"To do what with him?"
"Give him to Chie's relatives. The women are the experts when it comes to getting revenge. They take a lot of pride in the way they torture a man. And with Chie having been such an influential member of the band, they'll take their own sweet time."
"But the commissioner didn't kill Chie. You did."
"Doesn't matter. One white eyes is as good as another."
The captain looked away and searched the camp. "I don't see Indy or Prudence anywhere."
"They're back there in the shadows." Jim pointed to the far end of the camp. When he had seen them earlier, they had appeared unharmed. He prayed that was still the case.
The Apaches were settling down for the night. Jim thought it best to wait until everything was quiet and most of the braves were asleep before he signaled an attack. He told Aubrey his plan and had started to climb down when he heard a woman's scream.
Indy!
He turned back and peered through the fissure, his face pressed against the rock.
Diablo had Indy by the arm and was dragging her to the center of the camp near the fire. Her arms were tied behind her back and she looked exhausted and terrified, but much to his relief, she still appeared unhurt. His heart wrenched at the sight of her and he wished he could tell her help was coming.
Aubrey was beside him, anxious and worried. "What do you think he's going to do with her?"
Jim held his hand up to silence him. Diablo had started speaking. His voice was loud, carrying. It echoed against the canyon walls. Every warrior had turned to look and listen.
Jim listened and translated at each pause. "He says that the success of the raid on Bowie proves he is no longer a boy but a great warrior. He says he's even more clever than his father because he succeeded in capturing the nantan’s daughter where his father could not."
One of the older braves stepped forward and spoke with fierce determination. He waved his arms, pointed his finger, and scolded.
"What did he say?" Aubrey asked.
"He's challenging Diablo, claiming Indy for his own." Jim turned to Aubrey. "I've changed my mind. This could get out of hand. We can't wait."
Aubrey breathed in sharply. "You're afraid one of them will rape her, aren't you?"
Jim nodded. "It could get to that."
"You told me Apaches don't rape."
"It's not their custom. They think it puts them at risk of losing their luck, but this was a revenge raid. That changes things."
Jim and Aubrey left the boulders, returned to the men, and outlined what had been seen and overheard. Everyone overwhelmingly agreed it would be better to strike now, not wait.
Jim stood alone before them and looked at each now familiar face. He would have liked to have spent more time working with them, developing and fine-tuning their skills before he had to put them to the test. But time had run out and now they were here, and all he could do was hope and pray that they, his wolf scouts, would bring about a miracle.
"Let's go," Jim said.
Slowly, steadily, their footsteps hushed by moccasins, the scouts made their way to where the Apache's horses were picketed. One, two at a time they slipped into the herd, taking care not to disturb them, patting them soothingly as they crouched and moved around the horses' legs.
Hiding himself behind a small shrub, Jim looked up into the rocks, impatiently waiting to see the glowing red tip of Ryker's cigar—the signal that the videttes were dead and that Ryker and his men were in place and ready to provide cover for the ground troops.
Seeing the signal at last, Jim waved his scouts forward. On hands and knees, they moved out of the herd and threaded through the brush bordering the camp.
Closer. Ever closer. On all fours like wolves. Stalking.
Now, he thought. "Now!" He jumped up, his hand slashing the air. The wolves sprang from the shrubs, howling, yelping, and ran into the camp.
The surprise lasted only seconds. Then the Apaches scurried for their weapons. From above, Ryker and his men kept up a steady stream of carbine and revolver fire, giving cover to their comrades below.
Sergeant Moseley made for the commissioner, cut his wrist bindings, and helped him back to the safety of the boulders.
Captain Nolan ran for Prudence, swooped her up in his arms, and carried her into the shadows behind an outcropping of rocks.
Jim headed straight to the center of camp, his carbine belching fiery streaks of lead. When he had fired the last shot, he wielded the carbine like a broadsword, striking out at each new challenger, causing as much injury with the wooden butt as with a bullet. One by one he cleared the way.
And then he was where Diablo was, where Indy was.
