Spellbound Trilogy: The Wind Casts No Shadow, Heart of the Jaguar, Shadows in the Mirror

by Jeanne Rose

  "Lieutenant Samuel Strong, U.S. Cavalry, at your service, Ma'am."

  "He just thought he could get me to go home," Louisa said. "Instead I got him lost."

  "I would have found our way given the chance," Strong protested.

  The young officer stayed where he was, staring at Louisa with a familiar hunger lighting his eyes. And Frances didn't know whether to thank him for trying to protect the girl...or to have Chaco horsewhip him. From the way they were both acting, something had gone on between them.

  "We're taking you back to Santa Fe, Louisa," Chaco told her.

  "I can't go back."

  "A sixteen year old girl has no business wandering out on her own." Frances kept her eyes focused on the lieutenant. Sure enough, his tan faded and his expression revealed his surprise at Louisa's tender age.

  "They think I killed those men!" the girl protested. "If I go back, they'll hang me!"

  "No one's going to hang you," Chaco promised. "I'll see to that by finding the real murderer."

  "In the meantime, I'll ask Adolpho to protect you," Frances added. "None of those cowards will argue with his knives."

  She was infinitely relieved when Louisa swallowed and nodded her agreement.

  AS SOON AS DEFIANT and the chestnut were saddled, they set off for home, Chaco in the lead, Louisa riding close to Frances, Sam trailing behind.

  They stopped a few times to rest the horses and fill their stomachs, but Louisa avoided Sam all the way back to Santa Fe. Frances kept looking at her like she was wondering exactly how close they had come out on the trail. To Louisa's shame, she'd gone against everything she'd told the other woman about how she'd act with a man. After all her fine words, she'd foolishly lost herself in Sam's embrace. Now he had to think she was just like Ma and the girls. Louisa couldn't stand it.

  And she worried about Ma's reaction when she learned what happened.

  Thankfully, when they rode into Santa Fe and arrived at the Blue Sky just after sunset, all her mother seemed to be concerned about was getting her back in one piece.

  "My baby, don't ever scare me like that again!" Belle sobbed, pulling Louisa to her ample bosom in the placita.

  Feeling like a kid who wasn't too bright, Louisa hugged her back. "I won't, Ma, I promise."

  "Frances and Chaco, I don't know how to thank you."

  Belle's girls poured out of the building and gathered round, all talking at once. Mother and daughter hugged one another and sobbed on each other's shoulders. Frances let Chaco stable their horses while she stuck around, probably to see if there was anything else she could do.

  Louisa sneaked a peak at Sam, wishing he would say something, anything, to reassure her.

  Silently watching their reunion from the back of his horse, as if he were waiting for her to make the first move, Lieutenant Samuel Strong finally turned the chestnut toward Fort Marcy and never looked back.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  FRANCES DIDN'T WANT HIM. That's the only conclusion Chaco could reach after their talk out in the desert. He didn't understand it. She'd made love to him so passionately...though if she had any real feelings for him, she hadn't voiced them. What had he expected from a woman who yearned for civilization, who'd practically pushed him out of his job at the casino and onto a stranger's land?

  Well, he wasn't about to waste any time dragging his boots. He'd taken a day to catch his breath and to make certain no lynch mob was roaming the town. And now he was about to take Frances up on her offer for him to leave.

  He'd just thrown his saddle bags on the bed and was about to pack them when she stopped in the doorway to watch.

  "So you'll be gone, what? Two, maybe three days?"

  Chaco hardened himself against the sight of her. "Sounds about right." He would be on his way to the de Arguello spread in no time. Rather than quitting outright, he'd taken a few days off. "Just enough time to get a lay of the land." And of the man who would be his father. And if he didn't cotton to what he learned, he could come back whether Frances liked it or not. "How's Louisa?"

  "Still scared," she said, drawing closer. "Though Adolpho is doing his best to entertain her with tales of his youth in Mexico."

