“You expect me to walk unarmed through a bunch of Apaches, the very ones who stole Matt and left me for dead? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“I’m not kidding! What good will your gun do you, except get you killed? There are over a hundred people in this band, Travis. You threaten any single one of them, and you’re a dead man. Nothing I say or do will be able to save you.”
Travis studied her face carefully, weighing her words in his mind. She was right—a gun wouldn’t do him much good. Better to do it her way. Either way, he stood a good chance of being dead this time tomorrow. “All right.” He gave her a curt nod. “Let’s go.”
Daniella returned his stare for a long moment, then answered his nod. She took off her hat and shook out her hair. The bright spring sun bounced off the white streak, flashing her identity to any who might be watching.
They rode their horses at a slow walk up an indiscernible trail through winding, twisting rock. The canyon was so narrow a dozen men strategically placed along its rim could hold off thousands of invaders. Travis’s nerves stretched taut. He held his breath, waiting for the whine of a bullet or the hiss of an arrow, but none came.
Daniella, too, was nervous, but for a different reason.
They crossed the same winding trickle of a stream a half-dozen times. The lookouts should have hailed them by now. She searched the edge of the rim above for a flash of sunlight on metal, or a movement, but saw nothing. Of course, if the guards didn’t want to be seen, she’d never spot them. But they knew her. There was no reason for them to hide. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She felt it in her bones.
They broke through the rock into a dark, shaded oak grove, and Daniella drew her horse to a standstill. She cocked her head and frowned.
“What is it?” Travis asked, his voice tense and strained. Daniella simply shook her head in response, unable to voice her fear, and started her horse forward. When they emerged from the trees, she uttered a cry of protest at what lay before them.
Chapter Nine
Emptiness! Trampled grass and footpaths, a bubbling spring, huge boulders, scattered shade trees, dead campfires. No horses, no wickiups, no barking dogs. No laughter, no people.
“Damn, damn, damn!” she cried. She beat her fist against her saddle horn in frustration.
Travis’s sharp eyes picked out the cold ashes of many fires, the narrow trails leading in all directions, and the bare ground trampled by dozens of feet. He glared at her, accusation and anger plain in his eyes.
The man she knew, the one in her visions, the one she’d ridden the trail with for the past three days, was gone. In his place rode a hard-eyed stranger. A dangerous beast who looked ready to pounce and rip her to shreds in an instant. Even his voice was different when he said, “Is this supposed to be some sort of joke, Miss Blackwood?”
“No!”
“This is our destination, isn’t it? Where is my son?” he bellowed.
“Matt was here! They must have left for their summer stronghold the day we left your ranch.”
Something, either her words or her tone, triggered a response. The dangerous beast calmed, then disappeared, leaving Travis Colton in its place. He was still angry, but he was at least recognizable once more as the man she knew.
“Well, you’re in charge,” he said, a note of sarcasm entering his voice. “Do we follow them?”
“Follow them how?” she wailed. “They left the same way we came in—it’s the only entrance I know of. There were no tracks. There’s nothing to follow.”
His eyes narrowed while contemplating her. “You mean to tell me you don’t know where they’ve gone? We just busted our asses for three days for nothing? You can’t find my son? Answer me, damn you!”
“I don’t mean any such thing!” she shouted back. Then, taking a deep breath, she went on more calmly. “We’ll find him. I swear it. It’s just going to take a little longer than I thought, that’s all.”
“How do we find him if you don’t know where they’ve taken him?”
“First of all, we stop shouting at each other so I can think. We might as well stay the night here. Not many places are safer.”
Travis gritted his teeth and pointed across the clearing. “That looks like a good spot there, next to that split pine.”
Daniella shuddered and refused to look where he pointed. She’d never sleep there! “No,” she said emphatically. “We’ll camp here.” She picked a spot as far away as she could get from the jagged stump and twin halves of the pine.
