Apache Caress

by Georgina Gentry - Panorama of the Old West 08 - Apache Caress

  Cholla thought about Gill. “There might be an Army patrol looking for us. I don’t want to bring you our trouble.”

  Nevada stood up. “Kind of you to tell us, but we aren’t worried. In fact, we might enjoy leading the Army around in circles for a few days until they get tired of it all, realize they’ve been fooled, and go away. Is that food ready, ma’am?”

  Sierra nodded.

  “Then let’s eat.”

  So Cholla and Sierra stayed with the outlaws for a couple of days. During that time, he made love to her with a passion that was bittersweet because they were so soon to part. While he wanted her, he would not force her to accompany him across the border. He would not even lower himself to ask. She didn’t really care about him, and the life he faced was a hard, lonely one full of danger. When he took her in his arms and made love to her in the darkness of their small room in the outlaws’ cabin, it was a bittersweet experience because in only a few more days, they were going to be separated forever.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nevada tried to get the couple to stay on until after Christmas, but they declined.

  “The Army’s looking for us in this area,” Cholla said. “And I promised Sierra I would get her to Fort Bowie, so we’re going on.”

  Sierra had mixed feelings about the approaching end of the whole adventure. A new year ahead of me, she thought, I’ll be starting a whole new life. But I’ll be doing it alone.

  Cholla changed into Western clothes, and she put on a fringed, buckskin dress and the boots Trace had given her. They waved good-bye to the outlaws and rode out.

  “What’re you thinking?” Cholla asked after they had ridden west for a while.

  “About what I’m going to do in the coming months.”

  He didn’t look at her. “Will you be going back to East Saint Louis?”

  “I ... I don’t know.” She shook her head. “My mother always wanted to go West; maybe it was my desire, too. I didn’t dream it could be so wild and beautiful.”

  “Sierra,” he mused, so softly that he seemed to be speaking to himself, “wild and beautiful and untamed.”

  “Maybe I’ll stay.” She waited for him to say he wished she’d go with him, but he only looked straight ahead and kept silent as they rode through the barren stretches of mesquite and cactus toward Arizona Territory.

  How foolish of me, she thought. He wouldn’t want to be burdened with me any longer. Besides, if he did ask, she wasn’t sure what her answer would be. Life with him would be full of danger and hardship. It would mean turning her back on everything she had known. Maybe she wasn’t such a rugged individualist as she’d thought.

  But then, it didn’t matter because he didn’t ask. In fact, as the days passed and they rode west, he became moody and withdrawn. She lost track of the days, was aware Christmas had surely come and gone, but what did it matter to two fugitives in western New Mexico Territory?

  Trixie looked out the upstairs window at the activity on the street below her room at the Birdcage. With Christmas over, a temporary lull hung over the town of Tombstone. Things wouldn’t pick up until New Year’s Eve. Not that it mattered. Her boss had found out she was diseased, and she’d been fired. That very afternoon.

  Now what the hell was she to do? She pulled her soiled green satin robe around her and reached for the bottle of medicine, took a big swig. After a few minutes, that nice glow came over her and things didn’t look so bleak anymore.

  San Francisco. She had been headed for San Francisco. Of course that was where someone of her talents belonged. Trouble was, she didn’t really have much money, what with the cost of her medicine–and she needed more and more of that as time passed.

  Trixie pulled out her pack of cigarettes, stared at the Cameo girl. Of course I look just like her, she reassured herself, though not quite as young. And I’m not getting any younger. As for the disease, well, everyone has to die of something eventually.

  What to do? The management had told her to clear out by tomorrow. Where to go?

  “San Francisco, of course.” She said it aloud. She wasn’t sure if the police in East St. Louis had found out she’d been in Otto Toombs’s office when he’d died, but she was afraid to go back and find out.

  “How, Trixie?” She stared moodily into space. “You got no money.” Quimby Gillen. She wondered if he had made it back to Fort Bowie? That was only a few miles to the north of Tombstone, and she had a little money. Maybe she should go up there, see if Gill would buy her a train ticket.

