It hurt. Something within her hurt so badly she wasn’t sure she could withstand the pain. She looked down at her hands holding the reins. After a long, hard moment, she was able to nod.
“When I get through it,” she whispered. Blaze lifted her chin and looked straight into Ring’s steady gaze. She disregarded the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “When I get through it,” she repeated, “you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“I’ll look forward to that, then.” Ring lifted a hand in a kind of salute, and nodded briefly in Bane’s direction. He wheeled his mare and galloped off after the retreating herd.
Silence closed around them. Tiny white butterflies flitted among even smaller wildflowers hidden in the grass. The breeze smelled faintly of horse dung and dry earth, and the distant, pungent perfume of mountain pines. With nimble fingers, Blaze swiftly plaited her hair into a single braid.
“I guess it’s time to ride.”
Bane regarded Blaze without reply. Then he turned, squinted slightly, and studied the horizons.
“The herd will go north and east,” he said at last. “That is the best route over the mountains to the cowboy’s destination. We will go straight to the north.”
The black mare danced, sensing her rider’s readiness to set out. Lonesome stood patiently, as always. Blaze picked up her reins to signal her own readiness, but still Bane made no move. He continued to gaze into the distance. After awhile, Blaze realized the herd was almost out of sight.
Bane looked over at her, and Blaze thought she saw a subtle softening of his features. To her surprise, he reached over and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. He straightened again in his saddle.
“Now, it is time to ride.” He set off at once at a lope.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BY DAY’S END THEY HAD REACHED THE PONDEROSA-pine-clad slopes of the northern Arizona mountains. Shadows were deep beneath the towering trees, and the sound of their horses’ hooves was muffled by the thick carpet of fallen needles on the forest floor. Startled squirrels raced up tree trunks, tails twitching. A jay scolded them for their trespass and, as the moon rose, they heard the howl of a wolf, and the answer of his mate.
Blaze wondered if Bane had plans to stop for the night. They had halted only once during the long day, to water the horses at a thin stream. They had chewed on some of the dried meat he kept in his pack to keep themselves going, but Blaze wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to last. It never occurred to her to ask. She neither wished to disturb the comfortable silence between them, nor appear to question Bane in any way. Her trust in him was implicit. It disturbed her only a little, and only because she thought it probably should. She had, after all, entrusted her life to, and joined her destiny with, a near-total stranger.
It didn’t matter. He had saved her life, and more than once probably. He had lain with her to give her life and warmth, not take her honor. He had provided for her, guided her, had even comforted her in his way. Still, none of those things mattered, Blaze realized. She would have trusted him anyway. There was simply something within the man, something at his core, that she connected with. And it had nothing to do with the blood quests they shared.
The howling of wolves had become the chorus of the night. An owl swooped suddenly from the branches of a pine and disappeared into the darkness to the eerie, whistling flap of wings. The moon was a bright silver crescent amid its attendant stars. Blaze’s eyelids fluttered closed.
She awoke to find herself slipping from the saddle into Bane’s arms. He set her gently on her feet, and looked into her eyes to make sure she was awake. Then he released her and walked away. To her puzzlement, he began to dig in the soft earth with the wicked-looking blade of the knife he wore at his waist. She noticed, once her senses had fully returned, that he worked at the base of a pine that bore a subtle slash mark.
In a few minutes, Bane pulled a large, irregular bundle from the trench he had dug in the earth. It appeared to be buffalo hide. He unwrapped it and spread the contents before him. Blaze was amazed.
There was more jerky; “Venison, buffalo,” Bane informed her. There was also pemmican and an assortment of dried berries, ammunition, three canteens of water, and a change of clothes, beaded deerskin similar to what Bane wore now. He sat back on his haunches and gestured.
“Eat,” he said simply. “It is far to the next banquet I have laid by.”
Blaze knelt at his side, an incredulous smile trying to form on her lips. Bane looked down on her, and although his lips did not curve into a response, she thought she saw a twinkle in his eye. It might have only been a sliver of moon glow, but it sent a happy warmth through her nonetheless.
The night grew cold on the mountain, and Bane had laid no fire. Blaze took a second flannel shirt from her pack and started to put it on.
“This buffalo surrendered his life to keep me from starving. And to keep you from freezing.” Bane removed all the items from the hide and laid it out, hair side up, directly under the ponderosa. “Sit, and be warmed.”
Blaze did as she had been bidden. She gratefully accepted the blanket he put around her shoulders. He sat across from her and went to work honing his knife on a whetstone. She listened to the rasping sound of it for several long minutes. “Bane?”
He looked up for the fraction of a second, spat on the stone to aid his task, and returned to it. In the thin moonlight, the crown of his head shone blue-black.
“Who was Apache, Bane?” Blaze persisted. “Your mother?”
He looked up again. “Does it matter?” “Not at all.”
He retuned to his chore. “My mother,” he replied shortly.
“Was she beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“She raised you, didn’t she?”
“My clan, my village, raised me, as it is with all Indian children.”
“But, I mean, you lived with her?” “We shared a tipi, yes.”
