Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Had Miles somehow learned what Cleveland was up to? Was that why he’d purposely kept Blake away from the surrender?

  Even though Miles hated Geronimo nearly as much as Blake did, Blake knew Miles did not want the responsibility of Geronimo’s death to fall on his shoulders. His goal had been to whisk the renegade out of the territory—and off his hands—as quickly as possible. Miles had to have known that had Blake been in charge of the surrender, Geronimo probably would have been “shot while trying to escape.”

  God knows, the bastard had escaped plenty of times in the past. He should have been shot years ago, as far as Blake was concerned.

  So, rationally, Blake understood why Gatewood had been given the assignment. And he understood why the lieutenant was still in charge of the prisoners. Gatewood would see that no harm came to them, because he had personally guaranteed their safety.

  Standing now in Gatewood’s tent, Blake didn’t mince words. Once the official salutes were out of the way, he asked, “Where have you stashed Pace Colton?”

  Gatewood suddenly looked like he was about to swallow his tongue. A guilty flush stained his cheeks. “Why do you ask?” The minute the words were out, Gatewood looked like he wanted to call them back.

  Blake arched a brow. “Because I want to know.”

  Gatewood closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that this situation is…most difficult.”

  “Would you care to explain? And would you mind telling me why Colton’s mother has been told repeatedly that her son isn’t here?”

  This time it was Gatewood who raised a brow. His face turned pale. “She’s here? Oh, God. I didn’t know. Oh, hell. We’re in for it now.”

  “Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir. First of all, if I may say off the record, I just couldn’t believe it when General Miles had Colton arrested and put on the train with the others. Everybody in the territory knows Pace Colton has never ridden with Geronimo. He’s never lived with any of the Apaches for more than a few weeks at a time. Arresting the scouts was bad enough, but this…”

  “Lieutenant, where is he?”

  “In the guardhouse.”

  “Why?”

  “Have you ever met Pace Colton, Captain?”

  “No,” Blake said. “I didn’t even know who he was until after he’d been arrested.”

  “Well, I’ll just say that no matter the circumstances, he will never be a docile prisoner. Especially when he knows he’s innocent of any wrongdoing. I don’t dare keep him with the other prisoners. He’d have them in revolt inside of an hour. You’ve seen that circus out there, and the general lack of security at this fort. The whole lot of them would get clean away if they took it into their minds to leave. God knows, they’ve done it often enough in the past. Right now, Geronimo and the others have accepted their fate. I strongly believe Pace Colton could—would—change that.”

  “So you’re keeping him away from them.”

  Gatewood nodded.

  “I want to see him.”

  Reluctantly, but knowing he was outranked, Gatewood agreed. He led Blake to the guardhouse, ordered the guard to allow Blake in to see the prisoner, then left. As if he didn’t want to be around when Blake went inside. Or when he came out.

  And he didn’t. Gatewood knew what Renard would find in the guardhouse, knew the captain would be appalled. Gatewood himself was appalled, and he’d given the damn orders that kept Pace Colton chained like a dog.

  Gatewood’s stomach clenched. He knew Colton. Had known him for years and knew he didn’t deserve such treatment. But dammit, Miles has got my tail in a crack, Gatewood thought. What the hell else am I supposed to do?

  Before leaving Bowie with the prisoners, Gatewood had been informed by Miles that if Pace Colton escaped, Gatewood would be held personally responsible and would be charged with dereliction of duty.

  Then had come the rumblings from the troopers. Rumors. Gossip.

  Word was, Miles had planted more than one spy among the men accompanying the prisoners to Florida. If Colton escaped, Gatewood was to be killed in such a manner as to make it look as though Colton had done it. In all the confusion, it would seem logical that the other prisoners would try to escape. They would all be shot. Including the women and children.

  A cold chill ran down the lieutenant’s spine. He knew General Miles well enough to believe every word.

  With a frown, Blake stepped from the bright sunlight into the dim cell of the guardhouse. While waiting for his eyes to adjust, he cocked his head and listened. He heard nothing. Was he in the right cell?

