Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  LaRisa had hated Carlisle with a passion, but suddenly she knew that she and the others who’d been sent there were the lucky ones, as far as living conditions went. Captivity was one thing. The squalor that surrounded her in this place made her ill. At least on the reservation there had been air to breathe.

  Feeling eyes on her, LaRisa turned to find a young woman standing in an open doorway, an infant in her arms and a toddler clinging to her worn calico skirt. She reminded LaRisa of…Rosa! It was her. She’d changed since LaRisa last saw her at Carlisle four years ago, grown older, heavier, but it was her. Brightened by the familiar face, LaRisa smiled and waved.

  Rosa stared back dully, then without acknowledging LaRisa in the slightest, turned away into the shack.

  Hurt, LaRisa glanced away. It was then she realized other eyes were on her. She focused on the muddy ground before her. As she passed at Matt’s side, more and more people stopped and stared at her. She was shocked to realize the looks did not feel friendly, but wary. Almost hostile.

  Matt stopped before one of the dogtrots. “LaRisa…”

  His expression frightened her. “He’s worse, isn’t he.”

  Matt’s shoulders slumped. “Yes. He’s worse.”

  There was nothing more to say. LaRisa took a breath for courage and stepped through the doorway Matt indicated. It was dark inside. But for the sound of labored breathing coming from the corner, she would have thought the room empty.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dim light and her ears to the quiet, she became aware of a steady dripping. Near the middle of the room a pan sat catching a leak from the ceiling.

  Spence’s warning about mosquitoes proved true as one lit on her hand and another buzzed near her ear.

  Four pallets were spread along the walls—dirty, ragged blankets showing patches of mold, laid over matted, moldy straw. The strong smell of sickness came from the one in the corner, the occupied one. The one where…

  LaRisa nearly choked holding back a cry of anguish. Oh, dear God, this could not be him. Please, no, it could not be.

  The man on the pallet was pale and wasted by disease. He shivered hard and coughed. The rattling in his lungs terrified her, but she forced herself nearer. He rolled his head toward her.

  Chee tried to focus through the dim light, but his vision was blurred and foggy. He strained and squinted, knowing someone was there. Matt had scarcely left his side in days, but this wasn’t Matt. Slowly Chee’s eyes focused. His labored breathing halted, and he swallowed hard. “It…can’t be,” he whispered tentatively, his voice weak and harsh. He stared as the vision in the dimness became clearer, sharper. Joy such as he’d never known filled his heart.

  God, but she was so beautiful. As beautiful as the day he’d first seen her kneeling by the stream, those black eyes of hers so big and wary they nearly swallowed her face. Her delicate, beautiful face. Seeing her again after all these years made his breath come faster. He was dead, then. He’d finally slipped through. There was no other explanation for her presence. “Maria?”

  LaRisa’s heart cracked and her vision blurred. She couldn’t force her voice to work.

  From behind her in the doorway, Matt said softly, “Not Maria, friend. But close.”

  “Not…Maria? Come closer,” the man on the bed told her.

  LaRisa approached slowly and knelt by his side.

  His eyes cleared and widened with a different kind of wonder and joy than before. “Is it really you?” he whispered. “You look so much like her. You’ve grown…so beautiful. My child, my Risa.”

  He raised an arm toward her, and a sob broke from her throat. She fell against him. From her lips came the word she had been forbidden to speak in her own language for eight long years, the word that to her meant strength and safety, love and warmth. It rang now with all the devotion in her heart, but echoed with anguish and fear. “Shitaa, oh, shitaa.” Father, oh, father.

  He’s so frail! Oh, Father, Father, don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. She held on to him tightly and tried not to weep, but when she felt his chest shake and heard his broken sob, her tears poured forth.

  “Let me hold you,” he whispered brokenly. “Oh, LaRisa, let me hold you. I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t want you to come to this place.”

  “Shh, shh,” she told him. “I wanted to come…I had to see you.” Her voice cracked, and all she could do was cry against his chest and hear that terrifying rattle in his lungs as he struggled for breath. Oh, God, oh, God, he was dying and she couldn’t stand it! She couldn’t…stand it!

