Apache Runaway

by Madeline Baker

  And then, all too soon, reality returned. She stared up at him, wondering how many other women he had loved, wondering how she could ever look at herself in the mirror again. She had betrayed her husband, betrayed her marriage vows, all for one night of passion.

  Ryder sensed the change in her immediately. “What is it, Jenny?” he asked, his voice guarded.

  “I was just wondering how many other women you’ve made love to. Have there been very many?”

  “A few,” he admitted cautiously. “I made love to them, Jenny girl, but I was never in love with any of them.”

  “Oh.”

  She’d known he wasn’t a monk, but she wished she could have been the first woman in his life, that he had been the first man in hers.

  “It doesn’t matter, Jenny,” he said quietly. “Nothing that happened before tonight matters now. You’re my first woman, my first love. And my last.”

  She felt her heart swell until she thought it would burst. Taking his hand in hers, she pressed it to her lips.

  “And you’re my first love, my only love,” she whispered, and wished it hadn’t come too late.

  She shook the thought aside and then, taking a deep breath, she asked the question that had plagued her for so long. “Why haven’t you ever married?”

  He didn’t answer right away, and Jenny felt the subtle change in him, felt his body tense, then relax.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s all right, Jenny girl. It was a long time ago.”

  She was suddenly sorry she had brought it up, and she held her breath, knowing she would be hurt by his answer, whatever it might be.

  “I was married once, to an Apache girl. She died in childbirth, and my daughter with her.”

  “But you loved her? She was your first love, wasn’t she?”

  “Jenny…”

  “Wasn’t she?”

  “It was a long time ago. I was just a kid.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw when he saw the tears in Jenny’s eyes, but he couldn’t lie to her.

  “I loved her, Jenny, it’s true, but it was so long ago. Don’t let it spoil what we have.”

  He drew her close, his midnight-blue eyes seeking her understanding, and suddenly it didn’t matter that he had known love before. She was his for this one night, and he was hers. She would take his love and hold it close, cherish it as one might cherish a rare flower that bloomed for one night only, knowing that in the morning it would be gone, that it would never bloom again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bleary-eyed, Jenny reined the black stallion to a halt, wondering if she was still headed in the right direction.

  Ryder had made love to her into the wee small hours of the morning and she had reveled in it, shutting out the voice of her conscience, knowing that what they had shared was a precious gift she would never find again.

  If only she could stay with him, love him, grow old at his side. But that was impossible. She was married to Hank. In sickness and in health…for better or for worse…until death do us part…

  Her marriage vows, the very vows she had desecrated, rang in her mind. She had committed adultery with Fallon. It sounded ugly when she said it like that. No matter how wonderful it had been, how desperately she had craved his touch, she had committed a terrible sin.

  She couldn’t have Ryder, and she wouldn’t go back to Hank. She’d never be able to face Hank again after last night, knowing she had committed the very sin he had accused her of.

  She lifted a hand to her cheek, the memory of the anger and rage in Hank’s eyes more painful than the faint bruise.

  She shuddered as she remembered the ugliness of it all, the sound of Hank’s bitter accusations ringing in her ears, the dull thud of his fists striking her as he screamed at her, calling her a whore. And now she had proved him right.

  In the dark hours of the night, lying in Fallon’s arms, she had reached a decision. A cowardly one, perhaps, but a decision nevertheless. She couldn’t stay with Hank, not after what had happened. She couldn’t count on being able to obtain a divorce. She couldn’t live in sin with Ryder, or trust herself to stay away from him now that she knew what it was like to held in his arms, to be loved…

  Resolutely, she pushed the thought from her mind. She was going back where she belonged, back to her son. The thought of seeing her baby again, of holding him, made the loss of Ryder’s love easier to bear.

  The decision had not been easily made. But it was the only one she could live with. She had been unfaithful to her husband, betraying her wedding vows for one night of passion, and she’d never be able to go home again, couldn’t abide the thought of seeing the hurt and the accusation in Hank’s eyes.

