Love by Dawn (11 page)

Blake rolled his eyes at her wanton display
and noticed when the whore winked at the jury of men, too many red
faces looked the other way hoping their wives seated in the room
hadn’t notice their uneasiness. He began drumming his fingers when
the well-dressed lawyer cleared his throat and approached the
prostitute.

“Ahem. Now Cricket, can you tell us in your
own words what happened that night a month ago?”

His pimple faced lawyer stood. “I o-object!”
he stammered.

The gavel slammed. “What fer?” asked the
judge.

His lawyer reddened. “Um, hearsay, your
honor.”

“Is not!” snapped Cricket. “I’d seen it with
me own eyes.”

“Overruled,” the judge’s mouth curved into a
foolish grin at the witness. “You’re correct, darlin’.” And she
beamed proudly.

Blake groaned at the conversation that had
just taken place and tugged at Bromley’s shirt sleeve. The pimply
faced lawyer looked down his long nose at him and reddened. “I had
to say something,” he insisted.

“I agree, but… be sure about what you’re
objecting too. You’re making a fool out of me and yourself. I could
defend my own ass better than you have so far.”

Bromley took offense to his claim, but he
didn’t give a rat’s ass!

“Continue, Cricket,” ordered the prosecutor
and Blake swore again calling attention to himself. The judge gave
him the eye and again he couldn’t give a crap!

Cricket licked her lips. “Well, ya see, when
my friend, Bell, never came back to our quarters, I was worried
about her, so I knocked on the door of the room I knew she was in.
When no one answered, I opened it a crack and peeked in. And oh,”
she placed her hand on her chest being a bit melodramatic, and
continued, “I found her lying all bloody and,” tears fell, she was
dead, ya honor.” She lifted the hem of her dress and patted her
eyes exposing much of her net stockings, which of course led to
more catcalls and whistles until Judge Braddock put a stop to the
commotion. But he did take his damn sweet time of it, thought
Blake.

“Thank you, Cricket,” said the judge. You may
step down.”

Colby Sweet, the owner of the tavern, swore
that his girls were honest and law abiding citizens of El Paso. His
comment got a few snickers and snorts from the whore and his beady
dark eyes scanned the room, as he wiped his sweaty brow.

Colby was nervous and he had a good reason to
be. Only that morning he had confronted a prostitute, named Honey,
saying he knew she and her dead friend, Bell had been holding out
on him. She denied it until his fists beat her into admitting that
she and Bell were saving up to leave town and the profession. He
left the woman unconscious, wondering if he had killed her also. As
if his thoughts could have conjured up his images of Honey, the
doors swung open and the battered woman fell into the room. He
jumped from the chair and ran to her side as puzzled onlookers
gasped; he took the woman in his arms and whispered a threat in her
ear.

Honey pushed him aside, crying, “No! No!
Colby, your threats won’t work anymore.”

Sweating, he heard the crowd start to murmur
noisily among themselves until the judge slammed the gavel on the
table making the whiskey bottle jump a foot into the air. But he
wasn’t one to waste good liquor and snatched it before it crashed
to the floor. A few men cheered at the judge’s quick thinking and
he nodded proudly and hollered, “Order! Or I’ll clear the
room.”

The defendant’s lawyer went to Honey’s side
and helped her to a chair. Colby started to leave but Judge
Braddock yelled, “Stop that man!” A deputy standing by the doors
pulled his gun and detained him from fleeing. People began to
whisper again until the judge rapped the gavel. “Quite!” he ordered
with another slam of the gavel. “Now, young lady, what happened to
you and why are you disturbing my court?”

Honey blinked back tears licking her swollen
and blood crusted lips. “Sorry your Honor but that man,” she
pointed to Blake, is innocent. It was Colby Sweet who killed
Bell.”

Colby couldn’t believe his damn bad luck and
stood still as the room burst into an uproar, ignoring the banging
of the gavel for many minutes. Finally, the astonished people
quieted and the judge ordered him taken to jail, but not before he
saw Honey pass out and the defendant was freed and his name
cleared.

THIRTEEN

August lashed out with its hot breath over
the plains. The New Mexican desert took the old soul, Ruth Oliver
and Casey cried openly as Hunter dug the woman’s grave. Michael
continued the journey in shock, sitting idly, day by day, in the
rear of the wagon. He blamed himself for taking his wife out here
to the wilderness. She tried to console the old man, but it was of
no use and Michael Oliver died of a broken heart a month later.
They buried him near the border of Arizona and she was sad that he
had to be laid to rest so far from his wife, but she believed in
the hereafter and she knew their souls were reunited in heaven.

It was September, but a person wouldn’t have
known it since it was still hot in Arizona. Casey was sitting by
the campfire talking with her brother about the past months and how
they had made it this far.

“We’ll sell the wagon and horses for what
they’re worth and find jobs. We’ll start a new life here, Sis.”

She shrugged, still feeling melancholy about
the loss of Michael and Ruth. She missed them very much and thought
again how they had become the grandparents she never had. All
alone, except for Hunter, she prayed they would find some happiness
in their new lives. So engrossed in herself, she didn’t heard the
twig snap nearby. Hunter touched her arm and she saw his eyes
darted fearfully around.