  “He ain’t one to give somethin’ for nothin.’ ” Trixie grinned. He’d get something for his money, all right; the “social” disease she’d given that young rancher. “Yeah, there’s poetic justice in that, ain’t there?” Humming a little of “I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen,” Trixie began to make her plans.

  Out in New Mexico terrain, Lieutenant Quimby Gillen was in a decided fury. He reined his lathered horse in, slammed a fist in his palm. “Blast it all! It’s like looking for two grains of sand in all these miles of the stuff!”

  He twisted in his saddle, staring at the weary patrol with him, stuffed a lemon drop in his mouth, crumpled the empty sack, and threw it on the ground. “I thought we’d be able to follow the tracks when they left the train.”

  The bald old sergeant took off his hat, wiped his face. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, the men are tired, and we’ve even spent Christmas roamin’ around searchin.’ ”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Gill fairly seethed with frustration and anger. Here he’d had a patrol sent over from the nearest fort, thinking it couldn’t be that long now before he ran Cholla and Sierra down, and they’d disappeared again. Besides, his teeth were hurting. Maybe he should try some of Trixie’s medicine. That stupid, no talent bitch had disappeared from East St. Louis. He hoped she was out of his life for good.

  “Sir,” the sergeant said again, “take it from one who knows this area, there’s lots of places they could hide. If they have someone with them like that bandit called Nevada, we might never see them again. Nobody knows the whole Southwest as well as Nevada does.”

  Gill heaved a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he leaned on his saddle horn. Maybe the pair weren’t even in the area anymore. Wouldn’t it be a joke on him if, while he was on a wild-goose chase in New Mexico, Cholla and Sierra Forester had escaped into Arizona? He had no doubt that was where Cholla was headed.

  Would the Apache try to get to Fort Bowie? Surely he wouldn’t have that kind of gall. “On the other hand, I wouldn’t put anything past that crafty fox,” Gillen said aloud.

  “Sir?”

  “Never mind. Blast it, never mind!” It suddenly dawned on him that Cholla had a friend at Fort Bowie, Sergeant Tom Mooney, and the Medicine Hat stallion was there. He might try to reclaim it. Besides, he might intend to leave the woman off there, making it his last stop before he turned straight south and rode the fifty or so miles to the border and the freedom beyond.

  “Sergeant, we’re quitting,” Gillen snapped. “You and the patrol can go back to your fort.”

  “And you, sir?”

  “That damned Injun probably thinks he’s got me fooled into spending weeks and weeks roaming around this bleak country looking for him, but I’m gonna outsmart him. I’m gonna go back to the nearest station, catch that train west. With any luck, maybe I’ll get to Fort Bowie before Cholla does!”

  Tom Mooney sat on his bunk, a worn book of poems in his callused, freckled hands. But his mind was too busy for him to enjoy reading. “Aye, Tom, ye old Irishman, now that Christmas is gone, you’ve only a couple of days to make your decision.”

  The dog raised its great head and looked at him gravely.

  “And you, Ke’jaa, do you think you’d mind livin’ on a Michigan farm?” He paused and looked out the window to the east, wondering where the dog’s master was at this moment?

  The woman was still with Cholla; that much was clear. Only a couple of days ago, there’d been a wire from Gillen sa
ying he’d actually been on the same train as the pair without realizing it and they’d gotten away right under his nose by escaping during train robbery. Right now the lieutenant was combing western New Mexico Territory for Cholla, but if Gillen didn’t find any trace of him soon, he’d been coming on in to the fort to see if the Apache turned up there.

  Tom sighed, put down the book. Maybe Cholla would come here to try to get his horse and say good-bye to his old friend. Tom hoped he wouldn’t. As a sergeant of the U.S. Cavalry, Mooney didn’t want to be torn between duty and his deep friendship for the Indian.

  The woman. He stroked the worn book cover and thought about her. Gillen’s wire sounded as if he weren’t sure whether Sierra Forester had, indeed, been forced off that train or had left of her own free will. Perhaps she didn’t care about the Apache; perhaps she had been under extreme duress all this time. He took the photograph out and looked at it, wondering if any woman could learn to care for a wiry, middle-aged Irishman with no money.