  She wondered what Ryder had thought when he awoke to find her gone, and his horse and his clothing with her. It had been a cruel thing to do to the man who had given her a night of unbridled ecstasy, but she couldn’t have him following her too soon.

  It would take him at least two hours to walk back to town, and then he’d have to find a way to sneak into his hotel room unseen, dress, and find another horse. By then, she hoped to have a good enough head start that he wouldn’t be able to catch her.

  Of course, after what she’d done, he might never want to see her again. A wry grin tugged at her lips. He might not want to see her, but there was always a chance he’d come after his horse.

  She urged the stallion into a trot, her stomach growling loudly. She would have to find something to eat soon, and water for herself and the horse. Living with the Apache had taught her how to live off the land. She thought she was heading in the right direction. If she was lucky, one of Kayitah’s raiding parties would find her and take her to the rancheria. If necessary, she would beg for Kayitah’s forgiveness, promise him anything, if he would only let her be with her son.

  Fallon swore softly as he realized that Jenny was gone and with her his horse and clothing. Naked as the day he’d been born, he grabbed his gun and pulled on his moccasins, the only things she’d left behind, and began scouting the ground for sign.

  It wasn’t hard to find. She was riding south, and he knew deep in his soul that she was going back to the Apache, back to her son.

  And it was all his fault. He’d driven her to it because he couldn’t control his lust, because he’d had to make love to her, at least once, before she went out of his life forever. And now she was gone, driven away by her guilt at what they’d done. She was a decent, God-fearing woman and she’d broken her marriage vows, thanks to him. He knew her well enough to know she couldn’t face Hank, and that she couldn’t face him, either, so she’d run away, back to a life she hated, to be with her son.

  He swore softly. She didn’t have to stay married to Hank. The marriage had never been consummated. She could have the marriage annulled… Damn! Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

  Cursing softly, he headed for town, keeping well away from the road. Fortunately, it was too early for most people to be about, and he made it to his hotel unseen by anyone except the rheumy old man who cleaned the saloon next to the hotel.

  The man stared at him, his jaws agape, but Fallon just shrugged and smiled and ran up the back stairs.

  In his room, he washed and dressed in record time. Strapping on his gunbelt, he left the hotel and went to the livery, rousting the owner out of bed.

  He was leading a big buckskin gelding out of the barn when Hank Braedon called his name.

  “Fallon! Jenny’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere. Have you seen her?”

  “I’ve seen her,” Fallon said. His hands held tight to the reins. It was all he could do to keep from smashing his fists into Braedon’s face. “I’ve seen her,” he said again. “And I saw what you did to her. I ought to kill you for that.”

  A deep-red flush crept up Braedon’s neck. “I…she told me she’d had a baby by that savage who kidnapped her. I…I’m afraid I haven’t handled it very well.” Hank ran a hand throug
h his hair and over his stubbled jaw. “I didn’t mean to hit her. Afterward, I went out and got drunk. She was gone when I came home.” Hank took a deep breath as he worked up his courage. “I saw how you looked at her that day at the store, the way she looked at you, and I thought maybe… I don’t know what I thought.”

  “She left town,” Fallon said. “Headed south.”

  “South?”

  “She’s going back to Kayitah, back to her son.”

  “No!”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “It’s all my fault. I never should have married her. I never should have insisted we come out here. She didn’t want to come, but I loved her. I thought… I should have known it would never work.”

  “We’re wasting time,” Ryder said curtly. “I’m going after her.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t stop me. She’s my wife.”

  “I can make better time alone. Besides, you’ll only get yourself killed.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Hank said bitterly. “I’m not good for a damn thing anyway.”

  “Do what you want,” Fallon muttered, swinging into the saddle. “I’m not waiting for you. I’ve wasted too much time already.”

