Apache Flame (12 page)

She went to bed early, but she was too excited to sleep, and
when, in the wee small hours of the morning, she finally dozed off, it was to
dream of her son, running toward her with outstretched arms, crying, “Mama,
Mama, I knew you would come…”

* * * * *

Red Clements knocked on her door shortly after dawn the
following morning. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

He looked her up and down, one brow raising as he took in her
starched white shirtwaist and brown twill skirt. “I don’t suppose you got
any…uh…trousers?”

“Of course not.”

“How many petticoats you got under there?”

A flush rose in her cheeks. In deference to the journey, she
was wearing only one petticoat instead of the three she usually wore. It was
bad enough that she felt almost naked without him asking such a forward
question. “Please don’t be impertinent, Mr. Clements.”

“What? Oh, sorry, ma’am.” He shook his head. “Them skirts
are gonna git mighty dirty. You got a hat?”

“No.” It wasn’t quite the truth. She had several hats, but
none of them were suitable for an arduous trip in the desert.

“That’s what I figured.” He handed her a hat that was
similar to his own, only much cleaner. “That your gear?” he asked, gesturing at
the string bag on the floor inside the front door.

“Yes.” She put on the hat, securing the cord under her chin.

Reaching down, Clements hefted the bag, then looked at her,
one eyebrow raised. “What you got in here?”

“Just a few changes of clothing and my…uh…personal things.”

He grunted softly, then turned and went to where he’d left
the horses. He stopped beside a tall, raw-boned horse that was the color of
mud. Flipping open the saddlebags, he dumped her gear inside.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You do know how to
ride, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Alisha replied brightly. She didn’t think it
would be wise to tell him that she hadn’t ridden in years, not since she was a
little girl, and that she hadn’t been very good at it then.

“This here’s Sophie. She ain’t much to look at, but she’s
got a nice easy gait, and plenty of speed and bottom.”

Alisha nodded. She didn’t know what speed and bottom were,
but, judging by Clements’ tone of voice, they were worthy attributes in a
horse.

“Come here and mount up. Like as not we’ll have to adjust
them stirrups.”

She pasted a smile on her face as she approached the horse,
which was even bigger close up. Taking hold of the saddle horn with her left
hand, she put her left foot in the stirrup, gave a little hop and pulled
herself into the saddle. It was, she thought as she settled her skirts around
her, like sitting on top of a mountain.

Clements adjusted the stirrups, handed her the reins, then
mounted his own horse, a wiry buckskin with one blue eye and one brown eye.
Taking up the reins, Clements glanced over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Alisha replied, hoping she didn’t sound as
apprehensive as she felt.

With a nod, Clements clucked to the buckskin.

Sophie needed no urging. With a shake of her head, the mare
followed the buckskin’s lead. Alisha felt a surge of excitement. At last, she
was on her way! She was ready for some adventure in her life, she thought. She
was tired of living the staid life of a schoolteacher, tired of always being on
her guard, of never being able to say what she was really thinking. Except for
the trip to Dawes City when she was pregnant, she’d never been anywhere. Ever
since Mitchy left Canyon Creek, her life had been as dull as dishwater. Of
course, going to Apache Pass wasn’t quite the same as taking a trip to Boston
or New York City, but at least she was going somewhere.

Soon, the town was far behind them, and there was nothing to
see but miles of flat ground, gray-green sage, and spiny cactus. Now and then a
jackrabbit sprang into view. Once, she saw an eagle gliding on the air
currents, but, other than that, there was little to see but Clements’ back.

After three hours in the saddle, some of her excitement
waned. The mare did, indeed, have a nice easy gait, but after three hours in
the saddle with only one brief stop to rest the horses, Alisha was ready to
call it a day. Her thighs hurt. Her back hurt. Her shoulders hurt. Her backside
hurt. However, when Clements asked how she was doing, she forced a cheerful
note into her voice and assured him that she was fine, just fine.

