The left arm was bent at a right angle and turned across his body at the elbow that had taken the bullet from the gringa. It would not straighten, and the hand on that arm was useless. The left leg was bent only slightly at his ruined knee, just enough to make him walk with a severe limp, if he could walk at all.
The only medico in the town of Janos felt sweat bead along his spine. “As I said, El Carni—ah, Señor Juerta, it is a miracle you are even alive. The arm and the leg, they should both have been amputated. With practice, you can learn to walk with a crutch.”
“A crutch?” Don Rodrigo threw his tin drinking cup at the doctor’s head. “I am Don Rodrigo Francisco Alfredo Martinez Juerta, you fool! I am not some stupid cripple who walks with a crutch!” The left-handed Mexican fumbled for his gun with his right hand. It felt awkward, and his aim was off. The stupid doctor got away.
By the end of Joanna’s second week with Pace, he was walking. Not easily, and not without bracing himself on the rails, but he was walking.
“You can go home now,” he told Joanna. “I can take it from here.”
Joanna’s throat closed. She turned away from him and stared out the small window opposite his bed. After a moment, she said, “What’s your excuse this time?”
“My excuse for what?”
“You wanted to spare me from life with a cripple. You’re not a cripple now.”
“I’m still an Apache.” Pace had thought long and hard, and he thought maybe this ploy might work. By the look on her face when she turned to gape at him, however, he realized he may have miscalculated.
“What in the Sam Hill does that have to do with anything?”
Between the railings, Pace concentrated and took another painful step. “I saw the way that minister in town snubbed you when he came to marry us. I won’t have you looked down on because of me.”
“Well if that’s not the most ridiculous thing to come out of a Colton’s mouth, I don’t know what is.”
“It’s different for the others,” Pace said, bracing himself on the rails to catch his breath. “Nobody thinks anything about a white man taking an Indian woman to wife. But a white woman who would marry an Apache is considered worse than a slut.”
“Worse than a divorced woman?” she taunted.
Pace knew his argument had holes in it big enough to drive a team and wagon through, but it was all he had. He couldn’t’, wouldn’t, tell her the truth. She’d been right all those months ago. He was a coward.
“Divorced has to be better than married to an Apache. That minister looked at you like you were scum! I won’t have you treated that way.”
“I doubt he cared that you were Apache,” she countered. “Like I said at the time, he was probably horrified because I was marrying my uncle.”
“That’s even worse! I’m right, and you know it,” Pace said adamantly. “Marriage between us just won’t work, Jo.”
She gave him a sad smile that tied his guts in knots. “Not if you’re determined it won’t.”
Joanna lowered herself to the edge of the cot, out of Pace’s way so he could walk that far then turn around and head back to his bed. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She could not fight him anymore. “All right, Pace. You win.”
Joanna went home to the Triple C and word came in less than two weeks that Pace was gone. No one knew where he’d headed. Joanna cried herself to sleep that night.
She woke the next morning with swollen eyes and a throat scraped raw by tears. She was five and a half months pregnant, and her husband had left her.
Divorce? On what grounds?
Desertion.
Well, he’d told her the truth, hadn’t he? He’d said she would be able to divorce him on grounds of desertion.
“Poor baby,” she whispered to the child in her womb as she stroked her belly. “What am I going to tell you about your Daddy when you’re born? How will I be able to explain what I don’t understand?”
She didn’t want her child hurt because of Pace. She would do whatever she could to make sure this baby was happy. And healthy. Toward the latter end, she knew she could not keep moping around the house like a lost waif. It wasn’t good for the baby. She had to take better care of herself, eat good, solid meals, get plenty of fresh air. Take walks. Hadn’t Gran told her that would help her during her labor?
“All right, Pace Colton, leave us, if that’s what you want. We can’t hold you against your will. But don’t look back expecting us to build you a shrine. This baby and I are going to be fine.” Again she rubbed the mound created by her child. “Yes, sweetie, you and I are going to be just fine, aren’t we?”