  Hank cried, “Fallon, hold on!” but it was too late.

  Ryder was headed out of town at a gallop, headed due south.

  He rode hard, his heart pounding in unison with the buckskin’s hooves. He couldn’t let Jenny go back to Kayitah, not now, not after what they had shared. She loved him, he was sure of it, even though she hadn’t said the words. But he knew Jenny Braedon, knew she wasn’t the kind of woman to give her body and not her heart.

  As the miles went by, he wondered what Kayitah would do if Jenny managed to find the village. Would the Apache chief take her back, or kill her on sight for the sake of his pride?

  Fallon knew what his own fate would be. It had already been decreed. I will peel the skin from your body an inch at a time if you ever return to the rancheria.

  Fallon swallowed hard as he recalled Kayitah’s words, but there was no going back. He had to find Jenny no matter what the cost, and with that in mind, he urged the gelding onward, praying that he’d find Jenny before the Apaches did.

  Jenny drew the stallion to a halt and slid wearily to the ground. She had ridden hard all that day and now she wanted only to sleep. Too weary to be afraid, she unsaddled the black, tethered it to a tree, curled up on the horse blanket and went to sleep, unbothered by the shifting shadows or the sounds of the night.

  She woke at dawn, shivering and hungry. For a moment, she thought of turning around and heading home, and then, slowly, she shook her head. She’d missed too much of her son’s life already.

  She rode all that day, stopping at a stream to water the stallion and ease her own thirst. When that was done, she scooped some water into her hands and laved it over her face. Her left cheek was still tender from where Hank had hit her.

  Poor Hank. She still couldn’t believe he’d actually struck her. He’d always seemed so accepting of his condition. She’d never realized the depths of his pain, never truly understood what the war had deprived him of, until she’d made love to Ryder. Now, knowing how wonderful love could be between a man and a woman, she felt a deep hurt for Hank’s anguish. She knew now how awful it must have been for him all these years because she knew how awful it was going to be for her, never to be able to be with Ryder again.

  Knowing she needed to eat to keep up her strength, she dug some roots near the water. She’d never been particularly fond of them when she lived with the Apache, didn’t even know what they were called. Now, biting into one, she hardly tasted it.

  Riding southward, she wondered how Ryder had reacted when he woke to find his horse and his clothing gone. She smiled as she pictured him sneaking into town wearing nothing but his gunbelt and moccasins. It occurred to her again that he might come after her, if only to get his horse back.

  Jenny stroked the black’s neck. The stallion was a dream of a horse, easy to ride, and with the endurance to go all day and all night without tiring.

  She slept under the stars again that night, her pity for Hank and her grief at leaving Fallon fading in the realization that she would soon see her son again.

  She woke to the smell of roasting meat and the sound of masculine laughter. One voice cut across the others. A voice she recognized all too well.

  Slowly, she sat up. “Hello, Kayitah.”

  He nodded briefly in her direction, his dark eyes giving nothing away. “Why have you come back here?”

  “To see my son.”

  “You have no son.”

  “Kayitah, please. I was wrong to run away. Punish me if you must, but please let me see him.”

  “Eat.” He shoved a chunk of meat into her hand.

  Jenny did as she was told, her gaze never leaving that of the man who had been her husband. She could hear the other warriors moving about the camp, smothering the fire, burying the rabbit’s entrails, readying their horses for travel.

  Kayitah offered her a drink of water from a waterskin, then swung aboard his horse. Holding her head high, Jenny saddled the black and climbed into the saddle.

  Kayitah took the lead and Jenny fell in behind him. They rode all that day, single file to make it difficult for anyone who came across their tracks to count their number.

  At dusk, they rode through the narrow defile that led to the valley. For a moment, Jenny was filled with dread, and then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She wasn’t a frightened little girl, she was a grown woman. She knew the Apache way, the language, the customs. This would never be home, but it was her son’s home, and she intended to be a part of it.

