Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Angela felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She looked at him sharply. That knowing little grin on his face made her want to scream. Instead, she turned her face away. He laughed again.

  When he finished with her other arm, he made his way down her back with strong, deep strokes that brought life back into her body and relaxed her at the same time.

  His hand touched her buttocks. She tried to roll away in protest. “Matt!”

  But Matt was ready for her and held her down. “Don’t get excited, Angel. I’m only giving you a rubdown.”

  She struggled until he swung his leg over her and straddled her back to keep her still. Facing her legs and feet, he now had both hands free again to tend to business. It would have been easier on him if the “business” wasn’t quite so pleasurable, but his hands had ached for days with the need to touch her. Her soreness gave him the perfect excuse.

  Angela, too, was having trouble keeping her mind off the pleasure of his touch. But her muscles were so sore, and his hands felt so good. She gave up her struggle and let him have his way.

  When he finished with her legs and feet, he left her lying there while he brought her breakfast. She felt something terribly close to disappointment at the loss of his touch. Then he had to help her sit up. She grew uneasy when he sat down to watch her eat. She tried to think of something to say, then remembered last night.

  “Why didn’t you shoot the bear?”

  “Apaches don’t kill bears, except in self-defense.”

  “But you’re not an Apache.”

  “Part of me is,” he replied candidly.

  Angela merely shrugged. She thought she understood how he felt about the Apaches. “But it would have been in self-defense anyway.”

  “No it wouldn’t. He wasn’t hurting anything.”

  Angela shook her head in confusion. “I don’t get it. Tahnito was just killed by a bear; you nearly were once. And yet you don’t mind when they wander right up to camp that way?”

  So then he told her about bears. He told her that when an Apache dies, the only reason he would be denied heaven would be if he had betrayed his people in some way. In that case, he would live again in the body of a bear. If a man killed a bear, he might be killing his own relative.

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Angela claimed.

  “Why is it ridiculous?”

  “It just is, that’s all. Besides, what happens when someone is forced to kill one, like you were?”

  “In my case, according to Dee-O-Det, all the bears everywhere were sorry that I had to kill one of them. So now instead of attacking me, the bears follow me around and protect me. Everywhere I go, there’s always a bear nearby. Dee-O-Det calls them my guardians.”

  “You’re not serious. You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

  “Why shouldn’t I? How else do I explain the fact that everywhere I go, there’s always a bear? If a mountain lion jumped us right now, a bear would probably rush in and kill it. That happened to me once.”

  “I don’t believe a word of it,” Angela announced. “I think you’re teasing me.” The look he gave her sent a shiver down her spine. Maybe he wasn’t teasing.

  Once they were mounted and riding, Angela had no more energy to think or talk. She felt more confident about riding than she had yesterday, but today she hurt so bad it was a real effort to keep from crying.

  At midday they reached the San Pedro River. It was muddy and wide, reaching clear up into the trees on either side. Matt picked his spot carefully, then took Angela’s reins. “Hold on tight, Angel,” he warned.

  Angela pushed her feet firmly into the stirrups and gripped the saddle horn with both hands. Crossing a river from the high seat of a wagon was bad enough, but this!

  She was about to decide it wasn’t really so bad—after all, the water was flowing swiftly, but it wasn’t deep—when she saw the water rise rapidly around Matt’s boots, then her own moccasins. In a matter of seconds it was up to her thighs, pulling at her, tugging on her dress, trying to tear her off the back of the horse and send her shooting downstream. After an eternity of terror, the water receded as the horses lunged up the west bank and onto dry ground.

  Matt dismounted and lifted her down. “Are you all right?”

  Too relieved to even speak, she merely nodded, then sank to the ground at the base of an old cottonwood and leaned her head back against the rough bark.

  “The river’s not usually so high, even after the August rains. Must have had a lot of rain south of here.”

  How odd, she thought. The river flowed north! She’d never seen a river that flowed north before.