As the weeks went by, Joanna’s resolve to put Pace out of her mind and out of her heart held firm—in front of the rest of the family. But alone at night in her bed she could not help but remember.
Was she doomed to never know the feel of his arms, the taste of his lips, the thrill of his possession again? She knew instinctively that she would never love another man, would never let another man touch her. No man would be able to make her spirit soar along with her flesh. No man but Pace.
God, it hurt to know he didn’t want her. It hurt worse to not understand why. His excuse about her being snubbed because of him was preposterous. Not that she might not be snubbed, but that he could possibly believe she would care. Coltons had been snubbed since Travis had married Daniella, a former Apache captive. Coltons didn’t give a fig about what others thought. They stood shoulder to shoulder—sometimes, when the need arose, back to back—and took on all comers. Why would Pace think that should suddenly change?
Damn him! Damn him for hurting her this way.
Every day she pasted on a smile and faced the family, seeing the questions and the pity in their eyes, seeing their anger at Pace. She didn’t want them to be angry with Pace, not for her sake. She wanted her family together. All of them.
“If wishes were horses,” she muttered.
And so the weeks went. Spring blossomed in the garden and across the desert, and Joanna blossomed as well. The child in her womb grew, and Spence pronounced them both healthy.
The rest of the family was solicitous of Joanna’s every need. As her burden grew and her pace slowed, someone was always near with a helping hand.
Matt watched his daughter’s time draw near, and when he allowed himself to remember what she would go through, he broke out in a cold sweat. Seeing Serena deliver their two sons had nearly killed him. But as much as he loved her, Serena was a grown woman. In his mind, Joanna was still his little Pumpkin.
Not so little anymore, he acknowledged.
He was troubled by Pace’s absence. Matt knew, maybe better than Pace himself, how much family meant to Pace. He had deliberately cut himself off from the family for years because of his feelings for Matt. But his own son was about to be born. If Matt were laying bets, he would have bet his right arm that nothing on earth could keep Pace from his own wife and son. Nothing.
Finished with his chores for the day, Matt left the barn, slapping his leather gloves against his thigh in frustration. Damn that Pace.
Matt crossed the yard and headed for the front door of the house and spotted Joanna at her bedroom window. Her temple rested against a window pane as she stared morosely across the springtime desert beyond the house.
She thought she was fooling everyone with her cheerful smile. None of them had the heart to point out to her that it didn’t match the desolation in her eyes.
Damn you, Pace.
Joanna spotted him and instantly pasted on the smile that made Matt’s chest hurt.
She opened the window and stuck her head out. “All through for the day, Daddy?”
“Finally,” he answered.
“Did the mare foal yet?”
“Not yet, but it won’t be long.” The window was tall and wide, so Matt had no trouble seeing that Jo reached down and spread her hands across her belly. Lord, she was getting big. By his calculations, she had only a couple of more weeks be
fore she would make him a grandfather. He swallowed at the thought.
Patting her belly, she said, “Do you think she’ll beat me?”
“Yeah.” He forced his smile to remain in place. “She’ll beat you for sure.” Let’s just hope your baby doesn’t have four legs. But with a jackass for a father, we’ll have to count to be sure.
She blew him a kiss, then ducked back inside, closed the window, and disappeared.
Matt took a deep breath and swallowed the anger that hadn’t left him since he’d found out about Pace and Jo. She was too good for Pace, dammit. She was like those roses growing in front of her window, graceful, beautiful, delicate.
And in full bloom, he thought wryly. And if Serena could hear his thoughts, she would undoubtedly remind him that only the blossom on the rose was delicate. The plant itself was strong enough to withstand anything mother nature threw at it.
But Jo was more like a blossom. Right now she was like the one lying on the ground at the base of the plant. It looked like it had been crushed by a boot heel.
Matt started to turn away, but instead stepped into the flower bed where no one was allowed to walk. He squatted beside the rosebush and looked closer.
