by Peggy Webb
“In the Bear Canyons.”
Her mind raced. She had to get to Colter. What would be best for him? Should she wait for the runners to return so she could load him up quickly and take him to the nearest hospital, or should she ask someone to drive her into the canyons? Could she even get there in the truck?
“Someone's coming.” The cry went up, and the entire crowd tensed. From a distance came the thundering of horse's hooves.
Jo Beth didn't wait at the finish line. She broke free of the crowd and ran toward the approaching rider. Every beat of the horse's hooves vibrated through her. Her high heels felt as if they would crack under the pressure and her lungs burned with the effort, but still she ran. When she was free of the crowd, free of the village, she stopped to catch her breath. Panting, she hung her head down.
It was then that she heard her name being called.
“Jo! JO!”
She jerked her head up, and there, coming down from the mountain, was Colter, bending low over the head of his white stallion. Relief made her so weak she almost sank to the ground.
She lifted one hand, and he raced toward her. The stallion, set on gaining the finish line, whinnied sharply and reared in the air when Colter brought him to a stop.
He gentled the horse with his hands until only a tremor betrayed his nervousness. Jo ran to him.
“Colter! You're safe.”
“Jo, what's wrong?” Colter bent down to her and put one hand on her face. “You're pale.”
“I thought you were hurt. Oh, Colter. I thought you were dead.” Her hand trembled on his leg.
He slid off the horse and gathered her into his arms. With his hands on her bare back, he soothed her. “There, sweet. There, Yellow Bird.” He pressed his lips into her hair. 'Tell me what's wrong.”
“Back at the village they said a man had been hurt.”
“Where?”
“The Bear Canyons. Runners have been sent.”
“They would take the narrow path, the shortcut. It's difficult on a horse, but not impossible.” He made a swift decision. “My bag is in the truck. I”ll leave you back at the village.”
“I'm going with you, Colter.” She kicked off her shoes. “I've done enough volunteer hospital work to be of help.”
He nodded, then vaulted onto the horse. With one hand he drew Jo Beth up behind him.
“Hold on tight, Jo.”
They raced toward the village.
Chapter Eight
It took them almost an hour to get to the fallen man.
The trail was steep and winding, and Colter couldn't hurry for fear of his horse losing footing. Halfway up the trail they came upon the runners. Colter stopped long enough to tell them that he would go ahead with his medical bag and that they should continue with the litter.
“How will we ever find him?” Jo asked.
“The course is well known to anyone who has ever ridden it. I know approximately where a rider could have gone over.”
She shivered and squeezed her arms tighter around his waist. “I'm glad it wasn't you. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you.”
“Nothing will ever happen to me, Jo Beth. I'm indestructible.”
“You're not.”
“Doctors have to be.”
He laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. Colter Gray Wolf was far from being mirthful. Never had his betrayal of his people weighed more heavily on him. A thousand if onlys played through his mind. If only he'd finished his clinic. If only he'd stayed. But regret changed nothing. It was best not to think of anything now except finding the hapless rider.
He concentrated on the trail. “Keep your eyes open, Jo. We're almost there. Look for any sign of horse or rider.”
Colter saw the first sign, a gray filly, missing both blanket and rider.
“Clyde Lightfoot. At least the filly is unhurt. That's a good sign.”
“Do you think he's close?”
“Yes. He's a good trainer. His filly would be trained to stay close.”
Colter drew to a halt and dismounted. Then he helped Jo down. He smiled when he saw her stockinged feet.
“You'e liable to pick up a stone bruise with those bare feet.”
“It's a small price to pay for knowing you're safe.”
They followed the rim of the canyon for a few hundred feet, and then they saw Clyde. He was caught in a small crevice down the side of the canyon wall, and his head was bleeding profusely.
Colter leaned over the wall. “Clyde. Can you hear me?”
“Gray Wolf. Is that you?”
Clyde's voice was weak, but at least he was conscious. Colter was encouraged.
“I'm going to see if I can reach you. Hang on.”
Colter stretched flat on the rocks and leaned far down over the wall. Loose rocks skittered over the rim and bounced down to the bottom of the canyon.
“Be careful, Colter.”
“I can't reach you, Clyde. Hold on a while longer.”
Colter raised himself up and whistled for his horse. Chieftain trotted to his side. Colter stroked his muzzle and talked to him in Athabascan. Then he began to unfasten the halter.
“What are you doing?”
“Using this halter as an extension to lower myself over the wall.” Jo Beth paled. “Fate was smiling on Clyde today. Six years ago we didn't use these leather halters for the races.”
He lashed one end of the leather halter around his right leg and tied the other around the leg of his stallion. “Don't make a move, Jo. Don't make a sound.”
“Will he stand for you?”
“If he remembers his training he will.”
She held her breath while Colter maneuvered himself over the wall. A thousand horrors came to her mind—the horse bolting, dragging Colter across the rocks; the leather breaking, plunging Colter into the canyon floor; the horse rearing up in fright, stomping Colter to pieces.
None of that happened. Colter gave a few short commands, and Chieftain began to back slowly. Colter reappeared over the wall, pulling Clyde with him.
