Comanche Sunset

by Rosanne Bittner

  “I don’t know how someone…like Aunt Esther…ended up with a man like Uncle John,” she sniffed.

  “Maybe when she was young, she saw him differently,” Wade said. “Sometimes people just change. Maybe he was good to her in the early years.”

  She sighed deeply, wiping at her eyes. “All of that life seems like such a long time ago now. It’s as though Aunt Esther has been dead for years rather than just weeks. Sometimes I feel like I’ve moved into another life and body, like the Jennifer Andrews who lived back in St. Louis was somebody else, not me. I could never go back there now, Wade, or go back to the old Jenny. Does that make any sense?”

  “Sure it does.”

  She turned her head to look at him, wiping at another tear. “What about you? What about when you go out there among your people? Do you think it’s possible you’ll learn something about their world and their life that will make you want to stay? Maybe you’ll feel you can never come back to this life, or back to being the old Wade Morrow.”

  He met her eyes, tossing a stub of cigarette into the fire. “I’ll have you to come back to,” he answered. “Nothing is strong enough to keep me from that, Jenny. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  She smiled through her tears. “I won’t.” She sniffed. “Can’t you at least kiss me, Wade?”

  She saw the pain in his eyes. “Don’t you think I want to? Don’t make it harder on me, Jenny. We just can’t take the chance. When we’re found, or when we show up at that fort, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. Believe me, I’ve been the brunt of suspicion and racism all my life. I know the initial problems we’ll have when we’re first found.”

  She couldn’t help another tear. “Oh, Wade, how do you put up with it? It’s so unfair.”

  “Sometimes I don’t put up with it. That day in San Antonio, I wanted nothing more than to take the knife that man pulled on me and shove it right into his gizzard. And that night Buck attacked you, I wanted to kill him, not just for that, but because of his insults to me. The only thing that holds me back is remembering what my pa taught me—that people act that way out of ignorance, that I’m just smarter and more educated than they are—that I’m just as good as they are, if not better.”

  He grinned a little. “‘That’s not being conceited or too proud, son,’ he would say. ‘That’s just fact. Don’t let them bring you down to their level. Don’t let them prove to others that they’re right—that just because you’re Indian you’re a fighter and a killer. Stand up for your rights, and defend yourself when you have to, but don’t spend your life with a chip on your shoulder and a knife in your hand.’”

  He smiled more, obvious love in his eyes for his father. “I expect he’s right, and I’ve tried to follow what he said. But I let the insults go only so far, and when another man comes after me physically, he’d better look out.”

  “Like Buck?”

  He raised up and reached out to pull back the lid on the coffeepot to see if it was boiling yet. “Like Buck,” he answered quietly. “I’ll tell you a little secret, Jenny.” He looked at her then. “Much as I hated that man, even I couldn’t stand to see him suffer. After the Indians rode off, he was still alive.”

  Their eyes met. “You killed him,” she said quietly, more of a statement than a question.

  He nodded. “He looked up at me and begged me to do it. I’m not even sure he knew who I was. Maybe he even thought I was one of them. I just…I don’t know. For some reason I need you to know I did it out of mercy, not hate.”

  She sat up herself, picking up the meat. “I wouldn’t have thought anything different.”

  Their eyes held another moment, each of them wanting to hold and be held, each of them feeling the dread of having to pretend they didn’t care about each other once they reached the fort, feeling the dread of separation.

  “I love you, Wade,” she told him. “I still feel like I can’t say it enough.”

  She was sure she saw tears in his eyes when he turned back to the coffee. “I love you, too. Might as well say it as often as I can myself.”

  Jennifer watched the receding southeast horizon, her heart heavy, since Wade was certain they would reach the fort today. If only he could have held her last night. If only she could have felt one more kiss, or even held his hand while she slept. She ached for him, and she realized that although she didn’t want him to leave once they arrived at the fort, if she couldn’t even touch him, it would be easier to bear with him gone than when he was so near.

