Apache Runaway

by Madeline Baker

  Jenny nodded, the sadness in her heart lifting a little as she remembered the words he had spoken to her after they had made love.

  Nothing that happened before tonight matters now, he had said with quiet sincerity. You’re my first woman, my first love. And my last.

  She took a deep breath. “I just wondered…if you still felt the same?”

  A faint smile played around the corners of his mouth. “That was a dirty trick, you know, running out on me like that.”

  “I know,” Jenny said contritely. “And I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well it gave the old man who cleans the saloon quite a start, seeing me come strolling into town wearing nothing but my moccasins, I can tell you that.”

  “I’ll bet,” Jenny said, grinning as she imagined Ryder trying to sneak into town buck-naked. “I’m sorry about your horse. I know how much you liked him.”

  “I got another horse, Jenny.”

  “You could get another woman too.”

  He went suddenly still. “Is that what you want me to do, find another woman?”

  “No.”

  He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until it whispered past his lips in a sigh of relief. He wanted to take her in his arms, to brand her with his love, but he sensed she needed time; time to grieve for Hank, for the child she had been forced to leave behind, again.

  “We’d best be making tracks. Here.” He handed Jenny his canteen and a strip of beef jerky. “This will have to do for breakfast.”

  Jenny nodded. It was time to move on, and this time there would be no going back.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Twin Rivers was a small but thriving community that owed its existence to Fred and William Howard, two brothers who had married Comanche women. The Howards had not intended to establish any kind of town when they stumbled into the valley fifteen years earlier. They had merely been searching for a place to live in peace, a quiet place to raise their children. Shunned by whites because they had married Indian women, dissatisfied with the Comanche’s nomadic way of life, the brothers had set out to find a piece of ground where they could live and farm without interference from their neighbors.

  Twin Rivers was located in a verdant valley cradled between gently sloping hills. The streams for which the town had been named were crowded with fish, the soil was rich and brown, timber was abundant, the winters were mild.

  Working side by side, the brothers had quickly built two small cabins, planted their crops and dreamed of peace.

  By and by, other wanderers had found their way into the valley—an outlaw looking for sanctuary; a woman running away from an unhappy love affair; a drifter who happened by and fell in love with the woman; a retired sheriff and his wife; a priest who had tired of preaching to people who didn’t listen and set out to find a flock who needed him; a Negro and his wife looking for greener pastures. The brothers welcomed them all with no questions asked.

  In the early years, paint-streaked Apaches had scouted the settlement, troubled by the arrival of the whites, bewildered at the sight of white men, Indian women and black people living and working together. Henry Johnson, the retired sheriff, rode out one fine spring day under a white flag to parley with the Indians. Speaking in their native tongue, Johnson had welcomed the warriors and offered them tobacco and corn as a sign of friendship, assuring them that the people of the valley wanted only to live in peace with their red brothers.

  Thereafter, the Apaches came often, sometimes bringing their women and children, eager to trade furs and hides for guns and ammunition, for cloth and candy.

  Mace Carson, the outlaw-turned-trader, gave the Indians a square deal on their pelts, let them wander through the store at their leisure. After a while, Mace took himself an Apache wife and fathered a brood of raven-haired daughters.

  The inhabitants of the town tended to be friendly without being nosy. Since most of the people who settled in Twin Rivers were on the dodge or hiding something unpleasant, they were careful not to pry too deeply into each other’s pasts.

  It was to this quiet valley that Fallon brought Jenny. The little town had grown considerably since Fallon’s last visit almost five years ago. In addition to the combination trading post and saloon, there was a pint-sized church and a bright-red schoolhouse. Thirteen cabins lined the valley where there had once been only two. Children, red and white and in between, laughed and played together in the warm afternoon sun. White-faced cattle grazed on the lush hillsides. Horses stood head-to-tail, lazily swishing flies as they cropped the fragrant clover at their feet. Dogs sprawled in the shade. A speckled hen paraded down the dusty road, clucking anxiously to a brood of yellow chicks.