  A few minutes later, Matt brought her canteen, a biscuit, and a strip of dried beef, then sat down beside her.

  Was he always this polite to women, she wondered, or did he really care about her? If she could only be sure of him. She was torn in two by her inability to believe in him and the equally painful problem of her inability to stop loving him.

  Deep down she knew Alope had meant nothing to him. What in the world had possessed her to claim it was over between them, and that she was leaving? And why had he let her? Maybe he didn’t really care after all. Maybe she was right to leave him.

  I don’t want to be right. I want Matt.

  Angela stopped chewing on the tough jerky Matt had given her when she saw him stiffen. He trained his eyes on the dry ravine before them and cocked his head. Then he suddenly became a blur of motion.

  “Mount up.” he ordered.

  From his look, something was wrong, so she didn’t question him. She tied her canteen onto her saddle, led her horse to a fallen log, and pulled her protesting body up onto the horse’s back. As they crossed the ravine and headed for a thick stand of mesquite and boulders, Angela finally heard what Matt was listening to. She heard, but it made no sense, for what she heard was a loud clicking sound. It sounded like a hundred little boys, each one running a stick along a picket fence at top speed. “What in the world?”

  “Ssh,” Matt cautioned. “It’s cattle.”

  “Cattle?” she whispered.

  “Longhorns. It’s their horns clicking together.”

  “Why are we hiding up here?”

  “Because in this part of the country, it’s just as likely to be rustlers as ranchers. We’ll just wait and see.”

  Matt could see the dust raised by the herd now. He peered from behind the trees and looked down into the ravine just as the lead steer came into view. It wore the Circle M brand. Matt breathed easier. Then the rest of the thirty to forty head rounded the bend, and Matt’s ease slipped away when he spied the riders.

  They were most definitely not Circle M riders, unless old man McMahon had changed his hiring practices drastically. Matt doubted if there was a more bigoted man in the territory, and these men with the Circle M cattle were decidedly Mexican. In fact, they were dressed like typical bandits, with crossed bandoliers loaded with cartridges, Mexican silver spurs and broad sombreros.

  Then something else caught Matt’s eye. All the cattle were not from the Circle M. Some of them bore the Shattucks’ Lazy S brand. It was possible that the two ranches had sold some cattle, but McMahon would never have sold to a Mexican.

  When the herd was out of sight, Matt and Angela left their hiding place. He explained the situation and told her they were riding to the Circle M to let McMahon know what they’d seen.

  “You think those men are stealing those cattle?”

  “It sure looks that way,” he said. “We’ll tell McMahon about it and let him take care of it.”

  “Is it far?” Angela asked.

  “A couple of hours, if we hurry. Are you up to a little fast riding?”

  Angela looked at him skeptically. “How fast?”

  “Not too fast,” Matt promised with a laugh.

  Angela didn’t see any more of her surroundings after that. She was too busy hanging on.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Circle M Ranc
h was just like a dozen other ranches Angela had seen when coming through New Mexico. A small, flat-roofed adobe house, with a few adobe outbuildings and a rough corral. As she and Matt rode into the yard, three dogs rushed out to greet them, barking and yelping. A half dozen scrawny chickens squawked and scattered out of harm’s way. Angela had to concentrate on controlling her mount, who didn’t seem to appreciate having it’s heels nipped at.

  “What d’ya want?”

  The rude greeting startled her. She looked up to see a big, barrel-shaped man with a pipe between his teeth glaring at Matt.

  “Afternoon, McMahon,” Matt said. His voice sounded calm and cool, but Angela noticed the tense muscles of his jaw ticking with irritation as he dismounted.

  “Ya didn’t ride all this way to tell me that,” McMahon said, puffing on his pipe. “What d’ya want, Colton?”

  A pretty girl about Angela’s age, with long auburn hair, joined her father in the yard. “Papa, that’s no way to treat company. If mama could hear you now, she’d be ashamed.” Her father’s face flushed as he glared at her, but she just turned away from him. “Hi, Matt. We’re kinda off your beaten path, ain’t we?”

