Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Coyotes!

  More yips joined the chorus until the night echoed with the full-throated call of a nearby pack. Chill bumps rose on LaRisa’s arms. As were all Apache children, she had been raised on the legends of The Trickster, mai. The coyote.

  How long had it been? Eight years. Eight years since she had heard that soul-stirring sound of her homeland. LaRisa closed her eyes and hugged herself. With her head thrown back and a cool, dry breeze on her face, she let the wild call of freedom seep into her parched soul.

  Chapter Nine

  When LaRisa woke the next morning, she was alone in the room. The cot that had been set up at the foot of the bed while they were at supper last night was now empty. She and Spence had broken their truce over that cot. She bit back a smile at the memory. Stubborn man.

  But then, she had more than her share of stubborn, too. She’d lost the argument last night, though, and Spence had slept on the cot while she’d had his big soft bed all to herself. She’d never spent a more restful night.

  It wasn’t just the bed, though, that had her jumping up, eager to meet the day. It was…everything. The welcome from Spence’s wonderful family, the song of the coyote still singing in her heart, the smell of sagebrush in the moonlight that lingered in her mind.

  And the food. Oh, Lord, that had been the most marvelous meal she’d ever eaten. Even better than that first breakfast Spence had bought her just before they’d boarded the train in Philadelphia. That had been an historic occasion for LaRisa. It was the first time in her life she remembered being able to eat until she was full, the first time she had ever left food on her plate. It was a shame she hadn’t been able to do the meal justice.

  The meals on the train, too, had been delicious. But nothing compared to that supper last night. Every chance we get, Spence had said. Wondering what they served for breakfast in a house like this sent LaRisa scurrying to wash up and get dressed.

  As she left the room a few minutes later she met Serena in the hall. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” Serena said.

  The quick glance Serena gave her left her feeling self-conscious. She caught herself fidgeting with her skirt.

  Serena gave her a smile. “I hope you won’t be offended if Jo and I offer you some clothes to wear this afternoon, just to get you by until we can take you shopping for some of your own.”

  LaRisa looked down at her ugly, drab clothes and wanted to cringe.

  “You are offended. I’m sorry. But I get so angry every time I see that horrid Carlisle uniform, I just want to scream.”

  Surprised, LaRisa looked up from the study of her hem. “Carlisle?”

  “Oh, yes, my dear, I know what that dress means. It means being taken away from your family, from everything you know. It means being sent to live among strangers who speak a foreign language and being expected to understand what you’re told. It means…but then, you know what it means better than I do.”

  “Yes,” LaRisa said quietly. Then she smiled shyly. “I’d really appreciate the loan of a dress or two until I can get clothes of my own.”

  Serena took her by the arm and smiled. “Good. We’ll take care of it this morning. But first, breakfast. Wait until you see what Consuela can do with ham.”

  What the cook could do with ham was surely sinful, and LaRisa savored every bite.

  “I haven’t heard anything about Jessie and Blake and their kids,” Spence said. “How are they?”

  “They’re great,” Joanna answered. “Blake is waiting for a buyer from Denver, or they would have been here to greet you yesterday.”

  “Denver? Sounds like Blake’s doing all right for himself.”

  “Oh, he is. Jessie teases him about getting famous, but he swears it’s not him, just his Arabians.”

  “We gotta get goin’,” Russ said as he scooted his chair back. “Come on, you laggard.”

  “I’m still eatin’,” Will protested.

  “Well, I’m goin’. You wanna help me and Carlos move those mustangs, you’ll have to catch up. ‘Bye, Mama, ‘bye, everybody. See ya later.”

  “Hey,” Will hollered as Russ stomped out of the room. “Wait for me!” Standing beside his chair, he used a biscuit to wipe the last of the gravy from his plate, then wrapped three more biscuits in his napkin and ran for the door. “I’m comin’, just hold your horses.”

  Serena placed her napkin beside her plate. “I’d better make sure they don’t forget their lunches.”

  The next few days were the best LaRisa had ever known. During the hours she spent with Joanna and Serena, the bonds of a strong friendship were formed. The three women quickly found that there wasn’t anything they couldn’t talk about, and laugh about. It was an entirely new experience for LaRisa.