By the time full darkness fell they had already eaten and were sitting across the fire from each other, not speaking. The sound of water gently trickling down the rocky streambed would have soothed her, if she’d let it. Instead, she racked her brain for any scrap of information she could recall about where Cochise and his band spent their summer months. All she knew was it was a few days away, somewhere to the southeast, high in the pine-covered mountains of the next range. Not much to go on. The best they could do was head in that general direction and hope the trail guards spotted them. She should tell Travis what little she knew, but his countenance was still too forbidding.
“You think I tricked you, led you here on some wild goose chase, don’t you?”
Travis glared at her for a moment, then let out a weary, disgusted sigh. “I don’t know. Did you?”
“No, Travis, I didn’t. I know they were here the night before I came to your ranch.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because that’s when I saw Matt, and he was here. When I see something, it’s never in the past or the future. I see it as it happens, in the present. At least, I always have before.”
“You mean you didn’t just make that up the other day? You really do have…visions?”
“Incredible as it sounds, yes, I do.”
They stared at each other a long moment, then the peace of the evening shattered.
In the blink of an eye, an arrow shot from out of nowhere and twanged into the ground mere inches from Travis’s feet. Reflex action brought him instantly to a crouch, pistol drawn and cocked. But even his split-second response wasn’t fast enough. He and Daniella were already surrounded by a half-dozen Apache warriors, some with arrows strung, bows pulled taut, others with rifles aimed and cocked, each one ready to deliver instant death.
Daniella saw it all in slow motion through glazed eyes. The arrow before her still quivered in the firelight, and suddenly other arrows flashed through her mind. Arrows thudding into the stagecoach that day; the arrow protruding from the chest of the man in the opposite seat; the arrow sticking out of the driver’s back as he tumbled from his perch to the ground. She felt the scream rising in her throat, and she was paralyzed with overwhelming fear. Not now! her mind screamed. You go crazy now and they’ll kill you both!
“Ahagahe!” she raged in Apache. Yúútatske’! Dánánal’ázhi!”
As she cursed the warriors in their own language, all arrows and guns swung from Travis toward her. Her heart shot into her throat.
A tall, older Apache stepped from the shadows. He stood a full head taller than Travis’s six feet. Daniella dug her nails into her palms. There was only one Apache she’d ever heard of who was that tall, and he hated whites worse than Cochise did. The small, square-cut sombrero tied to his huge head, as well as the bright red shirt he wore, confirmed his identity.
“Travis, put your pistol away.” Daniella spoke in Spanish, so the others could understand. Her eyes stayed locked on the tall Indian before her.
“As soon as they lower their weapons,” Travis replied tersely in Spanish.
The tall man, leader of this group of warriors, made a motion with his hand. Arrows and rifles were lowered to point at the ground, bow strings and trigger fingers relaxed. Travis put his gun back in his holster, but didn’t seem to relax so much as a single muscle.
“How is it that a white woman speaks our language?” the tall Apache demanded in his native tongue.
Daniella swallowe
d. “Por favor, I don’t know much, only a few words and phrases, Mon-ache,” she answered in Spanish.
The Apache also switched to Spanish. “You know enough to insult and curse brave fighting men. Where did you learn these words? How come you to know this place, and my name?”
Cochise’s words rang in her ears. Never show fear to an enemy, unless it be to your advantage. Consciously, she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, looking the fierce Apache directly in the eye.
“I learned both from your son-in-law, Cochise, leader of the Chidikáágu’, husband of your daughter, Nali-Kay-deya; father of your grandson, Naiche.”
A low muttering spread throughout the warriors as they gaped at her in wonder and disbelief. Another half-dozen men stepped from the surrounding shadows and gathered close. Two came forward and stood on either side of their chief. One looked a few years older than Travis, with narrow, cunning black eyes and a thin, cruel mouth. The other was even older than his chief, but much shorter than the rest of the men. His shoulders stooped. Squinty, twinkling eyes, thick lips, and miles of wrinkles gave him a comical look that was surely deceptive.
“Who are you, to know such things?” Mon-ache demanded.
