by BJ James
Indian’s arm shot out, his fingers closed over Hoke’s wrist, moving it from Patience’s face. “She won’t answer you.”
Peeling Indian’s fingers from his wrist, Hoke stood massaging the pain from it. “Been playing Indian for real and carved away a little of her tongue?”
A murmur of approval rose from the watchers. A gleeful, lascivious growl.
Indian ignored them. His eyes were only for Hoke. “I said won’t, Hoke. Not can’t. She won’t answer because she’s been taught to speak to no one but me.”
Clamping his fingers at Patience’s neck, Indian dragged her to him. The move caught her so by surprise that she stumbled and fell hard against him. His grip didn’t ease, and the pain in her neck was excruciating. She almost cried out, but a chance glimpse of Eva’s avid grin sealed her lips.
Reaching out to steady herself, she clung to him, and Indian smiled over her head. “She knows she’s my woman now beyond any doubt.” He pulled her still closer. “A little lesson from our desert classroom.”
He turned his head, scanning the crowd, including all of them in his explanation and daring any challenge. “I teach better in privacy.” With a yank at her hair, he pulled her head back, his mouth grinned down at her, but his eyes were bleak with sorrow. “Much better, right, sugar?”
“Yes,” Patience mumbled through stiff lips.
“I don’t believe they heard you.” He yanked her hair again.
“Yes!” The acknowledgment exploded from her.
Indian lifted a sardonic brow, and laughed a soundless, chilling laugh. “A thorough lesson you’re not likely to forget.”
“Yes.” This time her response was toneless.
“Tell them who you belong to.”
Patience stifled a gasp, her gaze locked with his. Silence filled the circle, and she heard only the sound of his heart. She looked away, waiting for the prodding yank. It never came. She licked her lips and swallowed, but her mouth and throat were dry.
“Who’s woman are you, O’Hara?” he asked softly.
Her mind was reeling, the amused stares of the Wolves seemed to touch her physically. One instant they were ravening animals, ready to tear out Indian’s throat, in the next it was her blood they wanted as they laughed and cheered him on. She wondered at the sanity of a change so rapid and brutal. But more than that, she marveled at the strength of the man who must tailor his role to fit their whims.
How far would he go to keep his secrets?
Why?
There were Wolves waiting for her answer. He waited. “You,” she began, and her voice failed her. Gathering her courage, she began again. “I belong to you. I’m Indian’s woman.”
The relief in the look meant only for her was incredible, but for the Wolves there was no outward sign. Instead he nodded curtly and turned to Hoke. “Any more questions?”
“See?” Custer rushed in. “That wasn’t so bad. Shouldn’t a been made into something it ain’t in the first place.”
“Indian broke the rules,” Hoke said levelly.
“I didn’t leave camp. I simply moved mine for good reason. We were less than fifteen minutes away.”
“We searched for you, if you were there, we would have seen signs of your fire,” Hoke insisted.
“Would you?” A black gaze swept over the watching band and to Hoke again. “I’m Apache, you see only what I let you see. Use your brain, man. We were on foot, miles from anyone and anything, where do you think we would go?”
“That remains to be seen,” Hoke snapped.
“Fine.” Indian’s voice was quieter but uncompromising. “When you’ve seen, let me know.” He put Patience from him, but keeping her easily within his reach. “If this interrogation is ended, I have other things to do.”
“One more thing,” Snake addressed Indian as he jerked his head toward Patience. “Will she go with the herd?”
“Maybe.” The fringe lying over his chest stirred with his hard-drawn breath, but Indian didn’t look at Patience. A new, more dangerous tension infused the air. His attention was so riveted, there was no one in the world but the Apache and the Snake. “That, too, remains to be seen.”
“She’d bring a lot.”
“If I say so.”
Snake grinned. “By roundup it might not be your call.”
“You plan to change it?”
Snake lunged forward, curling his hands over the lapel of Indian’s tunic. His face was florid with avarice and rage. “Count on it, good buddy. And I promise I’ll have fun while I’m at it.”
