“I agree the remark was uncalled-for,” the captain spoke up. “Sit down, Mr. Morrow.” He looked at Enders as Lieutenant Brown gave Wade a light shove with the rifle. Wade cast him a belligerent look, then backed away and picked up his chair. “Sergeant, I want no more remarks like that one,” Howell told Enders. “It’s bad enough that you let your men beat Mr. Morrow before you even knew what had happened. I’m tempted to reprimand you for that.”
“What was I supposed to think? He looks every bit Comanche except for those eyes, let alone the fact that he looks like Wild Horse. Hell, Captain, nobody wants to capture Wild Horse more than you do. I figured for a minute there we had him.”
“Watch how you talk to me, Sergeant,” the captain warned. “And I don’t want another word out of you.” His eyes moved back to Wade, who sat back down into the chair but looked ready to leap out of it again. “The sergeant has a point, Morrow. And right now, you remind me of how Wild Horse looked when he turned himself in once—all jumpy, his eyes darting around like a caged animal. We were going to send him and his people to the Clear Fork reservation. Someone made the mistake of trying to handcuff the man, and he figured he’d been tricked and was going to be killed. All hell broke loose. Before it was over, Wild Horse got away again, with several of his men, but his wife and small son were killed. He’s been on a rampage ever since.”
Wade held the man’s eyes. He could just imagine what had happened, and although he was not sure yet about this man called Wild Horse, he felt sorry for his loss, and felt a strange kinship with him. He understood what it was like to be an Indian in the white man’s world. “Can you blame him?” he asked.
The captain sighed. “I suppose not. But you can’t blame our side either. The Comanche have done some god-awful things to Texas settlers, Mr. Morrow; the Texans retaliate just as viciously. We do what we can to protect both sides, but with so many men sent back East, I just don’t have enough to go gallivanting all over such big country to find a handful of renegades.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “Tell me something, Morrow. You said you were headed back to San Diego. You also said you’ve done a lot of scouting for your father. Back there when the coach was raided, you said those Comanche rode off when they saw you, then left you a horse. Surely now you know why they did that.”
Wade shrugged. “Because I look like this Wild Horse, I suppose.”
“Doesn’t that make you wonder? You said you were found by Lester Morrow as an abandoned baby. Don’t you wonder why you were abandoned?”
Wade told himself to be careful. The last thing he wanted was for this man to know why he was here. He had promised Wild Horse he would bring no soldiers. “Sometimes,” he answered.
“For God’s sake, man, you must have been a twin,” Howell told him. “I know for a fact that Wild Horse’s mother was Comanche. She was raped by white men. No one will ever know which one was the father. They were later murdered by the Comanche. At any rate, maybe the woman had twins. Maybe she didn’t have the heart to see them both killed, so she kept one. Wild Horse could be your own blood brother. Doesn’t that make you curious? Don’t you want to meet him?”
Wade rolled another cigarette. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”
Howell leaned back in his chair. “We could kill two birds with one stone here, Morrow. You could scout for my men, help us find Wild Horse. Hell, the man has probably heard about you by now anyway. You could scout him out without the danger of them killing you. They obviously don’t want to do that. You could find him—find out if he’s your brother—then you could report back to us and tell us where he is so we can capture him and end this bloodshed.”
Wade licked the cigarette paper and sealed it. “You mean you want me to turn in my own brother, if that should turn out to be the case.”
Howell sighed. “Well, if you’re so unconcerned about even finding out, why should you care if he gets caught? You said yourself that after all these years you’d have no feelings for the man.”
Wade struck a match and lit the cigarette. “I didn’t say that at all. I said it was a little late to be worried about finding any Indian relatives. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have any feelings for them if I did.” He took a long drag on the cigarette. “I’ve never lived among them. I understand them hardly any better than you do, Captain. Our worlds are as different as night and day, so how would it benefit me to go looking for them?”
