Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “You can’t ask him to help, Mama,” Jessie said softly.

  “Jessie, I told you I’d see what I could do,” Blake said.

  “Thank you, Captain, but—” Daniella began, only to be cut off.

  “I wish you’d call me Blake.”

  Daniella smiled. “Considering you saved my daughter’s life, I’d like that, but only if you call me Daniella, or Dani.”

  Jessie was warmed by her mother’s words. Not that her mother usually stood on ceremony, but she hadn’t known Blake long. For her to invite him to speak to her so familiarly meant she must like him. Jessie did so want her mother to like him.

  “In any case, Blake, I appreciate your offer of help, but we wouldn’t want you to suffer repercussions. The Army and the Coltons have never been on the best of terms, and when this is over, I intend to roast General Nelson Miles over burning coals for what he’s done. We can’t have you getting caught between us.”

  Blake noted the look in Daniella Colton’s eyes and knew she meant what she said. She might not actually resort to burning coals, but whatever she did to Miles was not going to be pleasant. Blake somehow couldn’t find it in him to object. The general had gone too far in arresting Pace and the scouts. Blake had no intention of defending the bastard. Especially not after the way he’d lied to Blake about Pace and Jessie.

  “I wasn’t going to ask him to help us find Pace. What I was going to ask,” Daniella said, turning again to Blake, “I think you’ll find much more to your liking.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Serena and I have some errands to run.” When Jessie made to protest the obvious omission of her name in their plans, Daniella quelled her with a look. “If you would be so kind as to see Jessie back to her room when she’s finished eating, I’d be grateful. In a city this size, even in so nice a hotel, a young lady alone simply isn’t safe, don’t you agree?”

  “Mama,” Jessie protested.

  “Hush, now, Jessie. The captain is more than willing to see you to your room—and no farther,” she added with lowered brows. “Aren’t you, Captain?”

  Blake’s lips twitched in a suppressed grin. “Yes, ma’am. I’d be happy to.”

  Before he could change his mind or Jessie could make any further protest at being treated like a simpleton not capable of climbing the stairs to her room without help, Daniella and Serena left in a whirl of skirts and petticoats.

  “Well. I never.”

  Blake gave her a wry grin. “Frankly, after yesterday I’m surprised your mother wants me anywhere near you without a dozen chaperons.”

  At the reminder of her first, and hopefully last, foray into overindulgence, Jessie felt her cheeks sting. “The way I remember things, nothing about yesterday was your fault.”

  “And what do you remember about yesterday?”

  “Way too much, believe me.”

  Blake laughed a moment, then said, “I trust you’re feeling better this morning.”

  “Better than what?” she asked with a grimace. “The pounding in my head and the churning in my stomach feel as though they have no intention of settling down any time within the next decade.”

  He chuckled again. “Trust me, it’ll pass. But actually I was talking about the other.”

  Jessie’s blush turned fierce. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  A few moments later Blake escorted Jessie out of the restaurant. As they crossed the courtyard toward the stairs that led to her room, he took her elbow.

  “So what do you think your mother and sister will do about Pace?”

  Jessie wasn’t fooled by the studied casualness of his voice, but neither did she believe in her heart Blake would try to interfere.

  At one time—until she’d acted like an ungrateful grouch, but only because he’d been so bossy—he had offered to help. She smiled up at him. “If the Army knows what’s good for them, they’ll search through those renegades and find Pace. Quickly. Otherwise, there’s no telling what my mother will do. Except for one thing—she will definitely see to it that the Army is minus one prisoner before she leaves San Antonio. Of that, I can assure you.”

  Ducking behind an open doorway in the side of the courtyard, Wade Sinclair couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had he finally located Blake, but he’d also found the little bitch who had shot a hole in his ear and knocked off his aim when he’d had Blake square in his sights on the train.

  Wade had arrived in town a week ago, surprised to realize Blake wasn’t there. He’d been sure he would find his cousin wherever Geronimo was.

