The Blackbird

by Kristy McCaffrey

  Smiling, Tess stepped onto the dirt, her bared feet connecting to Madre Tierra. When she neared the wooden fence, Smita, the Apache woman appeared from the direction of the creek, carrying a basket with wet linens. Lines creased her rounded face as her lips spread into a grin.

  The woman didn’t fear her. Her husband must have instructed her to stay away from the gringos residing in Vern’s cabin, presuming the worst. Tess couldn’t blame them, considering the atrocities that had befallen the Apache over the years.

  But Smita knew Tess wasn’t to be feared, the sparkle in her gaze conveying it all.

  “Se baila con la muerte,” Smita said, speaking in Spanish for Tess’s benefit. “Pero ahora usted es un ángel.”

  You dance with death, but now you are an angel.

  An unspoken agreement settled between them, an understanding of buried pain and scars and new life.

  “Sí,” Tess replied.

  Amado took flight and climbed upward, leaving the safety of the homestead for the wilderness beyond.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cale guided Bo along a different, but somewhat parallel, path to the one where he, Tess, Lange and One Ear had been ambushed weeks earlier, the tracks of Saul Miller’s horse still visible. He appeared to be alone, but Cale wondered if he planned to meet up with someone. Maybe Lange.

  The sun blazed in the sky as they left a path thick with vegetation and gained elevation. Granite domes became visible, and tall yucca plants dotted the landscape, adorned with sword-like leaves. Moses trailed Bo on a short lead, and Tess followed on Gideon. Despite the work at hand, Cale was happier than he’d been in a good long while. And content in a way he’d never known with a woman.

  It had everything to do with Tess.

  While her leg had healed, he’d clamped down on the ever-present desire for her and unearthed the treasure-trove of her intelligence, compassion, and beauty. When she smiled, he was mesmerized; when she laughed, he would stop and bask in it.

  But last night, when the dam broke between them, he was helpless to hold back. She’d crawled inside him and coursed through his veins like the blood he couldn’t live without. She’d opened herself to him, with a trust that humbled him, leaving him endlessly hungry for her.

  He hadn’t planned to take her completely, to finish inside her. He didn’t want to get her with child—at least, not yet. But those plans had gone up in a puff of smoke, not once but twice.

  He’d have to be better from now on.

  He hoped he could.

  The image of her standing by the corral bathed in the incandescence of a desert sunrise remained etched in his mind. Her dark hair had spilled in seductive waves against the thin fabric of the chemise she wore, caressing curves he’d come to know intimately during the night. When the blackbird burst to freedom in one strong gust of its wings, Tess had watched with wonderment on her face and stood strong on both of her legs. Smita had been near, and Cale sensed an understanding pass between the two women.

  In that moment, Tess was very much the woman he knew she’d always become.

  Pride filled him, along with a need to stand beside her.

  He would keep her with him as long as she wanted him, and if she got with child from their union, he’d marry her .

  If she’d have him.

  He wouldn’t clip her wings again, as men before had done.

  Unbidden, his ma came to mind. Cale had been six years old when she’d died in childbirth. His heart ached for her, and he wished she were still here so that he could bring Tess to meet her. Had his pa ever cared for her the way a woman ought to expect from a husband? Had she died not just from childbirth, but heartbreak as well?

  It struck him that he’d never considered what it must’ve been like for her.

  During Cale’s childhood, his pa—Davis Walker—had been miserable more often than not, and Cale and his brothers had been as wild as could be. In all honesty, Cale wasn’t close with any of them. It had just seemed easier to leave. Joining the army at eighteen had been a blessing.

  As the years wore on, he’d been home only a handful of times.

  Would Loretta be just as heartbroken knowing her family had split apart?

  Cale had been back recently, when Molly Hart had returned from the dead, but then he’d quickly jumped on his horse and ridden here when Mary’s letter had come, requesting his assistance on behalf of Tess.

  His course was clear to him—he needed to return to Texas.

  And he hoped that Tess would go with him.

  They descended into a valley and came upon a trickling creek, so they stopped to water the animals.