The captain shrugged. “You could meet your real mother. I expect any man would want that.” The man noticed the flash of interest and nostalgia in Wade’s eyes. The man was not able to hide the look in time. Howell grinned. “Wild Horse’s mother is still alive, Morrow. Her name is Slow Woman, and she’s up in Indian Territory, a Comanche reservation just north of the Red River. Personally, if I had never known my real mother, I would jump at any chance I had to find her, if it was possible she was still alive. In fact, I almost admire any old Comanche who has survived this long. Between the army and the Texas Rangers, white man’s diseases, the dramatic loss of wild game for food—it’s a miracle there are any Comanche left. There are just a few hundred now. Used to be thousands. You pass up this chance to find out about your Comanche relatives, you might never get another opportunity to find them alive.”
Wade smoked quietly. “Maybe not,” he finally answered. “I might give consideration to finding them, but if I did, it would be a personal thing. I wouldn’t go inviting the whole damn army to join me. Why should I have a hand in helping kill off my own blood, especially if, as you say, there are so few of them left?”
“I’m not talking about killing them off. I’m talking about helping them survive, Morrow. Ones like Wild Horse have to be convinced to go to the reservations. They’ll be well cared for.”
Wade could not help snickering at the words. “I know about reservations, Captain.”
The man put up his hands. “All right. I know conditions are bad. But the odds of survival are a lot better than living the way Wild Horse lives.”
Their eyes held. “Maybe he’d rather die young and free than as a shriveled up old reservation Indian, with no pride left.”
The captain nodded. “Maybe. And maybe you understand the man better than you think. Maybe you also have enough Indian in you that you don’t really want to see your race die out completely. Maybe you’d like to see the children live; maybe you’d like to know the language and the culture will be preserved, and that you had a hand in keeping your own people from complete extinction. You think about it long enough, and you might even realize it’s your duty to help end the bloodshed and save what’s left of the Comanche. You’re in the best position to help, Morrow. You are Comanche, yet you understand the white man. You can work both sides. Why don’t you stay on a while, scout out Wild Horse for us. Maybe you could convince him to go to the reservation, convince him there would not be a repeat of the last time he turned himself in.”
Wade rose. “It’s a little late for that, too, isn’t it? He’s already lost his wife and son. Fact is, if he’s my brother, I’ve lost a sister-in-law and nephew I’ll never know now, thanks to the army. No, thanks, Captain. Oh, I might see about visiting the reservation and finding this Wild Horse’s mother, just to see if I can find out if she ever had twins. I’ll admit the idea of finding my mother interests me. But that’s as far as I go. I’m not going to turn in any Comanche to you people.”
“You’d be helping them, Morrow,” Howell answered, also rising. “You think about that.”
Wade took another drag on his cigarette. “Right now I just want to get word back to my father in California that I’m all right and then be on my way. I have money to buy a good horse, if you’ll have someone show me where I can get one. Then I’ll gather my gear and be on my way. I would like permission to say good-bye to Miss Andrews and give her my wishes for a quick recovery.”
“I’ll tell her for you,” Enders sneered, hot with jealousy over the thought of the half-breed seeing Jennifer And
rews’s naked leg, nursing her, befriending her, touching her in any way.
“Considering what Morrow did for the woman, Enders, I believe he’s perfectly proper to want to tell the woman good-bye.” He turned to the lieutenant. “Take Mr. Morrow out to the corral and let him pick out a horse, Lieutenant Brown. Then take him over to the supply house and let him stock up on whatever he needs. I will go and have a short talk with Miss Andrews.” He looked at Wade. “After I’ve asked the lady a few questions, you can come over to Mrs. Hart’s place and have a word with Miss Andrews, but only if she is willing. The woman has been through quite enough. Perhaps she won’t want to see you at all.”
Wade felt a painful ache for Jenny. If the man knew just how much she would want to see Wade Morrow, life would be hell for her here. “Thank you, Captain,” he said aloud, keeping his cigarette between his lips. “And I want my weapons back.”
Howell picked up Wade’s knife and pistol from his desk and handed them out. Wade, his top lip puffy and scabbed at the left corner and a bruise on his left cheek, took the weapons, casting a look of hatred and disgust toward Enders. He shoved his gun into its holster and the knife into its sheath, sorely tempted to use one or the other on Enders. Howell handed him his rifle, and Wade reached out and took it without taking his eyes from the sergeant.