  In reality, Chaco had yet another purpose for wanting to spend some time on the de Arguello spread. He'd promised to find the real murderer and doubted he could do so by normal means. But he hadn't yet tried the Apache way. That took time and a quiet place. No interruptions. If he truly had the makings of a di-yin, even as untrained as he was, perhaps he could seek a vision that would reveal the skinwalker's identity.

  For a while, he'd almost been convinced Magdalena had been to blame, but her being a bruja didn't mean she had turned her knowledge to the dark side.

  He thought about the other women he knew.

  "I wonder if Minna Tucker's accusing Louisa isn't the pot calling the kettle black," he said, shoving a change of clothing into the worn leather pouch.

  "You think the Tucker woman is capable of killing these young men?"

  "Anyone is capable of killing...possibly with a few exceptions," he said, giving her a steady stare. He had to hold himself back from grabbing her, throwing her down on the bed and trying to change her mind about her wanting him to go. "That Bible-thumper's crazy as a loon. And from what I hear tell, she's a mean drunk when she gets into her patent medicine."

  "But the skinwalker's been after you. Does Minna Tucker have something against you?"

  "Maybe she thinks I shot down her husband." He added his razor and a cake of soap to the clothes. He could smell the lingering fragrance that clung to Frances from her bath last evening, one he'd kept himself from interrupting. "Tucker was a railroad man who was killed by some gunfighter down south."

  "But not you?"

  Giving her a disgusted frown, Chaco wondered if Frances blamed him for every unnatural death in the territory. "No, Frances, not me."

  Then there was Belle herself, he thought, his mind back on the diablera – though he didn't say so since the two women were friends. Frances had told him about Belle's knifing her first husband and ending up in an asylum. That proved she was capable of dangerous behavior. Frances had also told him Louisa's father had been killed by a posse. He'd been a deputy in Texas about that time and had killed a few Comanches himself in the line of duty. Belle's husband? He didn't know.

  "Did you ever think about Ynez?" Frances asked as he strapped the saddlebags shut. "I know she's your father's wife, but – "

  "I've given her some thought."

  Frances nodded in approval. "There's something about her that's odd, certainly not in keeping with the modest Spanish wife she pretends to be. And the way she looked at you at the estancia..." She flushed. "You said the diablera would wear two faces. I've seen both of hers."

  "I'll keep that in mind," Chaco promised, wondering if she could possibly be jealous of Ynez's interest in him. Wishful thinking.

  Though he, too, was wary of Ynez. He suspected that while his father's wife was willing to sacrifice herself to him, it wasn't because she liked him. No doubt she'd figured on being a rich widow someday until he'd showed. Given that de Arguello so desperately wanted an heir, even an illegitimate one, that made problems for Ynez and she no doubt was trying to make the best of the situation. He still couldn't believe the arrogance that made her think she could control him with her body.

  Shouldering his saddlebags, he said, "I'd best get started."

  Frances backed off, her expression strange. Chaco would swear she was covering some emotion she didn't want him to see. "You'd best," she said in a small voice.

  He couldn't help himself. He couldn't brush by her as if she was nothing to him. Pride be damned. He didn't know how much longer he'd be around the casino...or she'd be in Santa Fe.

  Who was to say she might not pack her bags and head back to her precious Boston before he even returned?

  Wrapping his free arm around her waist, Chaco swept Frances into his chest. He stared down into the face of the woman he lov
ed more than life itself. Her eyes widened, her lips parted, her breath quickened. He quickened, too. Within seconds, before his mouth sank over hers, he was in pain. Physical. Heartfelt. He was a fool. But for a moment, he allowed it.

  He kissed her like there was no tomorrow for them...no doubt the truth.

  Then he set her aside. She blinked as if waking from a dream. He thought she might say something. Ask him not to go, maybe? But she pursed her lips together and moved back to let him pass.

  And Chaco strode by her without another word, wondering if she would really disappear from his life, as if taken from him by the unfeeling wind....

  DARK SHADOWS filled the room as she huddled in the chair before the fire, staring into the flames, sipping at the liquid that gave her added strength.