  Cale dismounted, then helped Tess from her horse. “You want your crutches?” He’d packed them onto Moses just in case.

  “No, just my cane.”

  He fiddled with her braid while his other hand wrapped around her waist. He wondered if he could lay her down in the shade and make love to her until neither of them could remember what day it was. He pushed her hat back, so she did the same to his, then kissed him.

  “Maybe we should just stay at Vern’s cabin for eternity,” he said, coming up for air.

  She ignored him, her fingers tugging on the buttons of his shirt.

  He laughed and stepped back. “Don’t get me started. We’d be here all day.”

  The frustration on her flushed face left him immensely pleased and too aroused for his own good. He pulled the cane from the loop on her saddle and handed it to her, then took her hand and brought her to the water’s edge.

  A nearby rustle of leaves snagged his attention, instantly dampening his ardor. Not wanting to worry Tess, he told her he’d retrieve food from the mule, but instead backtracked their path and cut across the water.

  He removed a Colt at his hip and crept carefully toward a cluster of shrubs. A figure crouched, clearly watching Tess and the horses.

  The man wore a dark shirt covered by a vest, and a breechcloth covered his leggings. His long black hair was bound at the crown with a red cloth, and he held a bow and arrow.

  Apache.

  Cale waited. If he startled the man, it could put Tess in danger. He also had no desire to hurt an Apache unless it was justified. The man was likely scouting. He might even leave without an encounter.

  Time stretched, then the warrior turned, and Cale recognized him.

  Bipin.

  Cale moved quickly, knowing if he didn't, Bipin might mistake him for an enemy. He grabbed the Apache from behind, but the youth twisted free and struck Cale across the jaw. The blow stunned Cale , and Bipin took the advantage, pushing Cale to the ground and hovering over him, ready to hit again.

  “Dah! Dah! Bipin, it's Cale. Anáyidle’i bijíí. It’s Change of Heart.”

  The young man halted the attack.

  “Don't move!” Tess yelled, standing a few feet from them and pointing Cale’s Winchester at the Apache.

  “It's alright, Tess. I know him.”

  “He hit you.”

  Bipin stood, and Cale came off the ground.

  “I startled him,” Cale said, looking at the man.

  She slowly lowered the gun.

  Bipin smiled. “I am sorry, Change of Heart. I did not know it was you.”

  “You've grown strong.” Cale clasped his hand. “It’s good to see you are well.”

  “And you. Cocheta will be happy to see you.”

  “This is Tess Carlisle.”

  She came forward, limping slightly—her boots and skirt’s edge drenched from crossing the creek —and shook Bipin’s hand.

  The Indian’s gaze dropped to her leg. “Are you injured?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Bipin looked at Cale. “Is she yours?”

  “Ha’aa.”

  Irritated, her eyes landed on him. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No. Maybe I should teach you Apache.”

  Bipin grinned. “You will come?”

  “Ha’aa,” Cale answered.

  Tess raised an
eyebrow at him, and he quickly kissed her cheek.

  “Cocheta still speak stories of you,” Bipin said. “She will be glad to see you, but she will wonder about the girl.”

  “Tess is no girl, and Cocheta will like her. Tess carries stories too.”

  “Cocheta will require a big story to make her happy.” He looked at Tess. “Can you tell a big story?”

  Tess considered Bipin’s words. “Yes. But she will have to prove her magic to me as well.”

  Bipin let out a bark of laughter. “Change of Heart has a good woman.”

  * * * *

  It was near dark when Bipin led them into the Apache encampment. Tess worried that they might not be as welcome as Cale assumed they would be. The encounter with Bipin, while ending well, had put her senses on alert. When she'd realized Cale was in danger, she'd grabbed the rifle and scrambled to help.

  I ran.

  The knowledge of that act still stunned her. While painful twinges occasionally flared in her leg, she had sprinted. She hadn’t done that since Saul attacked her.

  And Cale was safe.

  Both incidents buoyed her spirits, only to be dampened by her growing concern as they entered a grove beside a creek crowded with Indians.

