Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Daniella’s eyes misted over. He was a beautiful boy, her baby brother. Her arms ached to cuddle him close. She wondered if she’d ever see him again.

  Now that his black sheep sister was leaving, Ramón’s life could get back to normal. “Good-bye, little brother,” she whispered. Her farewell wave went unreturned.

  With a dull pain in her chest, Daniella squared her shoulders and faced the trail ahead. As Tucker would say, Git on with it, girlie.

  Chapter Four

  “Bein’ followed.”

  “I noticed,” Daniella said with a frown. She’d spotted Tomás, Pecos, and Manuel, three of her father’s vaqueros, shortly after leaving the house. She’d hoped they would have gone back by now. Why were they following? What would they do when they saw her cutting out the cattle she meant to take with her? Maybe they would turn back before she reached the south range.

  They didn’t. The south range spread out before her, the cattle grazing along the east edge near the river. Before Daniella could decide what to do, the three riders spurred their mounts and swung off across the range. A few minutes later they came thundering back over the new spring grass herding two dozen head of cattle. They fell in behind Daniella and Tucker, and Tomás rode forward.

  “Tu padre, he say we ride with you to El Valle de Esperanza. See you get there safe. Los ganados,” he added, nodding toward the trailing cattle, “they are for you.”

  Daniella frowned, then shrugged. Maybe her father had a conscience after all. Maybe the men and the cattle were his way of salving it. She wouldn’t mind a few extra guns along.

  They nooned beside a shallow, rocky stream nestled between two low hills. A huge fist of sandstone thrust from the ground and provided a backdrop for the temporary campsite, with a single narrowleaf cottonwood offering scant protection from the glaring sun. Daniella had been awake all night for more nights than she cared to remember. She sat down against the rock, tugged her hat down tight, and fell asleep.

  It seemed like only a minute later when Tucker prodded her awake. He handed her a cold biscuit and a cup of hot coffee.

  The coffee revived her. She was ready to go. The sooner she got to her new home, the better. But the horses needed a rest, especially Butch and Ben, the draft horses, so she didn’t urge the men to hurry.

  She leaned against the rock, forcing herself to relax, while the men finished their coffee and joked softly among themselves.

  Across the stream, a crow pecked at the remains of a dead lizard and paid the humans no mind. Then it squawked, and with a loud snap of wings, took off. An instant later, a flock of black-throated sparrows on the hillside flapped into the air.

  Daniella pushed away from the rock and cocked her head.

  Around her, the men stiffened. Had the crow spooked the sparrows, or had something else spooked them all?

  Manuel muttered a curse in Spanish, one she’d never quite been able to translate and thought she was better off not understanding.

  She followed his gaze as all four men rose to their feet. Her heart leapt to her throat. On the crest of the hill across the stream sat five mounted Apaches, three with lances held ready, two with rifles.

  In the sudden stillness, a cow bawled to her calf. As if on signal, the Mexicans grabbed their guns.

  Tucker dove behind a rock.

  The Apaches raced down the hill shrieking their blood-curdling war cry.

  The cry froze Daniella where she stood. The pounding of her heart was so loud it drowned out the thunder of hooves, the shots, the shouts. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could only remember another day, another group of Apaches on the attack.

  A shot from one of the warriors whizzed past her shoulder. She jerked out of her trance. In an instant, she whipped the hat from her head and screamed in Apache, “Duuda’ duuda’ !Bíni’!” No, no! Stop!

  The first Apache at the creek jerked back on his reins so hard his mustang reared and danced on hind legs.

  “Hold your fire,” Tucker called to the Mexicans from where he crouched. “Stop your shootin’, damn ya! The girl can get us outa this. Let her handle it.”

  The other Apaches joined the first one at the creek, ready to attack at any second, but holding off for now. All eyes centered on Daniella. The first Apache, the oldest of the group, signaled the others to wait while he crossed the stream.

