This Savage Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  "Sujen," Julie said sharply, "I have to find Derek, no matter what happens. But if you're afraid of Cochise's people, what will you do? Is there anywhere you can go? Will you hide nearby and wait for... for whatever happens to Derek?"

  Sujen did not reply. Instead, fingers wrapped tightly in the horse's mane, she steered her horse suddenly to the left, down into a brush-filled ravine. "We go this way and hope we do not awaken rattlesnakes, for with the warm spring sun, they no longer sleep soundly. Then we will climb the mountain and take shelter to hide us when dawn comes."

  "But, Sujen—" Julie persisted.

  "We talk then," was Sujen's curt response. "Now we must be quiet, to listen for the rattlesnake's warning."

  As night fell, Sujen found a small cave. There were no signs of recent animal occupants, so they prepared to spend the night there.

  "You certainly know this country," Julie marveled. "I would never have gotten this far so well on my own."

  As she spoke, she turned in time to see a very dark look cross Sujen's face.

  Julie prodded, "Must you go away? You could speak Apache and... and..."

  Sujen shook her head. "When the sun rises, I can do no more for you. If the Apache see me, they will surely kill me."

  Julie groped for, and found, Sujen's hand in the darkness. Squeezing it tightly, she fervently told her, "You've already done too much and suffered too much."

  Silence hung like a shroud for a long time, and then Sujen said, "When the first light of dawn comes, I will leave you. Forgive me if you think I abandon you, but I do what I must do."

  Julie swallowed hard. "Tell me what I should know about the medicine man, about peyote."

  Sujen shrugged helplessly, searching for words. "In the beginning, I do not believe the shaman meant to confuse Captain Arnhardt by giving him so much. But the great Cochise saw what a giant he held captive, and who knows what he was thinking when he ordered more and more peyote."

  After a moment's reflection, Sujen continued, "Cochise feels your man is a brother, a friend. He does not want Derek to leave, and he won't let him be killed. What else to do but keep him safe by keeping him drugged?"

  "How is the peyote given to him?"

  "In food, in drink."

  Julie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not wanting to ask her next question. "Has Derek ridden with the Apaches on any of... their raids, Sujen? Please tell me. I have to know."

  Sujen smiled. "I know why you ask me. When I was a little girl my father took me with him on a hunt. We saw raccoons, and I watched how they wash their food before they eat. I asked my father if they did this to make food taste better, and he told me yes, it would taste better if clean. That is how it is with love. To know that your warrior killed your brothers would make your love taste not as clean. But be at peace, my friend. I am sure he has not been part of Cochise's raids."

  Julie hoped desperately that Sujen was right. She would learn the truth soon enough, she reminded herself.

  Another question tormented her. "What... happens to a person who takes peyote?"

  "We believe," Sujen told her, "that if a man is not morally true, he cannot use peyote. The cactus that brings visions is like a teacher or a healer, a great spirit. My people have used mescal, which is both like and unlike peyote.

  "My father was called a giver of visions. He took them both. He told me of dreams, visions of the future. People would go to him with great problems, and he would dream the answer.

  "It is said," she went on, peering out of the cave toward the horizon, "that once two warriors were lost, and their sister looked for them and did not find them. She fell to the ground, exhausted from searching. A dream came to her that her answer would come with the dawn. When she awoke, she found the peyote plant. She ate it, only because she was hungry, and she had a vision that told her where her brothers could be found. There are many stories like this."

  "But can't it harm him?" Julie blurted, frightened. "If they keep on giving it to him, over and over—"

  "I never heard of anyone dying from peyote. Too much makes a man loco, yes. I think they do this to Captain Arnhardt because they fear him—for if he comes back to his true self, he will fight to the death. Cochise does not want this. It would be a waste. He keeps him a prisoner of the drug until he thinks of a way to make him one of them. He wants no fights, nothing to put danger in Derek's path."

  After a while, Sujen asked the question Julie had been asking herself for two days. "What will you do when you find Derek?"

