged her husband.
“Tell us what?” Tess asked.
“I’m eatin’. You tell ’em, Mariah.” He slurped a chunk of intestine into his mouth.
Tess looked away and covered her mouth, and Cale thought she might retch.
The old lady fixed her dark eyes on them. “Alright. We ain’t bad people. But the curse has got us, and it’s Hank’s fault.”
“What are you talking about?” Cale asked.
“Hank told us about it. He said he picked it up from a dead man. And now we have it. It makes a lot of bad stuff happen.”
“Such as?”
“Our best jackass died. Henry’s eating him right now.”
Tess gasped, and covered her mouth again.
“There was a spider bite I got on my leg,” Mariah continued. “For a while, I lost all feelin’. And then there’s the spooky whispers we hear every night. Makes it hard to sleep.”
“Wait, I got it,” Henry cut in. “I think Hank might’ve gone to Camp Bowie.”
“Why in thee hell would someone go there?” Mariah shook her head. “Military everywhere. What a nuisance.”
“Wouldn’t you feel safer with the cavalry nearby?” Cale asked.
“Army, Apache, there ain’t no difference,” Mariah answered. “Everyone wants to bludgeon you to death.”
Cale really didn’t know how to proceed with the conversation. Maybe they should just turn in. Henry’s tip that Hank might be at Bowie was probably as good as any lead he could’ve hoped for from the donkey-eater.
Mariah shifted her attention back to Tess. “Now, young lady. We want you to take care of this curse.”
“How would I do that?” she asked.
“If you're Hank's daughter, you can do it. You’re related. You have his blood.”
Tess glanced at Cale, a pleading look in her gaze. He resisted the urge to laugh.
“Bien! I'll lift the curse.” Tess's sudden change of direction caught Cale by surprise. He stared at her.
Leaning close, he said in a low voice, “How you gonna do that?”
Determination settled over her, but he could tell she still struggled with disgust over Henry’s eating habits.
“Do you know about the ancient art of storytelling?” she began, addressing Henry and Mariah.
“I s'ppose,” Mariah answered.
“It's long been thought that stories carry magic all their own, and when told, that very magic can unfold and encompass those who are able to hear it. Do you read the Bible?”
The question managed to render Mariah speechless, a feat Cale appreciated despite only spending a short time with the crazed old lady.
“We can't read,” Henry conceded.
Tess nodded in sympathy. “Well, the stories in the Bible carry some of the most potent magic there is. I'm going to use one to lift the curse from both of you.”
Both Henry and Mariah let out a loud breath of relief, nodding and closing their eyes.
“This tale is of the temptation of the Lord Jesus Christ,” Tess began. “There came a time when He was led into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit. It was a test, you see, about the strength of His faith in God. For forty days and forty nights, He fasted, and you can well know how hungry He must have been.”
Henry and Mariah nodded, in rapt attention. As Cale watched them, Tess’s voice wrapped around him as well. He enjoyed the way it changed and became almost lyrical when she spoke, as if she were an actress. It occurred to him that she was aware of the power of the presentation.
“The Devil came to Jesus,” she continued, “and urged Him to turn stones into bread. But Jesus said ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’ The Devil took Him to a Holy city and set Him high atop a temple, saying to throw Himself from it, for certainly God would send His angels to keep Jesus from striking the ground. But Jesus said ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’ The Devil then took Him to a high mountaintop and told Him that everything He could see would be His. All He had to do was pledge Himself to the Devil. Jesus said, ‘Be gone, Satan. It is written: You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve.’ The Devil left him, and the angels descended, holding Jesus in their loving embrace.”
Tess sat quietly while the story settled into the minds of the elderly couple.
“That’ll lift the curse?” Henry finally asked, his voice low.
Cale almost smiled. Tess had managed to bring a fear of the Devil right to their campfire.
“The curse is lifted because you don’t give it any power,” Tess replied, her voice soft. “Jesus never did with the Devil, and the evil he promoted could never take hold. If you practice what Jesus did, then the curse will fade away with no place to make a home.”
Henry eyed her with a frown on his face, then made a sound of skeptical acceptance.
