“We sure do, sweet.” He put the medal back in his pocket, held her against him so that she heard the rhythmic beat of his heart.
She looked up at him demurely through long lashes as she unbuttoned the dress, stepped out of it, took off her fine lace underthings. Then she stood there clad in nothing but the long, sheer bridal veil.
“Beautiful!” He sighed. “If you only knew how much I loved you!” He took off his jacket, and she held out her arms to him.
“Show me!” she challenged.
“Is that a dare?” He was only half-undressed, but he grabbed her up in his arms, swung her around, and carried her to the big bed.
She lay wrapped in the sheer veil, looking up at him as he lay beside her, leaning his head on his hand. Her fingers stroked the skin revealed by his half-buttoned shirt.
“Do you know” he said seriously, “that when you want me, your eyes deepen in color to a deep, smoky violet?”
She felt a blush creep up her neck. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“I was enjoying watching you too much.”
“And I suppose you don’t want me?” She felt his maleness harden, throb against her.
“Like hell I don’t!” His big, callused hands stroked her bare skin, held her breasts as he leaned over to kiss her nipples.
Immediately, the pink tips went turgid, strained to press against his mouth. “Oh, Texas, I—I can’t control myself when you do that to me. I love you sol”
His tongue slipped between her lips, teasing, tasting, and as she arched herself against him, eager to have him fill her with his thrusting manhood.
He took her small hand in his, kissed her ring, then gathered her into the haven of his powerful arms. “I meant what I said in that inscription, sweet. I’m about to give you a wedding night you’ll never forget!”
And he made that promise good.
To My Readers
The “covert” mission of this story is part of our Western history. Mackenzie’s raid happened much as I have described it, the soldiers spending thirty-two terrible hours in the saddle and covering one hundred sixty miles. The attack was a great victory, for his Fourth Cavalry surprised the Indian camp. One man did have to have his arm amputated on the battlefield, but he survived the long ride back. Another soldier, badly wounded, survived the hard return march only as far as the river, and died just as the column crossed back into American territory.
Mackenzie had gathered up forty hostages—women and children, plus the old Lipan chief Costilietos—and he brought them back with him. The return to the United States was worse than the trip into Mexico, men and horses hungry and exhausted, the rear of the column harried by angry Mexicans.
Once safely back on Texas soil, Mackenzie finally told his officers that there had been no written orders. One outraged captain said that if he had known that, he would have refused to go.
“In that case,” said Mackenzie coolly, “I would have shot you.”
But Mackenzie’s raid had been a success, and it caught the public fancy. The famous Western painter, Fredrick Remington, was impressed enough to paint the event as “The Return from Remotina—1873,” and the “Damned Yankee” colonel who led it became a folk hero to the Texans. The state legislature even passed legislation commending him for his action, while the politicans in Washington pleaded ignorance to the irate Mexican government.
In September of 1873, our country was hard hit by widespread financial depression, called a “panic” in those days. Desperate, out-of-work men headed for the plains to try to make a living killing and skinning buffalo. That infuriated the Indians and started the Uprising of 1874. Mackenzie fought the Comanches in that war and went up against Quanah Parker, the great half-breed chief. I have already told that story in my last book, Comanche Cowboy.
The Seminole-Negro scouts served a long time with the U.S. Cavalry, and over the years, at least four of them won the Congressional Medal of Honor for exceptional bravery. Their graveyard is near the old site of Fort Clark, and many of their descendants still live in the area. Fort Clark no longer exists, but the nearby town, Brackettville, was the location for John Wayne’s epic film, The Alamo. The elaborate movie set is now a tourist attraction.
Another winner of the Congressional Medal of Honor, Lieutenant Robert G. Carter, was elevated to the rank of captain. He did indeed write his book, On The Border With Mackenzie, and dedicate it to his beloved commander and to the men of the Fourth Cavalry. He began the book in the 1880s and finally published it in 1935, the year before he died at the age of ninety. He is buried in Arlington National Cemetery. Carter outlived every officer connected with the Mexican raid, outlasting Mackenzie by forty-seven years.