  Over a dozen wickiups—wooden limbs bent into an upside-down U-shape and covered with animal skins—encompassed the Apache rancheria. Women tended cook fires, men milled about, and children dashed across their path.

  As their presence became noted and activity stopped, Bipin called out in Apache. An elderly female appeared, short and a bit stooped but with a bright gaze. Graying hair reached her shoulders in a blunt cut, and the bright colors of her clothing bespoke a Mexican origin. Cale dismounted, moved to the woman, and gently hugged her. She returned the gesture with more ferocity. This had to be Cocheta.

  Cale exchanged words in Apache with her while many of the others in the tribe looked on with interest. It was clear they didn’t consider Cale a threat.

  Cale came to Tess and helped her from Gideon, then guided her to the older woman.

  “Tess, this is Cocheta. She doesn't speak much English, but she does understand some Spanish.”

  “Es un placer conocerte,” Tess said, a bit self-conscious because she towered over the woman.

  Cocheta acknowledged her, but the smile left her face, and her shrewd gaze clearly took stock of Tess, making her feel like a child seeking approval.

  She took Tess's hand, but spoke in Apache. Tess looked to Cale for a translation.

  “She says you are as beautiful as the night sky, and that she has seen this day when a woman touched by the blackbird would bring Change of Heart back to her.”

  The blackbird reference startled Tess since Amado was long gone by now. But as Cocheta's eyes searched hers, Tess was reminded of her abuela and the wisdom she had possessed. She taught Tess that the world held two faces—one that most saw, and one that only a handful witnessed. Cocheta was one who beheld both.

  The woman spoke again, the rhythmic cadence calling to a place deep within Tess, close to the soil and roots that grew deep into the earth. Within this point between life and death, a well of knowledge more vast than what anyone knew existed.

  Tess looked to Cale again, her pulse quickening at the light reflected in his eyes. “She says you are of the cycles of the moon, bright and shining, then cloaked and hidden,” he said. “She approves.” He smiled, and his desire ignited her own, catching her unaware.

  She wished they were alone.

  A group of women ushered her away. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw that Cale watched her go and wondered when she’d see him again.

  * * * *

  Cale sat with Mohan, chief of the Nednai band of Chiricahua Apache, and Tyee, the elderly medicine man who had instructed Cale during his time with them. Several other young men were also present, including Bipin, which was good because his English was better than most. Cale spoke enough Apache to get by, but it would help to have a translator. Many of the Apache spoke Spanish, but even after spending time with Tess—or maybe because of it—it was apparent Cale's mastery of the language was inadequate.

  With Bipin's help, they conversed.

  “Cocheta spoke of your return, but we knew not when,” Mohan said, his face filled with more creases than Cale remembered. The man wasn’t old, but the weariness reflected in his eyes spoke of the hardships of maintaining such a nomadic life.

  “I'm afraid I didn't know I was coming until recently,” Cale said. “How is it here?”

  “Jackrabbit has left us and taken many with him. He does not think we deal with the White Eyes in a decisive way. He chooses to attack. We do not want trouble. Too many will die. But there is unrest with the pindah's army.”

  Cale nodded.

  “What do you know, Change of Heart?” Mohan asked.

  “I wish I could bring good news, but the army has been given permission to attack the Apache if they kill and raid. Why don’t you go to the reservation?”

  Mohan sagged as if a weight sat atop his shoulders. “We hear many bad stories. The land is dry, and nothing will grow. The water makes the people sick.”

  Cale understood and wished he had an answer. “Why are you in the Dragoons? Wouldn’t you be safer in Mexico?”

  Mohan shook his head. “Mexico is just as dangerous. We came here to spend the hot months. And why are you here, Change of Heart? Can we trust you?”

  “Yes. I'm looking for a man named Hank Carlisle, and I was told he might be in these mountains.” The lack of recognition of the name caused Cale to add, “The Irishman.”

  “There is one called that. He lives up over that pass to the east. He is one to avoid. He is not right in the head.”