Diablo held her before him like a shield.
Jim stopped, lowering his carbine to his side. "Let her go, Diablo," he warned, his gaze never wavering from Diablo's. He didn't dare look at Indy. Not now. One look would give away his emotions and give Diablo the advantage. "You have nothing to gain by killing her."
"She nantan's daughter," Diablo spat venomously. "Much good to kill." He wrenched Indy's arms up behind her until she cried out in pain.
Jim swallowed. His mind was going crazy with fear, but he refused to let it show. "Only a coward would kill a woman! Kill me instead and your people will call you a great and fearless warrior." He tossed his carbine aside.
Diablo laughed. "Why will they do this, white eyes?"
With all the bravado of a shaman, Jim played on Apache superstition. "Because I have much power," he said in an imposing tone. "You kill me, you take my power." Behind him the sounds of the battle raged on, but he couldn't allow himself to think of anything but Diablo and Indy.
Indy was making small whimpering noises, like a wounded animal, and looked to be near collapse. Pulling his knife from its scabbard, Jim turned it in his hand, taunting Diablo. "Fight me. Prove you are a brave warrior, not a coward!"
"I will kill you both!" Diablo shouted and at the same time thrust his knife into Indy's side. Then he flung her away from him and ran toward Jim, screaming like a giant eagle.
Jim twisted out of Diablo's path, then jumped on him as he ran past. Diablo fell hard, Jim on top of him. Grunting and struggling, they rolled out of the firelight into the shadowy void beneath the rocks. Seconds later they came up, crouched and spitting like two cats.
Diablo moved to the left. Jim watched, waited. Having fought Diablo before, he knew his strengths, his weaknesses. He had only to step back when Diablo lunged for him.
"You want to try that again?" Jim taunted. His silvery blade caught the reflection of the fire.
"You will die, white eyes!" Diablo vowed, swiveling to lunge again.
And again Jim adroitly dodged his attack.
In spite of the awful, burning pain in her side, Indy managed to stay conscious. She had told Prudence that Jim would come and he had. Because he loved her.
She would have been afraid for Jim had she not seen him fight Diablo before and knew that he was the more experienced and capable. She had no doubt how it would all end. It was only a matter of time. She watched Jim closely, his face that never gave away his intent. He easily feinted Diablo's knife thrusts and dodged his lunges, and it occurred to her that he was merely playing with him, teasing him until the time was right to kill him.
Then, for no reason Indy could think of, Jim turned his back on Diablo and walked away.
A scream of warning tore from Indy's throat when she saw Diablo go after him, his knife held high, ready to plunge it into Jim's back.
Jim had deliberately turned away from Diablo, remembering the last time Indy had watched him kill a man, remembering the look of fear he had seen on her face afterward. He was determined that she would never again witness him killing a man with such ruthlessness and savagery.
He heard Indy's scream, but continued walking away. With not a second left to spare, he ducked and whirled around, ramming himself and his blade deep into the Apache's gut.
They were face-to-face, eye-to-eye. Diablo o
pened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. A muscle twitched alongside Jim's mouth. "You were a fool, Diablo. You should have known you couldn't win. I have the power of the wind spirit."
A look of fear contorted Diablo's face and then his mouth opened and his jaw fell slack. Even before he hit the ground, Jim was heading for Indy, shouting her name.
But she didn't answer.
Jim knelt down and gathered her to him. She was still conscious, but barely.
The fighting was over. The stillness of death was everywhere. The Wolf Company had won and proved themselves to be the superior warriors.
With stricken looks on the men's faces, they watched helplessly as Jim lifted Indy in his arms and carried her across the encampment toward the stream.
Prudence ran ahead of them, limping badly, struggling to rip her skirt off. "Aubrey, help me," she pleaded when her own attempts failed.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Use your knife. Quick!"
Aubrey made fast work of slicing through Prudence's skirt, then helped her spread it out on the ground.
"Jim, lay her here."