  Actually, he had been surprised that Blake hadn’t already killed the Apache. There was no fooling Wade. He knew damn well that’s what Blake was aiming to do. Blake had been vowing just that since he was a boy.

  Knowing that whenever he was in town Blake stayed at the Menger, Wade had staked the place out and decided to wait. Now his patience had paid off. Blake was here, and so was the woman. What was that she’d said about the Army being minus a prisoner? Wade had no idea, but he figured if he told someone at Fort Sam Houston, security would be tightened, making Blake’s job that much harder. Which would give Wade more time to figure out the best way to kill him.

  And it had to be good, because Wade Sinclair had no intention of getting caught.

  He watched a few more moments, until Blake and the woman disappeared upstairs. Then Wade made his way to the fort. He bet they’d just love to know someone was planning a breakout.

  Chapter Nine

  Blake was crossing the hotel courtyard the next morning on his way to the fort when he spotted Jessie leaving by way of a side door. As happened every time he looked at her, he felt his blood rush.

  But the way she glanced furtively over her shoulder toward the stairs had him worried. She was up to something.

  Her mother and sister’s trip to the fort yesterday had proved fruitless. Once again they had been told Pace was not there, the Army had no idea where he was, that he had not arrived with the other prisoners. The ladies weren’t stupid. They knew they were being handed a line of, what was it Mrs. Colton—Daniella—had called it? Horsehockey.

  Just what made the women so certain Pace was at Fort Sam Houston, Blake didn’t know, other than that logic stated he really couldn’t be anyplace else unless he’d managed to jump off the train, which wasn’t very damn likely. Blake was every bit as sure as the women were that they were being lied to. General Miles, again, no doubt.

  And now Jessie was sneaking away from the hotel. With her bustle twitching. As eager as Blake was to follow, he felt like a starving dog running after the promise of crumbs. Or a sinner reaching for salvation.

  If she hadn’t been acting so suspiciously he would have called out to her. But she looked like a woman on a mission. Like maybe she had decided to do something about her brother on her own? Blake decided to follow and see what she was up to.

  Aside from wanting to keep her out of trouble, he knew her mother had been right. A lone young woman, especially one as innocent and beautiful as Jessie, had no business traipsing the streets of San Antonio alone. And certainly not so early in the morning that the roosters had barely crowed.

  He slipped out the side door and caught a glimpse of her skirt as she whisked around the corner.

  A moment later, he was barely in time to see her board a mule-drawn streetcar. Even if he could get to the car fast enough, he couldn’t board without her seeing him. He wasn’t ready to reveal himself just yet. But there was really no problem. There was only one place she could be headed.

  As soon as the streetcar was out of sight, Blake hailed an early morning hack pulled by a swaybacked gray mare. The driver, a skinny, pock-faced man in a dirty serape, tipped his sombrero.

  “Ride, señor?”

  Blake nodded and climbed into the rear seat. “The fort, por favor.”

  The sun was full up when Blake reached Fort Sam Houston on Government Hill at the northeast edge of the city. He didn’t much like the looks of the riffraff hanging around out
side the fort.

  When he reached the big gate into the parade ground, Blake knew he’d been right about Jessie. The streetcar clanged on down the tracks, but Jessie stood alone and hesitant a dozen yards from the gate. What the hell she thought she could do here, short of getting herself into real trouble by attracting the attention of the rough looking men in the area, he didn’t know. He was about to call out to her when she hailed a young private. Blake cursed. He tugged his hat down low and hunched his shoulders as he got out of the hack.

  He crossed behind two freight wagons rolling by and came up behind an empty one whose driver stood at the head of his team arguing with a sergeant. Blake was just in time to hear Jessie’s sweet voice work its magic on the unsuspecting private.

  “You mean it’s safe?” she asked with just the right amount of quiver in her voice.

  The little tease. Blake ground his teeth.

  “Ah, shucks, ma’am, o’course it’s safe. Why, hundreds of folks have been in and out every day since them ’Pachees got here, all wantin’ to see Geronimo. I’d say darned near everybody in three counties has been here. Kinda like havin’ the circus in town.”