  She slept off and on, weary from the horrors and ordeals through which she had suffered, her body exhausted from fighting the infection. She had not realized until she spent her last energy making love to Wade Morrow just how weak and weary she really was, and lack of proper food had only made things worse. Using her physical condition for an excuse to put off Sergeant Enders would be no lie on her part, certainly not for the next couple of weeks. She was sure she could probably do nothing but sleep for at least that long.

  Toward noon she fell into another fitful nap, the warm sun keeping her eyes closed, the dull dragging sound of the travois lulling her to sleep in spite of the bouncy ride over rocks and holes. She was not sure how long she slept when she awoke and saw them, several riders approaching from the south. “Wade,” she called out. “Someone is coming!”

  She prayed it was not Indians. Wade halted the horse and turned in the saddle to watch for a moment. “Soldiers,” he said, a degree of disappointment and apprehension in his voice. “Let me do the talking.”

  Jennifer’s heart raced. Would Sergeant Enders be among them? What was he like, and what would he think of all this? What would he expect of her? A terrible dread moved through her, for now she really would have to totally ignore Wade, act as though she was glad the soldiers had come. He came around to the travois, and she looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears. “I love you, Wade.”

  He held her eyes a moment and just nodded, then walked farther out, rifle in hand. Jennifer kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, wanting to remember everything about him, the broad shoulders and slim hips, the way his denim pants fit his long legs, his shining, dark hair. There was an air of power and beauty and near grace about him that reminded her of some sleek, wild animal.

  The soldiers came closer, sabers clanking, saddles squeaking, horses snorting. “It’s a damn Indian,” someone shouted. “An Indian’s got her!”

  Someone fired a pistol before Wade or Jennifer even knew one had been drawn. The bullet whizzed past Wade’s left arm, jerking through his outer flesh and his buckskin shirt just enough to cause him to whirl and fall.

  Jennifer screamed, so shocked at first by the sudden attack that it took her a moment to gather her thoughts. By then the troops had them surrounded. One heavyset man had dismounted and kicked away Wade’s rifle, and another kicked Wade in the jaw when he tried to rise.

  “Wait! Stop,” Jennifer screamed. “It isn’t what you think!”

  Wade rolled and came to his knees, seeing another soldier approach. In pain and anger he waited for the foot to come up. When it did, he grabbed it and pushed up, making the soldier fall flat on his back. Wade quickly rose, seeing another man approach from his left side. He kicked out, slamming a foot across the side of the man’s head and sending him reeling. He whirled then, facing a man who looked like some kind of officer. “I’m no damn Indian,” he growled. “Not the kind you think!”

  The officer and another man had guns raised, ready to shoot, when the officer reached out and pushed down the other man’s gun hand. A couple of other men helped up those Wade had flattened, while the officer stared wide-eyed at Wade, as did some of the others now. Wade noticed the man who had prevented him from being shot wore a sergeant’s stripes, and he wondered if this was the mysterious Sergeant Enders Jennifer had come here to marry. His heart raged with jealousy and anger.

  “What is wrong with you?” Jennifer screamed. “Can’t you see this man has been helping me? What kind of men are you?
”

  “Kill him, Tony,” the heavyset man said. “It’s Wild Horse, sure as we’re standing here! You’ll be famous!”

  “I’m not Wild Horse,” Wade growled, wiping blood from his lip. “My name is Wade Morrow, and I’m from San Diego. I was out here on personal business when my horse took lame. I hitched a ride on the stagecoach, and it was attacked by Indians. This woman and I survived. She was hurt and I helped her, that’s all there is to it. I’ve been trying to reach the fort.”

  He brushed dirt from his clothes, blood staining his left arm. Jennifer longed to go to him and help him, but she forced herself to remember what he had told her.

  The sergeant stepped closer to Wade, studying him as though he were a ghost. “Look out, Tony,” the heavyset man spoke up. “He’ll kill you.”

  Jennifer watched the sergeant, realizing Tony was short for Anthony. Was this her Sergeant Enders? If it was, she already despised him for his behavior. “He won’t kill anyone,” she answered. “He’s telling the truth. Can’t you see that he helped me? We’ve been trying to reach the fort, but a bad infection in my leg and a sandstorm slowed us down.”

