“Yes, he’s a good man,” Lark admitted in a whisper.
“At first, I thought he’d be like other pindahs.” Boa Juan grinned, his dark face crinkling. “But he is more like us.”
She nodded. Matt had many Apache traits. He treated everyone fairly and without prejudice. The children, whether Mexican or Indian, followed him shamelessly, begging him to tell them stories. Sometimes when Lark rode into the yard with her wranglers at the end of a long, exhausting day, she would find twelve or more children clustered on the porch, listening to one of Matt’s many yarns. He called them fairy tales. She’d never heard of such a thing, but she saw the rapt expression on each tiny face, and it sent happiness tremoring through her.
Rubbing her aching head, she murmured, “Let’s get down to the ranch. We’ve done all we can up here today.”
Matt was in the office working on the ledgers when he heard Lark’s familiar footsteps. As always, he had to stop himself from getting up and going to her. He frowned and laid down the pencil. Every day was torture. And every night hell. He lay in the bunkhouse, heatedly recalling Lark’s special warmth and responsiveness, the yielding softness of her lips beneath his hungry, starving mouth. Time, Matt reminded himself. He had to give himself time to get over Katie’s and Susie’s deaths. It wouldn’t be fair to Lark to lead her on and then be unable to give her anything in return. He had to hunt down Ga’n first. Only if he survived that could he come back to the ranch and pursue a genuine relationship with her.
When he lifted his head, he saw her standing tiredly in the doorway. As always, she wore her Apache garb. Her blue shirt, black trousers, and boots were covered with dust. Exhaustion shadowed her eyes. Automatically he rose, concerned.
“Lark?”
She made a gesture toward the ledgers. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak with you about some things.”
“Of course.” She looked hauntingly fragile to him. Matt saw the hurt and confusion in her eyes and mentally kicked himself. She was suffering badly because of his rejection. Damn it, anyway.
“Are you all right?”
Lark nodded. “Finding the mustangs is getting tougher. They’re fleeing up to the high canyons now that the snow has melted. It’s just harder.”
“How about if we eat dinner together tonight? I’ll have Maria bring it to the office. There are some things I have to discuss with you, anyway.”
Lark knew what Matt was going to tell her—that those fifteen two-year-old colts needed to be broken. The money situation was critical now. She rubbed her brow, feeling grit beneath her fingertips. “Let me get cleaned up.”
“Fine.” He watched Lark turn away. Normally her shoulders were thrown back, her chin held at a proud angle. Not anymore. Sitting back down, Matt cursed softly. In one way his being there was putting an additional burden on Lark. But considering the drought that had struck the entire northern Arizona Territory, with disastrous results, he knew she still needed his help. Ranches all around the Prescott area were losing hundreds, if not thousands, of head of cattle. Water sources were drying up everywhere. Although the Gallagher Ranch was doing all right so far, he didn’t want to leave until he could be assured it would weather the drought successfully.
Lark had no appetite that night. She picked at the food on her plate. The silence between them was shredding her carefully hidden emotions. At last Maria took the plates away, leaving them alone.
Earlier, Lark had bathed in the stream, washed her hair, and changed her clothes. Ever since Maria had arranged her hair with a colorful ribbon, Lark wore it that way every evening. Tonight, she also wore the freshly laundered violet calico dress, which looked enchanting. The faint lavender scent of the soap that she had used clung to her skin. Sitting next to her, Matt was incredibly aware of her.
As she rose, her hands clasped in front of her, he spoke. “We’re getting to the point where that three hundred dollars is absolutely necessary, Lark. Someone needs to start breaking those colts.”
“I know.” She turned, frustration in her voice. “But I can’t spare a single wrangler right now! With the hot weather, the snows have melted and the mustangs have gone into the mountains to get water. Each day it becomes harder to find them. I’ve got to breed at least thirty more mares in order to produce a big enough group of foals next year.”
Matt nodded sympathetically, appreciating the problem. “Our water reserves seem stable.”
