Apache Flame (18 page)

“You know I’m right,” Alisha said. “Don’t you?”

He grunted softly as he drew her away from the cave’s
entrance. “When were you ever wrong?”

“I was wrong to let you go,” she whispered.

“I was wrong to leave you.”

“Hurry back.”

“You know I will.” He drew her into his arms. “If they find
you, do whatever they say, understand? Don’t make them angry. Don’t give them
any cause to kill you. Just wait for me. I’ll come for you, I promise.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with trust. “I know.”

“There’s some food in my saddlebags. Not much, just jerky
and ashcakes.”

“Ashcakes?” She grimaced. “It’s not what it sounds like, is
it?”

“No. They’re made of ground mesquite beans, tallow and
honey. There’s enough food and water to last the two of you a couple of days.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said, and her voice hardly quivered at
all.

“‘Lisha.”

She looked up at him. Time was growing short. Soon he would
be gone and she might never see him again. “I love you, Mitchy,” she said
fervently. “I’ve always loved you.”

He swore a short pithy oath, and then he kissed her. And
everything else ceased to exist. The years fell away and nothing in the world
mattered except the fact that she was back in his arms, where she belonged.

Mitch breathed her name, and then he kissed her again.

Heat flowed through her limbs and she clung to him, the only
solid thing in a world spinning out of control.

She felt bereft when he took his mouth from hers.

“I won’t fail you, ‘Lisha,” he said solemnly.

She nodded, too close to tears to speak.

“Here.” He opened his saddlebags and pulled out his extra
Colt. “Keep this handy, just in case.”

She took it, even though she knew she would never be able to
use it. It was heavier than she had expected, and she had to hold it with both
hands to keep from dropping it.

He looked at her for a long moment, then went to the cave’s
entrance and peered out. All was clear, for the moment.

He checked the cinch on his saddle, made sure the rifle was
in the boot, then picked up the reins. If he was going, he’d best do it now
before he changed his mind.

He turned to tell her goodbye, and she was there, at his
side. He kissed her one more time, for luck, and then led his horse out of the
cave.

Outside, he rearranged the scrub brush over the opening
until he was satisfied that the Comanche couldn’t find the entrance, and then
he swung into the saddle and headed north.

Chapter Twenty

Alisha watched Mitch leave the cave, and all her vaunted
courage went with him. But then, he had always been her strength. She clutched
his pistol to her breast, her mind flooding with memories of Mitch…Mitchy
holding her, comforting her, fighting her battles, teaching her to swim, to
hunt. Mitchy, kissing her hurts, drying her tears, making her laugh. Mitchy…she
couldn’t think of her past without thinking of him. He was an integral part of
every memory, good and bad.

Mitchy…

“Hurry,” she whispered. “Please hurry.”

A low moan caught her attention and she glanced over her
shoulder to see Elk Chaser.

“Fire…” he muttered.

“What?”

“Fire…put it…out.”

“Why?”

He drew in a deep breath. “Comanche…smell…smoke.”

“Oh!” Hurrying to the rear of the cave, she threw handfuls
of dirt on the flames, shuddered as the cave went dark save for the tiny
slivers of light that infiltrated the brush that covered the cave’s entrance.

She stared at Elk Chaser, now just a dark shape lying on the
floor of the cave.

“No, don’t!” She scooted toward him and placed a restraining
hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move. You’re badly hurt.”

“Where is…Otter?”

“Otter?” She frowned a moment. “You mean Mitch? He went for
help.”

“Water…”

His voice sounded weak and raspy and she wondered what she
would do if he died. The thought of being alone in the dark with a dead body
sent a cold chill down her spine. Uncapping Mitch’s canteen, she held it for
Elk Chaser while he drank and drank.

When he finished, his head lolled forward. She capped the
canteen and put it aside, then quickly checked his pulse, praying that he
hadn’t died.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the faint pulse in
his wrist.

Needing something to do, she went to where the horses stood
head to tail near one wall of the cave.