“That seems mighty simple, Miss Carlisle.” Mariah intertwined her bony fingers and cracked them. “You sure that’s gonna work?”
“Sí, Señora Worthington. It will work. I have lifted curses before.”
Mariah Worthington also made a sound of disbelief, and Cale wondered what the old woman was thinking.
* * * *
Cale bedded down near the horses and Moses, Tess about ten feet away. He sensed that she sought distance from him. Clearly, his response to her the previous night was unwelcome so he resigned himself to the company of the animals.
He awoke abruptly during the night, stars still ablaze in the sky. Pausing, he listened. Someone was nearby.
He stood and carefully retrieved one of his Colts. A silhouette inched toward Tess. Moving swiftly to intercept, Cale pressed his gun to Mariah's head as she rushed forward with a knife in her hand.
She stumbled, and he grabbed her. When she struggled against him, he pushed her away from Tess, his pointed gun keeping her at bay.
Tess stirred.
“I've never shot a woman before,” Cale said, “but there's always a first time.”
“What's going on?” Tess struggled to stand, then backed away.
Cale glared at Mariah. “What is going on?”
Even in the darkness, he could see the wildness in her eyes. “The curse ain't broke. The only way to do that is to...is to kill her.” She spat the last part.
He shoved his gun against her to get her to back away. “I don't think so.”
Reluctantly, she moved.
“I don't want to hurt you,” Cale said. “Or Henry. But if you come near Tess again, I'll kill you.”
Mariah stared at him, her breathing heavy. “You'll be cursed, too,” she hissed. She turned and headed back to her own camp.
When Cale felt certain she was gone, he looked at Tess.
“I'm glad you woke up,” she whispered.
“Yeah, me too.” He wanted to pull her into his arms, but suspected she wouldn't appreciate the gesture. “I think you're sleeping with me.”
Sharp tension strung her body as tight as barbed wire.
“I think you should sleep near me,” he amended, feeling bad for the distress he’d caused.
She nodded. “If I can even sleep.”
He bent to retrieve her bedroll and blankets. She hobbled to get her cane. He settled her beside him and the horses.
“I guess my story didn't work on them,” she said quietly as she lowered herself to the ground.
“Did you really think it would?” He leaned against Bo’s saddle on the ground, near his own bedroll.
“Sí, I did.” She watched him in the dark. “The right story can change a person’s perspective. It can shift their world as much as an earth tremor. Didn’t your madre ever tell you stories when you were a boy?”
“Not that I remember much. She died when I was six, giving birth to my youngest brother T.J.”
“I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”
“She lived a hard life with my pa. I doubt she had much time for whimsy.”
“So you think I live in a world of make-believe?”
“No, Tess, I didn’t mean it that way. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re filled with so much hope and goodness. This land is tough on women. And you’ve seen more than your fair share.”
Tess laughed—short and sweet— and Cale liked it. He imagined she didn’t do much of it, and it stirred a place deep inside that he could elicit such a response from her.
“We all choose what we dwell on in this life,” she said. “Mi abuela always told me ‘When the sun sets, God has closed the door on the day. He expects you to go through the next door at sunrise, shiny and clean.’”
“That’s a nice sentiment. She sounds like a wise woman.”
“She was. And her life hadn’t been easy either, scraping out a life in Mexico as a young girl. She didn’t have a husband when she gave birth to my mother. When Hank brought mi madre and me to Tucson from Fronteras in 1862, Dolores came too. She had nowhere else to go. She was everything to me. My own mother could be a bit cold, but not mi abuela.”
Tess wiped at her eyes, and Cale wished again that he could go to her, that he could comfort her. Tess tugged at him in a myriad of ways, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. With any other woman, he would’ve had his fun and gotten her out of his mind, but he couldn’t do that with Tess.
“Do you think Mariah will stab me to death tonight?” she asked out-of-the-blue, changing the subject.
“No, she won’t.” Anger sharpened his words. The old woman was crazy if she thought she could kill Tess. His willingness to end an elderly lady’s life put him in mind of his days riding with Hank, in which right and wrong had often bartered for victory.
The Blackbird Page 5
