Lucy looked toward the two men who waited. Carmela held her breath. Had what she said made sense? Was she even correct in her views? How did she know what life was really like with the Indian tribes? She didn’t. Uncle Silas thought she did. He thought they had delved into every facet of the Southwest tribes’ lives through their studies. But she knew now that they had only skimmed the surface.
“Those children—from the ranch—”
“You saw them?” Carmela asked. “You saw the Howard children? And what these men did to their home? They killed Mr. Howard, you know. They murdered him.”
Lucy pulled in a shaky breath. “If I don’t go with them, who will look out for those children?”
Carmela studied her face. “You think you can keep those two children safe? Keep the Apache from abusing them? I think you’re very optimistic. The only way to keep them from harm is to make sure they are returned to their mother now. They’ve had enough trauma. Can’t you remember what it was like the day they stole you?”
Lucy bowed her head. A tear escaped from beneath her closed eyelid.
Carmela touched her shoulder. “Lucy, you can help them now. You can refuse to go with these people. You can ask them to return the Howard children. Don’t let them commit more crimes.”
“Orland, how long are we gonna wait?” Mr. Toole asked.
The deputy held up a hand, signaling him to be quiet.
“Those kids are nearby,” Mr. Filmer said in a low tone. “We can’t let ’em just ride off with ’em.”
“We can take ’em,” Toole said. “This bunch, anyway.” He turned steely eyes on Two Pony and his men.
Two Pony spoke to Butler, who said, “He claims his people didn’t steal the Roote girl. He says they were going to join another band when she came to them and asked to go with them.”
Orland cleared his throat. “Miss Wade, what does the girl say?”
Carmela put her arm around Lucy and walked toward Two Pony. Lucy moved with her, for which Carmela was thankful. If the girl hadn’t budged, she probably would have lost this round. Now she had hope.
She stopped before the warrior and made the hand sign for friend. “Please, Two Pony. Send Lucy back with her father today. Now.”
Before Butler could speak, Lucy said, “I don’t want to go back.” She looked up at Carmela. “You must understand how I feel.”
“No, I don’t understand at all, Lucy. But I am concerned about the Howard children.”
Two Pony eyed Carmela with what she felt was a less than friendly air. He turned that gaze on Lucy then on Orland and the other whites.
He spoke vehemently. When he paused, Butler, his face sober, reported, “He says they can kill us all if they want.”
Mr. Roote stepped forward. “Well, you just tell him he’s wrong. There’s a detachment of soldiers behind us. They’ll be here any minute.”
So far as Carmela knew, they hadn’t even dispatched the news to Fort Whipple. But she was also pretty sure Two Pony understood what Roote said.
The Apache men began talking among themselves. Butler eased over closer to Orland.
“They’re telling him they should go on and stop wasting time here. One of ’em said something like they can make it to their rendezvous before the soldiers come, but if not and the army catches up to them, they’ll kill those children.”
Carmela felt faint, but she knew she needed to remain strong now. She reached out to Lucy, and the girl let her lean on her shoulder.
Two Pony studied Carmela’s face, frowning. He reached out and took her chin in his hand and turned her head slightly. Carmela’s heart hammered. He was looking at the ink on her face.
He spoke, and Butler’s brow furrowed. “I don’t savvy. Sorry.”
Two Pony looked directly into Carmela’s eyes. “How long? When Mojave do this to you?”
Carmela’s throat felt squeezed. Could she stand here and lie to the man who had spared Freeland and saved her life?
“I …” She pulled in a shallow breath. “Not Mojave.”
Creases formed between Two Pony’s eyebrows. “Who? What tribe?”
She shook her head. “I have to speak truth to you. You are my friend.” She tried not to think about the eight white men and half a dozen Apache warriors who stood close by, staring at her. Now was the moment when she must speak the truth before God and these witnesses.
“No tribe,” she said. “I was not captured.”
Slowly, Two Pony lowered his hand. The other men gaped and then began to look at each other and murmur.