His blood boiled. Someone—a man—had been outside Jo’s window, looking in. A man careless enough to leave a footprint. Not, however, a boot print. The man had been wearing moccasins.
Pace. One of the hands said he thought he’d seen Pace in Tucson earlier in the week.
Did Joanna know he’d been here?
Matt examined the window sill and found a smudge of dirt that couldn’t have gotten there without human help, and a blue thread snagged on a rough patch of adobe next to the window.
Slowly, Matt straightened and backed out of the garden. Pace had been there. It had to have been Pace. But it wasn’t like Pace to leave tracks, unless he meant to.
Or unless he’d been in too big a hurry. Or unless he just thought no one would notice or care.
For the next few days Matt watched and waited, dropped hints, did everything he could think of to get Jo to admit Pace had come to see her. He finally came to the conclusion that she didn’t know about Pace’s visit.
Interesting. Damn interesting.
In the middle of May, Joanna was helping Serena fold sheets fresh from the line when a slow ache started in the small of her back. She arched and rubbed at the spot to relieve the pain, but it seemed to form fingers and reach around her sides and into her abdomen. The force of it built so fast and so hard she barely had time to cry out.
Serena dropped the other end of the sheet and rushed to her. “Jo?”
Joanna gasped for breath. “I think…it’s started.”
“Okay then. Easy does it. Breathe deeply. Deeper. That’s it. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s perfectly natural.” While she spoke, Serena led Jo from the clothesline into the courtyard and toward the nearest bench.
As the pain eased its grip on her Joanna sank gratefully to the bench. “I’m all right. It just surprised me. I wasn’t expecting it so soon.”
“So soon? Haven’t you been watching the calendar? It’s not soon, it’s right on time.”
Panic threatened Joanna, but she fought it down. She wanted this baby to be born. She did! But…once the baby was born she would be forced to keep her word and grant Pace the divorce he demanded.
Not yet, she prayed. I’m not ready! It’s too soon!
The calendar, and the baby, said otherwise.
“Maybe it’s false labor,” Joanna offered. “That happens, I’ve heard.”
Serena nodded. “It happens, but I wouldn’t count on it. Would you like to go in and lie down?”
“No.” Joanna shook her head vigorously. In her mind, if she went to bed, the baby would come that much sooner. I’m not ready. Please let this be false labor. “No, I’m fine. Really.”
Daniella stepped out from the house. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Serena beamed. “Joanna just had her first labor pain. The baby is on its way.”
“That’s wonderful,” Daniella cried.
“She says she doesn’t want to lie down.”
“I don’t blame her. I stayed on my feet with you and—” Daniella’s face fell.
“It’s all right, Gran. You can say his name.”
Daniella ran a hand over Joanna’s hair. “I’m sorry, Jo. He should be here for you, today, if no other day.” She took a deep breath, then smiled. “I was saying, I stayed on my feet with Serena and Pace, and it was easier on me than when Spence was born.”
“You took to your bed for Spence?” Serena asked. “Why?”
Daniella pursed her lips, but there was a gleam of humor in her eyes. “Not for Spence or me, for your father. And believe me, that was the last time I catered to his fears during childbirth. I was much better off staying on my feet and walking as long as I could. You tried it both ways,” she said to Serena. “What did you decide?”
Serena gave them both a smile filled with irony. “It hurt like the devil both times. I couldn’t tell any difference.”
Joanna pushed herself to her feet. “I think I’ll give Gran’s method a try.”
“Just breathe with the pain, dear,” her grandmother told her. “Don’t fight it and don’t hold your breath. You’ll only prolong your own discomfort.”
Joanna didn’t start out fighting the pain deliberately, but when she realized she was doing exactly what her grandmother warned her would prolong things, she did not stop. She could not stop. She could not bring herself to do anything to hasten the end of her marriage to Pace.