She paced. “We’ve got enough for our own stock, that’s all. The three ponds out back are spring-fed.”
“And the creek near your border with Cameron?”
“Dried up. Everything’s dried up.” Dejected, she bit her lower lip. “It’s all so hopeless….”
Matt didn’t dare respond to the pain in her voice. This time, he might not stop at just a kiss. This time, he might love her until she cried out in pleasure.
“I talked to Paco the other day,” she went on, her voice low and halting, “and he said you’re going to leave soon. Do you have any idea when?”
He shrugged. “Maybe in another couple of weeks. I don’t know exactly yet.”
I want you to stay. It was on her lips, in her heart. She fought her emotions. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”
“No. You?”
“No…” And then, “Excuse me. I have to check on Ny-Oden. He’s not been feeling well lately.”
Matt nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, I guess.”
Blindly, Lark opened the door, her throat tight with words and emotions that wanted to boil up and spill out of her. She flew across a yard bathed in the rose color of the sunset. Trying to push the chaos deep within her, Lark climbed the steps of the bunkhouse.
“Daughter?”
She halted. Ny-Oden was walking with mincing steps from around the corner of the log structure, leaning heavily on his oak cane. “Grandfather. What are you doing up?”
His ebony eyes glinted with laughter. “Now you chide me.”
She retraced her steps and walked out to meet the old man, slipping her hand beneath his elbow. He reminded Lark of a gnarled tree weathered by too many storms. “I did not mean to sound sharp, Grandfather. I’m sorry.”
With a smile, he motioned to the yard. “Come, I need exercise. You can be my support.”
“Being around you always makes my troubles seem small, Grandfather.”
“And what small troubles do you have?”
She sighed. “I don’t want to bother you. I know this heat has kept you in bed most of the time.”
“I’m never too old or too bedridden to listen to your heart. Now, what troubles you?”
Lark walked slowly at his side. They reached the far end of the yard and stood beneath the long, reaching boughs of a fragrant pine tree. They turned to watch the setting of the sun in the west; it was one of the holiest times of the day for the Apache. Lark ran the long pine needles through her fingers. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Grandfather.”
“You’ve lost weight. Maria said you’re not eating well.” He cocked his head, studying her in the silence. “If your ailment came from your body, I could give you an herb or sing a chant to send it away. But I have nothing for the wounding of a heart.”
“What do you mean?”
“A heart torn by unhappiness can only be healed with love.”
“Love?” Lark’s voice went off-key.
Ny-Oden nodded, pursing his thin lips. “Matt Kincaid has awakened your heart, daughter.”
Lark held the shaman’s arthritic hand gently. “Oh, Grandfather, what am I going to do?” she whispered tightly. “What I feel toward Matt is so new…so different.”
“Yes?”
“He kissed me,” she blurted out. “In the office shortly after we came back from Prescott. It was so sudden, so unexpected.”
“For both of you?”
“I—I think so. Ever since then, Matt’s been avoiding me. I think he’s ashamed of me and of my actions.”
“Oh?”
Ny-Oden sat down on the soft, dry pine needles and patted the ground beside him. “Come,” he invited, “sit here.””
Miserably, Lark joined him. “Soon he’ll leave, Grandfather, and I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve come to rely on him. Matt knows so much about money and ranching.”
“You will miss him, the man,” the shaman corrected.
“Yes.” She toyed with a dried pine needle. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Is what I’m feeling in my heart what my mother told me about? Is this love?”
Ny-Oden’s face crinkled into a gentle smile. “I think you can answer that yourself.”
“Mother said love binds two people. I swear I can feel him. I feel his moods, his changes.” Her voice faltered. “Sometimes, I feel his hunger for me. Is that silly? Am I heyoke, crazy?”
“The heart never lies, daughter. And it’s not unusual for people in love to be attuned to one another.”
Hope filled her. “It isn’t?”
“No.”
“Then—it is love?”
“That is a part of love.”