  Joanna was only a year older than LaRisa. They were two young ladies just coming into their own, one who’d had nearly everything she’d ever wanted just for the asking, but who didn’t act spoiled, the other who’d had virtually nothing and was trying to learn not to be bitter. Yet they thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company.

  LaRisa felt a special kinship with Serena because they were both half Chiricahua. Serena’s lighter skin and blue eyes told of her mixed heritage. LaRisa’s Mexican blood from her mother left people believing she was a full-blooded Apache. The two talked about the prejudice they’d encountered, and LaRisa came to understand more fully what Spence meant when he spoke of the chip on her shoulder. Serena seemed to have no anger, even though she had always lived in Arizona, where the prejudice was rampant. In the East people didn’t hate Indians, they just thought of them as lesser creatures. Sometimes as ignorant heathens or savages. In the West, Chiricahua Apaches in particular were seen as rampaging, murdering fiends.

  Maybe I haven’t had it so bad after all, LaRisa thought.

  Her only sorrow was that she knew these idyllic days couldn’t last. This wasn’t her home, these people were not her family. No matter how warmly they treated her, she did not belong. Would never belong. Her place was out there in the world somewhere, alone. One day soon she would have to face that.

  Meanwhile she vowed to store up as many happy memories as she could.

  Spence watched the friendships forming and silently applauded. If anyone ever needed a few friends, it was LaRisa. Yet he saw the shadows in her eyes and had the unwelcome desire to banish them.

  All of his desires concerning LaRisa were unwelcome, but he’d be damned if he knew what to do to make them go away. How was he supposed to stop remembering the taste and feel of her lips, or the way her nipples had tightened when he’d touched the bruise on her breast? Her reaction had not been one of pain. She’d been aroused. Startled and shocked, but aroused.

  Dammit, he thought he’d put that particular memory out of his mind. He didn’t need a complication like LaRisa in his life, and she didn’t need anything from him but friendship. He could give her that, but she was never as easy with him as she was with Rena and Jo. The three of them had made the house echo with feminine laughter for days.

  This afternoon the house was quiet. Spence glanced into the salon and found Serena alone, her feet propped up on an ottoman while she sat thumbing through a magazine.

  “Where is everybody?” he asked.

  Serena put down the latest issue of the Saturday Evening Post and motioned him in. “The girls are helping Consuela in the kitchen.” She paused. “You look like a man with something on his mind.”

  Spence gave a wry smile. “You could say that.”

  “Out with it, little brother.”

  He chuckled. “You haven’t called me that in years.”

  “You haven’t been around in years. I’m glad you’re home, Spence. I hope you’ll stay awhile.”

  “I’m thinking about it,” he said. “I’m also thinking about going to town tomorrow and wondered if you and Jo and LaRisa might like to go with me.”

  “Excellent,” Serena cried. “We’d love to. It’s time LaRisa had some new clothes.”

&
nbsp; That was Spence’s thought exactly. While he appreciated that Serena and Jo had been sharing their wardrobes with her, he didn’t like the idea of LaRisa having to wear borrowed clothes. He nodded at Serena’s suggestion. “You three can shop while I take care of some business.” It was past time to talk to the family lawyer about the annulment, and he needed to say hello to Mac. He’d put off going to town since he’d come home, but it wasn’t fair to LaRisa or himself to let it go any longer.

  “Oh, damn,” Serena said. “I forgot I promised to ride over to the Hamilton’s ranch tomorrow.”

  As much as Spence hated to put off going to town even another day, he offered. “We can go the next day.”

  “No no,” Serena said. “Joanna can help LaRisa with her shopping. The two of them will have a grand time. You go ahead and take them tomorrow.”

  “Where to first, ladies?” Spence asked as he guided the surrey into Tucson.

  “LaRisa needs boots,” Joanna stated. “We might as well go to Enrique’s first and get that ordeal over with.”

  Spence smiled. “He’s still around?”