  LaRisa had never trusted much in either the white man’s God nor the Apaches’ Yúúsń, but kneeling there in the damp dirt with the smell of death all around and her father’s tears mixed with hers, she prayed to both, silently begging, ranting, pleading, threatening, offering anything in return for her father’s life. Anything, even knowing she had nothing any god would want.

  Matt turned away and stepped outside. The rain had stopped again. In less than a minute Spence joined him.

  “Any change?” Spence asked.

  Matt shook his head. “Only for the worse. He’s been hanging on by sheer willpower alone, waiting for her. I…thanks for getting her here so fast. I don’t think he can last much longer.”

  Spence threw his head back and took in a deep breath, then met his brother’s gaze and ignored the ball of ice in his gut. “You know, don’t you, that I would do anything, give anything, to save him?”

  Matt swallowed and looked away. “I know. There’s nothing you can do. We knew this was coming. That last bout of malaria left him too damn weak. This time the chills took him one minute, fever the next, then pneumonia set in hard. Throw in this goddamn rain…”

  “Yeah. And unsanitary conditions, not enough food, utter hopelessness, families torn apart—”

  “Don’t,” Matt said sharply. “It won’t help, believe me. I…word came down this morning—there’s progress in Washington. Dad thinks Congress will approve the move to Indian Territory—Fort Sill. It’s bound to be better than this place. Hell would be better. Your part in convincing Congress, well, you did good, Spence. I’m proud of you.”

  Spence swore. “Hell of a lot of good that’ll do Chee.”

  Matt fought the burning in the backs of his eyes and didn’t trust his voice to speak. There was nothing to be said, anyway. Spence was right. Chee would never see Fort Sill. He probably wouldn’t even see morning.

  The release of pent-up emotions exhausted Chee. By the time Spence and Matt came in, he was dozing restlessly. Spence stood beside LaRisa, black bag in hand, and looked down. One last time, he thought. One last time he would be a doctor and pretend that what he did could make a difference. “LaRisa?” He motioned for her to move over. “Let me take a look at him.”

  LaRisa couldn’t look up, couldn’t take her eyes off her father. She couldn’t bring herself to let go of his hand to make room for Spence. She stared at the slight rise and fall of her father’s chest and listened to every labored, rattling breath, terrified that if she took her eyes away, he would stop breathing. She couldn’t even move to give Spence room at her father’s side. Somehow, seeing a doctor examine her father might make this all seem real, and it couldn’t be real. It was a nightmare. She would gladly wake up in her bed at Carlisle and stay at the school forever, never seeing her father again, if it would take away his pain, make him well again, let him live.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” she whispered.

  Spence knew she was right, and he was reluctant to force her from her father’s side, but he couldn’t deny the overwhelming need to do something. He knelt beside her and, with his stethoscope, listened to Chee’s fluid-filled lungs struggle for air. It was bad. As bad a case of pneumonia as he’d ever witnessed, the seriousness of which did not lend itself to recovery. This was a killing sickness, particularly when the patient had been suffering recurring bouts of malaria for years.

  Goddammit! If only he’d been here when the malaria hi
t. Maybe he could have prevented—

  There you go again, thinking you’re all-powerful.

  The voice in his head was right. His presence wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference. The post doctor was good. As good as Spence when it came to disease.

  “Come get something to eat while he sleeps,” he said to LaRisa.

  She shook her head. “I can’t leave him.”

  Spence didn’t argue. Were that his father lying there struggling for his last breath…God forbid. A shudder shook him and his throat closed at the mere thought.

  Chee moved restlessly on his sweat-soaked bed of straw. The mist was gathering again, luring him in, calling to him, cooling his heated flesh and easing the pain in his chest. Calling, calling to him. Come, rest with your loved ones who have gone before you. Come. Come. Rest.