Dropping slowly to his knees, Jim carefully set Indy down. In spite of his gentleness, she groaned in pain, the sound tearing through him like a lance. He had never been afraid of anything in his life, but seeing the blood gushing from Indy's body, knowing that she could die, a cold knot of fear clenched and twisted his stomach.
She looked up at him through pain-glazed eyes. "Jim," she breathed his name raggedly.
He unsheathed his knife and slit her dress to get to the wound. "Shhh. Don't try to talk."
Weakly, she raised her hand and touched his arm. "I have to tell you . . ." she whispered insistently.
Jim probed the wound with knowledgeable fingers. It was deep, but clean. If he could stop the bleeding, she’d have a chance. "What, Indy? What do you have to tell me?" he asked as he placed his hand firmly against the wound and applied a hard, steady pressure.
A loving smile touched her lips. "I wasn't afraid because I knew you'd come. I told Pru—" she broke off to catch her breath.
Jim felt his throat constrict. "I'll always come for you, Indy," he told her in a husky voice. "No matter where you are. I love you. I love you more than you can possibly know." His eyes blurred. He had never felt for a woman what he felt for her. And he had never wept for a woman before. Her hand fell away and he saw her eyes start to close. "No, Indy! Come back to me," he shouted, fearing the worst had come. "Dammit, Independence Taylor. I love you, woman. I need you!"
Aubrey pushed Jim back, bent over Indy's breast, and put his ear against her heart. "She's not dead, Jim. Her heartbeat is slow and shallow, but she's alive."
Chapter 17
With Indy cradled in his arms, Jim led the wolf company and the Apaches' horses out of the canyon.
Indy had not regained consciousness but her heartbeat was stronger than it had been before, which gave him hope.
With no time to waste stopping, Jim sent several of the men to ride ahead and build a travois that they could put the commissioner on when they got out of the canyon. Meanwhile, the commissioner rode behind Ryker, securely tied to him so he wouldn't fall. His entire upper body was scored with knife slashes, some of which would require stitching. Aubrey had used what was left of Indy's petticoat to wrap him in bandages.
Jim rode in silence, thinking about the many dead they had left behind—Apaches and soldiers.
In the seclusion of his thoughts, Jim recalled a recent conversation he'd had with Indy. They had talked for hours. Indy had wondered if the conflict between the Apache and the white man would ever end, and he had explained that the root of all the hatred was the land.
"But there s so much of it," Indy had said. "Why can't we share it?"
"Because they each want to use it differently," he had told her.
"That's the only reason?"
"To the Apache, the land is power, harmony, and beauty. They believe it belongs to everyone, yet to no one in particular, where the white man wants to claim the land as his own."
She was so eager to understand, he thought, glancing down at her. She was also eager to love and be loved. He prayed she wouldn't be denied that opportunity.
It was midmorning when they came within sight of Bowie. Jim again sent riders ahead and told them to warn Doc to get ready for patients.
A half hour later, the remainder of the company rode in. The entire population of Camp Bowie had come outside and were standing, quiet as statues, in the blazing sun, to watch the wolf company return.
Jim heard the officers' wives' gasps of alarm as he passed by, but ignored their frightened exclamations and concerned questions over Indy's condition and well-being. Indy had either been blind to their ostracism or had chosen to ignore it. On several occasions he had seen her go out of her way to befriend them and receive nothing in return but scornful looks.
It wasn't Indy they actually resented, Jim was sure of that. It was her father, and how his unscrupulous methods affected their husbands. Excluding Indy from their social circle was their way of getting revenge. He understood, but he couldn't forgive them. She could have used their friendship had they offered it.
Jim looked straight ahead, seeing the camp as it had been before he'd been knocked out—the people running this way and that, the carnage in front of the mess hall when the troopers had come outside to see what all the noise was about. All traces of what had happened a little over twenty-four hours ago were gone, vanished. Bowie looked just as it had before the attack.
Two stewards were waiting to take Indy out of his arms when he reined up in front of the hospital. They came back momentarily to get the commissioner.