  Blake peered across the back of the wagon in time to see Jessie bat those big gray eyes at the soldier. The sergeant and the wagon driver moved toward the gate and continued their argument as to the correct time the driver was to have arrived.

  “I heard,” Jessie said, leaning closer to the private, “that there’s a vicious half-breed in there whom you have to keep away from…well, from polite society. Is it true?”

  Blake silently swore. If she leaned any closer to the pimply faced little runt, Blake wouldn’t be able to stop himself from turning her over his knee.

  “Oh, him.” The private stuck his thumbs behind his suspenders and rocked back on his heels. He flashed her a conspiratorial grin. “We’re not supposed to talk about him, but…”

  Blake didn’t wait to hear more. She was about to ruin an innocent young man—if she touched the private, Blake would smash his face in; if the private kept talking and told her where Pace was, Blake would smash his face in.

  Blake stepped from his place of concealment. “Private.”

  The private came to attention, a look of shocked embarrassment on his young face.

  “If you have nothing better to do than gossip like an old woman,” Blake told him sternly, “I’m sure there are latrines to be dug.”

  “Sir! Yes, Sir!”

  As Jessie opened her mouth to protest, the private spun sharply on his heel and marched off.

  “Well. Thank you very much, Captain Renard.” Jessie glared at Blake from beneath the brim of her hat. “That man was just about to tell me about Pace, and you purposely ran him off.”

  “That boy was just about to get himself into serious trouble. You, Miss Colton, were about to do the same.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Differ all you like. But while you’re at it, you might take a casual glance around at the attention you’ve drawn.”

  Eyes narrowed, Jessie glanced around. And stiffened. Blake was right. She’d been so determined to find out anything she could about Pace, she had kept her sights trained solely on the fort. She’d paid little or no attention to the comings and goings of the freight wagons, the men on horseback, the farmers bringing their produce into the city, the ranch hands, the drunks weaving their way somewhere after a night of debauchery.

  The looks some of the men were giving her turned her blood to ice. It was all she could do to keep from shivering in the morning heat. She glanced sharply away and took an unconscious step toward Blake and the safety she instinctively felt when near him.

  “Don’t look so stricken,” Blake told her. “It was, after all, my turn to save you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Ah, so you don’t remember what you said when your mother walked in on us while I was trying to get you in bed. I wondered.”

  Jessie felt her cheeks sting. Trying to get her in bed, indeed. The pictures such words brought to mind sent fire licking at her belly. And it wouldn’t do. “You’re making it sound worse than it was.”

  Blake put a hand to her elbow and led her to the sign that indicated the location where the streetcar would stop when it returned. “Believe me, you couldn’t be any more embarrassed than I was when that door opened. I thought your mother was going to kill me. And the way things must have looked to her, I’m not sure I would have blamed her.”

  Just the touch of his hand on her arm made Jessie want to move closer to his warmth. And it wouldn’t do. It just wouldn’t do. She pulled her arm from his grasp. “All of this is beside the point. I’m not going back to the hotel without finding Pace.”

  “Yes,” he said taking her arm again, more firmly this time, “you are.”

  “Blake, I know you don’t have any use for Apaches, but Pace is my brother. I can’t just ignore the fact that he’s inside those walls somewhere, being held against his will.”

  “I don’t expect you to ignore it. But I do expect you to get back to the hotel before your mother panics at your disappearance. I’ll come back on my own and see what I can find out.”

  Jessie’s chest tightened. “Blake, I couldn’t ask you to do such a thing. This is a family matter. Mama and Rena and I will take care of it.”

  Blake didn’t know which surprised him more. That her refusal of his offer stung, that just holding her arm made his heart pound, or that he’d offered help again after being turned down twice before. But hell, he couldn’t just let her fumble her way along. If the Army didn’t want anyone to know they had Pace Colton in custody, they could delay Jessie and her family indefinitely. But they couldn’t get around Blake, nor the orders from Miles he had tucked in his pocket.