  Julie's voice choked. "I don't know, Sujen.

  "I'll stay hidden for a while and watch them. Maybe something will come to me." She flashed a wry grin. "Maybe I'll find a cactus and eat some peyote and have a vision."

  Soon enough, the blackness outside their cave became a bluish-gray. Sujen sprang to her feet. "I must go now. When you leave here, climb on up to the top of the mountain where it is flat and runs either way as far as the eye can see. There are mesquites and creosotes that will hide you, but be cautious. From there, is not too far to return here at night. But be very careful always, for the Apache have many eyes."

  She led the horse to the entrance as Julie scrambled to her feet, calling, "Wait! You can't leave, Sujen." Tears filled her eyes as she embraced her friend tightly. "I may never see you again! We've been through so much. You're my sister." Her voice caught.

  Sujen pulled away gently and mounted the horse. Silhouetted against the gray sky, the young woman looked like an apparition. "It is said among my people that when two hearts have touched, they become one. Once this happens, though the two walk different paths—never to cross again—they are always as one, for their hearts beat together, even in death." She reached beneath her buckskin dress and brought out a knife. Handing it to Julie, she said, "Take this. There was one of the Apache group who was not all evil. Dark Buffalo speaks English, which he learned from trading with your people. He gave this to me the night I was dragged from the camp. He gave it to me, not for protection, but to end my life before the wolves killed me. I did not have to use it. Perhaps it will give you protection... or end your life if you must."

  She held out her hand for one last clasp, and Julie grasped it. "My friend, our hearts have touched. We are one. Even in death."

  She turned and rode away, disappearing as a rosy mist began to overtake the gray shroud.

  * * *

  Great clouds crowded the horizon, and the ringing mountains stood like attentive spectators as Julie crouched behind a thick clump of pale, feathery mesquite. She surveyed the plateau she had stealthily climbed. Like a flat-topped fortress, the plateau was dark, solid against the morning sky. Along the edges, gypsum rock shimmered silver in the sun.

  She was lost. In either direction, there was a maddening maze of gullies and ravines rimming the desert.

  Raising her head ever so slightly, she saw gentle wisps of gray smoke rising in the distance. Creeping along, darting between the bushes, she moved toward the smoke. After a while, she reached a ridge and knelt behind a clump of brush, looking out, her heart skipping wildly. Below, in a wide, flat gulley rimmed by rocks and ridges, was the Apache camp. Tepees held by tall poles dotted the ground, their sides pulled out and stretched by stakes. Squaws, hair falling down their backs, wearing buckskin dresses, hovered near small cooking fires. The air was filled with the thick scent of cooking meat as they prepared the morning meal. Children ran, shouting in the early chill. Men, dressed in breechclouts, moved about, preparing for their day.

  Where was the lone white man among all those copper-skinned ones? She clenched her fists. Tension, the smell of cooking food, her own hunger, all combined to make her feel horribly ill.

  The sun rose higher, singeing the earth. The heat was torture, but she crouched there, rigid, camouflaged by the brush. She couldn't go down into the camp. She could only hope for a glimpse of Derek, to know where he was—and be certain he was still there at all.

  A movement to her right made her turn quickly, a
nd she drew her body into a tight ball, cringing at the sight of an ugly brown-and-yellow lizard. It was ominous, repulsive, and she slowly closed her fingers around a large rock and threw it, missing him but sending him scurrying away.

  Just then, she felt a sting on her leg. A small many-legged creature had bitten her, and she brushed him away with a sharp gasp of pain. Blinking back tears, she told herself not to cry, not to give in. There was nothing to do but to endure.

  After an eternity, the sun began to sink, and the brilliant turquoise sky became pale lavender. Then the horizon faded to blue twilight.

  It was time to return to the cave. She made no attempt to leave the plateau, though, continuing to stare out into the gathering twilight, then down at the camp. Time passed. It was getting too dark to find the cave easily, and then, without being surprised, she realized she wasn't going back to the cave, wasn't going to retreat, not now. Now she knew where to find Derek, and though she knew Sujen would be horrified, she was going to do the only thing she could. She was going after Derek. Now.