It is ironic that while another West Point graduate, George A. Custer, would go down in history, Mackenzie himself died insane and forgotten at the age of forty-eight. General Mackenzie is buried at West Point, as is Custer, who was killed by the Sioux at the Little Big Horn three years and five weeks after the Mackenzie raid. At that final battle, Custer did split his forces as he had done against the Cheyenne on the Washita River here in my home state of Oklahoma.
Sure enough, there were Cheyenne at the Little Big Horn who had survived the Washita and remembered the tactic. You might find it interesting that Custer, in a hurry, left behind his supply train, and he did not have his men fill their pockets with ammunition. When the gunfire startled some of the horses into galloping away, the ammunition was in the saddlebags. That battle might have ended differently if Mackenzie had led those men.
After the Mackenzie raid, the Mescalero Apache scattered, some going back to their own country to fight the cavalry. The Lipan were almost wiped out, then absorbed by their relatives, the Mescalero. The captured Kickapoo ended up on a reservation only about ten miles to the east of my home here in the old Cross Timbers region of central Oklahoma. Many of the Kickapoo warriors surrendered to be reunited with their families. So ended the Indian menace along the border. No one thought anything about what would provoke the next uprising, nor was the Dove Creed raid carried out by the Texans against the Kickapoo long remembered.
Although there are no longer reservations in the Sooner state, many of the Kickapoos descendants still live in the old reservation area, with tribal headquarters in the little town of McLoud. Those left in Mexico have drifted back and forth across the border all these years, living in poverty. The Kickapoo who wanted it were finally granted official U.S. citizenship by President Reagan in 1985.
The muddy Concho River flowing through the city of San Angelo, site of Fort Concho, is famous for its rare pink and lavender pearls. Some of the pearls are rumored to be among the Spanish crown jewels. I am lucky enough to own a Concho pearl, set in a tiny gold and silver cowboy-spur pendant that my own Irish-Indian, “Murph,” bought me when we were researching in the area. If you’d like to do a little pearl diving, be aware that the pearls are rare, and that a permit from the Texas Wildlife Department in Austin is needed.
The town of Bandera, on the clear, green Medina River, is famous for its dude ranches. Located at the western edge of the beautiful Texas hill country, it is not too many miles from the late President Lyndon Johnson’s giant ranch.
The rocky hills are covered with cedar, and cedar choppers of many ethnic backgrounds still make charcoal as they have done for generations. Native Texans will tell you the cedar hackers are a hard-working, hard-drinking, hard-fighting bunch, not people to be messed with.
The first big immigration of Czechs arrived in Texas during the 1850s, and today Texas has the largest Czech population of any Southern state. About five out of every one hundred Texans trace their ancestry to Czechoslovakia. There are six radio stations broadcasting at least partly in the Czech language, and three Texas newspapers are being partially printed in that language at this time.
As for Los Niños Heroes, the six school boys killed in that vain, but valiant, defense during the Mexican War are revered legends: A national shrine to them has b
een erected in Chapultepec Park, near the castle they died to defend in Mexico City.
Lastly, the Civil War massacre at Fort Pillow is a little known fact of history. Tennessee troops captured the Yankee fort, and were so furious at finding black troops fighting against them, they turned the capture into a bloody massacre, even burying alive and burning alive some of the-helpless black prisoners. I will tell you more of Fort Pillow someday when I get around to writing Shawn O’Bannion’s story.
Now for the details:
Remember Shawn from my first book, Cheyenne Captive? If you do, you should also remember the haughty St. Clair family. Petty’s stolen gold watch with Savannah St. Clair’s name enscribed on it has something to do with Shawn’s story.