  Joanna nodded. “And he hasn’t changed a bit.” She grinned at LaRisa. “You’re going to get a kick out of Enrique, the bootmaker. He’s terrified of women.”

  LaRisa looked at her askance. “Why?”

  “His wife is very jealous,” Joanna offered with a twinkle in her green eyes. “A visit to his shop is an experience you shouldn’t miss.”

  LaRisa remained quiet. She doubted any wife would bother being jealous over an Apache. She was more distressed at the idea of spending Spence’s money on herself than she was about some bootmaker. Heavens, boots were expensive.

  Spence pulled the matched pair of bays to a halt before a squat adobe building on a busy side street. The sign above the door read ENRIQUE J. SANCHEZ, BOOTMAKER. Spence helped LaRisa and Joanna down, then pushed open the door to the shop for them to enter. A bell clanked overhead.

  The shop smelled strongly of leather, oil, and dyes. So strong, the first few breaths were difficult. A squat old Mexican man with a long, drooping mustache waddled out of the back room. “Señor Medico Spence,” he cried. “Been a long time, mi amigo, a very long time.” He offered a hand whose fingers were stained and calloused.

  Spence took the hand and clasped it in both of his. This man had made Spence’s first pair of boots, when Spence was no more than knee-high, and every pair since. “Enrique, you old devil, you get younger every time I see you.”

  “Ah, you lie so good.” Enrique’s belly shook with laughter. “Older, I am, es verdad.” He then gave the ladies a pained smile. “And older by the minute if it isn’t you, Spence, who needs new boots.”

  “Now, Enrique.”

  “Now, Spence. You know I don’t like…well, you know. My Maria, she nearly slit my throat the last time I had to measure a lady for new boots. She caught me,” he whispered, his eyes darting over his shoulder as if expecting Maria to come barging in from the back room. “It was all so innocent, you see, me touching that poor lady’s…limb. But Maria, ah, Chihuahua, she gets so mad.”

  Spence chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll handle the lady’s limbs. You just make the boots.”

  Enrique’s eyes lit. “¿Sí? I won’t have to touch?”

  “I promise. You won’t have to touch her at all.”

  The old Mexican’s chest expanded with his smile. “In that case,” he said bowing low to LaRisa and Joanna, “welcome to my humble shop. It is rare that it is graced with such loveliness.”

  “Let me see this loveliness,” came a sharp, accented voice from the back room.

  Enrique made a comical face of dismay, while the others laughed.

  “Maria?” Joanna called as she moved toward the door.

  “Joanna? Ah, little one, do come in, come in. How have you been? Have you heard from your father?” Her voice and Joanna’s responses faded as they turned a corner somewhere in the back.

  Enrique was eying LaRisa closely. “You are Apache, are you not?”

  LaRisa stiffened and her smile thinned. “I am.”

  “But not totally, I am thinking.” He squeezed one eye shut and peered at her with the other. “I see…Mejicano?”

  Surprised, LaRisa answered without thinking. “Yes. My mother was Mexican.”

  “Ah ha! I thought so. I can always tell a fellow countryman—or countrywoman. So, you need a pair of boots. You have come to the right man. Enrique,” he said, puffing out his chest, “is the best bootmaker in all of Arizona and Sonora. You don’t believe, you ask anybody. Is that not right, Spence?”

  “Absolutely,” Spence offered.

  “You see?” Enrique said to LaRisa. “I will make you the best pair of boots you ever had.”

  They would be the only pair of boots she’d ever had, LaRisa thought with humor, but she kept the comment to herself.

  Enrique showed her different styles and leathers, and LaRisa chose a smooth glossy black. Spence pointed out that she would need them for riding, and a discussion of heels followed. Then it was time to measure LaRisa and, true to his word, Enrique started backing away.

  “Here.” He thrust a stubby pencil and a sheet of paper at Spence. “Trace each foot, and you must be careful, or the boots, they will not fit.”

  “I’ll be very careful,” Spence said as Enrique escaped into the back room. Spence’s tone was sober, but his eyes sparkled.

  LaRisa met his look and fought back a smile. She sat on the short bench along the back wall, and Spence knelt before her. She just couldn’t resist. “I think I like this—you kneeling at my feet.”