  Before she stood up, ready to climb down into the camp, she called on the memory of Teresa's face for strength, and on the memory of Myles's voice, and on the picture of Derek's eyes she carried, always, in her heart. She prayed for a long time, and then she rose and left the safety of the plateau, making her way carefully down into the camp. It was getting cold, and she pulled her black cape around herself tightly, wondering fleetingly if it would hide her until she wished to be seen. She climbed down through the rocks and brush and walked toward the camp, the journey taking about half an hour, yet seeming like only a moment.

  The Indians were gathered around several fires, cooking and eating. Julie counted six fires, and guessed she saw four or five people, including children, around each one. She stopped at the entrance to the camp, gathered her cape more closely against her trembling body, then stepped into the camp.

  The first to see her was a heavily muscled man with shoulder-length black hair and a smooth chest. He wore only a breechclout. His eyes lit up at the sight of her, and after he had looked her over, he stepped toward her, reaching her in a few powerful strides. Julie willed herself to stand her ground, and she didn't flinch, even when he took her arm and led her forward. She steeled herself for the astonished quiet that fell over the camp, and the ensuing eruption of shouts. She returned every stare, reminding herself to stand straight and tall. But after a while she couldn't bear the possessive hand on her arm any more and shook it off. He scowled and reached for her again, but there was a commotion behind him and he turned around, then dropped his hand. Julie turned more slowly, knowing something had happened behind them.

  As she turned, she saw awe in the faces of those around her, and when she saw the warrior they were looking at, she understood. This must be Cochise himself, for no one else could seem so entirely in command. Even the brave who had been holding her arm, so sure of himself, was subdued. The camp was utterly still. Even the children stopped talking and stood, poised, ready to hear Cochise speak.

  Julie stared at Cochise. He was taller than most of the others. His shoulders were broad, and he had a deep chest. But it was his face that held her gaze. There was a special intelligence in his black eyes, not the arrogance she'd expected. His nose was large and straight, and he had a very high forehead. His black hair, which hung to his shoulders, was shiny and hung straight. Strings of beads adorned his neck. He stood as though planted there, strong thighs spread apart, hands on his hips.

  Julie decided to chance communicating with him. What else could she do? "I am the white man's woman, and I have come to take him home. You must set him free."

  She felt so foolish, knowing he didn't understand. Sujen had told her he didn't speak English, and she knew not a single word of Chiricahua. She threw her whole heart into the declaration, hoping desperately that he would understand the language of her eyes. She was so intent on getting through to him that she almost didn't hear the voice behind her.

  "I will translate for you, if Cochise wishes me to."

  She whirled around and saw an Apache looking at her with—what? Pity? It bewildered her. Who was he? As though he could read her mind, he said softly, "I am Dark Buffalo. I will ask Cochise if he wishes to talk with you."

  He spoke a few words to his leader and, receiving a nod, began to translate for Cochise and Julie.

  In what Julie thought an amazingly gentle voice, Cochise spoke to Dark Buffalo, who told her, "Cochise says you are a goddess, as beautiful as the warm, golden sun and the cool silver moon. He asks that you tell him how you found your way to us, and why you risked your life to come here."

  "Tell him that my love for my man, your white captive, is so great that I do not fear death."

  Dark Buffalo translated, and, as he spoke, Cochise listened intently. When Dark Buffalo was finished, he turned again to look at Julie, who said hurriedly, "Tell him he must let the white captive go. He belongs with his own people, as he"—she nodded at Cochise—"would want to live among his own kind." As she finished, she kept her gaze resolutely on Cochise.

  They looked at each other, the warrior and the young woman, and their eyes held each other for an eternity. Cochise spoke a few words, and Dark Buffalo waited until Cochise nodded before translating.

  "Cochise decrees," he said slowly, "that your man has a right to claim you because of your love for him. But, when you came here, you were claimed by one of us."

