LaceysWay

by Madeline Baker

  In the weeks that followed, Matt spent a lot of time with Red Knife, and when Lacey asked, somewhat jealously, what they were doing, Matt replied, a little sheepishly, that Red Knife was teaching him to be a warrior.

  “A warrior!” Lacey exclaimed. “Whatever for?”

  Matt shrugged. “If my father had stayed here, I would have been raised as an Apache. I’ve always been curious about that part of my heritage, always wondered what it would have been like to grow up among the Indians. This may be the only chance I have to find out.”

  Lacey nodded. She supposed she couldn’t blame Matt for wanting to learn more about his mother’s people, about the way they lived and what their beliefs were.

  In a short time, Lacey saw changes in Matt. He began to pick up the Apache language with an ease that was astonishing. He learned to shoot a bow and arrow and throw a lance. He participated in many of the warrior activities, like hunting and wrestling, gambling and horse racing.

  Lacey resented the time he spent away from her. They were newlyweds, after all, and his place was with her. But Matt was too caught up in the newness of belonging to be aware of her feelings, too eager to be accepted as a warrior.

  Blue Willow shrugged when Lacey complained. “It is our way of life,” the Indian woman said serenely. “The men do not seem to work very hard, but their games of skill and strength are a way of honing their hunting and fighting skills. They must always be ready to protect the village. A man who is burdened with gathering wood or drawing water becomes soft and lazy. We have a few men in the village who do not care for manly things.” Blue Willow gestured toward a nearby lodge where a man sat near a fire. He had a baby on his lap and was grinding corn into flour. “That one never cared for hunting or fighting. He would rather spend his time with the women, caring for children, or cooking. He is a good man, a kind man, but he is not a warrior.” Blue Willow threw Lacey a probing glance. “Would you prefer a man like that to the one you have?”

  “No, of course not,” Lacey answered quickly.

  “Do not think your man loves you less because he spends so much time with Red Knife. Matt is learning who he is. I am sure he will be more attentive once he has discovered who he is and what he is.”

  “Thank you, Blue Willow. I’ve been behaving foolishly.”

  Walking back to her own lodge, Lacey paused to watch Matt and a handful of other warriors engaged in a lively tussle. Matt wore only a brief deerskin clout and moccasins, and she could not help noticing that he was far and away the strongest, the most surefooted, and the handsomest man in the group. He wrestled four warriors, one after the other, and won each time.

  Lacey could not help feeling a thrill of pride as he bested the last man. He was a joy to watch. His deep blue eyes sparkled with excitement, his muscles rippled like quicksilver under his tawny skin as he wrestled the last man to the ground, then good-naturedly offered the warrior a hand up.

  The Apache men were impressed with Matt’s skill. Bravery, cunning, strength, and endurance were qualities that were much admired, and Matt possessed them all. Of course, there were a few Indians, High Yellow Cloud foremost among them, who hated Matt simply because he was half white. For them, that was reason enough, and nothing Matt could say or do would change it.

  There were women who felt that way, too. They shunned Lacey, refusing to speak to her or acknowledge her presence. They made nasty remarks about her behind her back, gesturing and pointing in a most impolite manner. Lacey ignored them as best she could, but it hurt to know they hated her simply because of the color of her skin.

  Surprisingly, she quickly fell into the routine of the village. Food was always available in an Apache camp, and the warriors ate whenever they were hungry rather than at set times during the day. Lacey kept their lodge tidy, cooked the meals, gathered wood and water, and bathed each morning after breakfast, usually with Blue Willow. She learned to make ash cakes out of ground mesquite beans, tallow, and honey. She became adept at skinning the game Matt brought home, and she learned where to find the acorns, sunflower seeds, pine nuts, juniper berries, and mesquite beans that made up a good part of the Apache diet.

  The men spent much of their time hunting. Deer was the most sought-after game, and there were specific thoughts and ceremonies that preceded a hunt. The men fasted, and they were not to wash or put on anything aromatic that the deer might smell. A hunter was to be reverent and generous. The kill must be shared with others.