“What on earth?” Mr. Roote took a step toward her, and Carmela shrank back. “You lied to us.”
Two Pony held up a hand, and Butler said, “Quiet!”
“Who do this to you?” Two Pony asked.
Carmela couldn’t get enough air. She stared up into the dark eyes, fearing she would fold up at his feet. “My uncle. My mother’s brother.”
Two Pony turned to Butler and spoke rapidly in Apache, accompanied by hand signs.
After a moment, Butler turned to Carmela. “He wants to know why anyone in your family would do this to you. And frankly, so do we all.”
Carmela felt herself sway. Deputy Orland jumped forward and caught her.
Chapter Nineteen
She came to her senses to find Orland, Two Pony, and Butler hovering over her, and Lucy grasping her hand painfully tight.
“Carmela, can you hear me?” Lucy had tears in her eyes.
Carmela focused on her and tried to speak, but her mouth was dry and her throat still felt as though a boulder had crushed it.
Butler looked around at the throng and shouted, “Get back and give her some air, would you?”
Orland continued dabbing at her brow, and she realized he was using a damp bandanna.
Two Pony leaned back a little but didn’t rise.
“Water.” He held up a leather water bag, similar to the one he had given her.
Carmela struggled to sit up, and Lucy and Orland supported her. She drank warm water from the skin and looked up at Two Pony.
“Thank you. Twice you have given me water when I needed it.”
“You wait.” He turned to Butler for help and spoke his rapid-fire Apache.
“You rest,” Butler said. “Then you speak.”
“The children,” Carmela whispered.
“All in good time,” Orland said. “I think right now we all want an explanation of your circumstances. Let us know when you’re ready.”
They sat in a haphazard crowd around her, waiting for her to speak, not in the formal parleying circle they had formed earlier. This time all the men were part of the audience. It was almost like one of her performances, Carmela thought, but this time she wouldn’t be acting. She wouldn’t be lying.
She took another drink of water and thanked Orland and Lucy for their ministrations.
“I think I can talk now.” With her hearers so close, she still felt penned in tightly, but she knew she couldn’t put it off. She hauled in a breath, deeper this time.
“When I was twelve years old, my parents died on the trail. They were not killed by Indians. I was kept at Fort Yuma until my uncle made the journey to fetch me. He conceived a plan at that time for me to say I had been captured and my parents massacred. He saw it as a way to make a living to support the two of us.”
No one said a word, but every eye was on her, waiting for her to continue. She searched their faces for anger and hatred, but so far most seemed to reserve judgment.
“I hated this life, and I wanted to stop it, but my uncle insisted I had to go on. He said my father owed him money. I saw no way out, and so I did it. I … I think I became good at it. Convincing, you might say. I knew I was lying, but I felt I had no choice.”
Now a few murmurs started, from the townsmen. Two Pony glared at them, and they quieted.
“My uncle was shot in a stagecoach holdup last week,” Carmela said. Butler did his best to carry on a choppy translation as she continued. “I d
o not know if he is dead or alive. The marshal has gone to try to catch the outlaws who did it and discover what became of my uncle. But I knew that I was done lying to the public.”
“You lied to me and my family,” Mr. Roote said.
“I let you think it was all true.” She looked at the girl beside her. “I’m sorry, Lucy. After I met you, I talked to the minister, Reverend Bardwell.” Several of the white men nodded. “He agreed with me that it was time to end the lying. He was going to help me this Sunday.”
“Help you what?” Mr. Linnet asked.
“I planned to tell his congregation the truth. He and his wife and my landlady, Mrs. Finney, said they would support me. When Mr. Roote came to me with the news that Lucy was gone, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t refuse to help, and yet …”
“And yet, your so-called help is all based on lies,” Mr. Linnet said bitterly.
Carmela sighed and looked down at her skirt. An ant had crawled up one of the folds, and she brushed it away.
“Why did you even come?” Mr. Roote demanded. “Doesn’t sound to me like you wanted to quit lying.”