  The man who had held her arm so possessively grunted, and she knew it was he Dark Buffalo meant.

  "Storm Face also has a right to claim you, and this means there must be a settling of claims. This will be done according to our law—the two men will fight until one is dead and the other remains to take you for his own. If Storm Face is the victor, you must remain here and serve him as his woman."

  She felt the warrior's eyes on her back and shuddered, but she refused to turn and look at him.

  "But," Dark Buffalo went on, "if your man wins, then you both will go free. It has been decided by Cochise."

  At that moment, a tall man emerged from a tent on the far side of the camp. He was unsteady on his feet, but there was no mistaking the one she loved above everything on earth. "Derek!" she cried. He looked at her, registered nothing, then disappeared back into the tent.

  He didn't know her! If he didn't, then all Sujen had said must be true. Every nerve directed her to Derek; every bit of strength she had impelled her toward his tent. But he was drugged or he'd have known her. And if he was drugged, then she had to deal with Cochise before she could go to her love.

  She turned again to the leader and said, "It's not fair! He's been drugged, and he's not able to fight. Can this be Apache law? To let a strong man fight a sickened one? Is that Apache honor?"

  Dark Buffalo, obviously taken aback, was hesitant about saying such things to Cochise, but Julie cried, "Tell him! Ask him if this is Apache honor!"

  Slowly, carefully, Dark Buffalo spoke to Cochise. The great warrior looked at Julie appraisingly, nodded to her with a look that held respect, and bade Dark Buffalo tell her what he replied.

  "Your... the man will be given no more peyote. By morning he will be himself. Cochise wishes you to know that we have honor in all our laws—even when it doesn't seem so to your people. And he bids me say that your people have not been... truthful, or honest... with us."

  Julie nodded. She could hardly dispute that. She knew, too, that there was no hope of persuading Cochise to change his mind. He was leaving, disappearing into the shadows. The others began to move away as well. Storm Face shot one blazing look at Julie, and then he went into his tepee. There was no one left but Dark Buffalo and Julie. He was looking at her with the look he'd had all along. Was it pity? She couldn't decide. He said quietly, "I could not say this while Storm Face was near. Cochise says you may remain in your man's tent until morning."

  She was too stunned to reply, and he left her standing alone in the clearing, walking swiftly to his tent.


  Somehow, going to Derek was going to be harder than all the rest. She had mourned for him, longed for him, risked herself to get to him. But now that she was only a few steps away from him, she couldn't move. Knowing he didn't recognize her made it impossible to approach him. What if his eyes were blank when he saw her? What if he wouldn't let her touch him? What if he ignored her? She wouldn't be able to stand it.

  But she had to stand it. She had to force herself across the clearing, make herself approach the tent, and confront Derek. She had to. Slowly, every step an agony, she went to the tent and called softly, "Derek? It's Julie."

  He came outside, as shaky as he'd been when she first saw him. But there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, just a flicker. It was enough.

  "Derek, I'm coming inside to spend the night. All right?" She made her voice steady and, without waiting for an answer, stepped inside. He followed her.

  Chapter 25

  The tent was small, nestled beneath a craggy overhang, apart from the camp, as indeed the man who lived here was a being apart. She stood inside the tent and stared up at him.

  "I love you," she whispered. "God knows how much I love you, Derek."

  Derek squinted, trying to fathom her by staring hard at her. The drums in his brain were not quite so harsh. Colors were not as vibrant, but he could see more clearly. She was glorious. She was beautiful.

  They stood staring at each other, the woman devouring the man's face and the man looking more and more weary, as though he was trying too hard to remember something, something that remained beyond his grasp. When he couldn't recall whatever it was and was tired of trying, he lay down on a pile of buffalo hides and went to sleep. Julie sat next to him, as near as she dared, keeping watch over him as he slept. It was cold, and she pulled her cape closer and covered herself with a buffalo hide, but she didn't lie down. She stayed next to him, her eyes never leaving him, watching him breathe and wondering what his dreams were about.