Silence fell again. Some kind of small animal chattered nearby. Bane put away his stone, cleaned his blade, and sheathed it. He came to where she sat on the buffalo hide, and hunkered down before her.
“I understand what you wish to know,” he said. “So, I will tell you.”
“Bane, you don’t have—”
“No, it’s right that you know. I have knowledge of what was done to your people. I understand why you seek the blood of the murderers. You should know why I seek the blood of my father.”
It felt as if a chill hand had been laid upon her heart. Blaze shivered and pulled the blanket closed at her throat.
“Your … your father?”
“The one who put the seed in my mother’s womb. Yes.” The tic jumped under his eye. “The white man who took what was not his. The abomination who raped and savaged the woman who was pledged to another, then left her for dead. The one who stole her future, her mind, her life, and left her only with a quickened belly. Yes. My father.”
Blaze was too stunned to speak. She looked into Bane’s eyes and was suddenly, strangely, and horribly reminded of the man who had taken the lives of so many of her people, and who had murdered her brother. Memory and loss were like talons closing about her chest. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, and the pain was nearly unendurable. Blaze reached out and grasped Bane’s hands.
“They will die,” she whispered hoarsely. “All of them. The butchers of my village. The man who hanged my brother. Your father. All of them.”
Bane let her hold his hands. Then, slowly, his fingers curled around hers. They held on to each other thus for a long, long time.
Sometime during the night Blaze awakened without knowing why. The night had grown quiet. All she could hear was the soft sound of Bane breathing as he slept beside her. She was warm atop the hide, two blankets covering them both, the heat of the man at her side seeming to infuse her entire body.
It was unreal, all that had happened, the many twists of fate that had brought her to this moment. Bane himself. Blaze felt as if she needed to anchor herself, rea
ch out and touch something solid to know that she dwelt in the world of reality, and not within a dream. She stretched a hand outside the blankets.
The pine needles felt cool and slightly damp from the rich, shaded earth upon which they lay. She moved her fingers and encountered a pinecone. Real things, the life of the forest. Not a dream.
An owl hooted, and Blaze felt relieved. She rolled on her side, the better to gaze on Bane’s profile.
It was easy to see his Indian heritage. In profile his features were sharp and well defined. She longed to reach out and touch his shining hair, but was afraid to wake him.
In the end, she laid her head, ever so gently, on his shoulder, and rested her fingers on his chest. He stirred slightly, but Blaze did not think she had awakened him. Then she felt the weight and warmth of his hand cover hers.
She slept almost at once.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BLAZE DIDN’T THINK SHE HAD EVER FELT SO SELF-conscious or out of place. The town was nothing to boast of, so why did the people seem to think so highly of themselves … and look down their noses at the newcomers? Or is there something really wrong with me? Blaze wondered miserably. She glanced over at Bane, but he appeared not to notice. He stared straight ahead and guided his mare down the center of the street.
“Bane,” she hissed in an undertone, leaning from her saddle in his direction. “Is there something wrong with—?”
“No,” he replied sharply, with a shake of his head. His eyes remained to the front. “There is nothing wrong with either of us. Except that you are Mexican. And I am a half breed.”
“Oh.” Blaze thought about what Bane had said, and realized the awful truth of it immediately.
In Phoenix she had been accepted because of Ring. Everyone knew him, and had known his mother. Because he was one of them, they accepted who he himself accepted. She had never even thought about it.
But Bane was right. They were non-white in a white man’s world. Funny, she hadn’t thought of it before. But neither had she thought about Bane being Apache. The Apache were traditional enemies of her people. But Bane was not her enemy. She had not judged him by his race, but by his qualities as a man. Why did whites not judge others the same way?
“Is there anything you need?” Bane asked suddenly.
Blaze noticed they were passing a general store. She gave it some thought for a moment, then shook her head. She had everything she needed. A comb, a bar of soap, and three changes of clothes since Bane had given her the buckskins he had hidden in the Arizona mountains with the stores. She smiled at the memory.
Following that first night on the mountain, she had awakened to find herself completely wound in Bane’s embrace. She had wished she might remain that way forever, and closed her eyes. She tried to remain very still so she would not wake him, and could lie there inhaling the intoxicating male scent of him for as long as possible.
But Bane was as alert to the coming of the sun as a shift in the wind. As the sky had lightened, his eyes opened and he almost seemed to sniff the air. Blaze feigned sleep and, with sinking heart, felt him disentangle himself from her arms, rise, and stride off into the trees.
By the time he returned, Blaze managed to bring some order to her hair and had scrubbed her hands and face and teeth using a bit of water from one of the canteens. She shivered, however, in the crisp morning air. Bane noticed.
“Here. Wear these. They are more suitable on the trail we take.”
He had handed her the buckskins. She ducked behind a tree to put them on. The first real smile she had ever seen on Bane’s face appeared when she stepped back into his sight.
“What’s so funny?” she had demanded, hands on the swell of her hips.
Bane simply shook his head, drew his knife, and knelt in front of her.
Bane was at least six inches taller than Blaze. The legs of the breeches extended a good six inches beyond her feet. He cut them to the right length, then turned his attention to the sleeves. They, too, hung below her hands several inches. Blaze had a fair idea how silly she looked, and a giggle erupted from her throat.