“I am called Woman of Magic,” Daniella stated, somewhat surprised at the pride she heard in her own voice. “I am the adopted daughter of Cochise.”
“She lies, I say!” The warrior with the thin lips glared at her. He took a menacing step forward and rested his hand on the hilt of his knife.
Daniella’s first impulse was to back away, but she didn’t. She forced herself to stand her ground and return his glare. “Who are you to call a Chidikáágu’ a liar?” she questioned hotly.
“I am Golthlay, Apache warrior.” He strutted before her arrogantly, pounding his chest with a fist. “The Mexicans call me Geronimo.”
“Sorry,” she answered with a shrug. “Never heard of you.”
“Cochise would never take a white woman as his daughter,” Golthlay said firmly. Then an evil grin split his thin lips. He took another step forward. “His slave, maybe, or his whore, but never his daughter.” His hand shot out and grabbed her breast through her poncho.
Daniella reacted with sheer, blind reflex. Her left arm came up on the inside of his and knocked his hand away, while her right hand clawed toward his face. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed into his stunned face.
A dark, bronze arm clamped around her waist from behind and lifted her off the ground. Deep laughter rang in her ears. “I’ll help you, Golthlay!” her captor yelled.
Daniella screamed. She reached for the top of her moccasin.
Beneath the loose folds of her poncho she withdrew her long bowie knife. The blade flashed once in the firelight. The man holding her dropped her to the ground, blood streaming from the long cut down his naked thigh.
Daniella sprang to her feet and crouched before Golthlay, ignoring the wounded man behind her. The other men started moving in slowly, muttering, but Mon-ache motioned them back.
“You still want to touch me, you son of a dog?” Daniella hissed at Golthlay. She held her knife slightly in front of her and to the side, not like an hysterical female, but like an experienced knife fighter. Cochise had taught her well.
Travis tensed to lunge forward, but found himself seized by both arms. A knife flashed at his throat. A harsh voice whispered in his ear, “¡Alto!”
Damn that girl! She was going to get herself killed. Then it would be his turn. Only he knew he wouldn’t die as swiftly as she would. He might last two or three days before these bloodthirsty gut-eaters let him die. They were masters at keeping their victims alive. He willed her to drop the knife.
She didn’t.
“I’m not going to touch you,” Golthlay said with a growl. “I’m going to kill you.” He drew his own blade from his belt.
“You mean you’re going to try,” Daniella taunted. She saw surprise register in his eyes.
They circled each other, Daniella wary, alert, terrified and trying not to show it; Golthlay sure, cocky, angry.
“You need a man to teach you some manners, woman. Now I know you lie. Cochise would take a whip to a daughter who acted like you.”
“Is that so?” She refused to back away. “What do you suppose he’d do to the man who grabbed his daughter, threatened her, called her a liar and a whore? Are you a fool? Who do you think gave me this knife and taught me how to use it?”
A shadow of doubt flickered across Golthlay’s dark eyes, then disappeared. He feinted to his right, then lunged left. Daniella twisted away. His knife tangled in her flying poncho. While he tried to free it, her blade flashed out and left a narrow stream of red along his forearm. Golthlay jerked his knife free of its trap and howled with rage. In his eyes, Daniella saw death—her death.
Cochise’s voice echoed in her mind. Never let an enemy see your fear unless it be to your advantage. Use every weapon at your disposal. A woman can get away with more than a man can. Never, ever try to fight fair. Never let him see your fear, unless it be to your advantage.
Golthlay swung closer, the muscles in his neck and shoulders standing out in rage. His mouth was no more than a grim slash above his chin. Daniella’s fear threatened to overwhelm her.
…unless it be to your advantage.
Suddenly she darted sideways and threw herself to the ground in a crouch. She wailed loudly. Great wrenching sobs racked her body. She covered her head with both arms. “Don’t hurt me!” she begged. “Por Dios, please don’t hurt me!”
