Under Apache Skies

by Madeline Baker

  And even as she thought of him, he was riding toward her. Her heart did a familiar flip-flop in her chest at the mere sight of him.

  Dismounting, he tossed the reins over the hitching post, then drew her into his arms and swung her around. Setting her on her feet, he kissed her before turning to greet Sanza.

  The two men grasped forearms. “Welcome, brother,” Ridge said.

  Sanza nodded.

  “So,” Ridge said, looking at Marty, “what did Nettie say?”

  “Dani’s with her now.”

  Ridge grunted. “I need to put my horse away.”

  “I will do it,” Sanza said.

  “Obliged,” Ridge said.

  “Can I talk to you?” Marty asked, tugging on his arm.

  “Sure.”

  Moving away from the barn, they stopped in the shade of a tree near the side of the house.

  “What’s wrong?” Ridge asked.

  “Nothing, really. I asked Sanza if he’d think about staying here and—”

  Ridge nodded. “And he said yes.”

  “Yes, and then I wanted to take him up to the house to meet Nettie—”

  “And he said no.”

  Tilting her head to one side, Marty stared at him, one brow raised.

  “Sorry. Go on.”

  “Anyway, he said he didn’t want to live in the house, that he’d build his wickiup over there, facing west.”

  “In the opposite direction of the ranch house,” Ridge said. “It’s customary for the bride to build her wickiup close to her mother’s, but facing in the opposite direction.”

  “So, this avoidance thing, how long does it last?”

  “As long as they’re married.”

  “I was afraid of that. Oh! You don’t believe in that, too, do you?”

  “No.” Ridge drew her into his arms. “Stop worrying. Everything will work out.”

  “I don’t see how. What are we going to do at Christmas if Sanza and Nettie can’t look at each other? Won’t it be a little difficult for them to sit at the table together? And what about Thanksgiving?”

  “Hey, that’s not our problem. It’s theirs, and they’ll work it out. Anyway, I doubt if Sanza will have much interest in Christmas or Thanksgiving. Or any other holiday. They don’t mean anything to him.”

  With a sigh, Marty rested her cheek against his chest. “You’re right, of course. Did you talk to the sheriff?”

  “Yeah. He doesn’t know any more now than he did before.”

  “We’ll never find my father’s killer, will we?”

  “I don’t know. All I’ve got to go on is that the killer’s horse leaves a distinctive track. If I can find the horse that leaves it…” He shrugged, thinking that the odds of finding that track by chance were pretty slim. The horse Claunch usually rode didn’t drag its hind foot.

  “About Sanza,” Marty said. “Where can I put him up?”

  “He can sleep in the barn.”

  “The barn! I can’t ask him to stay in the barn.”

  “Trust me: He’ll be happier there than in the house.”

  “No, I have a better idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. Our old foreman was married. Pa built him a house over near Salt Springs. It’s been vacant for a long time, but Sanza can stay there.”

  “Alone?”

  “What? Oh. I suppose Dani will want to stay there, too.”

  “Yes,” Ridge said dryly, “I suppose she will.” He drew her closer. “Enough about them. Have you set the date yet?”

  “Yes. The first week in September.”

  Ridge did some quick mental arithmetic. “Three weeks?”

  “You said you were in a hurry, and believe me, that’s rushing it.”

  Nettie didn’t know what to say. First Martha had come to her, telling her that, even though they were in mourning, she was going to marry a man she hardly knew as soon as possible, and now Danielle sat across from her, telling her that she was already married, and to an Apache Indian, of all people! There was no doubt in her mind that her daughters thought they were in love with these men, but how could that be possible? Longtree was a gunfighter, and while Nettie could understand why Martha had hired him, the idea of accepting the man as her son-in-law was almost ludicrous.

  And now Danielle had married the very man who had kidnapped her!

  “Where is he, this Indian?” Nettie asked.

  “Outside, with Marty.”

  “Why didn’t he come in with you? Does he speak English? Danielle, whatever were you thinking?”

  “I love him, Mama.”

  “And does this…this Indian, does he love you?”

  “Of course.”

  Nettie stared at her daughter. It had never occurred to her that anyone would love an Apache. Or that the Apache were capable of love. They were savages, fierce warriors who, not so long ago, had cut a wide swath of bloodshed and destruction throughout the Southwest. Everyone knew that.

  Nettie took a deep breath. Whether she approved of Danielle’s choice of a husband or not no longer mattered. What was done was done. And, judging by the look on her daughter’s face, it had been done well!

  “Are you determined to stay married to this man?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then I think you should be married again, in church.”

  “I’m already married, Mama.”

  “Perhaps in the eyes of the Apache,” Nettie replied. “But not according to our laws.” She held up her hand, stifling her daughter’s protests. “What if there’s a child, Danielle? You don’t want your children branded bastards, do you?”

  “No,” Dani said quietly, “of course not. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Perhaps a double wedding?” Nettie suggested.

  Dani shook her head. “No. This should be Marty’s day.”