  Terror gripped Daniella as the warrior rode slowly toward her. Straight, black hair fell down his back and across his bare, coppery shoulders. He was naked except for a breech cloth and high, curled-toe moccasins that reached his knees. Moccasins just like the ones she had on.

  Daniella clenched her teeth and fists to keep from shaking. The warrior’s fathomless black eyes raked her from head to toe and settled on the white streak in her hair. Her scalp tingled.

  He stopped a few feet away. The smell of sweaty horse and unwashed man nearly overwhelmed her. She stared straight into his eyes, refusing to allow her gaze to waver. Gradually, the hostility in his eyes faded.

  But the fear in her soul didn’t. She didn’t know this man, nor any of his companions. They weren’t from Cochise’s band. Did they know who she was? Had word spread about Woman of Magic to other bands? If they knew she was Cochise’s adopted daughter, did they care?

  Images from another time and another Apache attack tore through her mind, dashing themselves against the barrier she’d erected, trying to free themselves to wreak havoc on her sanity. With determination, she shored up the crumbling mental wall and forced the memories back into their dark prison. Her mind focused instead on the sweat trickling down between her breasts and the fly buzzing around her head.

  When the warrior snapped back on his reins, causing his horse to rear and paw the sky, Daniella jerked as if shot. With a shrill, ear-splitting cry, the Apache spun his mount around on its hind legs and splashed back across the stream. Amid whoops and cries of “Aiyee! Yip yip!” the Apaches thundered back over the hill in a swirl of dust.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Daniella collapsed to her knees. Tucker was beside her at once, patting her shoulder with a hard, wrinkled hand. “Ya done good, girlie,” he said hoarsely. “Real good.”

  Daniella squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath, trying to escape the sight behind her trembling lids. The sight of the Apaches who’d just ridden away, and those others, weeks ago, who hadn’t ridden away—at least, not without her.

  She sniffed back the threatening tears and tossed her head in defiance. I survived that, and I can by God survive this. She turned around, then stiffened.

  The three vaqueros stood side by side staring at her, mouths gaping. “Madre de Dios,” Pecos whispered. “If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not believe it.”

  “I did see it,” Tomás claimed, “and I still don’t believe it.”

  “El señor, he is not going to believe it either.”

  The urge to run and hide was strong, but Daniella fought it.

  “It was her hair,” Pecos said. “Something about the streak in her hair made them back off.”

  Daniella gritted her teeth and strode to her horse. “Mount up,” she ordered. “We’re wasting time.” With her hair tucked back up inside her hat, she swung into the saddle and rode out.

  Several hours later the easy rhythm of the mare had nearly put Daniella to sleep. When Fort Buchanan came into view, she jerked herself awake. She would need her wits about her for this.

  It wasn’t much to look at, as far as forts went, but it was the closest military establishment and supply center around. Unlike other forts she’d seen, Fort Buchanan had no protective wall surrounding it. It consisted of a parade ground, which to her knowledge had never witnessed anything resembling a parade, bordered on three sides by adobe buildings and corrals. Adobe was the standard building material in these parts; even the corral fences were made of it.

  Daniella had been here several times in the past with her father when he came to trade at the post. She steeled herself, hoping she w
ouldn’t see any familiar faces. The last thing she wanted right now was to run into anyone she knew. As Tucker drew in on the reins to halt the wagon in front of the trading post, she helped herd the cattle into the corral. Afterwards, she headed toward Tucker and the sutler’s store.

  As Daniella dismounted beside the store, Blaze shook her head and knocked Daniella’s hat off. Long black and white curls tumbled free. The soldiers, in various stages of work, stopped what they were doing and stared in awe, first at the sight of a girl dressed in breeches, but mostly at the band of white hair flashing in the sun.

  “Lieutenant Lord, come quick! You gotta see this!”

  Daniella braced herself against the curious, rude stares, but no one made a move toward her. She led her horse to the water trough and tried to ignore the soldiers.

