Dance With A Gunfighter (26 page)

Over an hour passed before a woman came to the wickiup and
spoke to the guard. He grabbed Gabe’s arm, pulled her out of the hut and
through the camp. As she ran and stumbled, trying to keep up with him, women
and children jeered and spit at her. Some of the younger children threw rocks
that stung as they hit her face and arms. A heavy rock hit her between her
shoulder blades and she nearly fell. When they reached the largest wickiup, the
brave furled back the flap for her to enter.

It was filled with people. McLowry was there, and she
could have cried with relief. She went to his side and sat, he took her hand,
holding it so hard he nearly crushed it. She squared her shoulders and faced
the crowd. Nahtuyah sat on the side with a group of other men, but all eyes
were turned toward the back of the hut.

A small man with a flat face, his skin baked hard and
shiny, sat against the back wall, puffing on a brown-stained corncob pipe.
Around gray hair that hung past his shoulders he wore a thick red brow band
that looked like cloth from a cowhand’s neckerchief. He also wore a white man’s
tattered green plaid shirt and blue denim trousers. Gabe knew he was Black
Cloud.

She raised her eyes to meet his shining black ones, but
they bored through her as if she didn’t exist and fixed on McLowry.

"What are you called?" the chief asked.

"Jess McLowry."

"You are a scout?"

"I’m a ranch hand."

Black Cloud glanced at his warriors, then back to McLowry
with a smirk. "Where?"

"I’m looking for work," McLowry said.

Black Cloud laughed, then translated for those unable to
understand the white man’s words. His smile disappeared when he faced McLowry
again. "You lie, or you are very much lost. This is Apache land. No
ranches here."

McLowry eyed the warriors, all giving fierce, threatening
looks. He didn’t reply.

Black Cloud peered long at Gabe, then back at McLowry.
"Is this your woman?"

"Yes."

"A very foolish woman to let her man become lost when
looking for work." The chief laughed again, and the others joined him,
even those who clearly hadn’t understood his words. Gabe bit her tongue against
any retort.

"We did not come to these mountains by choice,"
McLowry said, his voice even, his words slow and measured. "We came to
escape an enemy who wanted to kill my woman. We only ask to continue our
journey."

Gabe could see a look of interest flicker across Black
Cloud’s face. Nahtuyah leaned over and spoke to him. Then Black Cloud sat back,
one hand on his knee as he puffed on his pipe.

"Why does this man want to kill a woman?"

"He was angry that she sought him."

"Why did she?"

"He killed her family. She seeks revenge."

Black Cloud looked at Gabe with curiosity. "Is she
not afraid to go after a man?"

"She is brave. She didn’t go after one man, but
five."

Black Cloud pointed the stem of his pipe at her. "Did
you get revenge on this enemy?"

"Three are dead," she said, lifting an eyebrow.
Then she couldn’t stop herself from adding, "So far."

Black Cloud gawked at her, then his face widened into a
smile at the implication of her words. "You seem to think you will have
another chance to go after them. Yet, you are my prisoner."

"We’ve done nothing to hurt you, so we believe you
will let us go."

"My people also did nothing, but your soldiers killed
them, and drove them away from the land of their fathers."

She met his gaze straight on. "Surely, you can see I
am no soldier."

His eyes seemed to grow even blacker. "Your woman has
a sharp tongue," he said to McLowry. "We could remove it from
her."

McLowry eyes flashed a warning at Gabe. "Her sharp
tongue keeps my days interesting...and my nights lively."

The chief regarded him with surprise, then chuckled.
"Yes. I had such a woman once."

He glanced at his braves, one by one, and then back to
McLowry. "I will give you a chance to live. Nahtuyah will challenge you.
He will have a knife, and you already have your woman’s sharp tongue. If you
win, you and the woman go free. If you lose..." Black Cloud shrugged.

"I’m ready," McLowry replied.

"No!" Gabe scooted forward.

The warriors lunged in her direction, but McLowry caught
her arm first and jerked her back to his side. "Don’t say a word!" he
warned.

The tent fell quiet. Slowly, cautiously, McLowry let go of
her arm. She felt Black Cloud’s scowl to her very toes, but she met his gaze
straight on. "This man," she gestured toward McLowry, "is
ill."