Without so much as a blink, Indian stripped Snake’s hands from his tunic. “When you come, good buddy, come loaded for bear. I won’t give up what’s mine without a fight.”
Backing away from Snake, he caught Patience by the arm. There was silence in the camp as the circle parted to let them pass. They reached the site of their original camp before the rumble of voices rose at their backs.
* * *
“Tell me about the herd.”
Indian laid the last bit of brush on the newly constructed lean-to before he turned to Patience. He’d expected the question. All that surprised him was that she hadn’t asked immediately.
“Snake asked you if I would be part of the herd.” She pushed a glowing coal back to the fire with a green stick, then leaned back against a boulder, regarding him. “What did he mean?”
Crossing to her, his moccasins making no sound, ruffling none of the dust, Indian considered his answer. She was being drawn more deeply into this than he hoped. He knew now he’d been stupid not to expect it. His judgment had been clouded and poor, he should have cut his losses, aborted the investigation, and taken her to safety.
He’d been a fool. The accusation had whispered in the back of his mind constantly from the first. The perfect vision of hindsight proved it true.
Kneeling on one knee by the fire, he watched the light of the flames play over her questioning features. He wished again he’d met her in another time. “The herd is the name the Wolves have given to the men and women they will be offering for sale along the route we’ve taken.”
“Slavery?” There was horror on her face.
“Their livelihood and their pleasure. On this tour they’ve literally been taking orders.” His tone left little doubt of his loathing for those who not only thrived but relished in dealing in human flesh and misery.
“Where do these men and women come from?”
“Most are illegal aliens who’ve been enticed to cross the border with the assurance of a golden life in the land of promise. They’ll come by truck in the dead of night, packed like sardines, jolted nearly to death over impassable trails, willing to suffer anything for the dream of better days. A roundup of human cattle.” He spat the words in growing disgust. “But not all are aliens. Some will be women who were unfortunate in the crossing of paths.”
“Women like me.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“White slavery.” She didn’t expect an answer. She didn’t need one. Thinking of the women of the camp, some she knew by sight, but not by name. Hard women, with a sense of permanence, and as tough as the men with whom they traveled. Only one didn’t fit the pattern. Stricken eyes turned from the fire. “Will Callie be part of the herd?”
“If Snake decides he’s tired of her, she will be.”
Hugging herself tightly, to contain the hopeless despair that knotted her stomach, Patience exclaimed bitterly, “Hasn’t she been through enough?”
The sweet face, still fair with its scar, rose like a specter in her mind. What would the life that loomed in Callie’s future do to her? How would that netherworld capitalize on her innocence and naiveté? Then, with a prescient understanding she knew. In a cruel, brutal world, helpless innocence would serve as spur for greater brutality and inventive cruelty.
“What can we do?” she whispered, the pain of her vision overwhelming. “Isn’t there something?”
He brushed feathers from her shoulder to slip his hand ben
eath the fall of her banded hair. His fingers moved over taut tendons, soothing the soreness left by his crude performance in front of the Wolves. “I hoped you wouldn’t have to know. But I promise, I’ll do what I can for her.”
Patience whipped her head around, through narrowed eyes she studied his face. “That’s what this is all about.” She was suddenly animated, the spark of excitement chasing bleak defeat from her face. “The masquerade, the names! All of it was aimed at bringing an end to their unsavory trade. You work with the police. The FBI. Someone.”
Taking his hand away, he turned to the dying fire to toss on another branch. Bark had begun to curl and sizzle before he spoke. “Leave it alone. The less you know, the better for you.”
“And for you.”
Indian turned abruptly from the fire. “I wasn’t thinking of myself, I can handle what I must, if there’s only myself to consider.”
“My blundering into the middle of your investigation has complicated everything for you.”