Yes, the old lucifer matches of the last century were made of yellow phosphorous and were highly poisonous. Matches are no longer made of that, but some rat and insect poisons still are. It really is an old sailor’s superstition that a man who has sea gulls tattooed around his ankle will never die of drowning. And although it is extremely rare, once in a while, a very brave bull will be granted the indulto, the pardon, and will escape death in the ring to spend the rest of his days grazing in a pasture.
It is quite common for a pinto horse to have either blue eyes or china (white) eyes. The graceful Paso Finos’ ancestors were first brought to this continent on Columbus’ second voyage. Because of its unusual gait, this horse was a favorite of the conquistadors. But I must tell you the name Heartaches actually belongs to my son’s big Appaloosa.
My publisher is forwarding a lot of mail out here to my isolated Oklahoma home, and if your letter contains a stamped, self-addressed envelope, I’ll be happy to write you. Here are answers to some of the most common questions:
How did you get started? The famous romance writer, Sara Orwig, discovered me in her university writing class.
What are your previous books? My first published book was the best-seller, Cheyenne Captive, which won the 1987 Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer’s Choice for Best Indian Romance by a New Author. The Reader’s Poll of Affaire de Coeur Magazine voted this book one of the top ten historical romance novels of 1987.
My second book, the best-selling Cheyenne Princess, continued that story. The third book of the saga was Comanche Cowboy. The book you just read is the fourth book of the series.
How many more books in this series? I don’t know yet, but as many as it takes to cover about seventy-five years of history and to include some of the experiences of many ethnic groups and most of the plains tribes while tying one tale into another in a continuing saga. However, I am writing these books in such a way that you can follow the story even if you miss one novel. So for those of you who want to know what happened to the Apache boy Sun Shield and his palomino stallion, I can only tell you that someday we will meet him again when I tell about the Indian raids in Arizona and New Mexico during the time of Victorio and Geronimo.
How often will there be a new book in this saga? About every six months or so. Ask your book store to watch for them. Each may have the name of an Indian tribe in the title.
I’m in a hurry for the next story. Can’t you write them any faster? I could, but not without sacrificing the enormous amount of research that readers say make my books so special. Please be patient.
I missed one of the books. How do I get it now? Zebra often has order forms at the ends of their books so you can buy by mail. If my books aren’t listed, inquire.
What’s the fifth book about, what’s the title, when does it come out? Remember the dark Spanish-Cheyenne beauty, Dallas Durango, sister to Trace in my second book, Cheyenne Princess?
Dallas means spirited, and it was an apt name for the fiery daughter of the owner of a Texas ranching empire. Just before the Civil War began, Dallas had been sent off to an elegant Boston boarding school. But the hot-blooded tomboy didn’t like the school and ran away. In vain, her family hired detectives to search for her, but when the war broke out, nothing further could be learned and she vanished.
For my fifth book, I’ll pick up and continue that unfinished tale. Watch for Dallas Durango’s story, Nevada Nights, coming in July 1989. It will be an exciting and romantic legend dealing with the Pony Express, the Indian wars in Nevada, a rich and handsome society heir, and his blood brother, a Paiute chief.
Can a woman really fall in love with two such different men? I promise you a fast-paced and unusual love story as we slip back in time to join Dallas in the next book of this saga.
And now, as Old Cougar would say in Apache:
Skii” ni nzhqq,
Georgina Gentry
Here are some of the forty-two research books I used for your further reference.
Crossing The Border With The 4th Cavalry, Mackenzie’s Raid into Mexico 1873, by Richard A. Thompson, Texian press.
On The Border With Mackenzie, by Captain R. G. Carter, Antiquarian Press.
The Mescalero Apaches, by C. L. Sonnichsen, Oklahoma University Press.
The Kickapoo Indians, Lords of the Middle Border, by A. M. Gibson, Oklahoma University Press.
ZEBRA BOOKS
are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
475 Park Avenue South
New York, NY 10016
Copyright © 1989 by Georgina Gentry
ISBN: 978-0-8217-2596-2
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Bandit's Embrace (The Durango Family) Page 48