  The warriors dispersed to their own lodges when they reached the village. Jenny followed Kayitah to his wickiup, her heart beating double time as Alope stepped outside to greet her husband.

  The smile of welcome died on the Indian woman’s face when she saw Jenny.

  “Why have you brought her here?” Alope demanded angrily.

  “I did not bring her. She has come back on her own.”

  Alope’s dark eyes burned into Jenny. “Why?”

  “She wishes to see the child.”

  “He is my son now. Send her away.”

  “He is my son,” Jenny asserted with a calmness she didn’t feel.

  “No! He belongs to Kayitah and to me. He will never be yours.”

  Jenny felt her anger rise. She was tired and uncertain. And she was afraid, though she refused to admit it. “I want to see my son.”

  Alope shook her head, and something inside Jenny snapped.

  With a cry, she jumped off the black and hurled herself at Alope. The Indian woman stumbled backward and the two women fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Alope was older, heavier, but Jenny was filled with anger and fear and she fought as though she were possessed by a demon, until Alope screamed for help.

  Only then did Kayitah interfere. Smothering a grin, he grabbed Jenny by the arm and pulled her away from Alope.

  Alope scrambled to her feet, her eyes blazing with hatred. “I will kill her! I will carve the skin from her bones an inch at a time!”

  “You will not lay a hand on her,” Kayitah warned. “She had the courage to come here alone. She has bested you in a fight. I say she has earned the right to see her son.”

  Kayitah looked at Jenny for a long moment, and then nodded toward his lodge. “Go.”

  Heart pounding, Jenny entered the lodge. She could hear Alope arguing with Kayitah, heard Kayitah tell Alope that Jenny deserved some time alone with her son.

  Her son. He was lying on a pile of soft robes, cooing softly as he watched a narrow shaft of sunlight dance over the lodge skins. For a moment, she could only stare at him, marveling at how big he’d grown. He was naked save for a clout, his skin a deep golden brown. His hair was black and wavy, his eyes were dark.

  “Hello, darling,�
� Jenny murmured.

  Gently, she scooped him up in her arms and held him close, breathing in the scent of him. Tears filled her eyes as arms that had been empty for so long held her son close to her heart.

  Later, she examined him carefully, touching each tiny finger and toe, marveling at the smoothness of his skin. He smiled up at her, and she imagined that she saw forgiveness in the depths of his eyes.

  “I’ve missed you,” Jenny murmured, stroking one downy cheek. “You’ll never know how much I missed you, but I’m here now, and I’ll never leave you again.”

  She laughed softly as the baby reached for her finger.

  “His name is Cosito.”

  Jenny glanced up to see Kayitah staring down at her, his expression guarded.

  “Cosito,” Jenny repeated. “He looks well, Kayitah. Thank you.”

  “You did not think I would harm my son?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “You will have to share him with Alope. She has grown to love him as her own.”

  “I understand.”

  “I have missed you, Golden Dove.”

  Jenny gazed up at Kayitah. For the first time, she saw affection in his expression.

  “I would not have come back if it weren’t for my son.”

  “I know. I have always had feelings for you, Golden Dove. That is why you are still alive. I will let you return to my lodge, but only as my wife.”

  He stood there, his arms folded across his chest, waiting, watching as the full implication of his words sank in.

  Jenny nodded once, curtly. “I understand.”

  “I have many hides. You may erect a lodge of your own if you wish. Perhaps it will make your life here more pleasant.”

  “Thank you, Kayitah.”

  “Alope will help you.”

  Jenny nodded.

  Kayitah’s dark-eyed gaze trapped her own. “Know this, Golden Dove, I will not let you go again. You are here to stay.”

  The following day, Alope enlisted the aid of a dozen women, and by late afternoon, Jenny’s lodge was completed.

  Kayitah gave her robes and blankets for a bed; Alope gave her several cooking utensils and pots, and Jenny set up housekeeping.