  “That’s her! The one the Apaches call ‘Woman of Magic.’ I heard about her from one of the scouts. Nobody else could have hair like that, with a horse to match.”

  Daniella stood rooted to the spot. She was grateful that band of Apaches earlier had heard of her, but she could have done without the notoriety at the fort.

  “You men! Get back to your duties!” a lieutenant ordered. When the men had scattered to their various posts, he turned toward Daniella. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. His smile did not quite reach his eyes. “I’m Lieutenant Lord. May I be of service?”

  “Good afternoon, Lieutenant.” She didn’t like the way his gaze traveled over her body, as if he could see through her clothes. She wished she had disregarded the heat and worn her poncho.

  “Are you from around here?” Lord asked. His eyes kept straying from her face to her hair.

  “Yes, I am.” She read the question, the expectation in his eyes. He was waiting for her to introduce herself. If he wanted to know who she was, he’d have to come out and ask.

  “Forgive by boldness, ma’am, but I thought I knew everyone in this area, yet I have no recollection of ever having met you, and I doubt that’s something I would have forgotten.” He looked at her expectantly.

  “You are quite right, Lieutenant—we’ve never met.” He was practically glowering at her now, and she had to struggle to keep from laughing. Deciding she had teased him enough, she quickly grew tired of the game. “I’m Daniella Blackwood.”

  “Miss Blackwood, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled with satisfaction, then frowned. “Pardon me, but, we heard you were taken captive by Apaches.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant, that’s true.” She tried to keep her face and voice expressionless, but her heart pounded in her chest. Would he scorn her as her father had done?

  “I wonder, Miss Blackwood, if you could take a moment of your time to come inside and answer a few questions.”

  He asked politely enough, but she didn’t feel comfortable with the look in his eyes. “What kind of questions, Lieutenant?” She made no move to cross the dusty parade ground toward the building he indicated.

  “I was wondering if you could perhaps aid us in locating Cochise’s stronghold. We’ve been hunting him in the hills since he escaped from Apache Pass back in February.”

  “Ah, yes. Apache Pass,” she said. “That was when one of your officers invited Cochise in, then arrested him for stealing cattle from a ranch two hundred miles away. Just why is it the Army believes Cochise would go that far from his usual territory to steal a few cattle, when cattle are scattered all over the area? Did it ever occur to anyone it could have been someone else?”

  Even though his own warriors had nearly killed her, she owed Cochise her life. She couldn’t betray him; he was the closest thing to a father she had now, since her own had rejected her. Besides, she knew Cochise was innocent, at least of the charges the Army had made, and there was something about this lieutenant she just didn’t like.

  “It was Apaches, all right,” he said. “There was never any doubt about that. Several people saw them.”

  “Apaches. So that means it was Cochise? Do you have any idea how many different bands of Apaches live in this territory? It could have been the Membrenos, the Coyoteros, the Aravaipas, the Pinaleros, or anyone.”

  “If Cochise is so innocent, why did he run?” Lord asked with a smirk.

  “What would you do if you walked in under a flag of truce and someone slapped a pair of iron shackles on your wrists? Stand around calmly and chat about the weather?”

  Lord’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “We aren’t talking about me, Miss Blackwood. We’re talking about Cochise—a ruthless killer. If what I’ve heard about you is true, I’d think you’d be eager to see him caught and punished. All you have to do is tell us where he is.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you. It’s true I was at his camp, but I have absolutely no idea how to find the place again. I’m sorry.”

  Daniella wasn’t used to telling such bald lies. She knew she could find the stronghold again, and she certainly wasn’t sorry at all to deny her help. But lying seemed easier than trying to explain why she would never help the Army find Cochise.

  According to most people’s standards, Lord was right—she should hate the Apaches. But she didn’t. In the first place, she hadn’t been attacked by all Apaches, only by a few Chiricahua. Those few she did hate, with all her being. But she found it impossible to hate Cochise or his entire band because of what a handful of drunken warriors did to her.