  “Only a little, Marthy. How’ve you been?” He relaxed some when he spoke to the girl.

  While Matt spoke, Marthy McMahon approached him, rolling her hips like a riverboat floundering on the Mississippi. When she reached Matt’s side, Angela gasped. The brazen hussy placed a dusty hand right smack on Matt’s chest! Bold as brass!

  “I’ve been pretty good,” Marthy said with a wink. “Who’s she?”

  Angela bristled. The impertinent little twit asked it like she had a right to know.

  “Angela, this is Marthy McMahon and her father, Mac,” Matt said. He took a step back, and Marthy followed, running her grubby little hand up over his shoulder and down his arm. Angela seethed.

  “Marthy, Mac, I’d like you to meet my wife, Angela.”

  Angela gritted her teeth and thought her face would crack when she smiled “Miss McMahon, Mr. McMahon.” She nodded to each of them.

  The girl and her father both looked surprised. Marthy’s surprise turned quickly to bitter disappointment, plainly visible on her face. She finally took her paws off Matt. And about time, too! Angela thought. Her attention was drawn away when Marthy’s father began to laugh.

  “Goddamn, Colton, I didn’t know ya had it in ya, to marry up with a white woman. Always figured you’d take up with one of ol’ Cochise’s squaws.”

  Matt tipped his hat back and stood with his hands low on his hips. “I’ve got a couple of pieces of news you might be interested in, but if you’d rather stand there and run off at the mouth than hear about the new treaty or your stolen cattle…”

  “Hold on, boy. Didn’t say I didn’t want any news, did I? What treaty you talkin’ ‘bout? What stolen cattle?”

  “Thought that might get your attention,” Matt said with a smirk. “Cochise just signed a treaty with the government.”

  “No shit?”

  “McMahon!”

  “Oh, sorry ma’am.” He nodded at Angela. “I mean, no foolin’? The old son-of-a…I mean…he did?”

  Matt nodded. “Just a few days ago. The Chiricahua have been given the Dragoon Mountains as their reservation.”

  “The Dragoons? Why the hell…I mean…why the heck didn’t they ship ‘em off to New Mexico? Can’t say as I like the idea of all them ‘Pachees bein’ so close ta hand.”

  “In the first place, Mac, the Dragoons are their home. Why should they leave? And in the second place, they’ve been there this whole last year and not caused any trouble, you know that. Yours would have been one of the first places they would have hit if they’d raided for horses or cattle, and I happen to know they haven’t.”

  “Look here, Colton.” McMahon stuffed his hands in the pockets of his worn trousers and hunched his shoulders. What ever it was he intended to say seemed to be taking a lot of effort. He cleared his throat twice. “I know you and your folks have taken a lot of heat over the years ‘bout them twins bein’ breeds an’ all, and I know I done more than my share of the talkin’. But, well, dammit, I know you and yours had a hand in this here treaty, and I jist wanna say that, well…it’s good. It’s real good.”

  “Thanks, Mac,” Matt said with some surprise. “But you’ve got to give credit where it’s due. Nobody around here wanted peace more than Cochise did.”

  “Well, I guess you’d be the one ta know,” Mac said.

  “I’m afraid you’re not going to like my other news so much.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Have you sold any cattle lately?”

  “Sold some to the army a couple o’ weeks ago. Why?”

  “Earlier today we came across thirty or forty head, some yours, some wearing the Lazy S. They were being herded east by three Mexicans, looked to be banditos.”

  “Goddamn, Colton. My cattle’s bein’ stole an’ you stand there jawin’ ‘bout ‘Pachees an’ treaties!”

  “You’re the one who brought up the Apaches, old man. When we spotted your cattle, we rode straight here.”

  “Marthy,” Mac said, “ride out west of the creek and round up Frank an’ Harve. They was headed east, you say?” he asked Matt.