  “Then perhaps a private ceremony afterward, with just the family?”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Dani said. “As long as Sanza agrees.”

  “Yes, of course,” Nettie replied. “I think it’s about time I met the man who put that smile on your face, don’t you?”

  “About that,” Danielle said. “He can’t talk to you.”

  “He can’t? Is there something wrong with him?”

  “Apache men don’t speak to their mothers-in-law.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly. They just don’t.”

  “I see,” she said, though she didn’t see at all.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Later that night, sitting on the well-worn sofa in the foreman’s cabin, Dani snuggled against Sanza, thinking she had never been more content in her whole life. It was so good to be home again, surrounded by the people she loved. She couldn’t believe her mother was really here, couldn’t keep from touching Nettie every chance she got, simply to assure herself that it wasn’t a dream. It was going to be hard, leaving this place when the time came. But she had made her choice. Her place was with her husband now. Perhaps Sanza would bring her home again in the spring.

  Nettie had invited her and Sanza to dine up at the main house, but Dani had declined, reminding her mother that Sanza couldn’t look at her or speak to her. Nettie hadn’t argued. Instead, she had filled a basket with food and sent it home with Dani.

  The foreman’s cabin wasn’t much, just a parlor, a kitchen, and two small bedrooms, all sparsely furnished, but sitting there, with her husband’s arm around her and a cheerful fire in the hearth, she couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be. She glanced around. Besides the sofa on which they sat, there was an overstuffed chair covered with a handmade quilt, a small table, and a footstool. A colorful rag rug brightened the plank floor in front of the hearth. Faded gingham curtains hung at the window.

  It wouldn’t take much to spruce it up, she thought. Some new furniture, a coat of paint, new curtains, a few pictures and knickknacks, maybe some flowers outside the front door, and the place would have been charming. It would have been fun to
fix the place up, but they weren’t staying, so there was no point even thinking about it.

  With a sigh, she wondered how best to approach the subject of having the Reverend Waters marry them. Would Sanza be offended? Or would he understand?

  She felt his hand on hers and looked up at him.

  “You are very quiet,” he remarked. “Something troubles you?”

  “No. Yes. Not really.” She laughed softly. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Ask me.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll get mad.”

  “I will not get mad.”

  “My mother thinks we should get married again.”

  “We are already married.”

  “I know, but an Apache marriage isn’t recognized by my people.”

  He snorted disdainfully. “I do not care what the White Eyes think.”

  “Maybe not, but if we have a baby, my people will look at it with scorn if they think we are not married according to the laws of my people.”

  “And will they look at you the same way?”

  She nodded. “It doesn’t matter,” she replied. But it did. For the first time, it occurred to her that she would be ostracized by the town when people learned she had married an Apache. The thought hurt. She could live with it if she had to, but she couldn’t bear the thought of any social stigma being attached to her children.

  Sanza frowned as he considered her words. For himself, he did not care what the whites thought, but he would not bring shame on his wife or his children.

  “Very well,” he said. “I will do as you ask.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. “Thank you! We’ll have the reverend marry us after Marty’s wedding. You don’t mind staying here that long, do you? We can leave for the stronghold the next day, if you want.”

  “We will not go back to the village,” he said dispiritedly.

  “We won’t? Why not? Where are we going to live?”

  “We will live here, with your mother.”

  Dani blinked up at him. “Do you want to stay here?”

  “No, but it is the way it must be.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When a man marries, he cuts all ties with his own family. From that time forward, his wife’s people become his people.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Dani murmured. His words reminded her of a Bible verse in the Book of Genesis that she had been taught in Sunday School, something about a man leaving his father and his mother and cleaving unto his wife. Odd, that the Apaches believed in something similar.

  “Your family is here,” he said heavily. “And here is where we will live.”

  She looked up at him, her emotions torn. The thought of staying here on the ranch with Marty and her mother, filled her with happiness. It would be so wonderful to be close to them, to see her children and Marty’s grow up together, to go to church together and celebrate holidays as a family. But at what cost? She looked into her husband’s eyes, her heart aching at what she saw there. Sanza would never be happy living here. The people in town would probably never accept him. They would always look at him warily, never trusting him. She couldn’t ask that of him.

  “We don’t have to stay here,” she said. “We can go back to the stronghold. I know you’ll be happier there.”

  “And what of you?” He stroked her cheek lightly. “Where will you be happy?”

  “Wherever you are.”

  “You would leave here?” he asked.

  “If that’s what you want.” Rising up on her knees, she kissed him. “I just want you to be happy.”

  “It is my wish for you, as well.” He grew thoughtful a moment. “What if we spend our summers with my people and our winters here, with yours?”

  She beamed at him. “That’s a wonderful idea!”

  Pleased because she was pleased, he drew her onto his lap, then buried his hands in her hair, loving the way the silky strands curled around his fingers. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent, and then he kissed her.

  As always, his body responded immediately to her nearness.