  Rested, she was fully recovered, more powerful than ever. A good thing since Chaco Jones was trying to fight her on her own territory. She ignored his puny attempts to summon her. To command her to enter his vision.

  More fool he, if she answered...

  Taking another draft of the magic potion, she thought long and hard about meeting him head on. She hungered for revenge, for the taste of his manhood and his throat. But something was stopping her. A recognition of a sentient power greater than hers hovering nearby. Instinct had kept her safe through all these years, and she was not about to spit in its face.

  Could Chaco be the source of this disturbance, after all? Surely not alone. Perhaps he had gained strength from the woman. Frances Gannon had power she did not even recognize in herself, a power that had assisted her when they met in the dream.

  That had to be the danger she sensed – the two of them together – what else could it be? Perhaps she could find a way to play one against the other.

  Just as her juices began flowing, a voice called her, stirring her from her liquid reverie. Setting down the cup, she hid her annoyance and went to answer.

  She would think on the solution to her problem later.

  FRANCES HAD NEVER been inside a jail of any kind before. The very idea of being locked up, caged like an animal, frightened and sickened her. And that's exactly what had happened to Lieutenant Samuel Strong for desertion of his duty, temporary and as noble as it had been. She felt obligated to visit the young man the morning after Chaco rode north.

  The sergeant left them alone in the narrow, dank room. The first thing she noticed was how disheveled and tired Strong looked as he stood at respectful attention.

  "Mrs. Gannon, I didn't expect to see you here."

  "You thought Louisa would come?" When he tightened his jaw rather than answer, she explained, "We're keeping a close watch on her in case anyone decides to pursue this murder accusation again."

  "That's ridiculous!" Breaking his rigid military stance, he grabbed the bars. "Louisa couldn't...I mean, Miss Janks wouldn't hurt a fly."

  She looked deep into guilt-ridden blue-green eyes. "You care about her?"

  Once more he withdrew, though not quite so far. "That would be inappropriate."

  "Because she's a half-breed?" Frances asked quietly.

  "I don't give a damn who her father was...pardon my language, Ma'am."

  "But your commanding officer does. I understand that's why you're behind bars." Or so Adolpho had passed on this gossip to her. A graduate of West Point, Strong had supposedly sunk beneath himself by taking up with a heathen. "For how long?"

  "Until my transfer to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, comes through."

  "You're leaving?"

  "I'm afraid I was given no choice." He drew himself up tight and looked straight over Frances's shoulder. "Would you be so kind as to do me a favor, Ma'am?"

  "What's that?"

  "If there's any...results...if Louisa finds herself in..." He swallowed hard rather than put his obvious concern into words. "Would you find a way to let me know?"

  "I'll let you know."

  Having learned what she'd come for, Frances left Fort Marcy on foot. Though he appeared even younger than he let on, Strong seemed to be in love with Louisa and willing to do right by her if only she'd let him.

  Louisa, on the other hand, pretended she barely knew Lieutenant Samuel Strong existed. She refused to talk about what happened during those two days in the wilderness. Not to Belle. Not to her. More odd yet, she spoke of being eager to return to school, had even agreed to finish her education under the tutelage of the Sisters of Loretto.

  Belle had been too happy to see what Frances had – that something was terribly wrong.

  Beneath Louisa's newly cooperative facade, Frances recognized a very unhappy girl. Young woman, she corrected herself. For Belle's daughter had lost something of her youth these past days, both physically and emotionally. And Frances suspected she'd also lost her heart.

  That made two of them, Frances thought, Chaco's image clear in her mind. She realized she was equally reluctant to discuss her own situation with anyone. Was love always so frightening? She felt as if the emotion addled her senses so that she didn't know what she wanted. One moment she was pushing Chaco toward a reconciliation with his past. The next, fearing that she was driving him away forever, she wanted to hang onto him for all she was worth.

  She was still ruminating over the unfairness of it all when she walked into the Blue Sky Palace and Luz jumped up from the sitting area to intercept her.

  "A message...I did not know where to find you . . ."

  "Luz, you're scaring me. What happened? Is it Louisa?"