  As he drew rein at the trading post, Fallon guessed the town now housed about fifty people.

  Mace Carson confirmed his estimate. “Fifteen adults and more than twice that many young’uns,” the reformed outlaw said proudly. “You plannin’ to settle here?”

  “If nobody minds,” Fallon replied. “Does it matter where we build?”

  “Shucks, no. Jest pick an empty spot.” Carson scratched his head and grinned. “Say, now, the cabin at the far end of the valley is vacant. I reckon you could just move on in. It’s been empty for nigh onto six months, so I don’t reckon anybody else wants it.”

  Fallon expressed his thanks and the two men shook hands.

  “Could we look at it now?” Jenny asked.

  Mace Carson grinned amicably as he nodded in Jenny’s direction. “Now, ain’t that jest like a woman. Can’t wait to get moved in and start tidying up.”

  Ryder threw Jenny a quizzical glance. “Is that right?”

  Jenny shrugged, and then smiled, not at all certain of what she wanted.

  “Women are all alike in some respects,” Mace remarked, chuckling. “If she works you too hard, you jest come on back here and I’ll draw you a cold one.”

  “Thanks, I’ll remember that,” Fallon promised as he opened the door for Jenny. “Say, who do I pay for the cabin?”

  Carson shrugged. “Beats me. The previous owner jest packed up and lit out, so I reckon it’s yours ’til somebody says otherwise.”

  The cabin sat alone at the end of the valley, a squat wooden square against the flowering hills. A split rail fence, badly in need of repair, separated the cabin from the broken-down corral in back and the road in front. Tall brown weeds rustled as Fallon and Jenny walked up the path to the front door. A rabbit scurried for cover as they neared the cabin.

  The shanty had two rooms. The main room served as both parlor and kitchen, the smaller room was a bedroom. There was no furniture in the house save for a square oak table and three rickety chairs in a corner of the main room. A fireplace with a raised hearth took up most of the east wall. A narrow window looked out on the dusty path that led off into the trees at the north end of the valley.

  Fallon frowned as he surveyed the cabin’s dismal interior. It was a far cry from the rich surroundings and fancy furnishings Jenny had known in Widow Ridge. A thick layer of dust covered the table and raw plank floor. Lacy cobwebs hung from the beamed ceiling. Scattered piles of leaves and dead grass bore mute evidence that more than one rodent had nested inside the fireplace at one time or another.

  Slowly, Ryder shook his head. “I don’t know, Jenny. What do you think?”

  “It’ll be fine as soon as we clean it up a bit.”

  “Are you sure?” Ryder asked dubiously. It was more than he was used to, but Jenny was a city girl at heart, and in spite of the four years she’d spent with the Apache, he couldn’t help but feel that she expected more, deserved more. “Maybe you’d rather go back to Widow Ridge. With Hank and Charlie dead, the store and the house belong to you now.”

  “No, I don’t want to go back there.”

  Ryder crossed the floor and took Jenny’s hands in his. They hadn’t really talked about the future; he wasn’t even sure that Jenny wanted a future with him.

  “Jenny, we don’t have to stay here.”


  “I don’t mind,” she said, and then looked away as color suffused her cheeks. Didn’t he know she’d rather be here, with him, than live in the finest mansion with anyone else? Even though she knew it was wrong to live with him without benefit of marriage, she would do it, because she loved him, because she never wanted to be away from him again.

  “What is it, Jenny girl?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Jenny, I don’t want there to be any lies between us. Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it if I can.”

  “I…we’re not…” She bit down on her lower lip, then took a deep breath. “What will people think, about us living together?”

  “I don’t much care what anybody thinks,” Ryder said. “Only what you think.”

  “I want things to be right between us,” Jenny said, not meeting his eyes. “I married Hank, and it was a mistake. I lived with Kayitah because I didn’t have any choice, and it was awful. This time I’d like a real marriage with the man I love.”