  In addition to deer, the warriors hunted opossum, cougars, skunks, wood rats, raccoons, and cottontail rabbits. Jackrabbits were not used for food. Wild hogs and prairie dogs were not eaten because they ate snakes, which were taboo. The Chiricahua also had a strong dislike for pork, fish, and frogs, the latter two being classed with snakes. Lacey thought it strange that the Indians would eat skunks and wood rats, but not pork or fish. The badger, beaver, and otter were hunted for their fur.

  As the days passed, Lacey absorbed many of the Apache beliefs and customs. The Chiricahua did not speak the names of the dead. A man did not speak to his mother-in-law. The only things a warrior owned were his horse and his weapons. Everything else, including the lodge, belonged to his wife. The Chiricahua believed that everything was alive. The trees, the mountains, the rocks and the grass, the earth and the water, all possessed a spirit. Life Giver was given credit for the creation of the universe. Feminine qualities were attributed to the earth, and in all ceremonial chants, the earth was referred to as Earth Woman. Lightning and thunder were believed to be persons from whom power could be obtained. Lightning was the arrow of the Thunder People, the flash being the flight of the arrow across the sky. According to Apache belief, the Thunder People had once acted as hunters for the People and their arrows had killed all the game the tribe could use. But, according to legend, the People had been ungrateful for the bounty they had received. The Thunder People had been offended by their lack of appreciation and had stopped hunting for the People.

  Lacey especially enjoyed tales of Coyote. Often, late at night around the campfire, the old ones told stories of Coyote, who was a trickster with few redeeming qualities. Coyote opened a bag he was told not to touch, thereby bringing darkness to the world. It was Coyote who introduced wickedness to the People, gluttony, lying, stealing, adultery, and all other evil practices were first done by Coyote. Warriors who were guilty of such crimes were said to be following Coyote’s trail.

  Child of the Waters was the Apache hero. His mother was Ihsta-nedleheh, or White Painted Woman, who existed from the beginning and was impregnated by Water. Another hero was Killer of Enemies. It was believed that White Painted Woman and Killer of Enemies had once shared the earth with humans.

  Matt and Lacey had been in the village for almost two months when one of the young girls started her menses, thereby becoming a woman in the eyes of the tribe. There was a puberty ritual the following night.

  During the ceremony, the Apache believed that the girl became White Painted Woman. Blue Willow explained that the ceremony symbolically reproduced the creation of the earth and the creation of man, showing the girl all the stages of her future life, from childhood into happy old age. The entire tribe was invited to the ceremony, which was a costly affair. Food and gifts were given to the guests; a fee was paid to the medicine man.

  The Apache shaman, Blue Hawk, was held in high regard by the tribe. It was believed that the supernatural powers were under his personal control. Medicine men who employed the spirits to cause evil were considered witches and could only be vanquished by the medicine man with greater power and purity. Blue Hawk was a man of honor and esteem.

  Lacey was fascinated by the ceremony. The girl sat inside a special wickiup, clad in a magnificent white tunic and white moccasins. An elaborate headdress gave her the look of a queen granting favors. It was believed that she held special sacred powers at this particular time, that she could see into the future, that she could ease old hurts.

  Later they watched the Cans dance. Lacey was awe
d by the dancers’ grotesque black masks and wooden headdresses, and by their wild gyrations. The Cans represented the mountain spirits, which brought rain and health and the good things of life. The dancers were clad in kilts and moccasins, their bodies streaked with paint.

  Lacey was surprised to learn that the celebration would last four days. Four, she had learned, was a sacred number. There were four seasons of the year, four directions of the earth.

  Matt, too, was caught up in the wonder of it all. The chants, the dancing, the continual celebration and feasting were like nothing he had ever seen, and yet, somehow, it all seemed familiar. Here, in the heart of the Apache homeland, the white man’s world seemed far away. He was content to sleep beneath a fur robe, to bathe in the chill water of the river, to eat wild game and ash cakes, to wear little more than a clout and moccasins.

  How quickly civilization falls away, he mused as he watched the Cans cavort in the center of the village. How quickly man returns to the wild. He gazed at Lacey sitting beside him, her lovely face luminous in the light of the dancing flames. What more did a man need than a place to lay his head, food in his belly, a fire for warmth, and a woman to love?