“You remember what Captain Howell said about what Miss Andrews has been through,” he told Enders. “She’s nothing special to me and wouldn’t be even if I wanted it that way. She’s a nice lady and damn proper. She doesn’t know much about life out here, and she’s been through hell. When a man nurses a person back from death, he can’t help but take an interest.” He took his cigarette from his mouth and smashed it in an ashtray on Howell’s desk. “She only turned to me for help because she didn’t have any choice. You remember that, Enders. And you give her some time to heal and get her senses together.”
“I don’t need you to tell me how to treat my woman.”
Wade’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer. “She’s not your woman yet, Enders. It’s her choice, and I’m telling you she’s a fine lady, and what she decides is her right. If she decides to marry you, you’d better treat her the way she deserves to be treated.”
“And what would you do about it? You’re leaving, remember?”
Wade smiled a little. “Well, now, you never know. I just might come back sometime to see how Miss Andrews, or Mrs. Enders, is doing, seeing as how I had a hand in her still being alive and all. I sure as hell hope she tells me she’s happy and well cared for.” He turned to Howell. “Sorry I can’t take you up on your offer, Captain. I have my own plans.”
Wade turned and walked out, and Enders glowered at the captain. “I don’t trust him, Sir. Why did you tell him he could go over and see my woman?”
The captain gave him a look of irritation. “Because, like he said, she’s not your woman yet. And after what he did for her, he has every right. It’s not her fault it was Morrow who ended up having to help her. I’m sure it was a terrible experience for her and she would not have chosen a half-breed to have to travel with. At the same time, I’m sure she’s mannerly enough to appreciate Morrow wanting to tell her good-bye and give her his best wishes.” The man moved his eyes to the doorway. “I’m more concerned with this revelation of finding a half-breed who looks just like Wild Horse. I can’t believe he’ll just go his merry way without finding out if Wild Horse could be his brother. You wire ahead to the Comanche reservation at the Red River and tell them to be on the lookout for a half-breed named Wade Morrow who looks like Wild Horse—tell them he might try to visit Slow Woman. If he does, I want to know about it. From then on I want him tracked. He just might lead us right to Wild Horse.”
Enders nodded, leaving quickly. He hardly knew Wade Morrow, but he would like nothing more than to see the man dead. He would be glad when he was finally gone. He hoped he would look for Wild Horse. The crazy Indian would probably kill Morrow, if Morrow really was a twin. The Comanche did not allow such a thing. Wild Horse would surely have Wade killed, slowly tortured, most likely, so that Wild Horse could draw from his brother all the strength and spirit he would believe had been robbed from him for being a twin. Enders knew the Comanche well enough to understand that much about them.
He glanced over at Alice’s cabin. Jennifer Andrews would be in there now, probably taking a bath. She was naked. How he’d like to take a peek at what would belong to him—soon, very soon—before the preacher even came, if he could talk her into it. The thought of a pretty woman just beyond those walls, one that was going to be his wife, made him ache. He almost wished he could prove there had been something between her and Wade Morrow. Then she’d be considered a worthless slut, and no one would blame him for taking her whether she wanted him or not. After that she was anybody’s toy, for all he cared. He was not about to marry a woman who would let a half-breed lay his hands on her.
Chapter Eighteen
Jennifer settled into the luxury of a real bed. Although it was no more than a homemade frame with a woven rope support under a feather mattress, it felt wonderful compared to the hard ground or a bouncing travois. She only wished that being here didn’t mean having to be separated from Wade. The two hours since she had watched him walk off with the soldiers seemed an eternity, and she wondered how she was going to survive the next month or so without him.
She had already told Captain Howell her story, which matched Wade’s. She was glad the captain believed her, and she hoped her eyes did not give away her special feelings for Wade. Now she waited anxiously, struggling to hide her excitement and joy at the news that the captain was allowing Wade to come and see her once more before leaving.