  She’d been taught all her life that Apaches were nasty, dirty murderers, and were to be hated with a vengeance. But once she’d been accepted by them, she’d been confronted with many warm and caring people. At first she’d feared and hated them all, but not for long. It just wasn’t in her to condemn an entire race of people for the crimes of a few.

  Daniella knew she wasn’t the only white woman who’d been captured. But she was one of the very few who had survived, and to her knowledge, she was the only one to go free.

  These attacks were all part of the Apaches’ war against the whites. She abhorred the fact that they made war on women and children. But the war itself—how could she blame them for fighting for their freedom and their land? Land that had belonged to them for centuries?

  “Are you certain, Miss Blackwood?” Lord asked impatiently. A muscle in his jaw ticked.

  Daniella bristled at his tone. Even if she hated Cochise, she wouldn’t talk. She wouldn’t turn her worst enemy over to this toad! “Yes, Lieutenant, I’m certain. I’d help you if I could, but I can’t.” She was tired of trying to remain pleasant. A sound in the background caught her attention. “Excuse me, but do I hear sheep?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid you do,” he answered after a short hesitation. “I don’t mean to be a bore about this, but you’re obviously the one the Apaches call ‘Woman of Magic.’ Could it be you’re just trying to protect Cochise, Miss Blackwood?”

  The red, white and blue flag snapped on top of its pole in the stiff afternoon breeze, echoing Daniella’s agitation.

  “You’re quite correct, Lieutenant. You are becoming a bore. I repeat—I have nothing to tell you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have supplies to purchase.” Daniella spun on her heel and stormed off toward Tucker, who had been watching the whole episode from the sutler’s doorway.

  They purchased flour, sugar, salt, coffee, ammunition, and everything else they felt they might need to see them through the next several months.

  “I understand you have some sheep here,” Daniella commented with a polite smile, trying to hide her excitement.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid we do. If we don’t find someone to take them off our hands soon, we’re going to be eating lamb chops around this place for the rest of the year. And none of us are that fond of lamb chops.” Major Caldwell, who ran the trading post, spat in disgust.

  “How much do you want for them?” she asked eagerly. Tucker groaned and rolled his eyes.

  The price the major quoted was high. Undaunted, Daniella said she’d take them. She got a grin out of Tucker when she charged all th
eir purchases, including the sheep, to her father.

  Major Caldwell led them to a brush corral behind his building to inspect the sheep, and Daniella agreed they were a good looking lot, all two dozen of them. She smirked at the makeshift brush enclosure. The sheep were eating their fence.

  “Who is that?” she asked, indicating a man in civilian clothes lounging in the shadows, fondling a dog. Something about the picture he and his dog made tugged at her.

  “That’s Simon. He was left here with the sheep…him and that dog. Simon doesn’t say much. He’s not exactly all there, if you know what I mean, Miss.”

  “What do you mean, he was left here?” she asked.

  “About a month ago somebody brought these sheep in, those two mules,” he said, pointing to the back of the brush corral, “and Simon and his dog. This was all that was left from a small ranch somewhere over near Tubac after an Apache raid. He’s been taking care of the sheep ever since he was brought in.”

  “But if they’re his sheep, why am I buying them from you?”

  “Didn’t say they were his sheep. He just takes care of them, that’s all.”

  Daniella walked toward Simon. The closer she got, the bigger he looked. He stood well over six feet, had shoulders as broad as a mountain, and not one ounce of flab or fat apparent. He looked just about as movable as a mountain, too.

  When she got a good look at his face she was too surprised to offer him more than a slight nod. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen. His big brown eyes reminded her of a doe’s eyes, gentle and sad, but his smile was open and friendly.

  She wrinkled her nose and bit back a grin. If the major hadn’t told her this boy took care of the sheep, she’d have known anyway, by the smell of him.

  His open, friendly looks called to something inside her.

  “Hello, Simon. My name’s Daniella. I understand you’ve been taking care of these sheep. Is that right?”

  He nodded yes to her question, but didn’t speak.