  The sound of the drums pounded in his ears as Lacey turned to look at him. She was Woman, eternal and primal, and he was suddenly overcome with the need to bury himself in her warmth. Her doeskin tunic did not conceal the ripe body that lay beneath. Her hair was as red as the leaping flames, her skin clear and unblemished. In the distance, the Cans danced and the sound of drums vibrated in the night, but Matt was suddenly oblivious to all but the woman beside him. She was his wife. Someday she would bear his children. He swallowed hard, the need to make love to her growing stronger and more urgent with each passing moment.

  He was thinking of carrying her off to bed when there was a change in the drumming and now all the young unmarried maidens danced before the tribe, their feet moving in a slow pattern to the beat of the drum.

  Matt took Lacey’s hand in his. “Let’s go,” he whispered.

  “Wait,” Lacey said, smiling prettily. “I want to watch the dance.”

  “They’ve been dancing all day,” Matt growled irritably.

  “Please, Matt? It’s so lovely.”

  Matt nodded. It was lovely, and if Lacey wanted to stay, he would stay.

  At a pause in the drumming, each maiden left the circle to lightly touch the shoulder of the man she wished to dance with. When the drumming resumed, there were two circles, men on the outside facing in, women on the inside facing out. Slowly they circled back and forth, never touching, yet Lacey thought the dance oddly sensual and provocative.

  The married couples danced next. Lacey grinned with delight when she saw her father and Blue Willow join the other dancers. It was obvious that her father was deeply in love with the Indian woman and enjoyed living with the Apache, and Lacey was happy for him. He had been unhappy for so long, he deserved to find happiness at last.

  Eyes sparkling with joy, Lacey looked at her husband. “Shall we dance?”

  Matt looked a trifle bemused by the idea. Dancing was not what he had in mind. And then he shrugged. “I’m game if you are,” he said, and they took a place beside Lacey’s father.

  The steps were simple, and Lacey and Matt quickly learned the pattern of the dance. It was nothing like a waltz or a polka or any of the other dances Lacey was familiar with, but she found it thrilling to be dancing with Matt, to look into his eyes and see his love for her shining there. The beat of the drum seemed to infuse itself into Lacey’s soul, and she felt suddenly wild and primitive. The music began to move faster, and Lacey’s ears were filled with the rhythmic beat of the drum and the wild pounding of her heart. As the drumming grew faster and faster, the spectators began to clap, urging the dancers on and on until, at last, the music ended.

  Breathless, Lacey took Matt’s arm and started back toward their place in the crowd, but Matt shook his head and led her into the darkness beyond the village. Excitement fluttered in the pit of Lacey’s stomach as she followed Matt into the woods. When they were well out of sight of the camp and its occupants, Matt took Lacey in his arms and began to kiss her fervently, passionately. Lacey surrendered willingly to the onslaught of his lips, her own parting beneath the pressure of his mouth as her arms twined around his neck. A wild elation heightened her senses, and it was as though every nerve ending in her body was tuned to his touch. There was a sweet singing in her blood as his hand cupped her breast, a tingling in the core of her being as his tongue tasted hers. She was fire and he was the air she breathed. Without him, she would wither and die.

  Matt groaned low in his throat as Lacey ground her body against his groin. The dancing, the primal beat of the drum, the sight of Lacey clad in a doeskin tunic, her hair flowing down her back, all had fired his desire until he felt he must possess her or perish.

  His hands were urgent as he unfastened her dress, gentle as they caressed the warm flesh beneath. He kissed her deeply, his lips drifting from her mouth to the curve of her throat to her shoulder. His hands slid down her back, over her softly rounded buttocks and down the gentle curve of her hips, and each touch sent tremors of desire pulsing through him. Carefully he lowered her to the ground, needing her, wanting her as never before.

  They came together in a rush, their mouths fused as everything else faded away save their need for each other.

  Later, wonderfully content, Lacey smiled at her husband. “You really are a savage,” she teased.