It was a vast, quiet land. It made her feel small,
insignificant. Lonely, somehow. It was hard to imagine that anyone, even
Indians, would choose to live in such an inhospitable place. She knew all
manner of creatures made their home in the desert—and lizards and Gila monsters
and all manner of creepy crawly things, like scorpions and spiders.

She remembered that Mitch had once told her that Apache Pass
wound its way between the Dos Cabezas Mountains on the north and the Apache
stronghold on the south.

To pass the time, she tried to recall everything she knew
about the surrounding area. In 1854, the Pass and the surrounding area had
become part of the United States as part of the Gadsden Purchase when 29
million acres of ground had been purchased from Mexico. In 1857, the
Butterfield Overland Mail built a stage station near Apache Spring. Butterfield
employees had been the first whites to live in Apache Pass. The Butterfield
transported mail and passengers from St. Louis, Missouri to San Francisco…

Alisha smiled. She had always wanted to go to San Francisco,
but the price of a ticket was over a hundred dollars, far too expensive for a
schoolteacher…

Schoolteacher! She suddenly realized that, in the shock of
her father’s death and the excitement of learning her son was alive, she had
neglected to let anyone on the school board know she was leaving town. Well,
she thought, it was too late to worry about it now.

At noon, Clements reined his horse to a halt. “We’ll rest a
bit,” he said.

Feeling as though she had been riding for days instead of
hours, Alisha lifted her right leg over the horse’s withers and slid to the
ground, but her legs refused to support her and she landed on her fanny, hard.

She glared at Clements, who was trying not to laugh but it
was no use. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, and then, still
chuckling, he offered her a hand up, which Alisha disdained. With a little
humph of pique, she grabbed hold of the stirrup and pulled herself to her feet,
realizing, as she did so, that she needed some privacy, and very quickly.

She looked around, hoping for a large shrub, a bush, a tree.
There was nothing, only flat ground and stunted clumps of sage and mesquite and
cactus as far as the eye could see.

Resolutely, she started walking toward the largest cactus.

“I need to…to, ah…I just need to!”

“Ah,” Clements said. “Well, watch out for snakes!”

Snakes! Standing behind the cactus, she cast a hasty glance
around.
You can do this
, she told herself.
You can do whatever you
have to, endure any hardship. Just think about your son.

When she returned to where Clements waited, she saw that he
had unsaddled the horses and was offering them handfuls of grain. When the
horses had been fed, he reached into his saddlebag and pulled out two hunks of
beef jerky.

Alisha accepted one with a wan smile. Taking a bite was like
stepping backward through time as she recalled a warm summer day when Mitch had
brought several hunks of jerked beef to the river. She had stared at it, not
sure what it was, until he explained that it was jerked beef, and that his
mother had made it. He had told her that the Indians made it out of buffalo or
venison. He had wolfed his down like it was candy. She had thought it tasted
like sun-dried leather.

It still tasted like leather, she mused as she bit off a
piece.

An hour later, they were riding again.

By the time Clements made camp for the night, she was
certain she would never walk again.

Chapter Fourteen

Mitch sat beside Rides the Buffalo, listening as his mother
told the story of how fire came to be. It was a familiar story, one she had
told him when he’d been about the same age. Last night, she had told the story
of how Coyote stole the buffalo from Humpback.

Mitch settled against the backrest, his legs stretched out
in front of him. The sound of his mother’s voice, soft and low as she began the
story, took him back to his own childhood.

“In the long ago time, before there was fire,” White Robe
began, “animals and trees talked to each other. Of all the beasts, Fox was the
cleverest, and he tried to think of a way to create fire for the world. One day
he went to visit the Geese because he wanted to learn to fly. The Geese
promised to teach him if he would fly with them. They put wings on Fox, but warned
him he must not open his eyes while flying.

“When the Geese flew, Fox flew with them. One time, darkness
fell quickly as they were flying over the village of the fireflies. Suddenly,
the glare from the fireflies made Fox forget he was supposed to keep his eyes
closed, and he opened them! And do you know what happened?”

Rides the Buffalo shook his head.

“Fox began to fall. He landed inside the fireflies’ village,
where a fire constantly burned in the center. Two fireflies came to see Fox,
and gave him necklaces of juniper berries.