Very carefully avoiding any admission that there was an investigation or an organization of any sort, he settled back down beside her. “You didn’t blunder into anything. You had some bad luck and were stranded.” He gathered her hand in his. “Bad luck turned worse when we found you.”
He used the inclusive “we,” but in spite of his refusal to acknowledge her speculations, she knew he was never one of them. “The worst of it is, they’re suspicious of you now.”
With a small, humorless laugh, he shrugged away her concern. “The Wolves are suspicious of everything and everyone. With only themselves to judge by, its a natural part of their nature.”
“Don’t make light of it. I’m not obtuse, I saw Snake and Hoke. Blue Doggie was quiet, but even he has his doubts. Before this is done, Custer might, as well.”
“I’m not making light of it. But it’s simply something I must deal with.”
“Can you?” Curling her fingers tighter over his, she studied him again with a probing, laserlike gaze. “So long as I’m around, can you do what you need to do, as freely as you should?”
“You aren’t responsible for Snake’s attitude, or Hoke’s. You can’t be blamed for today.” His mouth pulled down in a grim line. “When this is resolved, you’ll know exactly where the blame lies, and exactly which of us you should hate.”
Rising, his body unfolding effortlessly, he towered over her. He was silent, his expression forbidding. “I’ll do everything I can for Callie. I’ll do it for her, and for you. It’s the least repayment I can offer for what I’ve done.” His expression softened. “Last night was not quite what one would call restful, maybe you should turn in. I won’t disturb you, but I won’t be far away.”
“You won’t be sleeping in the lean-to?”
“I’ll catch what sleep I need out here.”
Would he be keeping watch because Snake’s threat was more serious than he wanted her to know? she wondered. Or did he regret their time in the canyon so quickly and so much he wanted to avoid further complications? She couldn’t bring herself to ask, for fear the answer would be more painful than she could bear.
“You’re right, I am a little tired.” Moving with deliberate speed she was on her feet before he could offer his usual chivalrous help. She was afraid that if he touched her she would make a fool of herself. Head down, she hurried to the lean-to.
“O’Hara?”
Her heart surged with hope as she turned back. “Yes?”
Indian hesitated, then he smiled. “Nothing, just good night.”
“Yes, of course, I forgot. Good night.” Ducking swiftly into the brush-covered shelter, she closed her eyes, waiting for disappointment to subside.
“I’m a fool,” she decided hours later as she lay sleepless and alone, listening to the sounds of a restless man prowling the camp. “I might as well admit it.” The musky scent of mule-ears wafted to her as she brushed a wilted blossom over her lips. “A fool as much out of my element as you are with your silly name.”
A fool in love.
Nine
Another day, another camp, the routine that had become the norm in this strange odyssey through the wilds. As she’d gradually oriented herself, Patience realized their path was more meandering and crisscrossing than direct, and far from purposeless. At first the Wolves seemed to have all the time in the world, spending a week in one campsite, two days in another, three in the next. Once each successful ride from camp merited days and nights of revelry.
In the last three days of miles and miles of arduous riding there had been three camps. And in an unnatural quiet a feverish excitement mounted at every turn. Even Indian was not unaffected. He’d grown more taciturn, more watchful, prowling their separate site, sleeping in catnaps and only lightly. By unspoken edict he was no longer privy to the nightly conferences held at Hoke’s fire, but she saw that he was never far from the sight of it. Always positioning himself in such a way that he could interpret actions, and gestures, and, with luck, read lips.
The Wolves’ trust in him had been fractured, if not broken. Biding time, they watched him, the final verdict undeclared. Patience had questioned why they bothered waiting when any one of them would maim or murder without compunction. When Snake or Blue Doggie would relish dealing most violently with Indian.
In the frenetic days of short camps in progressively rougher and unpredictable terrain, she saw how invaluable he was. Though the bikers had clearly traveled in this manner before, clearly performed the unholy service of meeting the supply and demand for human flesh, it was equally clear that once past town and village and metropolis, Arizona was new and unknown territory. Patience began to realize that it was more than gratitude for a life redeemed in a deadly barroom brawl that prompted Custer to bring Indian to the Wolves. Among them, no one was as at home in the desert and the high country, no one as adept at finding the best routes, the more passable trails.