In short order Colter had untied himself and was treating Clyde's injuries. Jo squatted beside him, handing him gauze pads.
“It's not as bad as it looks. There are some bleeders on the scalp that always make head injuries look fatal. It's just a small gash.” Colter's fingers were nimble as he talked. “The biggest injury is this broken finger.”
Clyde's middle finger was twisted, so that it pointed backward. Colter gave him a shot for pain, them quickly set and splinted the finger.
By the time he was finished, the runners had arrived. Colter helped them put Clyde on the litter, then promised to visit him early the next morning. He stood, watching them disappear.
He had that quiet, faraway look on his face that Jo had come to dread. Cold fingers of premonition dragged up her spine.
“Colter.”
He turned to her. “We’ll stay a while so that Chieftain can rest. He's been ridden hard today.” He took the blanket off the horse and spread it on the rocks. “It will be sweaty, but it's the best I can offer right now.”
Colter sat down and leaned against a rock. Jo sat beside him, hugging her knees. He made no move to reach for her. She felt a chill wind bite at her bare back, but she didn't shiver. Right now she wanted Colter's confidence, not his sympathy, and she sensed that he was ready to give it.
“I'm glad you came with me, Jo. You made a good nurse. Thanks.”
“Anytime, Doctor.”
She laid her head on her knees and studied him. He was gazing down the trail, the way they had come.
“What do you see, Colter?”
“The past.” She waited, never taking her eyes from his face. “When I was young I dreamed of being a doctor. My parents dreamed of it too. But my dream was different from theirs. I pictured myself in a large hospital in a large city—in the white man's world, Jo—and they pictured me in the village, helping my people.”
“You achieved your dream.”
“At what cost?” He got up and walked away.
She saw the tenseness in his stance, the tight muscles in his back. Her first impulse was to go to him, to put her arms around him and comfort him, but every instinct told her to stay.
Over and over Colter had told her that he had to make his journey of the soul alone. And now he was making it. The only difference was that he was letting her share the journey. She wouldn't betray that trust.
She sat very still on the blanket, waiting for him to speak, letting him decide what he would tell her and letting him tell it in his own way.
“I was born Apache, grew up Apache, but something inside me longed for more. If there were cultural and social boundaries, I was determined to cross them. And I did. But in the process, I lost my identity.”
He walked along the rim of the canyon, challenging Fate. Twice his feet loosened rocks and sent them spinning to the canyon floor. Jo Beth put her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out. When he was almost too far away for her to see, he picked up a rock and flung it into space. From somewhere far below, a raven sounded its call.
Colter listened to the plaintive cry of the raven. Its lonesome sound was a foreboding. He knew what he must do. He guessed he'd known all along, but it had taken Clyde's accident to give him the push he needed.
He turned and looked back at Jo Beth, sitting on the blanket, her head resting quietly on her knees. She knows, he thought. Sorrow tore at him and a lonesome, primitive cry of despair ripped straight up from his heart. He bit back the cry so that it was no more than a moaning that blended with the winds in the canyon.
It is time, he said to himself. He went back to Jo and stood on the edge of the blanket, looking down at her.
“Are you cold, Jo?”
“No.” It was a lie. She was not cold on the outside, but inside she was a glacier.
He began his story without preliminaries, hoping that the quickness would lessen the pain.
“San Francisco cast its spell and wooed me away from my people. I came to visit. I was a good son in that respect. And four years ago, I even started building a clinic.”
“The one I saw?”
“Yes. I was on summer vacation here, and it seemed the right thing to do. My parents were pleased and honored. I left at the end of the summer, thinking I would finish the clinic on my next vacation. But when I came back it was too late.” He sat on the blanket, his legs crossed, his hands propped on his knees, staring at the darkening sky. “It was the following summer, three years ago. I got the call in the middle of the night. My father was sick.” He turned to look at her, and the raw emotion on his face made her cry out. “It was pancreatitis, Jo. And by the time I got here it was too late.”
“I'm so sorry, Colter.”
“While he lay dying, he called for me. I will never forget how his hand felt, dry and already turning cold. He said to me, 'Promise me... promise me that you will come home, Gray Wolf.' I made that promise, Jo. It was a promise I never kept.”
She came to him then. All his barriers were down, and she could comfort him. Circling one arm around him, she cradled his head against her shoulder.
“I betrayed him and I betrayed my people.”
“How can you say that?”
“If I had finished the clinic, my father might have lived. There was no hospital nearby, no good doctor. I let my father die.”
She stroked his hair. “Who do you think you are, Colter Gray Wolf? No man has the power over life and death.”
“When you're a doctor, Jo, you sometimes believe you do.”
She bent down and kissed the top of his head. “Thank you for confiding in me, Colter.”
Instead of answering, he straightened up and took her in his arms. With her head tucked under his chin, he hugged her close to his chest. They stayed that way a long while.
And then his hand began to caress her bare back. The strokes were slow and lazy at first. Gradually they became more sensuous. Shivers crawled along her skin.