“Fox hoped to persuade the fireflies to tell him how to find
his way out of the village. They led him to a cedar tree and told him the tree
would bend down at his command and catapult him over the wall, if that was his
wish.

“Fox said he would think about it. That night, Fox found a
spring where the fireflies got their water. He also discovered colored earth
with which to make paint. He painted himself white and went back to the village
where he suggested they have a dance.

“The fireflies thought that would be fun, so they gathered
wood for a fire. Secretly, Fox tied a piece of cedar wood to his tail. Then he
made a drum, maybe the first one ever made, and beat it vigorously with a
stick. Slowly, he moved closer to the fire.

“Fox pretended to be tired from beating the drum and he gave
it to some fireflies. Fox quickly put his tail in the fire, lighting the bark,
and said, ‘it is hot here. I must find a cool place’.

“Fox ran to the cedar tree, calling, ‘Bend down, bend down’.

“The cedar tree bent down so Fox could grab hold and then it
straightened up and fox jumped over the wall. He ran and ran, with the
fireflies chasing after.

“As Fox ran, the bushes and wood on either side of his path
caught fire from the sparks falling from the bark tied to his tail.

“When Fox got tired, he gave the bark to Hawk, who carried
it to the brown Crane. He flew southward, scattering sparks everywhere he went.
And that is how fire came to the earth.”

Rides the Buffalo clapped his hands, pleased with the story.
Rising, he bid his father good night, gave his mother a hug, smiled at Mitch,
and crawled into bed.

“I think I’ll go for a walk,” Mitch said. Rising, he gave
his mother a hug. He had found himself hugging her a lot in the last two days.
Making up for lost time, or maybe just proving to himself that she was real.

He stood outside a moment, listening to the quiet sounds of
the night. He didn’t really want to go for a walk, but he felt the need to give
his mother and Elk Chaser some time alone.

With a sigh, he walked down to the river. Sitting on the
bank, he gazed up at the sky. As always these days, he found himself thinking
of Alisha, wondering what she was doing, if she missed him as much as he was
missing her.

A falling star caught his eye, reminding him of the nights
they had spent together, how she had always made a wish on a falling star, and
insisted he make one, too.

“‘Lisha,” he murmured. “I wish you were here.”

* * * * *

Alisha gazed up at the star-lit sky. She hadn’t been afraid
this afternoon. Why was she afraid now? Mr. Clements had assured her that there
was little danger that the Indians would bother them at night, something about
a belief that their souls would wander forever in darkness if they were killed
at night. She hadn’t given any thought to the danger of Indian attack that
afternoon. She had been far too excited about the prospect of seeing her son to
think of anything else. Only now did she realize the danger she was in. She
could be killed by Indians and no one would know. And even if they reached the
Apache village safely, there was no guarantee that they would be welcome.

She shook her fears aside. She was here now, and she wasn’t
turning back. Her father was dead. Mitch was gone. She had nothing to live for
except her son. If only Mitch was there beside her, she wouldn’t be afraid. She
had never been afraid of anything when he was beside her. Where was he now?

She watched a falling star streak across the heavens. Mitch
used to make fun of her because she had always made a wish when she saw a
falling star. She had always insisted he make a wish, too, even though he
thought it was “girlish nonsense”.

“Oh, Mitchy,” she whispered, “how I wish you were here…”

Chapter Fifteen

Alisha shifted in the saddle, wishing Mr. Clements would
decide it was time for a rest. She hadn’t expected a day in the saddle to leave
her feeling so sore all over. Of course, spending the night on the hard cold
ground probably had a lot to do with it, too. When she got up that morning,
muscles she had never known she had screamed in protest.

“Have you been to the Apache’s camp often?” she asked,
hoping conversation would take her mind off her sore muscles.

“Never been to the stronghold in ’Pache Pass, but I got me a
wife amongst the Jicarilla.”

“You’re married to an Apache woman?”

“Yeah. She’s a pretty lil thing. Name’s Mountain Sage.”