  “Jenny!” He swept her into his arms and crushed her close. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, today, if you like, unless you think we should wait.”

  “Wait? For what?”

  “People usually wait a year after the death of a loved one before they remarry.”

  “Your marriage has been dead for over a year,” Ryder remarked. “But if you want to wait, I’ll wait.”

  “I can’t wait,” Jenny admitted shyly. “I don’t care what people think.”

  “Good. I’ll go talk to Father Link and see if he’ll marry us today.”

  Jenny looked down at her buckskin dress and moccasins. “But I don’t have anything to wear!”

  “You look fine to me.”

  “All right then,” she agreed, her whole being thrumming with excitement. She was going to be married, married to a whole man, a man who loved her.

  She walked through the cabin after Fallon left to find the preacher, seeing the dreary little shack with new eyes. Some curtains, a rug here and there, a lamp or two, and the abandoned cabin would become a haven of refuge where she could live with the man she loved.

  The man she loved. It felt good to admit how she really felt at last. For so long, she’d tried to pretend she hated him. Perhaps it had even been true, for a short time. But now she felt her affection for him bubble up within her, a wellspring of love with no beginning and no end. He had been her friend, her confidant, her ally. Her lover.

  Warmth spread through her as she recalled the night they had made love outside of Widow Ridge. He had been tender, caring, gentle, and she had gloried in his touch. And tonight, tonight he would take her in his arms again and their joining would be better than ever, because he would be her husband, and she would be his wife.

  She whirled around, a smile of anticipation on her lips, as the door opened and Ryder stepped inside, followed by a tall man with a mane of white hair and a beard that reached his chest.

  “Jenny, this is Father Link. Father, this is Jenny Braedon.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Father,” Jenny said.

  Father Link nodded as he took both of Jenny’s hands in his. “The pleasure is all mine, my child. This rascal tells me you’ve agreed to marry him. Is that true?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Well, I’m glad that someone who could tame him finally came along. What’s your full name, child?”

  “Jennifer Marie Braedon.”

  Father Link nodded as he placed Jenny’s hand in Fallon’s. “And your full name, my son?”

  “Ryder Fallon.”

  “Do you have a ring?”

  Ryder shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jenny.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He might have doubted her words if it hadn’t been for her smile, and the love he saw shining in the depths of her eyes.

  The priest cleared his throat. “Do you want the long ceremony or the short one?”

  “The short one’s fine,” Ryder said.

  “Very well. Ryder Fallon, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

  “I do.”

  “And do you, Jennifer Marie Braedon, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  “I do.”

  “Then by the power and authority vested in me by Holy Mother Church, I hereby pronounce you, Ryder Fallon and Jennifer Marie Braedon, husband and wife so long as you both shall live. I would admonish you to be fruitful and multiply and to cherish one another. May God bless your union, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  “Is that it?” Jenny asked.

  “That’s it, my child. Just as binding as if your vows had been spoken in a grand cathedral in front of the Holy Father himself.” He smiled at Jenny. “Take good care of your husband, my child. Remember to put him first in your life. And you, Ryder Fallon, you be good to this beautiful young woman. Put her wants and needs before your own, and your marriage will endure.”

  “Thanks, Father.”

  “Yes, thank you, Father,” Jenny repeated.

  “Good day to you then. And I’ll expect to see you both at Mass on Sunday.”

  Jenny nodded, her heart brimming with joy as she waved goodbye to the priest. A new marriage. A new start. She felt suddenly as if she’d been given a second chance at life, at love.

  Fallon shut the door, then turned to face Jenny. His wife. “I’m sorry about the ring.”

  “It doesn’t matter, honestly.” Jenny gazed up at him, a shy smile playing over her lips. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

  “Jenny!” He swept her into his arms, then swore softly as he remembered there was no bed in the place.

  Putting Jenny on her feet, he went out and unsaddled the horses. Carrying their saddles inside, he spread one of the bedrolls on the floor, locked the door, then took Jenny in his arms once again.