  “They were getting ready to cross the river where that dry ravine hits it about five miles south. You need any help?”

  “I reckon me an’ the boys can handle it, but I thank ya jist the same, Colton. You’re welcome to light an’ set a spell, if you’ve a mind to.” Then he turned to his daughter. “I’ll ride north over the hill and get the rest of the boys an’ meet ya on the east range, Marthy.”

  “All right, papa.” The girl was already saddling her horse, and a few minutes later she and Mac rode out.

  “My goodness,” Angela said after the dust of their departure cleared. “What…interesting people.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Matt said with a laugh. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Is that girl some special friend of yours?” Angela asked as they headed out.

  “Who, Marthy?” Matt looked surprised at first, then he laughed. “Why? You jealous?”

  “Of course not!” Angela snapped, much too quickly.

  The rest of the day was even more exhausting than the previous one, if that was possible. Angela spent the remainder of the afternoon and most of the night chastising herself for ever having a kind thought about Matt Colton. She had almost convinced herself to forget about Alope and to trust Matt again. Then, right before her eyes, he let that little Marthy hussy rub herself all over him.

  No. She’d been right in the first place. She couldn’t trust him. If he’d do that in front of her, what would he do when she wasn’t looking?

  No. She could never trust him. Never.

  When she finally closed her eyes to sleep, she was unaware of the tears seeping out from beneath her lashes. But the man across the fire saw them.

  By the fourth day, which Matt said would be their last day on the trail, Angela had high hopes of actually living through this ordeal. She made a vow then, that if she did live through it, she would never again mount a horse for any reason, even if her life depended on it.

  According to Matt, they were only a couple of hours from the Triple C when he asked, “Are you still determined to leave?”

  The question startled Angela. Since that one discussion they’d had on the subject, neither of them had mentioned it again. She’d assumed by his silence that he agreed with her plan. With vivid pictures in her mind of Alope and Marthy, she gave the only answer she could. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? I told you why. I won’t marry a man I can’t trust.”

  “But we’re already married. Why don’t you trust me?”

  “You know the answer to that.” She gripped the reins tighter and fought a sudden rush of tears. “Every time you were out of my sight I’d wonder what other woman you were with.”

  Matt uttered
a word Angela had never heard before, then he glared at her. “For Christsake, Angela, Alope threw herself at me from five feet away. It was no more than a reflex that made me catch her. And I was not kissing her. She was kissing me.”

  Angela wanted to believe him with all her heart. In fact, she did believe him. Then she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You have no idea what it was like for me to stand there and watch you hold Alope in your arms. Even if you did love me, and I loved you, I’d always be afraid of something like that happening again. And it did, just yesterday. I know it wasn’t really your fault, but I hated it. It’s not you, Matt, it’s me. I just don’t trust you, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Even if? Are you saying you don’t love me?”

  She bit the inside of her lip and refused to answer.

  “I think there’s one thing you haven’t considered in all this planning of yours.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What if you’re carrying my child?”

  Angela sucked in her breath, a confused mixture of horror and hope warring inside her. What if… “Well, I’m not, so just forget it.”

  “You don’t know that yet. It’s too soon since your last monthly flow for you to know.”

  Angela felt suffocated with embarrassment. Never had she heard such talk from a man before. But she wouldn’t let him have the last word, no matter how embarrassed she was. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course I do,” he said with a laugh. “I knew the first day, about a week before Dad and Dani came.”

  “You don’t know anything about it.” This wasn’t happening. It simply wasn’t happening.

  “Sure I do,” he insisted. “You were uncomfortable. Your face was as white as a sheet for two days, you had dark circles under your eyes no matter how much you slept, and you walked like you had a corncob—”

  “Matt!” She couldn’t believe he was saying such things. And she couldn’t believe he was so observant and accurate. Good heavens!

  “You asked how I knew. I was just telling you. Don’t tell me you hadn’t considered you might be pregnant?”