  The Mexican shook her head vigorously. "Senor Chaco – he's been hurt!"

  Frances felt as if someone had punched her square in the chest. She gasped for air and the room's walls seemed to be moving unnaturally. The next thing she knew, the other woman had a steadying arm around her and was leading her to a sofa. Convinced her legs wouldn't hold her another second, Frances gratefully sank to the upholstered cushions. Out of nowhere came the image of the man she loved, a bloody gash where his throat should be.

  "He's not – ?"

  "Dead? No!"

  But Luz's expression didn't put Frances at ease. "How bad is it? What happened?"

  "Something spooked the cattle and Senor Chaco found himself on the ground beneath their hooves."

  "He was trampled?"

  Luz nodded. "His life is not in danger, but he is in great pain. A broken leg. And his shoulder. He asked for you."

  Frances popped back off the sofa. "Then I must go to him immediately."

  "There is no one here to take you. Adolpho -- "

  "Must stay with Louisa. I'll go alone. I remember the way."

  "I can run to the stable and have your horse ready by the time you change clothes."

  Frances hugged Luz. "Thank you." About to run upstairs, she asked, "Does Belle know?"

  Luz shrugged. "She is nowhere. No one has seen her since last night."

  "When she shows up, you'll tell her what happened and where I've gone?"

  "Yes, Senora Gannon."

  Halfway up the staircase, Frances paused. "Luz, one more thing. Please call me Frances."

  A fleeting smile crossed Luz's face as she made for the front door.

  Frances had no smiles in her. Not when Chaco was hurt, not before she could assure herself that he would be all right. That he had asked for her, was waiting for her, brought some measure of gladness to her heart as she quickly changed into her riding clothes. Geronimo's war pouch dangled from a leather thong at her throat. Though she hadn't thought deeply about her reasons for continuing to wear it, she hadn't been without the token since the old warrior had given it to her. She tucked the pouch inside her shirt, feeling an odd sort of security with it in place snugged between her breasts.

  After tugging on her boots, Frances raced to the stable where Luz was already waiting with the sorrel. As she started off, she heard the Mexican call after her, "May God go with you!"

  Mere weeks ago, she would have closed her mind to the blessing. But things had changed. She had changed. Living with a new openness in which she'
d heard varied versions both good and evil of peoples' beliefs, she'd been forced to face what she'd considered her own lack of faith.

  Geronimo had spoken of the one God and had said they were all his children. Isn't that what she'd always believed deep in her own heart? Within every person, no matter his or her background, there existed the capacity for good or evil and all the conditions in-between. Frances now knew that she didn't have to reject her own faith because it didn't correspond with her minister father's. She could choose her own path, find her own way.

  Content with that...she, too, hoped God would ride with her.

  The miles flew by, though she kept her mare alternating between a fast walk and a comfortable lope. Though she'd only been to the de Arguello spread once, the visit had been recent enough so she remembered her way. Assuming Chaco was at the estancia, she wouldn't have any trouble finding him.

  After riding for more than an hour, knowing she was close to rejoining him, Frances pushed her mount a bit. The path they followed wound through a series of small brush- and rock-covered hills. An odd feeling began plaguing her, as if something was really wrong. Something more than Chaco having sustained a few broken bones.

  The scent of danger filled the air.

  The mare smelled it, too. She ignored Frances's attempts to make her go faster. Foamy white lather gathered along the sorrel's neck and she kept throwing her head as if fighting going forward at all.

  "Easy, girl," Frances murmured more calmly than she was feeling.

  A sudden movement to the side gave her a start and she whipped around in the saddle to see a shaggy body lope from a nearby copse of juniper at the crest of a hill.

  A wolf?

  The mare screamed and bolted to the side, leaving Frances behind. Suspended in mid-air for a second, she saw the ground come up to meet her.

  The wolf was coming, too.

  Luckily some chamisa broke her fall and she scrambled to her feet uninjured, not for an instant taking her eyes off the creature that was larger than she imagined it should be. Its jaws dripped with white foam and a terrible snarl issued from its throat.