She raised her chin and met his angry gaze. “I care about Lucy. I hoped I could help her because it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t my intention to ply her with lies.”
Lucy looked at her then turned to her father. “She always told me she didn’t understand, Pa. She never really said she was with Indians. She always urged me to stay home and—and let you and Mama love me….” Her plaintive voice trailed off. Mr. Roote couldn’t hold his daughter’s gaze.
Mr. Butler did his best, trying to keep Two Pony informed. Carmela had picked up enough of the sign language to show Two Pony the sign for friend and point to Lucy.
“I cared about her. And I wanted to speak the truth, to you and to everyone else. I want to start over, and I hope people will forgive me.” She included Two Pony in her gaze then looked around at all of the others.
Two Pony nodded.
“Carmela,” Lucy said in her high-pitched voice, “I think you are very brave.”
Butler translated that with no problem.
Carmela pressed her lips together and shook her head. “No. I’m a coward, or I would have told you sooner.”
“You were younger than me when it started,” Lucy said. “I think you were afraid.”
Carmela drew in a deep breath. “Yes, I was. I’m still afraid, but …”
Lucy reached over and squeezed her hand. “If you can do that, tell all these people you’ve been lying for years and that you want to stop, then I can be brave, too.” She stood and looked straight at Two Pony. “Mr. Butler, tell him I’m going to try to sort out living with my parents.”
Butler obliged, and a moment later, he told Lucy, “He says you have a true friend in Miss Wade. But he also says you must decide for all time which world you will live in.”
Lucy frowned and stood still for a moment. Carmela held her breath. At last, Lucy walked over to her father.
“I’m sorry, Pa. I’m ready to go home.”
Mr. Roote pulled her into his arms. His eyes shone with tears as he held her. “All right, Lucy. We’ll go home.”
Two Pony turned and spoke to his men. The warriors immediately mounted and turned their horses away.
“Wait!” Carmela ran after the leader. She wasn’t sure why she dared, but she caught Two Pony as he was about to swing up onto his paint horse and laid her hand on his arm. “Please! You can’t take those children. The Howard girl and boy. Please don’t do this.”
Two Pony surveyed her, his dark eyes cool and distant. “I did not take them.”
“But they are with your people. Their father was killed, and their mother weeps for them.”
He looked down at her for a long moment. If only she hadn’t told him about the lie behind her inked markings. She might have a better chance of getting those children back if he still believed her falsehood.
No, she told herself. I will speak only truth to him now.
“Be at peace with what you have done today.” Two Pony leaped onto the horse. He and his followers rode off. As they reached a rise in the trail, two more riders emerged from a ravine, riding up a steep slope to join them.
Carmela gasped. Each of the two riders joining them had a white youngster in front of him on his horse. “Andy’s four and Marjorie is six.” Carmela’s saw Mrs. Howard’s grief-stricken face clearly in her mind.
“Marjorie,” she screamed.
The two children strained to look for her. Their captors restrained them, but Marjorie and Andy flailed and kicked against them. Andy especially put up a violent struggle.
Lucy had run to stand beside Carmela.
“Oh! That’s them, isn’t it? Pa, you’ve got to do something.”
The man holding Andy drew back his hand and struck the boy across the face. Marjorie apparently saw it, because her shrieks increased until her captor clamped a hand over her mouth and forced his horse into a gallop.
Mr. Roote, Orland, and several of the other men had reached where Carmela and Lucy stood, watching the party flee.
“Pa, please!” Tears streamed down Lucy’s face. “They’re hitting them.”
“We would all be killed if we pursued them now,” Mr. Roote said. “Two Pony made that clear.”
“No!” Lucy fell against him, sobbing.
Carmela watched helplessly as Two Pony raced his horse alongside the other Indians until he was at the front. He led the band of Apache westward.
A shout from Butler reached her from behind, and she turned to see what caused it. Mr. Linnet stood near him, pointing back toward Prescott. Butler put his hands to his face to form a trumpet.