  He didn’t know if he had the strength left to resist, didn’t know if he wanted to. But there was something…LaRisa. He had to make sure LaRisa was taken care of before he left. He fought the cool, restful fog and struggled toward the pain and the hand that held his.

  When his eyes fluttered open, LaRisa leaned forward.

  “You’re…so beautiful. My beautiful child.”

  LaRisa’s lips trembled.

  “But you’re…not a child…anymore, are you? You’re…all grown up. A…woman now.”

  “Yes, shitaa, I’ve grown up.”

  “I didn’t want…you to live…like this…in this place.”

  LaRisa struggled to speak around the strangling lump of emotion in her throat. “I know, shitaa, I understand.”

  Gathering his strength to speak again, Chee tried to lick his lips, but couldn’t seem to do it. “Was it bad…in Pennsylvania?”

  LaRisa remembered the hopelessness in the eyes that had watched her walk through the grounds earlier, remembered the miserable conditions, the constant drip of water in the pan behind her. Air too thick to breathe. Mosquitoes even thicker. “No, shitaa, not like this. I missed you terribly, but the children and I, we had each other. It…it wasn’t so bad. The air—” She struggled to keep her voice even. “The air was easy to breathe. Most of the people were…nice. We had plenty to eat. We were warm in the winter. It was…it was good, shitaa. It would have been perfect if you could have been there with me.”

  “And I,” he told her. “I could have borne this…this damned captivity easier with you by my side, little one. But I did not want you to live…like a caged animal. When I’m gone—”

  “No,” she cried.

  He looked at her sadly. “When I’m gone, child, I don’t want you to stay in this place.” He blinked and tried to see past her. “Spence,” he acknowledged. “Thank you for bringing her.”

  Spence nodded. “I was close. It was no problem.”

  Chee searched the dark corners of the room again until he saw the familiar shadow. “Matt?”

  Matt stepped forward. “I’m here, friend.”

  “What can you do? She can’t stay here.”

  “Shitaa,” she told him. “It’s all right. I have learned much at Carlisle that can help our people. I will—”

  “No!” The sharp cry left Chee breathless and surprised LaRisa with its fierceness. “I don’t want you to live like this, to die like this, with sickness eating away at your body, your spirit shriveling year after year. If you stay with The People you will be like the others, with nothing to live for, and your heart…your heart will not sing. You must leave this place.”

  “All right,” she said quickly to calm him. “All right, shitaa, I will leave this place.”

  “And go where? How will you live? Matt?”

  Matt squatted beside Spence. “Rest easy, friend, I’ll see to it.”

  “How? I have to know,” Chee insisted. “I have to be sure. They won’t just let her leave.”

  “Shh, shh,” LaRisa soothed. She could not let him worry and fret over her. “Of course they’ll let me leave. I’m the wife of a prominent white doctor.”

  “What?” The sharp outcry started a fit of coughing that lasted several moments and left Chee gasping for breath.

  “And you complained about my bedside manner,” Spence muttered. “You could have broken the news to him a little more gently.”

  “Oh, shut up, white man.”

  Chee eyed the two in growing wonder. The sparks that flew sharp between them spoke of heat. “You…and Spence?”

  LaRisa swallowed. “Yes. They weren’t—”

  “Yes,” Spence broke in, cutting off her explanation. He didn’t see any reason to disillusion a dying man. “We were married four days ago in Pennsylvania. I apologize for not waiting until we got here, so I could ask for your approval, but things just sort of…happened.”

  LaRisa was furious that he would lie at a time like this, but she would not contradict him and further agitate her father. It was best this way, to let him think she and Spence had a real marriage. “That’s right,” she said. “We just…decided not to wait.”

  Chee’s gaze sharpened. “The pair of you make…lousy liars. If I leave it…up to you, your marriage won’t last a week.”

  “You’re not to worry, shitaa.”

  Chee’s lips twitched. “My body may have turned traitor on me, but I’m not so feeble-minded that I can’t decide on my own whether or not…to worry.” There was animosity between his daughter and Spence, but the heat there intrigued him. Was this the answer, then? It had to be. There was no other in sight. “Promise me…”

  His voice was growing weaker. LaRisa leaned forward. “Promise what?”