She lifted her face to look at him. His eyes had become hooded.
“Jo,” he whispered.
She put her arms around his neck and their lips came together. All the pain he had bottled up for so long came pouring out, metamorphosed as passion. With his lips on hers, he unhooked her halter and pushed the soft chiffon aside. His hands cradled her back as he kissed her shoulders.
“Colter.” She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. “Ahh, Colter.”
He lowered her to the blanket and undressed her with great and tender care. The sky was so close, she could almost reach out and touch it. In its velvety dark reaches, one single star shone. She gazed straight at the star and wished the night would never end.
Colter hovered above her, memorizing her with his hands and chanting the ancient love songs of the Apache. He came to her, and it was like the first time, with its wonder and exquisite beauty.
They soared together, time and time again.
And Jo Beth knew he was saying good-bye. He never spoke her name. He didn't call her Yellow Bird. He didn't call her his woman. He spoke only two languages—the language of his people and the language of love.
And when it was over, he held her close. She pressed her face into the curve between his cheek and his shoulder.
“That was good-bye, wasn't it, Colter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I'm a betrayer, Jo. I can't ask you to share my life until it's straightened out. I must atone for my sins.”
She never knew that love could hurt so much. The fear that had been building in her since she came to his mountain bubbled to the surface, and on its heel came anger, anger at Fate, anger at the past, anger at the Apache, and most of all, anger at him.
She raised herself on her elbow and looked at him. “And you want me to go home like an obedient woman and wait for you to decide when you're good enough for me?”
“I wouldn't put it like that, Jo.”
“Then how would you put it?”
He caught her shoulder. “You're angry. It's bad to make decisions while you're angry.”
“You've already made the decision, Colter.” She reached for her dress. “You're as stubborn as this rock.” She slapped her hand down on the blanket. “Nothing I can say or do at this point will change your mind.”
“You know me too well.”
He put on his jeans and reached to fasten her dress, but she stepped back.
“I might as well get used to doing this by myself.”
“Jo, I don't want you to go like this.”
“How do you want me to go, Colter? Laughing? Pretending that there's a Santa Claus and that he's going to come down my chimney next Christmas, bringing a ready and willing Apache doctor?”
“Don't, Jo.” He took her into his arms, stroking her stiff body until she yielded.
She clung to him. “I hate you for this, Colter.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.
“No, you don't. You're hurting right now. I'm so sorry it had to be this way.” He pressed his face into her hair. “If it's any consolation, I'm hurting too, Jo.”
She was silent a long time, filled with remorse. “Let me stay. Let me help you.”
“I have to do this alone.”
He swayed, rocking her in his arms, cradling her next to his heart. They stayed that way for a long time, and then he spoke.
“I want you to wait for me, Jo.”
“Colter, you've called me your woman and I’ve followed you. You've held out your hand and I've come to you.” She leaned away so she could look at his face. “I don't know what I'll do. I'm not a patient Apache. I'm just a Mississippi girl trying to endure the best way I know how.”
“Don't underestimate yourself. You not only endure, you triumph.” He whistled for his horse, then leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the lips. It was time to let her go. Fate had brought her and Fate was taking her away. “Be safe, Jo. Be happy.”
She wondered how
he expected her to be happy with a broken heart.
“You, too. Colter.”
He picked up the blanket, slung it on the stallion, and mounted. Jo didn't wait for him to hold out his hand. That small, familiar gesture would have been enough to send her over the edge. She was already too close to a crying jag for her comfort.
She reached up for him, and he pulled her onto the stallion. Together they rode off into the darkness, taking the long and safe way home.
She held on to him on their long ride back, but it was almost as if she were touching a stranger. Colter had already separated himself from her mentally. For all the communication there was between them, she might as well have been in Mississippi.
o0o
It was late by the time they reached his home. Colter rode straight into the barn and silently dismounted. He held his arms up to Jo Beth, and she automatically slid into them.
For a moment he held her close. She pressed her cheek against his chest so she could hear the steady thumping of his heart.
“My heart is naked, Jo,” he whispered. “It bleeds.”
“Mine, too.”
She lifted her head and looked into his face. “There is another way, Colter.”
“No. One life in limbo is enough.”
She thought briefly about arguing, but she knew that in the end it would be useless. If she'd learned one thing about Colter, it was his determination to behave nobly. Instead of arguing, she traced the lines of his face with her fingers.
“The camera can't capture this,” she said. “The texture of your skin, the proud bone structure, the fine glow, as if God had hidden a sunset just underneath your skin.”
“Jo...” He caught her hand and kissed the palm. He was tempted to change his mind. Almost, he asked her to stay. His eyes darkened with pain as he released her and stepped back. “I’ll see to Chieftain.”
“Yes. He's had a hard day.”
She left the barn quickly so Colter wouldn't see the tears. The minute she turned her back to him, they spilled down her cheeks.
“I won't cry,” she said.
Her dog came up and pushed against her legs, rubbing his big head on her calves in joyful greeting. She knelt beside him. Colter's brother and his wife had taken care of Zar and Little Deer, driving them home after the accident in the canyon.