“Hi, Sophie.” She scratched the mare’s ears, wondering how
she was going to care for the horses while Mitch was gone. She couldn’t take
them outside. “Bet you’d like to get rid of that saddle, wouldn’t you girl?”

Fumbling with the cinch, she finally managed to get it
undone. She hadn’t expected the saddle to be so heavy. Reeling under the
weight, she dropped it on the ground.

Elk Chaser’s horse snorted softly as she approached him.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She held out her hand and the horse sniffed her palm and
then, to her surprise, he licked her. His tongue was warm and wet.

“I’ll bet you’re thirsty, too, aren’t you? But I don’t have
anything to…” She patted the horse’s neck. “Wait a minute.”

Going to the cave’s entrance, she picked up her hat and
filled it with water. “Only a little,” she said, as the horse began to drink.
“I don’t know how long it’s going to have to last.”

* * * * *

Mitch leaned low over his mount’s neck, urging the horse to
go faster, faster, please, just a little faster.

He thought about Alisha, sitting in the cave with night
coming on. For all her bravado, he knew she was frightened. She had always been
a little afraid of the dark. Of course, she might have outgrown that by now.
She had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and he felt a sharp pang at the
years that had been lost to them. No more, he vowed, no more. He had found her
again, and he would never let her go.

He knew a moment of relief as he saw a familiar landmark in
the distance. And then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a rider coming up
fast. He cursed softly. It was one of the Comanches.

The Indian rode as if he was part of the horse. Legs
gripping his mount, the warrior drew an arrow from the quiver slung over his
back, sighted down the shaft, and let it fly.

Mitch swore as the arrow found its target. His horse
stumbled and went down, the shaft protruding from its neck a few inches above
the shoulder. Mitch rolled free and gained his feet as the warrior rode toward
him. Before the Comanche could fit another arrow to his bow, Mitch pulled his
gun and fired, and the warrior toppled over his horse’s rump, dead before he
hit the ground.

The horse, a stocky calico gelding, had been well trained.
It snorted and sidestepped a few feet to the side, but stayed near its rider.

Holstering his weapon, Mitch walked slowly toward the horse.
“Easy, now,” he murmured. “Easy, fella.”

The horse backed up a step, fox-like ears twitching back and
forth.

“Easy, now,” Mitch murmured, trying to keep the anxiety out
of his voice, afraid he’d spook the horse and send it running for home. “Easy,
fella.” Moving slowly and carefully, he reached for the reins.

He led the Indian pony back to where his own horse lay
thrashing on the ground. Drawing his weapon, Mitch put the animal out of its
misery, then swung aboard the Indian pony and headed north.

* * * * *

Alisha stood near the entrance of the cave, peering through
a narrow opening in the brush. In the distance, she could see several Indians
quartering back and forth. At first, she had hoped they were the two warriors
who had been with Elk Chaser. Almost, she had called out, but something had
warned her to keep still, and when two other riders joined them, she knew they
were Comanches, and they were looking for her.

Elk Chaser moaned softy and she hurried to his side and
placed her hand over his mouth. “Be quiet,” she whispered, and he nodded.

Never had time passed so slowly. Gradually, the inside of
the cave grew darker until she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

She gave Elk Chaser a drink, then offered him a piece of
jerky, but he pushed it away.

When he slept again, she went to stand by Sophie, comforted
somehow by the horse’s warmth.

“He’ll come back,” she said. “I know he’ll come back as soon
as he can.”

She blinked rapidly, fighting the urge to cry. “Hurry,
Mitchy. Please, hurry.”

* * * * *

He hovered between life and death, and he knew it. His body
felt heavy, racked with pain. It hurt to breathe, and he was thirsty, so thirsty.

It would be easy to surrender and let death win. His spirit
was ready to go, ready to escape its house of pain and follow the path to the
After World.