  Then he saw him. Merely a dark shape at first, then Blake’s eyes adjusted. The first thing he saw was the chain connecting the manacles around the man’s ankles.

  Chained? He was under lock and key, and they’d left him chained?

  Blake raised his gaze from the knee-high moccasins typically worn by Apaches, over the blue denim pants, to the manacles around Colton’s wrists. Blake was suddenly glad, damn glad, that Daniella Colton hadn’t found her son. She would have torn the fort down brick by brick to get him out.

  Then Blake looked up past the torn and bloodied shirt to meet the most startling blue eyes he’d seen in…well, the phrase, “in his life” came to mind, but it wasn’t true. He’d seen those very eyes that morning when he’d returned Jessie to the hotel. They were Daniella Colton’s eyes. Serena Colton’s eyes. With one difference. Daniella’s and Serena’s eyes were lively, sharp, even piercing at times, as though they could see through to a man’s soul.

  Pace Colton’s eyes were cold. Like ice. Like death.

  Blake studied the bruised and swollen face of the man seated negligently on the narrow bunk. The expression was one he’d seen on dozens of Apaches—hard, rock hard. And blank.

  Blake introduced himself, then said, “They really did a number on you, didn’t they?”

  Colton merely looked away.

  Blake wasn’t offended by the lack of response. In Colton’s shoes, Blake would be just as uncommunicative. Blake studied the man more closely. “I knew you and Serena were twins, but I didn’t expect you to look so much alike. Although, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, she’s a damn sight prettier than you.”

  Pace Colton stiffened.

  Ah ha, Blake thought. A flicker of emotion in those pale blue eyes. “She’s here in town with Jessie and your mother. They’ve been trying to get in to see you. I’ll bring them this afternoon.”

  “No!”

  If Blake hadn’t been wearing a gun—which, he acknowledged, Gatewood or the guard should have taken from him—and if Colton hadn’t been chained hand and foot, and if Blake didn’t have complete confidence in his own ability to defend himself, he might have thought to fear for his safety when the hate flared in the half-breed’s eyes.

  “No? What the hell do you mean, no?”

  Colton’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I don’t want them here.”

  Blake let out a bark of laughter. “Then you can tell them that yourself. You don’t actually expect a mere mortal like me to look your mother, not to mention both of your sisters, in the eye and say no, do you?” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

  Colton brought one chained hand up to tug on the corners of his mouth. Then he gave up and laughed briefly. “I see your point.”

  When the half-breed laughed, he let down his guard and looked like a totally different person. That hard, cold Apache look about him seemed to melt beneath his smile. The face was suddenly open, friendly, approachable. Then, without warning, the Apache mask slipped back in place. “Did you say sisters? Both of them?”

  Blake nodded, wondering what ran through Colton’s mind.

  “Jessie? Jessie came here? Goddammit, I told her to go home. What the hell were Mother and Rena thinking about, bringing Jessie on a trip like this?”

  “They didn’t bring her. She would have been here a week ago if she’d known you and the others were stopped here instead of being sent on to Florida
.”

  Colton shook his head. “Jessie doesn’t like leaving home. She’s never had anything to do with the Apaches. And she doesn’t go in much for…adventure. I can’t believe she’d come here on her own.”

  “Are we talking about the same woman?”

  “She’s not a—” Colton broke off and gave a harsh laugh. “I started to say she’s not a woman, she’s my sister.” He shook his head. “I haven’t been home much in the last few years. I guess she’s…eighteen now. I still think of her as a girl.”

  Blake kept his thoughts on Jessie’s girlhood versus womanhood to himself. He didn’t think her brother was the appropriate person to whom he should express his opinions on just how much of a woman Jessica Colton really was. He didn’t think Pace would appreciate learning that his baby sister could make a man’s knees turn to jelly with just a look from those big gray eyes. All Blake said was, “I assure you, she’s all grown up.”

  The blue eyes narrowed again. “You wanna explain that?”