  She giggled softly as she felt his arousal push against her fanny.

  “You dare to laugh at me?” he growled.

  She looked into his eyes and laughed all the harder. “Is that a spear under your clout?” she asked in wide-eyed innocence.

  “Shall I show you?”

  “No, I’m much too frightened.”

  He moved her off his lap so that she was lying on her side. “Do not be afraid,” he whispered as he stretched out beside her.

  “But it’s so big,” she said in mock horror. “And so long.”

  “I will be very gentle,” he promised.

  She looked at him, her eyes glowing, her body trembling with desire. “Not too gentle,” she murmured, and, drawing him into her arms, she guided him home.

  Marty stood at her bedroom window, one hand holding the curtain back while she gazed into the distance. She had kissed Ridge good night earlier, longing for the day when they wouldn’t have to kiss good night, when she could follow him into their bedroom and close the door and shut out the rest of the world.

  She thought of Dani and Sanza, thinking how lucky they were. Were they making love, even now?

  She drew her thoughts away from that path. So much had happened in such a short time. Her father had been killed. Her little sister was married. Her mother had come home and, like it or not, seemed to be planning on marrying that snake Victor Claunch. But, most surprising of all, was the fact that Marty herself was in love.

  Warmth spread through her at the mere thought of Ridge. He was everything she had ever dreamed of, and more. Tall and strong, proud and self-confident, a man who could take care of himself, and her. She had never known anyone who could make her so mad, or so happy. She had never wanted another man the way she wanted him.

  Happiness bubbled up inside her. Soon, she thought, soon she would be his wife.

  She was about to turn away from the window when she saw the faint glow of a cigarette. Excitement thrummed through her. Belting her robe tightly around her, she hurried out of her room, down the stairs, and out the front door.

  Though her footsteps made no sound, he turned as she approached.

  “Hi,” she said breathlessly.

  “Hi, yourself. What are you doing up so late?”

  She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Why not?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Probably because I was thinking about a man.”

  “Is that right?” He took a deep drag on his cigarette, then snubbed it out beneath the toe of his boot. “Any man in particular?”

  She looked up at him through the veil of her lashes, a faint smile hovering over her lips. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him.

  “You shouldn’t be out here this late. Any number of things might happen to you.”

  Her eyes widened. “What kind of things?”

  “You never know. Some man might grab you and drag you into the bushes, and…”

  “And what?” she asked, her voice low and breathy.

  “And this.” His lips claimed hers, his tongue plundering her mouth while one hand untied her robe and then slid inside to explore the warmth of her body.

  She moaned softly as his hand slid over her breasts and belly. She was going up in flames, she thought, like dry grass touched by lightning.

  He deepened the kiss, devouring her, until she couldn’t think, until every fiber of her being knew only him, wanted only him.

  She clung to him, yielding to his touch, willing to give him anything. Willing to give him everything.

  He groaned, a sound filled with pain and longing, and then, with hands that shook, he put her away from him.

  She looked up at him, dazed. “What are you doing? Why did you stop?”

  “I was about to take you right here, right now, and then I remembered something you
said.”

  She stared at him. “What did I say?”

  “You told me once you weren’t brought up to roll around in the dirt with a man you hardly knew.”

  “Oh,” she said. “That.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist. “But I know you so much better now.” She kissed his cheek, the point of his jaw. “And I want you so much more.”

  “Dammit, Martha Jean, you’re not making this easy for me.”

  “I don’t want to.” She ran her hands over his chest, down his belly. “I don’t want to wait.”

  Taking a deep breath, Ridge summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed, and then he drew her bathrobe around her and tied the sash tight. “Go to bed, Martha Jean. As much as I’d like to, I’m not going to take you out here, or in the barn, like some…” He reconsidered his choice of words. “Like some saloon girl. When we make love, it’ll be in a bed, and you’ll be my wife.”

  She nodded. “I guess it’s a good thing one of us can think straight.”

  “You’d better get back to the house before I change my mind.”

  Nodding, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Good night.”

  He grinned at her. “Go on, get out of here while you can.”

  Feeling warm and cherished, she hurried back toward the house. She paused on the front porch, turned and waved, then disappeared into the house.

  Ridge stared after her. And then he smiled. She was a hell of a woman, and she was all his.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Victor Claunch paced the floor of his den, a cigar clamped between his teeth. So Martha Jean was engaged to Longtree, and that pretty little gal Danielle had come home claiming to be married to an Apache warrior. Old Seamus must be rolling in his grave.

  Going to the window, he stared out into the darkness, wondering what effect these unexpected happenings would have on his plans. On the one hand, it might be good news. There was always a chance that Martha and that gunman might decide to move off and start a place of their own. Same with Danielle and that Apache buck. It wasn’t likely that the Indian would want to stick around. With both girls gone, it would give him a clear path to Nettie and the ranch. If he couldn’t convince her to marry him for love, he might be able to convince her that she needed a man to help her run the home place. After all, this was no place for a woman alone.