Aubrey and Prudence reined up and dismounted. "She'll be all right, Jim," Aubrey said with a confidence he couldn't possibly feel. "She's a survivor."
Prudence pushed past them. "I'll see what I can do to help."
Jim stood in the open doorway and watched Doc examining Indy's wound. He'd seen Doc at work before and knew he was better than most army surgeons, but was better than most good enough to save Indy? He had no way of knowing that and even if he did, and Doc wasn't good enough, he was still all there was. Indy was too weak to take all the way to Tucson. His inability to control the situation frustrated Jim, making him want to punish something—someone—for allowing this to happen. The muscles of his forearms tightened and bunched. With a vicious oath, he pulled the hitching post out of the ground and threw it as far as he could.
"Come on, Jim," Aubrey coaxed. "Let's go get washed up and put some grub in our bellies. By the time we get back, Doc will probably be able to tell you how she's doing. Hell, she might even be conscious by then."
"No. You go ahead," Jim said, pushing Aubrey's hand away. "I can't leave her. Not until I know."
"All right, but—" Nolan hesitated when he spotted the colonel coming across the parade ground, flanked by four burly troopers.
"My daughter—is she all right?"
Jim glowered at him. "She's alive . . . but I don't know for how long," he retorted icily. He hated the colonel as much as he loved Indy.
The colonel turned his gaze, ordered the troopers to wait for him outside, and went into the hospital. Jim had considered barring his way but thought better of it at the last second. If Indy was dying, the colonel had a right to spend those last moments with her whether she was conscious or not. She was his daughter; it was his right.
Under a broiling Arizona sun, Jim paced back and forth in front of the hospital building. Waiting for news had never been such agony. When Aubrey came up behind him, he nearly swung on him, his nerves were so tightly strung.
"Whoa! Jim," Aubrey shouted, raising his arm in defense. "For God's sake, you're not doing anyone any good acting like this. It isn't going to help Indy and it won't help make you feel any better."
"Shut up, Aubrey," Jim snapped, hating himself even as he spoke. "Let me be the judge of what will or won't make me feel better. And don't
you dare say that you know how I feel, because you don't and you never will because you won't let loose of your emotions. You're going to find yourself a woman who's suitable. A woman who will make a proper officer's wife. Whether you love her or not has nothing to do with anything. You think love is nothing but a big nuisance—a bother!"
Aubrey gave Jim a look that said, "Are you finished yet?" and abruptly turned when Doc came out and called Jim over.
"She's conscious, but right now that's about all I can say. There's nothing more I can tell you. Her father's with her."
"When will you know if—"
Doc put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "You can't rush these things. It's a serious wound. The big worry is infection and fever. Prudence and me, we're going to keep a close watch on her."
"We're all three going to keep a close watch on her, Doc. I'm not leaving here. Understand? I'll sleep in a chair if I have to, but I'm not leaving."
"How's the commissioner?" Aubrey inquired.
"He's in a real bad way. He's not as young as Indy. Doesn't have the strength of youth. I already told the colonel that I don't think he's going to make it, but he could surprise me."
"I hope he does, Doc," Aubrey said slowly. "He's a good man. The territory needs him."
Moments later, Colonel Charles Taylor stepped outside, squinting at the bright sunlight. With four troopers at his side, he approached Jim and Aubrey.
"As commander of Camp Bowie it's my duty to inform you, both of you as a matter of fact, that I am placing you under arrest."
Flourishing their Navy Colts, the four troopers stepped forward and surrounded Jim and Aubrey.
"What's the charge, Colonel?" Aubrey flared.
"Charges, Captain Nolan. Insubordination. Disrespect to your commanding officer. Striking or threatening a superior. All of them punishable by a garrison court-martial. However, the latter, Article of War number twenty-one, is punishable by death, or as decreed by a court-martial." The colonel crossed his arms in front of him. "Of course you, Major Garrity, already have a punishment pending, so I doubt that any additional punishment will be required. After all, you can only hang a man once."
The Peacemaker Page 24