  Blake met his gaze squarely. “No. But if you’re interested in what she’s doing here, I’ll tell you. She’s got some crazy notion that she should have been able to stop Miles from putting you on that train. Since she couldn’t do that, she’s decided to get you free.”

  “She followed me?”

  “Took the next train east.”

  Colton’s eyes widened. “You’re not trying to tell me she came alone. Hell and damnation! Anything could have happened to her.”

  “And just about did.”

  The eyes narrowed again. “Explain.”

  Blake thought about ignoring the demand. If Jessie wanted her brother to know what had happened to her, she would tell him. On the other hand, maybe she would listen to Pace, where she hadn’t listened to Blake. If Pace knew what she’d been through, he would surely talk her into going home. That would suit Blake’s purposes just fine.

  Not that he didn’t enjoy her company. He wasn’t that noble. But this fort, this “mission” she was on, was no place for her. She belonged at home in the bosom of her family, not fending off train robbers and plotting prison breaks.

  Then, too, Blake would just as soon she not be anywhere around when he took care of his business with Geronimo. She would hear of it, he knew. But he didn’t want her to see it. Didn’t want to have to face her afterward. She would hate him. If he was still alive for her to hate. And if he wasn’t forced to flee the country.

  Yes, maybe her brother would send her home. Lord knows, her mother wasn’t about to.

  Blake took a seat on the end of the bunk. “Well, for starters, she saved my life.”

  The three Colton women took turns pacing the floor of the sitting room of their suite while waiting for Blake to return. “What’s taking him so long?” Jessie fretted.

  “Bureaucracy, probably,” Daniella offered with resignation. “Still, he might be able to find out what we haven’t been able to.”

  Jessie shook her head. “I still can’t believe he offered to find out about Pace.”

  While Jessie stood looking out the window, Daniella gave Serena a look to say, Have I raised an idiot?

  With a twinkle of mischief in her pale blue eyes, Serena pursed her lips. “Because he’s a nice man, maybe?” she said to Jessie.

  Jessie turned around. “Well of course he’s a nice man. What does that have to do with it? He’s still a captain in the United States Army. He still hates Apaches—with the certain exception of you, I might add. He seems to like you just fine. But Geronimo…” Jessie rubbed her arms, feeling chilled from the inside. “You should see the look that comes into his eyes when anyone even says Geronimo’s name. It’s cold enough to freeze an Eskimo in his igloo.”

  “Can you blame him?” Serena offered. “If I knew the man who’d killed my mother was still running around loose, I’d be full of hate, too.”

  “I think it’s more than that,” Daniella said.

  “What more is there?” Jessie asked.

  “He told me about how his father couldn’t deal with Sarah’s death, about Lucien leaving Blake to be raised by an aunt and uncle. Apparently Blake’s father hasn’t had much to do with him over the years. It could be that Blake blames Geronimo for that, too.”

  Jessie rubbed her arms again. Was that it? Was that the reason for the cold, killing hatred she’d seen in Blake’s eyes on more than one occasion? “He doesn’t always limit his hatred to Geronimo. When we met, General Miles had left him with the impression Pace was…something other than my brother.”

  Daniella’s eyes widened in shock. “That bastard,” she hissed.

  “He had Blake thinking you and Pace were lovers?”

  Jessie nodded. “On the train, Blake made it plain he didn’t think much of me. Later, he even asked why a…what was it he said? Something about a young lady from a fine family throwing her life away on a half-breed.”

  While Daniella had little patience with prejudice, and usually less with soldiers who lived and breathed to kill Apaches, she still found herself reluctant to condemn Captain Renard. She also saw more than a little humor in the situation. “I think,” she told Jessie, “you’ve just answered your own question as to why Blake is willing to help us.”

  Jessie frowned. “Then you’re going to have to explain it to me, because I certainly don’t see it.”

  “Obviously he was jealous when he thought of you and Pace in that way. I think the good captain is attracted to you.” At the sight of her daughter’s blush, Daniella smiled softly. “And I think the feeling is mutual.”