Each time the pain came, she tried to ignore it, deny it. When it would not be denied, she fought it. When her water broke, she battled tears. She knew she was being foolish, knew there was nothing she could do to delay her child’s birth. It wasn’t the child’s birth she wanted to delay.
Pace, Pace, where are you? Why are you making me do this? I hope it’s a girl. I don’t want a divorce!
Even to herself, she wasn’t making sense.
She stayed on her feet long past sundown, long past Serena’s and Daniella’s advice.
“What are you doing, Jo?” Matt ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re scaring your old man. Do like Rena and Dani said and lie down. Where the devil is Spence? What’s taking him so long?”
Joanna paced before the fireplace in the parlor. “I don’t know why everyone’s making such a fuss. I’m fine, I tell you. Babies are born every day.”
“You’re about to drop where you stand,” Matt muttered.
“Don’t be silly, Daddy, of course I’m n—” The suddenness of the deep, sharp pain stole her breath. The room seemed to dim and swirl. What was happening? She reached for the mantle to steady herself. The last thing she saw was a look of horror on her father’s face before everything went black.
Matt was scared spitless. Joanna had fainted. He’d carried her to bed and Rena and Dani had been in there with her for an hour. Of all the damn times for Spence to be out of town! Matt had sent word, so he knew Spence would come the minute he could. Would it be soon enough? Matt had a bad feeling in his bones, and it terrified him.
When Serena came into the hall, where he and his father had been pacing for the past hour, his fear deepened. Her face was ashen and her hands were shaking.
“How is she?” Matt demanded.
Serena looked from one man to the other, then settled on Matt. “I think…you’d better see if you can find Pace.”
Everything inside Matt turned to ice. A cramping pain in his gut nearly sent him to his knees. “She’s dying,” he managed.
Serena’s eyes filled with tears. “I pray not. But her strength is gone. She’s spent all her energy fighting the pain and doesn’t have any left to last her until the baby comes.”
“Jesus. Oh, Jesus.”
“Can anything be done?” Travis croaked, his voice breaking.
“We can pray,” Serena offered. “And hope Spence gets here soon.�
��
“Can I see her?” Matt asked.
Serena shook her head. “She doesn’t want to see anyone. She doesn’t have the strength to keep her eyes open, Matt. Find Pace,” she urged. “You said he was seen in town. Send someone.”
Joanna knew there was something she was supposed to do, but she couldn’t remember…Breathe. That was it. Gran’s voice kept nagging at her, pulling her from the edge of…something. Telling her to breathe, breathe, breathe.
I’m sorry, little baby. I know you need my help now to come out into the world. Forgive me, baby. I waited too long to help you. Now I don’t seem to have any strength at all. I kept hoping…if you would wait a little longer, stay where you are just a little bit longer…maybe your daddy would change his mind and come back to us. That he would say he didn’t want me to divorce him. I guess I was wrong. He’s not coming, he’s not ever coming. But you are, aren’t you little one? I can feel you trying to be born. I’ll…try to help you. If I can.
Pace was five miles from the ranch—heading away from it—when he reined the buckskin to a halt and cocked his head. He could have sworn he heard a woman’s voice, but now there was nothing.
He shook his head. Must have been a coyote in the distance.
The urge to turn around and ride for the ranch was strong, but he resisted it and nudged the horse south into the night. He’d made his last midnight visit to Joanna’s window. Never again would he torture himself as he’d done every few nights since leaving El Valle by climbing through her window in the middle of the night to watch her sleep. Only a fool would put himself through that again.
He knew it was time for the baby to come, but he knew if he went back one more time, he wouldn’t be able to leave. The pull Joanna had on him was too strong. She deserved better than Pace Colton. She deserved a man who was whole.
He’d gotten his legs back. He could walk now with no trouble, could ride, run. When he overdid, sometimes a slight limp bothered him. The leg that had been broken in three places wasn’t quite as strong as it used to be.
Apache-Colton Series Page 209