  “Welcome home, Mrs. Fallon,” he whispered as he carried her down to the blankets.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Fallon,” Jenny replied, her pulse racing as Ryder rained kisses on her face and neck, his breath warm against her skin. She gasped as his mouth traveled to her breasts, the heat of his lips penetrating her buckskin dress.

  “Jenny.” His voice was ragged as he breathed her name. He made love to her as he had always dreamed of doing, letting her know with each kiss and caress that she was his, that she would always be his. Only his from this day forward. He marveled at her beauty as he removed her dress and moccasins, exploring the delicate texture of her skin, pausing now and then to claim her lips in a gentle kiss of promise, still finding it hard to believe that she was here, that she was his.

  Jenny eagerly returned each kiss and caress, reveling in the arms that held her, the hands that turned her flesh to flame. She felt small and vulnerable in Ryder’s embrace, yet strangely powerful at the same time. It was exhilarating to know she pleased him, that he desired her, that she had the power to arouse him, to make him tremble with longing.

  Her hands wandered lovingly over his hard-muscled flesh. His chest was as solid as a rock wall, his arms and legs were long, corded with muscle, and she delighted in the strength sleeping beneath her fingertips. She would never be afraid again. He was her strength, her courage, and she gave herself to him completely, eagerly, basking in his touch, in the sound of his voice as he whispered her name.

  Her blood ran sweet and hot as their bodies came together. He was hers, for now and for always. She would fall asleep in his arms each night for the rest of her life, kiss him each morning.

  She cried his name, her nails raking the length of his back, her teeth nipping at his neck, as his life poured into her, filling her, hearts joined life to life, and soul to soul.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The little town of Twin Rivers welcomed Jenny and Ryder with open arms. Mace Carson was an old friend and he gave them a slightly worn settee and an overstuffed chair that he assured them was just gathering dust in the back room of the trading post.

  Linda Joh
nson, wife of Sheriff Henry Johnson, dropped by with a dozen jars of strawberry preserves, two loaves of fresh-baked bread and a smile of welcome.

  The drifter and his wife, Abel and Laura Patterson, gave them a set of dishes. True, the plates and cups didn’t match, but they were pretty and unchipped.

  Father Link stopped by and left them a sack of seed corn, a Bible and his blessing on their new home.

  Fred Howard, a widower now, stopped by one evening and handed Jenny a box filled with his wife’s pots and pans, insisting gruffly that he didn’t need them anymore.

  The Negro, Elijah Brown, offered them a spotted heifer and a gallon of fresh milk.

  Jenny was deeply touched by the generosity of her new neighbors. She’d had friends back East, she’d made a few friends in Widow Ridge, but none of them had been as generous as the people in Twin Rivers, welcoming her simply because she was there, not because her husband was a rich man.

  Under Jenny’s loving hands, the little cabin at the end of the valley underwent a remarkable transformation. Red gingham curtains appeared at the kitchen window, a matching cloth covered the scarred oak table. A rag rug brightened the floor in front of the hearth. Lace doilies camouflaged the worn arms of the settee.

  Changes were taking place outside too. With the help of some of the men, Fallon tore down the old corral and built a new one to house their stock. Fred Howard helped lay in a supply of firewood, and his brother lent Fallon the tools he needed to patch a hole in the cabin’s roof.

  The days raced by, each one better than the last. Never had Jenny been as happy as she was living in the little cabin with Ryder. She woke early in the morning, eagerly looking forward to another day. She sang cheerfully as she did her chores, never complaining about their poor furniture, the hard work or their lack of creature comforts. She cooked and cleaned and sewed as though such tasks were fun instead of hard work.

  It was such a joy to be able to look out the window and see Ryder working in the distance. Watching him, watching the effortless way he moved and the way his muscles rippled in the sunlight, did funny things in the pit of her stomach. He was a wonderful man, solid, dependable as the sunrise. He never got angry with her, never uttered a cross word, never raised his voice. In fact, nothing ever seemed to rile him or ruffle his composure.