“The marshal’s coming!”
Freeland spotted the ragged band ahead of them and spurred his horse. They hadn’t expected to catch up to Orland this soon. Something had delayed the civilian posse.
His anxiety over Carmela had begun when Mrs. Finney told him she had joined Orland’s expedition to bring Lucy Roote back, and it had festered while he found a fresh horse and rode out here with Duffield. They had seen the smoking ruin of the Howards’ house but hadn’t stopped there. Minutes lost could mean lives. Now they were close.
Scanning the figures in the distance, he could make out the skirts of at least two females, but all of the people stood on the ground. Where were their horses? As he came closer, he spotted their mounts, tethered down over an outcropping, where a few clumps of grass grew beside the stream. Eight men, two women, he counted.
It didn’t take him long to pick out Carmela. Her hair glinted in the sunlight. Why wasn’t she wearing a bonnet, or even that ridiculous hat she’d worn on the stagecoach? Soon he could see the discoloration on the lower part of her face, though it was considerably lighter than when he’d last seen her. From this distance, she almost looked like a bearded lady from the circus. He clenched his teeth and fought the natural repulsion the idea caused. He’d seen the true woman beneath the ugly markings. More important, he knew her spirit.
“Something’s happened,” Marshal Duffield said, riding alongside him.
“I thought the same,” Freeland said. “But they don’t look to be in distress.”
“Come on.”
They pushed forward, with ten more men following them. Freeland found a rough trail down to where the horses were and steered his gelding down it. The buckskin picked his way carefully, not missing his footing once. At least the liveryman had found him a decent horse. Freeland jumped off, letting the reins trail, and hurried toward where Deputy Orland and the others stood.
He sought out Carmela, and her eyes widened as their gazes met. She surprised him by running to him and seizing his hand.
“Freeland, I’m so glad you came! Two Pony and the others stole two children. They wouldn’t give them back to us, but we have Lucy.”
“Slow down.” Freeland patted her hand. “Tell the marshal everything.”
By this time, Duffield and the others had jo
ined them, and Orland’s party gathered around.
“Orland, what’s happening?” Duffield asked the older deputy.
Orland quickly filled him in about how they had started out hoping to recover Lucy but then discovered Howard’s murder and the abduction of the children. “Miss Wade and Miss Roote saw the two kids as they rode off.”
“One of the men hit the little boy,” Lucy said.
“But Two Pony seemed trustworthy,” Carmela said quickly.
“Who’s Two Pony?” Freeland asked.
“He’s the man who saved us in the desert. He’s not the one who kidnapped those children.”
“But he wouldn’t make them give them back to us either,” Orland noted. “They must have been hiding them until they knew what would happen.”
“All right,” Duffield said. “I’ve got a dozen men, counting myself, but I’d appreciate any of you who’ll go along with us. A couple of you will need to take charge of these two young ladies and see them safely back to town.”
“I want to stay with my daughter,” Mr. Roote said.
“I’ll go back with him, unless you need a translator,” Butler said. “I’m not very good at it.”
“Several of my men speak the lingo,” Duffield said. “All right, all those who can, mount up and let’s go.”
Freeland had time only to squeeze Carmela’s hands.
“Take care,” she said, her brown eyes anxiously searching his face.
“I will. And I’ll come to you at Mrs. Finney’s as soon as we return.”
He left her and ran for his horse. The marshal’s men, Orland, and the townsmen joining them mounted and urged their horses up the slope to the trail and tore off across the desert. Tracking the Apache was easy today. The party was a large one, but the knowledge that they were moving women and children with them meant they had to travel more slowly than a raiding party could on its own. They would catch up quickly.
His only regret was having to leave Carmela behind so soon after he’d found her. He couldn’t wait to hear her story. Amazing that she had met up with the warrior who had given her the water flask. It occurred to him that he hadn’t told her about Holden. She would have taken comfort in knowing he was alive.
My Heart Belongs in the Superstition Mountains Page 19