"Gabe!" McLowry’s voice was low, trying to stop
her.

She refused to obey, but looked at Black Cloud, praying he
would listen. "McLowry was whipped by a jackal follower of man I seek
revenge on, and his wounds have not yet healed. He is weak and feverish. If
Nahtuyah fights him, he will have no chance."

Black Cloud turned to McLowry. "What are these wounds
she speaks of?"

"They’re nothing. She has no stomach for fighting so
she says these things. I will fight Nahtuyah."

"Please, Black Cloud, ask him to show you his
back," Gabe pleaded. "And have someone feel his forehead."

Black Cloud’s eyes narrowed as he seemed to size up one
then the other. Finally, he nodded and McLowry slowly unbuttoned his shirt.
Then he turned his back to Black Cloud and let the garment drop from his
shoulders. The warriors murmured among themselves at the sight. One of the
braves slapped his hand hard against McLowry’ forehead, then reported to his
chief.

"Who is the man who did this to you?" Black
Cloud asked.

McLowry faced him again, rebuttoning his shirt. "His
name was Tack Cramer. Cramer is dead now. He belonged to Will Tanner’s
gang."

"Tanner! I know him and his men. We have fought. He
has killed my people. He is my enemy as well."

McLowry saw a way to elevate Gabe in the Chief’s eyes and
perhaps save her life. "My woman pulled a knife on Tanner’s man named
Dawes. I helped, and now he is dead. That was how we escaped."

Gabe saw one eyebrow raise in surprise as Black Cloud
studied her a long while. "It is good." He glanced back at McLowry.
"What price do you take for this woman?"

McLowry couldn’t suppress a grin as he looked at Gabe’s
shock. His eyes rested on her as he replied. "She is worth more to me than
anything on the earth."

All were silent as Black Cloud tapped the ash from his
pipe and refilled it. He lit it and puffed a while, then said, "I will
think on this. But your woman is right. You are sick. I will send the
di-yin
to help you. Go now."

The warrior who had guarded Gabe earlier brought her again
to the small wickiup. Before entering she looked back over her shoulder.
McLowry wasn’t there.

A warming fire had been lit in the center of the wickiup,
and a blanket lay near it. Gabe entered and sat on the blanket, unsure of what
to do.

In a little while, a young, pretty woman with silky black
hair worn loose and straight, and wearing a long skirt of brown calico, a
hip-length red overblouse, and high moccasins with upturned toes, came into the
wickiup. She knelt, but stayed far back, giving Gabe a fearful stare as if she
expected Gabe to grow horns and spout fire from her nose. She inched closer and
held out a small bowl, stretching her arm as much as possible so that she
wouldn’t be forced to stand any closer to the white woman. "What is
it?" Gabe asked, looking at the yellow, mashed substance.

The woman stared a moment, then drew the bowl back and
quickly made a scooping motion with her fingers from the bowl to her mouth. She
thrust the bowl forward again. Gabe nodded and tried it. It was a mashed squash-like
vegetable, with a sour, cloying taste that might have been helped with generous
portions of salt, pepper and sweet butter. Too hungry to be choosy, Gabe ate
with her fingers. When she glanced up, the woman had gone.

Chapter 21

About an hour later, the woman came back later and took
the bowl, then motioned to Gabe to follow. Cautiously, Gabe left the wickiup.
As the squaw led Gabe away from the camp toward some bushes, a guard fell
behind the two women. Gabe’s fear grew. She had heard many stories of what
Apaches did to prisoners--especially Apache women. She wondered if they, like
executioners, gave last meals.

The guard stopped and the woman continued walking with
Gabe around to the far side of a ridge of paloverde. The woman then lifted her
skirts and squatted down. Gabe got the idea, turned her back and did the same.

The guard escorted them back, and Gabe was alone again.
For the next three days, the woman who brought Gabe food and water and led her
to the bushy area was Gabe’s only contact with anyone beyond the silent,
ever-present guard stationed at the entrance to her wickiup. If the woman spoke
English, or even understood any of Gabe’s questions, she gave no indication of
it.

In the hut, Gabe fumed, raged and begged for information
about McLowry. She prayed they were helping his back, and not letting the
infection kill him. The guard simply pulled the flap of the wickiup shut
whenever she lifted it to speak to him.