Someone tapped lightly on the door then, and her heart raced. She prayed it was Wade and not Sergeant Enders. She tried to reason that Enders probably had every right to be upset and suspicious. After all, it was his intended wife who had been hurt and missing and in the hands of a half-breed stranger. Still, it was more than the way the man had behaved today that brought an almost instant dislike.
Alice came from the kitchen to open the door, gasping slightly at first. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, a note of bitterness in her voice. Jennifer felt a surge of love and joy when she heard Wade’s voice.
“I’m Wade Morrow. I’d like to say good-bye to Miss Andrews, if I may.”
Alice looked him over with a scowl. “I know who you are, but it seems sacrilegious to allow a Comanche man into my home. Comanche killed my husband.”
Jennifer could not quite see Wade, but she saw his hand move as he raised it to remove his hat. She saw the fringe on the sleeve of his buckskin shirt, and just that much made her heart flutter.
“I’m sorry about that, ma’am, but I’ve never been a part of those Comanche. I’m afraid I can’t help how I look, but I assure you I’m as civil as the next man. Now I went through a lot to save Miss Andrews’s life and get her to this fort. I think I have a right to have a few words with her before I’m on my way.”
Alice sighed, glancing over at Jennifer. “You want to see Mr. Morrow?”
Jennifer struggled not to appear too excited. “Yes, of course. It would be only proper, Mrs. Hart. The man did save my life. I’m sorry to put you out this way.”
The woman softened when she looked at Jennifer. “I told you it’s no bother. I’ll enjoy having you around, dear, and please call me Alice.”
Jennifer gave her her best, most gracious smile. “And you call me Jenny. Please let Mr. Morrow come in for a moment. He really is a fine man, Alice.”
The woman glanced back at Wade. “Well, you do speak well. There sure doesn’t seem to be anything Comanche about the way you talk and act.” She looked at Jennifer again. “I’ve got laundry to tend to out back. Is it all right to leave you alone with him?”
Jennifer smiled again, wanting to roll her eyes and scream at the woman to let the man inside. “Alice, I was alone with him for five days, and he was with me and those who traveled with me f
or nearly three days before that. He was a tremendous help to the stage driver, and he saved my life twice. I hardly think I’m in any danger, certainly not here in the middle of an army fort.”
“Well…” The woman looked back at Wade, then stood aside. “Come on in. There’s a chair there beside the bed.”
Wade came inside, his commanding presence seeming to fill the little room. Jennifer struggled to appear only casually friendly, putting out her hand. Wade came over to the bed and took her hand, squeezing it gently, and Jennifer knew by his eyes he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed beside her and hold her.
“Hello, Mr. Morrow,” she said softly. “I’m glad you came by before leaving.”
“I’ll be right out back,” Alice told Jennifer. “You yell if you need anything.”
Jennifer almost laughed at what the woman meant by the remark. Alice nearly stomped through the room on her way out. As soon as she was gone, Jennifer leaned forward and felt the wonderful comfort of Wade Morrow’s strong arms around her.
“Oh, Wade! Thank God I got to see you once more alone.” She felt his lips at her neck.
“Jenny,” he said softly. He breathed deeply of her fresh-bathed scent, gathered her still-damp hair in one hand. “I’ve been going crazy wanting to hold you,” he groaned.
She turned her face and met his mouth in a long, hot, hungry kiss that left her flushed and trembling. Then she saw the cut on his lip. “Oh. Wade, what have they done to you?”
“We have to be careful,” he said softly. “Mrs. Hart could come back.” He pulled away from her. “Don’t worry about me. I’m all right.”
“I hate this pretending, Wade.”
“I know. But at least you’re safe now, and there’s a woman here to talk to and take care of you. You’ll be all right now.” A look of anger suddenly came into his eyes. “I wanted the chance to tell you to be damn careful around that Sergeant Enders. Don’t go off alone with him. For the next two or three weeks insist on visiting with him here with Mrs. Hart around. I don’t like the man and I don’t trust him.”
Comanche Sunset Page 27