  “I can find out faster. Your mother and sister have already spent at least two days getting nowhere.”

  Jessie started to say more, but the clang of an approaching streetcar diverted her.

  A good thing, too, because Blake was entirely too tempted to use his own mouth to quiet hers. He wanted to kiss her, ached to taste the morning on her lips, to have her look at him again the way she had the last time he’d kissed her. Instead, he helped her aboard the streetcar.

  Blake delivered her back to the hotel, then returned to the fort. Deliberately, he avoided the three-ring circus of townspeople who had come to gawk at the famous Apache prisoners. Blake was appalled that the commander would allow the civilians free run of the premises. The place was in enough chaos, what with the barracks still under construction.

  For Blake’s ultimate goal, the chaos would come in handy. But first he would do what he could to help Jessie. Or more precisely, her brother.

  It felt strange setting out to purposely help a half-breed. Especially since such an action went strictly against the verbal orders given him by Miles, which were to see that the half-breed known as Fire Seeker got the same treatment as the rest of the prisoners. The unspoken message that had passed between Blake and Miles just before Blake had boarded the train headed for Florida had been equally as plain. Miles knew of Blake’s hatred for Geronimo. He knew if Blake got close enough to him, he’d kill the renegade. Blake still believed Miles intended that he kill Pace Colton, too.

  Of course, if Blake managed to do so, and was foolish enough to get caught, he’d hang. And he’d hang alone. Miles had certainly covered his own ass with the purposely ambiguous wording of his written orders: See that the half-breed prisoner known as Fire Seeker is taken care of.

  Taken care of. What a crock. Blake would thoroughly enjoy “taking care of” Geronimo, but that was more or less personal. He had no personal grudge against Pace Colton. But apparently Miles did. And Blake was damned if he’d let Miles use him as a tool to strike at the Colton family.

  So Blake would do what he could for Jessie’s brother.

  Then, he would settle with Geronimo.

  Besides, he thought wryly, he’d seen the fire in the eyes of the three Colton
women. He wouldn’t put it past them to storm the damn fort if they didn’t get some answers soon.

  After getting nowhere with the staff officers on duty, Blake requested an appointment with General D. S. Stanley, Department Commander. He was told, in the most condescending tone, that the commander was ill and not expected to return to duty until next week.

  Blake took a deep breath, afraid his blood would boil. The nervous little clerk was lying through his teeth. Blake would have called him on it, except he figured the kid was only following orders. Still, Blake wanted some answers, and he wasn’t going to be put off. He couldn’t go back to the hotel without some word to give Jessie and her family.

  “Then who,” he asked carefully, “is in charge of your Apache prisoners.”

  “Oh, that would be Lieutenant Gatewood, sir.”

  Gatewood. Blake should have known. But he’d expected a higher ranking officer at the fort to take command of the prisoners. “Where can I find him?”

  Blake followed the directions and found Gatewood in a tent at the edge of the area where the prisoners’ tents were erected. Blake purposely kept his gaze from straying to the Apaches. He didn’t trust himself to do what he came to do if he caught sight of Geronimo.

  Gatewood had come by his Apache name, some undecipherable guttural muttering that translated into “Long Nose,” honestly. The man had a beak on him big enough to make a parrot jealous. Blake was still pissed that Gatewood had been the one sent to talk surrender with Geronimo, but rationally, he understood the reasoning behind the assignment.

  The Apaches knew and trusted Gatewood. He’d always kept his word to them. He was probably the only one in the Army other than General Crook for whom the Apaches would have come out of hiding.

  They had trusted Crook, even though he was the first to use their own people against them by enlisting the aid of Apache scouts. But Crook had allowed Geronimo to escape one too many times. President Cleveland had insulted the general, replaced him with Miles, and then, as insurance, had taken certain matters into his own hands with a set of secret orders that could cost him his presidency if they became known.