  “Promise you’ll stay married to Spence. That you’ll let him take you away from this place, let him take you…home. To Arizona. Maybe…maybe to Mexico, to Dee-O-Det in the Mother Mountains.”

  “Shitaa.” She forced a smile. “I have a terrible temper and a sharp tongue. You wouldn’t condemn the brother of your closest friend to a life with a woman like me, would you?”

  Chee’s eyes turned fierce as he looked at first her, then Spence. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll take her home where she can live free, where there is air to breathe and clear water to drink and sickness will not follow her every step. Take her where her heart can sing. Promise me!”

  Dear God, Spence thought. “I promise, Chee. I promise.”

  Chee sighed and let his eyes drift shut. He squeezed LaRisa’s hand. “And you, daughter. Promise me you’ll stay with him.”

  “But…he is not a warrior.”

  “Is he not? Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters,” she told her father. “All my life I’ve dreamed of finding the right warrior. Don’t you remember?”

  “What is this warrior like, this right warrior?” Chee asked quietly.

  Still holding his hand, LaRisa closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “I want a warrior who is strong and brave, who will treat me with honor and respect. A warrior who loves as fiercely as he fights. A warrior powerful enough to protect and provide for me and the children we will raise. A warrior who can be tender, as well as strong. One who will fight with me when I need to fight, who will hold me when I need to cry. One who will face a battle with courage. And after the battle, he will return to me triumphant, stained with the blood of victory.”

  LaRisa blinked her eyes opened, embarrassed that she’d spoken her heart’s desire so freely in front of Matt and Spence. Then she told herself it didn’t matter. What would they care about her heart’s desire, anyway? “That is the warrior I want. I will not find him among the white men.”

  “You will not find him here, either. We are not warriors any longer,” he said bitterly. “We are prisoners.”

  LaRisa’s throat threatened to close. “Am I to give up my dream, then?”

  “Never give up your dream,” he told her. “Without a dream, what is there to live for? You will find what you seek.”

  “I seek a warrior, yet you say I will not find one.”

  “Ah, my child.” Chee smiled a mysterious smile. “There are
warriors, and then, there are warriors.”

  LaRisa leaned closer. “What do you mean?”

  He squeezed her hand. “You will see. Just promise you’ll stay with Spence, and you will see. Promise me.”

  “I…I promise. Rest now, shitaa. Save your strength. You have no more need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  Chee waited, searching his mind for the truth. As the cool mists gathered again, he thought he heard his Maria’s voice. You did well, my husband. Our daughter will live long and free, and her heart will sing with this man. As the beloved voice whispered in his mind, Chee relaxed. Maria would not lie to him.

  The mists swirled closer around him, easing the tightness in his chest, letting his breath come easily. The fog grew brighter and brighter, shifting, moving, parting. In the center it faded away entirely, and this time when he saw Maria’s face, he knew it was really her.

  He gave his daughter one final smile, then took Maria’s hand and walked tall and straight at her side into the sunlight and fresh, cool air, into The Place Where Cottonwoods Stand in Line.

  “Shitaa? Shitaa?” LaRisa clutched his hand tight in both of hers and waited for his chest to rise again, for his breath to come again. She waited. She waited.

  Beside her, Spence laid a hand on her shoulder. “LaRisa…”

  “Shitaaaaaaaaa!”

  Chapter Five

  LaRisa was both angry and grateful that Spence had brought her to his room, half of the dogtrot cabin he shared with Matt. She hadn’t wanted to leave her father abandoned in the night with no one to watch over him, but she was glad to be alone for a few minutes with her grief and tears. She was appalled that she had shown such weakness to others. She would not do so again.

  She would gather her strength and pride and return to tend her father in the ways of The People. She would bathe him and dress him in his finest clothes and paint his face red. She would gather his belongings so they could be buried with him. He would be laid to rest with dignity and all the love and respect in her soul.