  Cale contemplated Mohan's words. He'd suspected as much. This confirmed that he would search out Hank without Tess. He wanted to know what shape Hank was in before he let the man see her, because if Hank had any intention of hurting her further, Cale would make certain she stayed far from him.

  “I need to see him,” Cale said. “Can someone ride with me at dawn?”

  Mohan agreed. “Take Bipin. He knows.”

  “But I'll need to leave Tess here,” Cale added. “And she's not to know where I've gone.”

  Mohan nodded.

  Tyee shifted beside him and Cale clasped the elderly Apache gently on the shoulder. “It is good see you.”

  The old man grinned. His knobby hand gripped Cale's upper arm in return. He spoke in Apache, and Bipin translated.

  “He said you look well. He has thought of you often. The mark of the cougar is still upon you. You still stalk the night shadows.”

  Cale smiled down at Tyee. “I'm very happy to see you again, Old One.”

  Tyee spoke again.

  “He say,” Bipin continued, “that the woman you brought is a seer. She can behold the world as it really is, rather than the way the world wants to be seen.”

  Cale was accustomed to Tyee's proclamations—he'd made many to Cale during his recuperation from the mountain lion attack, and later, during his instruction to Cale of how to navigate the healing energies. He knew Tess was special; still, it caught him off-guard that Tyee would think so in such a short time. And he hadn't even been formally introduced to her yet.

  “She does have a way about her,” Cale said.

  Bipin relayed the statement.

  Tyee chuckled. “You settle down.”

  “Yeah, I just might.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When Tess awoke the next morning, Lenna, a young Apache girl with coffee-colored eyes and long black hair, greeted her. Looking to be about fourteen years of age and wearing a cotton blouse, calico skirt and knee-high moccasins, she’d been with Tess the night before and had been most helpful since she spoke a bit of English.

  Tess had been disappointed to be separated from Cale, sleeping in a shelter with Lenna and what she guessed was Lenna's family. Cale had come briefly to check on her, kissed her, then bedded down somewhere els
e.

  Tess exited the wickiup and leaned on her cane. Her leg ached more than usual this morning. She scanned the camp as it slowly came to life with activity. Stout Apache women brought cook fires to life, water was hauled from a nearby creek in gourds and buckets, and the buzz of chattering could be heard as food was prepared.

  “Where is Cale?” she asked.

  Lenna dashed off and returned in a short time. “He is gone. I am told he is hunting deer with Bipin.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment hit Tess. He could’ve said goodbye, but inwardly she scolded herself for being too sensitive. These people were, by all accounts, close friends to Cale. Of course he would want to visit, to catch up on news, even to help with chores.

  “Cocheta will want to speak with you later,” Lenna said.

  The elderly woman had scrutinized Tess the night before, but proclaimed her tired and let her be. But Tess knew that some type of interrogation awaited her.

  Lenna smiled, and Tess couldn’t help but like the girl. “But first we will eat,” Lenna added.

  Tess enjoyed the thick, flat bread offered—called chigustei—and a cornmeal mush.

  * * * *

  Riding horseback, Bipin led Cale into the mountains. By midmorning, he stopped and indicated a camp beyond.

  “I not go,” Bipin said. “We do not like the Irishman.”

  “I understand. I can find my way back.”

  Bipin nodded. “I will see you this night.”

  “Tell Tess...” But he wasn't sure what Bipin should tell her.

  “I will tell her you still hunt.”

  Cale frowned. He'd need to return with an animal, which he didn’t think he could do. “Just tell her I'm scouting.”

  Bipin agreed and departed.

  Cale pulled the Winchester from its boot and guided Bo forward through the underbrush. Then he halted the horse, dismounted, and ground-tied him. He moved cautiously to the remains of a campfire and a canvas tent surrounded by pans, saddlebags, canisters, and a few Indian baskets.

  The cock of a pistol hammer pierced the silence, and Cale froze, a gun at his head from the left.

  “Ye hold it right there.”

  “It's me, Hank. It's Cale.”