No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than he felt his
spirit leave his body and he found himself standing in front of a cave. A
mulberry tree grew near the cave and a guard stood beside it. The guard made no
move to stop him, and he went into the cave. It was large, without much light,
but he walked forward until he fell down a narrow passage. Down, down, he fell,
and the passage grew wider and lighter, until it was like daylight, although
there was no sun. The passage grew wide, then narrower and then ended in a
narrow path. Two huge snakes were coiled here. They hissed at his approach, but
he showed no fear, and they let him pass. Further on, he came to two grizzly
bears, but, like the snakes, they let him pass by because he showed no fear. He
followed the narrow passage and came upon two mountain lions crouched in the
path, but he spoke to them, and they turned aside and let him pass by. And
then, as the trail widened again, he came to a forest and beyond the forest
there was a wide green valley. He stood on a ridge and gazed down into the
valley. There were many lodges and horses and buffalo. A lake shimmered like
blue glass in a field of green spring grass. He saw people he knew, and they
all looked happy and well fed. Joy swelled within him at the thought of joining
those he knew and loved, but when he went to join them, he could not.

And then a man dressed in white buckskins materialized
before him, and called him by name.

“You must go back,” the warrior said. “We are not ready for
you.”

“No.” Elk Chaser looked out over the valley, and saw his
mother and his father and his younger sister who had died of the white man’s
coughing sickness when she was only nine summers. And he saw Blue Willow, who
had been killed by the Blue Coats three months after he took her for his wife.

“If you stay,” the warrior said, “one who now lives will
die.”

He looked at the valley, at the horses and clear streams, at
his family and friends, and everything within him yearned for the peace and
plenty spread before him.

He took a step forward, one arm outstretched…

And the vision was gone, and he was back in his body, burning
with fever.

* * * * *

Alisha held the canteen to Elk Chaser’s mouth. For a moment,
she had been certain he was dead. He drank greedily, then drifted off again.
Taking a scrap of petticoat, she soaked it with water, then laid it across his
brow.

Soaking another scrap, she began to sponge his arms and legs
and chest, praying all the while that he would live, that Mitch would soon
return. She mourned her father, and grieved for the son she had never seen, for
the years of his life that she had missed, and always, in the back of her mind,
she prayed for Mitch, that he would make it safely back to the Apache, that he
would return before it was too late, before Elk Chaser died, before the
Comanches found the cave.

She fell asleep with his name, like a prayer, on her lips.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mitch slowed his lathered horse. At any other time, he would
have felt guilty for pushing the animal so hard, but not now. The horse’s
wellbeing paled in comparison to saving Alisha’s life.

He waved to the two warriors standing guard at the entrance
of the
rancheria
as he urged his weary mount down the narrow trail that
led to the valley.

Heads turned as he rode toward his mother’s lodge. Several
of the men pointed at his horse as he rode by, apparently recognizing the war
markings painted on the horse as Comanche. Several of warriors followed in his
wake. When he dismounted, the men gathered around.

“Where is the husband of White Robe and the men who rode
with him?” a warrior known as Fights the Wind asked belligerently. He stood
before Mitch, his dislike for White Robe’s son evident in his voice and his
eyes.

“We were attacked by Comanches,” Mitch said. “My mother’s
husband was badly wounded. I don’t know about the other two.”

White Robe stepped out of her lodge, her smile of welcome
fading when she saw that Mitch was alone.

Mitch handed his horse’s reins to a young boy who was
passing by. “Cool him out for me, will you?”

The boy looked up at Mitch, obviously not understanding his
words. White Robe repeated them in Apache, and the boy took the reins and began
walking the horse back and forth.

She watched the boy a moment and Mitch knew she was
gathering her courage. She took a deep breath, then turned to face him. “Where
is my husband?”

As gently as possible, Mitch told his mother how he had
found the Comanches who had attacked Red Clements and taken Alisha, and all
that had happened afterward.

“You must take me to my husband immediately,” White Robe
said, and turned to enter the lodge.

“No,” Mitch placed a restraining hand on his mother’s arm.
“There may still be Comanches in the area. I will not put you in danger.” He
glanced at the men who had gathered around. “
Shi ma
, ask the warriors if
they will go back with me.” He could have tried to ask them himself, but his
Apache was not yet fluent for speech making, and there was no time to waste.