  The sergeant’s eyes moved to look at her. In spite of her disheveled condition, Anthony Enders thought her the prettiest thing he had seen in a long time. “You Jennifer Andrews?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “And this man’s name is Wade Morrow. I’m not exactly pleased to have to travel with someone who’s part Indian, but he saved my life, more than once. This is not the way I expected soldiers to act.”

  Enders removed his hat, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Miss Andrews. I’m Sergeant Enders I’ve been worried sick about you. Out here, when we see an Indian, we tend to get riled real quick.”

  “It seems to me you could be a little more professional about it. If this man had anything wrong in mind, would he be traveling right toward an army fort?”

  Enders swallowed, realizing he had got off on a bad foot with his intended. “No, ma’am, I guess not.” He moved his eyes to Wade, too engrossed in the man’s likeness to Wild Horse to give even Jennifer the attention she deserved at the moment. “But this case is different, Miss Andrews,” he said, looking Wade over. “You’ve got to understand that this man looks exactly like a notorious renegade leader we’ve been trying to catch for a long time.” He put his hat back on his head. “Mister, you’ve got some explaining to do. It’s a damn good thing you speak English. That’s the only thing that saved your life just now. Wild Horse doesn’t speak any English.” He walked closer and took away Wade’s pistol and knife. “I want some answers.”

  The man Wade had kicked groaned and held his jaw. Blood still ran from Wade’s arm, and from a cut lip.

  “It’s like I told you—I was on the stagecoach when it was raided. For some reason, when the Indians saw me, they drew back and left. That was before they had had a chance to harm the woman, except that she was hurt when the coach overturned, and the Indians had tossed her around and shot her in the leg. When they saw me they let her go and rode off, didn’t even loot the coach. I took a bullet out of Miss Andrews’s leg and made up a travois—headed northwest to take a more direct route to the fort. That’s all there is to it.”

  Jennifer watched anxiously, remembering Wade had told her not to do too much talking. She trembled with fear for him and apprehension about Enders as the sergeant circled Wade while the others stared and held their guns on Wade.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it, Tony,” the heavyset man spoke up. “You sure Wild Horse can’t speak English? Maybe this is some kind of joke.”

  Wade held Enders’s eyes. “Would this Wild Horse be carrying a white man’s wallet, with considerable money, and papers proving who he is? Would he even come near an army fort? Would he help a white woman rather than kill her or ride off with her?”

  Enders scowled. “Where’d you get the Indian pony?”

  Wade sighed. “The Indians left it for me.”

  “Left it for you?” Enders laughed. “What the hell for?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I look like this Wild Horse. When they saw me, they reacted a lot like you, except they seemed a lot more afraid. They rode off and left us this pony, as though they wanted me to live. From then on they left us alone. I don’t know what’s going on myself, except that I must look so much like this Wild Horse that they thought I was something special. One called me a strong spirit. Whatever their reason, my presence saved my life and Miss Andrews’s. She was hurt bad, so I’ve been nursing her the whole way here. When I boarded the coach I intended to come to Fort Stockton to buy another horse and be on my way.”

  Enders rubbed at a chin that sported the stubble of a three-day beard. “Well, it’s sure easy to see why the Comanche scattered when they saw you. You could be Wild Horse’s twin.”

  The words struck deep. Enders was the first person besides himself to make the suggestion. “You’ve got no right to take my weapons,” he told Enders. “I’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, if you’re Sergeant Anthony Enders, I’ve done you a favor. This woman told me she was on her way to Fort Stockton to marry a Sergeant Enders. If not for me, she never would have made it.”

  Enders moved his eyes from Wade to Jennifer, sensing something was wrong but not quite sure what it was. He didn’t want to believe the worst, for Miss Andrews looked too young and pretty for that. After all, she was an inexperienced innocent from St. Louis. Surely she wouldn’t even want to be friends with a half-breed, let alone anything else. From what he could see of her, bundled and tied to the travois, she was a fine-looking woman, and it peeved him that this Wade Morrow had apparently got quite a look at her before he had. He looked back at Wade, his dark eyes holding contempt and suspicion.