  The reward. If Tom helped capture Cholla, there’d be a reward–and a promotion if he decided to stay in the Army. With those changes in his situation, would Sierra be interested in him? Could he betray his friend if there was any possibility of having the woman? Love makes a man do strange things, he thought. When it came to a showdown, Tom wasn’t sure what decision he’d make. He hoped to God he didn’t have to make any–and he wouldn’t, if Cholla stayed out of the area.

  Tomorrow night was New Year’s Eve. Most of the men at the fort would be partying; some would be on leave. Not much happening now that the Apaches had been shipped away. Next week, Tom could be on a train headed home, escorting the pitiful little schoolteacher. But right now he didn’t want to think about making any kind of decision or even of whether he was going to leave the Army. He bowed his head and prayed that if faced with a choice, he would do what was morally, if not legally, right.

  Sierra and Cholla rode west until they were in low mountains covered with spruce and cedar.

  She looked over at him. “Where are we?”

  “The Chiricahua Mountains,” he answered, looking west. “By tomorrow afternoon, late, you’ll be at Fort Bowie.”

  “And you will be safe over the border in Mexico,” she said, not sure how she felt, about that. Once she had been astounded that a primitive Indian had made a decision to travel fifteen hundred miles to freedom. Then, after she had gotten to know Cholla, it had seemed reasonable enough that he would do it. She tried to sort out her feelings as they spurred their horses and rode on.

  Not so long ago she had hoped to see Cholla dead. Then she had grown to respect his daring and courage and, through him, the Apache people she had once thought of as cruel savages. Finally, though she didn’t want to think about it or admit it, even to herself, she began to feel more than respect for him.

  Not that it matters, she thought as they rode through the mountains. To him, she was nothing but a hostage, although at times she sensed she might be more than that to him. Of course that was ridiculous. She glanced over at his proud, cold expression, wishing she knew what he was thinking. What difference did it make anyway? Her own thoughts and feelings weren’t clear to her. If he did ask her to turn her back on civilization and ride away with him, could she, would she?

  What foolishness, she thought, watching him, this man doesn’t need you. He doesn’t need anyone. He is completely self-sufficient. You can stop wondering what you would do because he doesn’t want you, doesn’t need you. When he feels an urge for a woman, no doubt many an Indian girl would be pleased to be carried off by him for his temporary use.

  They rode until dark and then camped.

  Sierra stared into the fire after they had eaten. “You didn’t want to ride on in tonight?”

  “And get shot by a guard? Besides, I’m not riding in–you are.”

  “What about your stallion?”

  He settled down next to her on the blanket, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, and shook his head. “I’d never be able to get the Medicine Hat out of the stable, and I wouldn’t want to put Tom Mooney in a bad spot. Besides, Gillen may have caught a train and beat us there. He may be waiting for me to show up.”

  She leaned against his shoulder, thinking how much she had come to rely on him. “I’ll wager the lieutenant is still riding around New Mexico, looking for us.”

  Cholla blew smoke into the air. “Don’t underestimate him, Sierra. He’s smart enough to be a worthy enemy, if not a brave one.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “This is our last night together.” He threw the cigarette into the fire. “Tomorrow, I’ll guide you to within a few miles of the fort and let you go on alone.”

  Go on alone. Yes, I’ll be all alone. But she wasn’t upset. She had learned a lot about herself. Never again would she be afraid to follow her own star, no matter what others did.

  The nail that stands up will be hammered down. No, Grandfather, she thought with stubborn conviction, sometimes the nail is made of such steel, it breaks the hammer. Without thinking, she put her small hand on his big one.

  He turned his hand over so that hers lay in his wide palm. “Our last night,” he whispered.

  He reached for her, and she went instinctively into his embrace. Tomorrow they would part, but they had this one night together. Whether it meant anything to him or not, she would savor it forever.

  He made love to her very slowly and gently. To Sierra it seemed he was loath to see their time end. Perhaps that is only my imagination, she thought as she cradled his dark face against her white breasts.