  “Are you complaining?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I was just thinking perhaps we should stay here forever.”

  “Would you be happy here?”

  “I’d be happy wherever you were.”

  Touched by her words, Matt kissed her tenderly. He was about to tell her he loved her more than life itself when the sound of someone moving stealthily through the underbrush caught his ear. Dropping his hand over Lacey’s mouth, he motioned for her to remain silent, then carefully gained his feet, his eyes and ears straining for a clue as to the whereabouts of the intruder.

  He was just turning to glance toward the village when there was a sudden hissing sound past his ear, followed by a loud thwack as an arrow struck a tree only inches from Matt’s head. Muttering an oath, Matt dropped to the ground. He held his breath, his eyes searching the shadows, but he saw nothing, heard nothing.

  He remained motionless for several minutes, his eyes warning Lacey to keep silent, and then some inner sense told him the danger was past and they were alone.

  Rising, Matt went to Lacey. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She was trembling visibly. “Who was that?”

  Matt uttered a short laugh. “Who the hell do you think?”

  “High Yellow Cloud,” Lacey said slowly.

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “Let’s get out of here before he comes back,” Lacey said urgently. Grabbing her tunic, she pulled it over her head and began to fasten the laces.

  “Take it easy, Lacey. He’s gone. I think that was just his way of telling me he hasn’t forgotten that I beat him, and that it won’t be over between us until one of us is dead.”

  “Oh, Matt, we’ve got to get out of here. Right away.”

  “I thought you wanted to stay here forever.”

  “Not anymore. Not if it means worrying about High Yellow Cloud shooting you in the back.”

  “He could have done that tonight. I don’t think he’s the type to backshoot me. I think maybe he just wants to keep us on edge.”

  “Matt, I’m so scared. Please, let’s just get out of here.”

  “I’m not ready to leave, Lacey,” Matt answered with a shake of his head. “These are my people. I’d like to learn more about them, more about myself. I feel at home here.”

  “All right, Matt, if it means that much to you,” Lacey agreed reluctantly. “But promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I’m always careful. Come on, let’s get back to the vill
age.”

  Lacey nodded, her eyes darting from side to side as Matt slipped into his shirt and pants. Her earlier feeling of contentment had fled and in its place stood fear. Unlike Matt, she did not think High Yellow Cloud was above sticking a knife in a man’s back.

  Matt placed his arm around Lacey’s shoulders and they walked back to camp. High Yellow Cloud was standing near the campfire. He grinned knowingly as Matt and Lacey walked by.

  Matt felt his anger rise, but held it in check. Instead of smashing his fist into the warrior’s face, as he longed to do, he stopped outside their lodge and kissed Lacey full on the mouth. Then, with a smug grin at High Yellow Cloud, he took Lacey by the hand and entered their wickiup.

  “Do you think that was wise?” Lacey asked.

  “Probably not,” Matt allowed, “but I couldn’t resist it.”

  “Please be careful, Matt. I’d die if anything happened to you.”

  “Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” Matt assured her. “Come on, let’s get some sleep. All that dancing wore me out.”

  “That’s too bad,” Lacey murmured. Provocatively she began to unlace her tunic, letting it fall slowly to the floor around her feet. “I’m not tired at all.”

  Matt sucked in a deep breath as his eyes traveled over Lacey’s delectable body. He had spoken the truth when he said he was tired, but now, suddenly, he was wide awake. Awake and wanting.

  Whispering her name, he lifted Lacey into his arms and carried her to bed.

  The camp was in turmoil the following morning. Sometime during the night, the Comanche had raided the horse herd and had killed one of the herd boys.

  Lame Bear called a council of war, and all the warriors and the medicine man attended. There was no question but that the Apache would retaliate. Usen, the Supreme Being, had not commanded his people to love their enemies, nor had he taught that a life for a life was compensation enough. For every Apache killed, many enemy lives were required. The herd boy had been cousin to High Yellow Cloud, and as the boy had no other adult male relations, High Yellow Cloud would lead the raid. Most of the younger warriors declared they would go, while the older warriors elected to stay behind and guard the village.