  Jessie couldn’t talk about her feelings for Blake. They were too new, too fragile, too private to be exposed to her mother’s sharp eye. She shook her head and turned her back again. “That still doesn’t explain why he would want to help a half-breed who’s associated with Geronimo.”

  “He’s not helping a half-breed, you ninny.” Serena’s voice was ripe with impatience. “He’s helping your brother. He’s doing it to please you, to make you like him.”

  Before Jessie could think of a suitable reply to what she considered sheer nonsense, a knock sounded at the door. All three women rushed to answer it.

  But it wasn’t Blake. It was a bellman delivering a telegram to Daniella. “It’s from your father,” she said once the bellman left. She read it to herself first, then aloud. “Cleveland still stubborn, stop. No release orders yet, stop. I’ll keep trying, stop. My love, Travis, stop.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Jessie asked. “Is he really trying to get the president to have Pace released?”

  “Yes,” Daniella answered grimly. “And apparently not having much luck.”

  “But that’s not fair,” Jessie cried. “It’s not right. Pace is innocent, and everybody knows it.”

  Serena gave them both a level look. “Grover Cleveland wouldn’t know fair or right when it comes to The People if it jumped up and bit him on the ass. I say we make our own luck. If we want Pace out of there, we should just go in and take him.”

  “Take him! Serena,” Jessie said, her eyes wide with shock. “You don’t mean…break him out of the fort, with all those soldiers, all those guards?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “But…how? What can we do?”

  “The way I figure it—”

  “No.” Daniella’s voice rang firm. “I’m not saying we may not eventually have to do what you’re suggesting, Rena, but let’s give your father some time. For now, we wait.”

  Chapter Ten

  When Blake left the fort it was late in the day and he’d just missed the streetcar. Rather than stand around waiting, he decided to walk the half mile to the next stop. Frustration dogged his steps.

  After leaving the guardhouse, he’d gone to inform Gatewood that the Colton women would be along first thing in the morning. There was no way Blake could not tell them he’d found Pace.

  Gatewood had been appalled. “You’re going to tell them he’s here?”

  “Lieutenant, they kn
ow he’s here. If you don’t let them see him, they’re going to start tearing down this fort brick by brick. Personally, I wouldn’t want to be the one they decided should be on the bottom of the pile of rubble they’ll leave behind. I don’t think you’ve ever met women like these.”

  Gatewood shuddered visibly. “You’re wrong there. I’ve met Daniella and Serena Colton. Oh, God. Are you sure you have to tell them he’s here?”

  “They’ve been here looking for him two days in a row. They don’t believe for a minute the lies they’ve been handed.”

  Gatewood swallowed. “General Stanley must have issued the orders to deny them. I didn’t even know they were here.”

  “Well, they are. And they’ll be expecting to see Pace first thing in the morning. I suggest you get him cleaned up, and do something about those chains. Or are you worried the guard house can’t hold him?” he added with a smirk.

  Gatewood ignored Blake’s last comment. “Not morning. It’ll take longer than that to find someplace to put him where he can’t get away and can’t cause trouble. I can’t let them see him in that damn cell. They’d butcher me and have me for breakfast. Stall them, Captain. Please. Give me until afternoon.”

  Blake had promised to do his best. But as he walked along Grayson toward Broadway, he wasn’t sure just how good his best would be.

  He wasn’t halfway to the intersection before he was sure the prickling along the back of his neck was not his imagination. He was being followed.

  He tried to brush the feeling off as nonsense. Of course people were looking at him. Freighters came and went, men rode by on horseback, farmers in wagons, soldiers coming to and from the fort. Not to mention all the gawkers who’d come for a look at the Apaches. The street was swarming with people, and everyone looked at everyone else. No one had singled him out.

  Still, the feeling would not go away. As casually as possible, he glanced over his shoulder. A wasted effort, as he’d known it would be. There were too many people.

  When he finally boarded the street car a short time later, the feeling of being watched grew stronger than ever. He got off three stops short of his destination and crossed the street. A sergeant, two women, and an old Mexican man did the same.