  “I reckon I should be grateful,” he told Wade. “But first maybe you can explain the lady’s bloomers I found farther back at one of your camps.”

  Wade’s jaw flexed in anger, and Jennifer spoke up before he could. “For heaven’s sake I had to change them,” she said boldly. “Couldn’t you see they were ripped and covered with blood from my wound? Mr. Morrow understood that I would feel better if I could change my clothes and wash, so he let me. I had enough strength to do it on my own, but it wasn’t easy. I put up with the pain because I couldn’t have him help me do such a thing. It was bad enough I had to let him tend to my wound, but I had no choice. Mr. Morrow turned his back and was a perfect gentleman the whole time.”

  Enders’s eyes moved to her. “What about the dress the Indians tore off you?”

  Her face reddened, more with anger than embarrassment. “What about it?”

  “Well—” The man fumbled a little, now getting embarrassed himself. “Well, hell, you must have been half dressed when this half-breed helped you.”

  Jennifer scowled, her eyes blazing. “Yes, I was,” she said, spitting the words. “I was also half dead! I hardly think either of us was worried about how I was dressed at the time, Mr. Enders! And for you to bring up such a thing is ludicrous and rude! It has taken me all of five minutes to figure out the man I came out here to marry is short-tempered, prejudiced, suspicious, and unmannerly,” she added, “let alone the fact that he seems more concerned with how I was dressed than he is with the fact that if not for Mr. Morrow I could have been killed!”

  The rest of the men struggled not to chuckle as Enders’s face grew redder. Jennifer hoped she had not said too much, but she was too angry to care.

  “It would have been nice if you had asked by now how I am, Mr. Enders,” she added. “But I will tell you anyway. I am in a great deal of pain. I’m tired and dirty and hungry, and I would appreciate it if you would get me to the fort where I can rest in a real bed. And I think you owe Mr. Morrow here a deep apology. The least you can do for him is see that he gets a decent meal and a horse and a few supplies at the fort so that he can be on his way. I have delayed him from his own business long enough.”

  Enders felt the hidden laughter of his men. Jennifer Andr
ews was pretty, all right, but he was not going to be ordered around by her, not now, and not when she was his wife. Once he got that ring on her finger, she’d tone down soon enough. For the moment, he had little choice but to behave as she expected, if he ever wanted to get under her skirt. Still, he didn’t like looking like a fool in front of his men.

  He sighed, again removing his hat. “I’m sorry, Miss Andrews. There’s a lot about this land and the feelings of soldiers for Indians that you don’t understand yet. I assure you, my reaction was only out of my concern for you. I’m pleased to meet you, and we’ll get you to the fort right away. But you have to understand that I can’t give back Mr. Morrow’s weapons until I take him to my commanding officer and he answers a few questions.”

  “Do what you have to do, but you should tend that wound on his arm.”

  “We’ll take care of that at the fort,” he answered, keeping his eyes on Wade again. “It’s only about another hour north of here. Mount up, Morrow.”

  Wade held his eyes a moment, knowing already deep inside that if this man laid a hand on Jennifer wrongly, he would kill him. Already the two men had a strong dislike for each other.

  Enders looked around at the rest of the men. “What the hell are you looking at,” he growled. “Mount up!”

  They all returned sheepishly to their horses. Wade turned, his eyes meeting Jennifer’s for just a moment. He gave her a look that told her she had done all right. He mounted the pony then, and Enders walked up to the travois, holding the reins of his own horse and kneeling down beside her.

  “I truly am sorry we got off to a bad start here, Miss Andrews. I didn’t mean to act as though I’m not grateful that you’re all right. When I first found that coach, I thought I’d go crazy wondering what might have happened to you. Then we couldn’t find any of your things, and we figured maybe you survived. We found the travois tracks and followed them.”