“Part? You mean there’s more?”
“Yes.”
“Such as?”
He held her distraught gaze. “This is something you must discover on your own.” He gestured toward the sunset that had faded to pale colors of lavender, violet, and dark pink. “Love is like Holos striking those clouds above us, changing the colors in Father Sky. Love is not just one thing or another.”
She tried to grasp his meaning. “Then, love touches two people and changes them?” she said.
“Yes.”
She tugged at a long strand of her hair, thinking. “I’m the one who is changing, Grandfather. I feel like a flower opening for the first time. I’m aware of my body as never before. So many changes are happening within me. But…”
“Yes?”
“I don’t see any changes in Matt. All he does is avoid me. He can share stories with the children and tease Maria and the other women, but he avoids me.”
“That is a change, is it not?”
Frowning, Lark threw the bent and twisted pine needle aside. “Not a good one.”
“Patience, daughter.”
“There is so little time left. He’s going to be leaving soon.”
“Patience,” Ny-Oden repeated gently. “Love takes many forms. Your heart is full and cannot see everything. Right now, you’re like muddy water. Time will allow the mud to settle to the bottom, leaving clear water above it. Then your heart’s eyes will see.”
“See what, Grandfather?”
“The truth, daughter of my heart. And your destiny.”
Chapter 11
“I want that breed bitch kidnapped,” Jud Cameron growled, standing at the window of his ranch office. He barely turned his head, buttonholing Bo Shanks, who lounged lazily against the doorjamb.
“Somethin’s gotta be done or yore gonna lose part of yore herd, boss.”
Cameron snorted, settling his hands on his hips. It was Saturday. During the weekdays, he lived in Prescott and managed his bank. On weekends, he drove out to his ranch, the Bar T, located fifteen miles outside of town. He saw the foreman who ran the ranch in his absence, Tom Huffman, ride by, his leathery face grim. “My cattle are starting to die,” he muttered. “I’m not going to lose them just because that breed thinks she can stand her ground with me.”
Shanks drew deeply on his cheroot and remained silent. He’d just been released from jail, after spending almost two months there for shooting Paco Hernandez. For a while, Shanks had wondered if Cameron was going to spring him or not. The townspeople were upset over the shooting. If Cameron hadn’t paid off the judge, he’d still be locked behind bars. What bothered him even more, was that Cameron had hired another gun. A Bart Devlin was coming up from Tucson. He worked for Saunders over on the Circle S and was frequently employed by the Ring. Devlin would arrive in Prescott in another three weeks. Was Cameron going to oust him? Damn, but he liked the money he was making. Shanks tried to figure out a way to get back into Cameron’s good graces.
“What can I do to help ya, boss?”
Cameron stared darkly at the gunslinger. “Ride over to Ga’n’s hideout and tell him to meet me at Cottonwood Forks two days from now.”
“Right away, boss.”
With disgust, Cameron watched Shanks quickly leave. Minutes later, he saw the gunslinger ride by on his buckskin gelding. Anger ate at him. It was late July and his water sources would no longer support the additional cattle. Something had to be done! Already the milk was drying up on the cows who were trying to suckle their young. Next his calves would start dying.
Cameron smiled savagely. Soon, very soon, the Gallagher Ranch would be his—one way or another. And Ga’n was going to help him get it.
“I will not kill Lark Who Sings,” Ga’n said angrily. He shifted position on his mustang pony, holding Jud Cameron’s glare. Next to him his companion Alchise shifted uneasily in the saddle. “Roarke Gallagher saved my life many seasons ago.” Ga’n made a slicing motion through the morning air. “She is his daughter. I will not do as you wish.”
Cameron’s fury simmered. “I said kidnap her, not kill her, for god sakes! Hold her until she agrees to sign over the water rights to her ranch.”
A sly smile shadowed Ga’n’s hard mouth. “Kidnap Lark Who Sings?”