With Indian at the point, no time was lost backtracking around unanticipated and suddenly looming gorges. No fording wild rivers with fickle currents and treacherous quicksands. No one was better at finding water along the barren stretches, the pass tucked among rocks and spires, the natural campsite. Keeping always out of the sight of civilization, but never far removed from it, he’d led without error.
Though still immeasurable, his value had been compromised by Patience and his concern for her. As with the stone that sealed the canyon, he would deal better with what he must alone and unhampered.
Pacing the small perimeter of their camp, she was aware as never before of the watchful eyes that marked her step. At every turn there was someone watching. Alice, Eva, Snake, and even Callie. Callie with her rapidly growing kitten hidden in a knapsack, and a look of constant fear for it adding to the distress of her mutilated face.
Everyone was on edge. The excitement of change was in the air, like a pervasive sickness it spread from one to another. Change, she suspected, that would most affect herself and Callie, and the man the Wolves knew as Indian.
“What can I do?” Patience mused as she stalked through her area of dusty scrub. She couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. Yet, how could she help when Indian was determined to keep her ignorant of what he meant to do? In ignorance, how could she help Callie?
Frustrated, she kicked a stone from her path, and was pleased at the twinge she felt in her toe. That at least was real, something she thought she could focus on. Instead she found herself turning, seeking out Indian on the far side of the adjoining camp. And as she found him, dressed in familiar leather jeans and vest, as always with moccasins laced to his knees, she remembered the clamor of falling tin plates and another injury to her toe.
“Clumsy, silly, and beautiful in the end,” she murmured as her heart filled with love. He’d done so much for her at great risk to himself. She hadn’t realized how great the risk until the canyon.
The canyon. That nameless place, ageless, yet lost in time, where she’d learned the meaning of love, and the course of her
life had been altered forever. Watching as he bent over his motorcycle, it was Matthew’s face she saw, Matthew’s agile fingers setting right some minor problem. And she longed to set right the problems he faced as Indian.
“Perhaps if I weren’t here.” The thought drifted from her lips and took root in her mind. Turning abruptly she scanned the hills and cliffs that surrounded them.
In this rougher, greener country grass grew thicker, in unexpected places. For even the least observant without brothers to teach them, there were messages to be read, clues to the secrets held by the land. From Tynan, the survivalist, a rancher in his soul, she’d learned to read the ground and its natural cover as a Gypsy read palms.
It was Tynan’s deep voice ringing in her mind, reciting his careful teaching that focused her ranging thoughts. From a crevice carved in barren rock springs a clutch of green, and the thirsty knows there will be water, perhaps a spring, or fall, perhaps a deep teneja—the natural water basin in the rock. When grass is sparse and the soil unprotected from ravaging winds and rains, the land is poor and shifting, and the hunter knows there will be little game.
Looking to the rising hills, Patience recalled the land beyond them, murmuring the most valuable lesson Tynan had taught her. “Where the grass is thick and rich, the land and life are bountiful, and there, in the bounty, will be man.”
Grass covered the hills rising above and beyond Patience now. If not lush, it was adequate, with messages of its own. The foliage on the west cliff was tall and ragged and undisturbed. On the east, close-cropped and uniform.
“Cattle,” she mused. “Maybe sheep.” It didn’t matter which, either meant people, a ranch or farm. And help.
A farm would be better than a ranch, its range would be smaller, the dwelling nearer. In any case she didn’t fool herself that the trek to either would be easy. But, thanks to the vagabond life of her family and their varied knowledge and specific expertise, she was no stranger to arduous travel and harsh terrain.
Not even Indian knew how well versed she was in these circumstances. Even he knew little more than her parents’ and brothers’ and her sister’s names.