Bane straightened and looked directly into her eyes. “Indeed, you are a sight to make a man smile.”
He had said it with all seriousness, no trace of humor. Blaze felt the smile slip from her lips as her heart hammered a new rhythm.
Bane had been correct. The deerskin was warmer and more comfortable than her store-bought clothes. Neither was she too hot when the sun rose to midday, as she had feared. Even better, she like the fact that she looked like she belonged with Bane.
They had spent three days and three nights going through Arizona. On the fourth morning he had led her into a land beyond wonder, beyond imagination.
The mountains, pine trees, grassy slopes, and cool nights were behind them. Once again they were in desert-like country. But not any desert she had even dreamed could exist.
The valley floor was dotted with strange and fantastical rock formations. Some resembled mutated mushrooms. Others were like church spires pointing into the sky. Mesas rose and stretched into the distance, their sides striated with the colors of the rainbow. Blaze was in awe.
All day they had ridden through the wonderland. They saw few whites, and fewer Indians. The ones they did see, Bane informed her, belonged to the Ute tribe. The only animals they saw were distant herds of antelope and a few rabbits.
That night when they camped, Bane made a fire and roasted two fat rabbits he had shot. The buffalo hide had been left on the mountain with the remainder of the stores, but they had their blankets. They lay side by side, as usual, companions under the moon as well as the sun. But it felt different somehow. Blaze turned on her side and did something she had never done before when Bane was awake. Lightly, she placed her hand on his chest. He did not react by so much as the twitch of a single muscle.
“Bane, where are we headed? Exactly, I mean.”
“We have no destination. We are hunters.”
“But … how do we know where to search for our prey?”
Unless she had placed her hand on his chest, Blaze would never have known of Bane’s sigh.
“I do not know,” he admitted at length. “I know only as you do … that the animal I hunt is no longer in the southern deserts. He must have gone north, so we do also.”
Blaze thought for a moment. Then: “‘North’ covers a big area.”
There was a half moon in the sky. Although they lay beneath the thick-leafed branches of a gnarly scrub oak, there was enough light to see by. Blaze saw the corners of his mouth move upward ever so slightly.
“Yes. ‘North’ is a very big area,” Bane agreed.
“So, you must have a plan. I know you.” Blaze instantly regretted her words. Though the two lay side by side in the dark, it seemed too familiar a thing to say to a man like Bane. He did not, however, react as she had feared.
“You are observant for one born without Indian blood. Yes, I have a plan.”
“Would you share it?”
“Why not, when we share all else?” To Blaze’s surprise, Bane turned on his side, facing her. He supported himself on one arm, a hand under one cheek. His face was mere inches from her own.
“In the summer,” he continued, “the Sioux nations meet at a place called Fort Laramie. They trade goods. And rumor. My … ‘father’ … has long preyed on my brothers, in one way or another. It is likely they will have word of him. It is likely also they will know of the butchers who take Mexican scalps, and call them Indian, to sell to the government.”
An idea formed in Blaze’s mind; a small spark of knowing fed the dry tinder of further knowledge. Its flame brightened a dark corner of her mind.
“Fort Laramie,” she repeated, almost dreamily. “That’s in the central plains, isn’t it?”
Bane nodded slowly.
“It’s to the north. And west.”
Bane remained still.
“Did you … did you bring me this way to avoid traveling with Ring? Or to
show me this amazing place?”
“I fear no man. I give you the only gift I have within my power to give.”
Blaze’s heart seemed to twist over and around itself inside her chest. She didn’t know what to say. Then realized there was only one thing to say.
“Thank you,” Blaze whispered.
Blaze sighed and hugged the memory tightly to her heart. It would sustain her during times like these.
The town, crouched at the foot of the great mountain range they had to cross, was little more than a few storefronts on a main street. Blaze looked back at the general store as they passed.
There really were a couple of things she would have liked to have. A bit of candy, for instance. She had, unfortunately, discovered she had a sweet tooth during her time with Ring.
But she and Bane had scarcely enough money left between them to buy a sack of flour, much less indulge in sweets. Which made her wonder why he had tied his mare to the hitching post in front of the local saloon.
“Bane?”
“I want information only. Wait for me.”
He disappeared inside the swinging doors. It took two seconds for Blaze to decide waiting was a bad idea.
Only the bartender and an old man inhabited the bar at this time of day. They gazed at Bane curiously when he entered. Then the saloon keeper’s brow lowered and his eyes narrowed.
“We ain’t got nothin’ you want, Injun,” he growled.
“That’s right. You don’t. Unless you’ve seen a certain stranger lately.”
“I seen nothin’. Get out.”
Blaze had watched over the top of the doors. She pushed inside.
“What’s she?” the bartender gestured with his chin. “Another half breed?”
It happened so fast Blaze was barely aware of doing it. One moment her hands were hanging loosely at her sides; the next they held pistols that were pointed at the bartender’s head.
The old man uttered a short, sharp sound that might have been a laugh. The saloon keeper slowly raised his hands.
Blaze of Lightning Roar of Thunder Page 11