“Yes. Take her over to Devil’s Canyon. There’s a series of caves over there. Tie her up and tell her she’s not going to be released until she agrees to give me what I want.” Cameron fingered his sleek black mustache. “Well? Can you do that much without upsetting your sensitive Apache conscience?”
Ga’n straightened up in the cottonwood saddle. “How much?” The pindah’s green-skinned paper would purchase more bottles of firewater. His first taste of liquor over at the Gallagher Ranch long ago had eased his pain and the memory of his family’s death. Since then, a need to drink had shaped the rest of his life. And the only way he could get the firewater was to work for pindahs who paid him the paper needed to purchase the bottles from the traders.
Cameron smiled. Now he was back at what he knew best: buying something for little or nothing from these savages. “Five dollars,” he said.
“Five!” Alchise, who was six feet tall and had a broad copper face, sneered. “This is worth more than that to you.”
Ga’n nodded, glancing over at his war partner.
“Six, then.”
“That won’t buy many bottles of firewater!” Ga’n muttered.
“It will keep you good and drunk for a long time!” Cameron snapped back.
Alchise gave Ga’n a dark look.
“All you have to do is slip in under cover of night and take Lark from the ranch house. There are no sentries or guards. Probably a dog, but you know how to get rid of it. This will be easy, Ga’n.”
Cameron decided not to mention that the gunslinger, Matt Kincaid, was at the ranch. He’d be sleeping in the bunkhouse and would be conveniently out of the way. “All right, seven dollars and that’s my last offer. Take it or leave it.”
Ga’n grunted. “We take it.” He held out his hand. “Pay now.”
“You get paid afterwards, Ga’n. I don’t want you drunk on the job. That’s how you and I work with each other.”
Ga’n scowled. “I will take her to Devil’s Canyon.”
“Fine. When she’s ready to sign, send Alchise to my ranch. I’ll ride out to where you’re holding her and let her sign the papers.”
“You want this done tonight?”
“Yes. The s
ooner, the better.”
Matt left the barn when he saw Lark appear at the door to the ranch house, wearing the calico dress. He’d seen her ride in an hour earlier, just before sunset. Apparently she’d bathed and changed out of her Apache clothes since then. He walked across the yard to her. No longer did he limp on his wounded leg. He’d fully recovered from the gunshot wound.
Holding Lark’s gaze as he approached, Matt tried to gird himself for their meeting. There was surprise in her eyes and he knew why. Rarely did they see one another during the day.
“Matt?”
He took off his hat and mounted the steps, standing a few feet from her. “Evening, Lark. I need to talk with you. Can we go to the office?”
“Of course.” She turned and led the way.
Matt shut the office door quietly. Lark stood uncertainly near the desk. He took a deep breath. “I’m going to be leaving in another week. Lark. It’s time.”
Pain squeezed her heart as she remained standing, stunned by his announcement. Finally she found her voice, but even she could hear the strain in it. “You’ve been restless.” More than once, Boa Juan had told her how Matt would get up and leave the bunkhouse to pace the yard late at night. He was obsessed with finding Ga’n. She met his gray eyes, seeing the anguish and despair in them. Gathering all her strength, she forced out the words she didn’t believe herself. “You’re right, it is time.”
Matt searched her tension-lined face, feeling Lark’s agony. “I don’t want to, but I have to,” he said thickly.
“I know.”
He saw her sway and then catch herself. She threw her shoulders back and thrust her chin at a defiant angle, telling him that she was fighting to look strong and confident for his sake. He managed a slight smile. “You’ve learned the sums well. I don’t think you’ll have any more problems with bookkeeping.”
“No, I won’t. You taught me well, Matt.” And I’ve lost my heart to you. The words were on her lips, screaming to be said, but Lark fought the need. There could be no life, no happiness, for Matt until he put the ghost of his family to rest. And finding Ga’n was the only way for him.
Fumbling for the right words, he held her luminous blue gaze. “There’s no future for me, Lark. Not until I get Ga’n.”
Hostage Heart Page 19