  Their lovemaking was tender, sensitive, as if both were saying good-bye to something they never expected to experience again. It crossed Sierra’s mind as they lay in each other’s arms that she might now bear a child. Once she would have been horrified by the thought, wondering how she would survive, what people would say. Now she wanted his child. Their love story could have no happy ending–there had been too much tragedy for Cholla’s people and hers already–but she would welcome their child and would manage to rear it somehow.

  His lips traveled along her neck to her ear, his breath sending delicious shudders of sensation through her. “What are you thinking?”

  Would he laugh if he knew what she had really been thinking? “Oh, just how nice it will be to get back to civilization and a real bathtub instead of washing in a creek.”

  “I made love to you the very first time in a creek, remember?”

  Nothing, not age or time could ever make her forget that earth-shattering experience, but she only nodded.

  The memory they shared seemed to heat their blood, and he slipped his tongue between her lips, caressing the insides of her mouth until she was arching her body toward his, wanting him to suck on her nipples, wanting his hard manhood throbbing inside her. He tilted her hips up with his hands, plunging into her warm depths, and they meshed, giving and taking until finally, totally spent, they slept in each other’s arms.

  The next day, she found herself stalling until Cholla said, “If you don’t hurry, you won’t make it to the fort by dark. I’ll ride with you a ways.”

  She chided herself and then mounted up. They rode in silence.

  She couldn’t stand the quiet after a while. “What will you do after you leave me?”

  “I’ll go back to our campsite and wait until night,” Cholla answered. “After dark, when there’s less chance of being spotted, I’ll follow my favorite trail to the border. With any luck, I’ll be in the Sierra Madre by morning.”

  Without me, Sierra thought, but she said nothing.

  It was late afternoon when Cholla reined in and pointed. “The fort’s only a couple of miles farther on; you won’t have any trouble finding it.”

  Don’t ride away without me! her heart cried out, but she wasn’t going to tell him how she felt, not when he would only laugh at her.

  “Do you remember my message to Tom Mooney?”

  “Yes, I ... I remember. I’m to remind him abou
t the gift.” She paused. “But, Cholla, you haven’t given me anything to present to him.”

  “Don’t ask any questions,” he ordered, grim-faced, “just tell him that. What about the rest of the message?”

  Sierra swallowed hard. “Usen’s own, Ke’jaa’s den.” It still didn’t make any sense to her, but evidently it would to Tom Mooney.

  “Well, good-bye.” He seemed awkward and hesitant as if not quite sure how to end this.

  She decided to make it easy for him by pretending to be relieved and lighthearted. “Good-bye and good luck.”

  Then, not having intended to, she leaned across and kissed him. He clung to her as if he would never let her go, his mouth hot on hers, both their pulses pounding. She thought she felt him tremble, but decided it must be her own body shaking. A kiss to last us both forever, she thought, and blinked back tears as she finally pulled back from his embrace. Never in all these weeks had she seen him look so grave as he did now, but he said nothing.

  She forced her lips to curve into a smile. “Well, good-bye and good luck,” she said again.

  He started to say something, nodded curtly.

  Sierra turned her mare, rode away toward the fort. It was good that she did not hesitate, because tears were overflowing her eyes. She didn’t look back.

  Cholla watched her ride off, just sitting his mount as the small figure on the spotted horse grew smaller and smaller. It took all of his will to keep him from riding after her, forcing her to go with him as he had once planned to do. He loved this woman, he knew that now. Loved her enough to do what was best for her–give her the freedom she wanted. But, ironically, she had made a captive of his heart.

  At least she would be well taken care of; he had seen to that. He was sending her, and maybe the child she carried, as a gift to Tom Mooney. His friend would look after her, maybe even marry her. When Tom figured out the message about all those nuggets in the cave where Cholla had first found the puppy, he and Sierra would be able to live richly on the treasure forbidden to the Apache–the gold Robert Forester had hunted so long. Was it justice that Forester’s woman end up with it? Maybe so.