Golthlay stared at her cringing figure for a stunned second, then threw back his head and roared with laughter. He sheathed his knife and turned in a circle with his arms raised in victory before his comrades.
Others joined in his laughter. Travis breathed a sigh of relief for this short reprieve, however temporary it might be.
It was very temporary indeed. Relief died in his chest when he spied the tall one she’d called Mon-ache watching her with narrowed, speculative eyes. Mon-ache was not laughing with the others.
Daniella forced herself to breathe deeply between sobs, waiting…waiting for her chance. Almost! Golthlay stood there laughing, turning, arms in the air. A little more. Turn a little more. She couldn’t rush it. Wait. Wait, she cautioned herself. Blood pounded in her ears. Almost…another step…one more…just one more step, you ugly—There. Now!
She sprang from the ground, her tears dry, and caught him behind the knees with her shoulder. The force and surprise of the blow tumbled Golthlay over her shoulder. He landed with an audible thud on his back, the wind knocked out of him.
Without pausing, Daniella spun around and landed forcefully on top of him, one knee in his stomach, the other pressed firmly against his throat. The ten-inch blade of her bowie knife gleamed viciously as it flipped his breech cloth aside and poised between his outflung legs.
Golthlay’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, as much from surprise and lack of air as from the feel of cold steel at his crotch. He heaved beneath her. She pressed the blade more firmly against him. He froze in place.
“Touch me again, you stinking bastard,” she told him, “and you’ll be weaving baskets with the women the rest of your unhappy life!”
Golthlay emitted a gurgling, gasping sound. By the time Daniella sprang away, his face was nearly black with blood and rage and lack of air. He rose to his feet, his warrior’s dignity in ashes at having been defeated by a woman.
Mon-ache stepped forward and slapped the younger man on the back in friendly fashion. “Come, Golthlay, do not be troubled at being bested by a woman. Woman of Magic must have great powers. I think no man could crush her.” Under his breath, but loud enough for Daniella to hear, he added, “Do not make things worse, my friend, for I believe she speaks the truth, and you know Cochise will hear of this.”
Golthlay glared his hatred at Daniella. She met his gaze briefly, then stepped forward and lowered her eyes. She knew she had to do something to cool him off. Despite the terr
or still choking her, her voice was calm, yet strong enough to carry across the clearing.
“Golthlay, I am sorry for this trouble between us. I understand your doubts about who I am, and I don’t blame you for not believing me. As for the other, I ask you not to take it personally. I…I don’t like to be touched. It was only a reflex that made me pull my knife. I would do the same if you were my best friend, before I even knew what I was doing.”
She swallowed heavily and went on. “I have embarrassed you before your friends and your chief, and I have offended you. For this, I ask your forgiveness.” She stood silently, eyes downcast, trying to keep from shaking visibly, waiting for his response.
After a long moment, Golthlay signaled, and Travis was brought to him and released. “Did you ever touch her?” Golthlay asked him.
Travis somehow managed to act a lot calmer than he felt. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen with his own eyes. A beautiful young white woman, no bigger than a mite, could not possibly have defeated a seasoned Apache warrior in a knife fight, no matter what tricks she used. Yet it had happened.
“White man! Did you ever touch her?”
Golthlay’s harsh tone brought Travis back to the present.
“Once,” he stated.
“And did she take her knife to you?”
Travis tried to relax, sensing the crisis was over. “She couldn’t reach her knife, thank God,” he answered with a half-grin for her. He pulled back his collar and displayed the long, angry looking gash on his neck. “Otherwise, I’d be dead.”
Golthlay looked at Travis’s wound a moment, then threw his head back again and laughed in appreciation. “Nzhú!” he cried. “I am satisfied. Let us drink now—talk tomorrow!”
Daniella looked ready to faint, but managed a shaky smile.
Whiskey bottles appeared and the warriors got down to some serious drinking, Travis took a swallow from a proffered bottle, then extended it toward Daniella. She shook her head in refusal.
Apache-Colton Series Page 9