On the fourth morning, the woman walked in with a bundle
of clothes. "What’s this?" Gabe asked.

The woman giggled, her hand covering her mouth. She then
held a buckskin dress against Gabe’s shoulders. It was incredibly soft, with
concha shells and beadwork along the neckline, but it stopped just below her
hips. "Isn’t it a little short?" Gabe asked.

Ignoring her, the woman held a buckskin skirt against her
waist. It fell almost to her ankles. "Ah! That helps," Gabe said with
a smile. The woman chuckled again. Finally, the woman gave her a pair of tall
moccasins with toes that were pointed and upturned.

Gesturing, the woman indicated that Gabe was to put these
clothes on and give up the battered, filthy dress she still wore.

"Can I bathe first?" she asked.

The woman looked puzzled until Gabe made washing gestures
with her hands. The woman nodded, then spoke to the guard.

Before long, she was led to a creek. Suddenly, half the
women in the camp joined her, all quickly disrobing and jumping into the water.
They found the whiteness of her skin and the lithe, thinness of her body quite
hilarious. Gabe didn’t find either a laughing matter, but she wasn’t about to
argue. All she knew was that the water was cool and refreshing.

She used soap weed that had been pounded into pulp to wash
her hair, and when she came up from rinsing it, she saw Nahtuyah standing
beside a mesquite, his black eyes watching her. She turned her back to him, and
when she peeked over her shoulder later, he was gone.

The others called the woman who brought her food Kaiya.
After being led back to the wickiup, Gabe turned to her and said, "Thank
you, Kaiya."

Kaiya at first looked shocked, then a slow smile filled
her face. She giggled, nodded, and murmured a string of words in return.

A simple rapport grew up between Gabe and Kaiya after
that. The woman was pretty and petite, but strong. She had one child, a girl,
who was three. She was expecting her second child. Kaiya’s husband’s name was
Manolo. Gabe noticed that he didn’t spend a lot of time with the other
warriors, but seemed to enjoy being with his wife and daughter.

Gabe and Kaiya worked out a simple way to converse, a
combination of English, Spanish and a few Apache words that Gabe picked up by
listening carefully. In this way, Gabe learned that McLowry was growing
stronger each day.

On the twenty-fifth day of their captivity, Gabe was led
out of the wickiup and in a matter of minutes she watched the squaws dismantle
it. The entire camp was a maelstrom of packing and strapping possessions to the
backs of the horses. The women were made to carry anything the horses could
not.

Gabe helped, working beside her silent guard. Kaiya was
nearby with her husband, Manolo, while Nahtuyah, as always, lurked near, his
eyes never leaving her.

Late that morning, Gabe turned around, and the ground
seemed to rock. McLowry was on the far side of the camp, near a gathering of
horses. He was walking beside the colorful chief, talking with him, deep in
conversation.

He was still very pale, but his shoulders and back were
straight and he seemed able to move much easier than he had been. Her chest
swelled at the sight of him and a new fear--that the Apaches had allowed him to
grow healthy only to have the knife fight with Nahtuyah--came to torment her.

He turned, and their eyes met. He seemed shocked, at
first, then he took a few steps toward her, one side of his mouth curving up to
the lop-sided smile she loved. She, too, stepped forward, but Kaiya grabbed her
arm and whispered, "No." She smiled, trying to let him know she was
unharmed. He nodded, and a sudden, crazy, joyous hope took root inside her that
they might yet get out of this alive.

She was given an Indian pony and mounted it bareback,
waiting to move out. Her eyes followed McLowry as he mounted. Black Cloud
gestured to McLowry to come forward and the two rode side by side.

The camp traveled due east out of the Dragoons, toward the
Chiricahua Mountains. Although they didn’t stop until it was dark, and started
again at the first light of dawn, the going was slow. Eight days passed before
they reached the foothills, and it took another week for them to find a secure
area deep in a mountain valley where the band would spend the winter.

Gabe helped Kaiya secure the saplings that formed the
frame of the wickiup as all the squaws worked to rebuild the camp. Kaiya showed
her how to weave coarse, spindly yucca leaves to form a thatch between the
poles.

After that, every day, Gabe was given work to do. She
stood beside Kaiya, helping the camp. Although she saw McLowry from time to
time, they were never allowed close enough to speak.