  “Do tell.” He slipped one of her shoes off and cupped her arch in his palm.

  LaRisa jerked at his touch.

  Spence’s voice deepened. “Do you like this?” He inched his other hand slowly up the back of her calf.

  LaRisa sucked in her breath as fire spread from his touch, straight up her leg to the place where her thighs met. Hot, moist fire, the likes of which she’d never felt before. She tried to pull her leg from his grasp, but couldn’t move. She tried to tear her eyes from his, but couldn’t look away. There was heat there, too, in his eyes. And surprise. His fingers flexed against her calf.

  The hand on her foot slipped away. With his gaze still holding hers, he pressed her foot to the sheet of paper on the floor. “Stand up,” he bade, his voice husky.

  She tried, or at least she meant to, but couldn’t move. While she stared into his eyes and wondered what was happening to her, he slipped off her other shoe and cupped the back of that leg. The tingling heat intensified. Her breath came harder. Her breasts grew heavy and her nipples tightened, just like they did that first day on the train when he’d touched the bare flesh of her breast. This time he was touching her legs, but the same feelings rushed through her, stronger than before. This time there was no fear or humiliation to temper the sensations. They were hot and fierce and…welcome.

  LaRisa shivered. This, then, was what it was to want a man. It was a wild, heady feeling, exhilarating and terrifying at once. She wanted him to run his hands up her legs, but not up the backs; up the insides. All the way up until he touched the secret place where moist heat throbbed in anticipation. Thinking of it, she realized that wanting his touch between her thighs didn’t even shock her. What shocked her was seeing in Spence’s eyes that he wanted to touch her in just that way.

  His hands slipped away and she nearly cried out in protest. Then he wrapped them around her waist, his thumbs reaching up to almost, almost touch the lower curves of her breasts. Her breath hitched.

  Spence watched her lips part, felt her chest expand beneath his hands. With his mind centered solely on her, his gaze on her lips, he leaned closer, closer, until he felt her rapid puffs of breath against his mouth. His lips reached for hers. He nibbled, he teased with quick nips, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to taste her. With his pulse pounding, he took her mouth with his.

  The kiss stopped the breath in her lungs. Sh
e reached for his shoulders, not to push him away, but to pull him closer. Never had she felt such sensations. Everything she’d been feeling a moment ago intensified a hundredfold. How could the mere touching of mouth to mouth be so…overwhelming?

  He tasted of smoke from the cigar he’d had on the way to town, and some darker flavor that she instinctively knew was strictly his. She reveled in it.

  His tongue slipped between her lips, startling her. Tentatively she met it with hers. A jolt of heat shot through her.

  Spence felt her quiver beneath his touch. It took all his willpower to keep from sliding his hands up the few inches it would take to cover her breasts. She tasted so damn sweet, so innocent.

  Innocent.

  The thought shook him. What the hell was he doing kissing her as if he’d been searching for just this woman all his life? She was Chee’s daughter, for God’s sake. They were getting an annulment. He should tear his mouth from hers and push her away. He had no business wanting the things he wanted from LaRisa. She wasn’t his.

  But damn, she felt like she was.

  He eased his lips from hers. Their breaths, coming in gasps, mingled. He opened his eyes—when had he shut them?—and met hers. They were black and hot with passion. He wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet.

  “Stand up,” he said as he lifted her to her feet.

  LaRisa’s knees shook, but she figured that was okay, because unless she was mistaken, Spence’s hands weren’t any steadier.

  “When you finish tracing her feet,” Enrique said, stepping in from the back room, “I need a couple of measurements.”

  Spence swallowed, picked up the pencil, and tore his gaze from LaRisa’s. Good God, what the hell had just happened? He felt weak and trembly, as if they’d done a hell of a lot more than just kiss. What the hell had he been thinking, to do something like that?

  As quickly as possible he traced each foot, then measured around each calf as instructed.

  “Now I need the height for the shank.” Enrique handed him a length of string. Nothing so practical as a tape measure for Enrique. “From the floor to that little knob at the top of that bone outside and just below the knee.”