“Casey, there’s someone out there. Did you
hear something?” he whispered in hushed tones.

“Naw, probably just a small critter so stop
being so jumpy,” she groused, ignoring her sixth sense, but she
looked over her shoulder to reassure herself that her words were
correct. “See, nothing to be frightened of. Now relax and---”

“Hush. There, did you hear that?” his voice
quivered.

This time she did, but before her brother
could draw Mr. Oliver’s rifle, they were surrounded by Indians.

What good were premonitions
if you don’t heed them!
She chided herself
looking into the unhappy faces of many braves.

FOURTEEN

Blake was in a bitter mood when he picked up
Checkers at the stable. He was glad to get out of El Paso, Texas
with his skin intact. A month had passed and he knew the trail
would be cold. He had questioned the blacksmith once more and it
took a twenty-dollar gold piece to jar the big man’s memory. He did
recall that the young blond fellow had mentioned that the old
couple was heading to Arizona. Blake prayed that his information
was correct. He reached the desert before winter and spent many
days wondering where in the state to start looking for the two.

His best chance was to see if he could find
his friend Star Gazer and his tribe. The Indian camp would soon be
moving further into the hills before the winter snows. It had only
been a couple years since he lived for a short time with this tribe
and his young Indian friend. There was no doubt in his mind that as
soon as he reached the other side of the mountain, the Apaches
would spot him. He also knew if Casey and Hunter passed this way,
the scouts would know; this was his only hope.

As Blake nudged his horse through the pass he
remembered the first time he and his cousin, Jason St. Andrew met
Blue Thunder, Star Gazer and Dasodaha, the chief of the White
Mountain Apache tribe. He and Jason had come to rescue his
beautiful cousin Melissa St. Andrews who was captured from a wagon
train by Blue Thunder. He had been a little smitten with his cousin
when he went searching for her. Only seventeen, he was not an
experienced frontiersman, but determined to save her. And his
cousin Jason was in no better shape than himself with limited
vision. But they were so wet behind the ears about the dangers of
the frontier that they forged on unaware of the dangers around
them.

Blake and Jason had come across the wagon
train only days after Melissa had been captured. He joined up with
a search party for a few days until they lost the tracks of the
Indians.

Everyone
turned back but he and his cousin. They went on
and it was sheer luck that they stumbled onto the mountain pass. He
found the Indian village, but wasn’t too sure how he was going to
save Melissa. It was morning and quiet. He ventured as close as he
could without being spotted. Jason had returned to the town for
supplies while he waited.

There were many lodges, which he learned
later were called wickiups. He couldn’t go around peeking in all of
them so he decided to wait, maybe they would bring her out sooner
or later. He waited until his stomach began to rumble, then went
off to pick berries to quiet his complaining belly. Searching the
woods for lunch, he heard a hair-raising scream, then a terrorizing
growl, a sound that would haunt his dreams for a long time. Running
towards the screams, not thinking of the danger, Blake rounded a
bend and stopped in his track. In the path was the largest,
hairiest, smelliest bear he had ever set his eyes on. The animal
was swatting at something in a tree. At first he thought the bear
was after another animal.

The painful cries emanating from the tree
couldn’t be coming from a human being, could it? When the furry
giant went down on all fours, Blake saw a human leg hanging from
the limb. Bravely, he crept closer and saw it was indeed a person.
He was young. His one leg was safely on a branch, but the other
dangled in a bloody mess of shredded skin. It almost caused him to
vomit at the sight.

The animal began walking around the tree,
planning his next attack. The Indian brave took that moment to
climb higher into the tree. Blake could see the pain on the
Indian’s face as he tried to pull the injured leg up out of the
bear’s reach. He marveled at the strength and bravery that the
young brave showed. He had to do something but he was no match for
the beast. If he shot the animal and just wounded him, the bear
would certainly turn on him. The gunshot would also alert the
Indians.

Talk about being caught
between a rock and a hard place,
he
mumbled inwardly.

The giant grizzly stood again, hissing and
growling, taking another swat. He couldn’t waste anymore time, or
the brave would die; he took his best shot. The bear howled then
turned spitting saliva, Blake pointed the gun again. His hands
shook so, he couldn’t aim. The grizzly took a few steps in his
direction and was so close he could smell his rotten breath. Still
shaken, he squeezed the trigger; the bullet hit and the animal
grunted. Once again, he only wounded the beast. He pulled the
trigger for the third time, but the chamber was empty. Closing his
eyes, he waited for death, all the time he willed his legs to move.
They didn’t obey.

Swish! A cool breeze kissed his face. No
pain?

Thud! Swish! Thud!

He stood for what seemed like forever before
he senses awaken to the fact that it was quiet. Not feeling the
swat of a powerful claw, he bravely opened his eyes only to stare
into the faces of three Indians. Many arrows protruded from the
bear’s furry body and Blake didn’t know whether to run or kiss his
rescuers. He was not given the liberty to do either and was taken
to a dwelling where he was guarded, but not harmed.

Days passed before the son of the chief, Blue
Thunder came to see him. It was then he learned that his cousin was
happy and in love with the big handsome Indian. Then Jason came to
his rescue only to be rendered unconscious. But as it happened, no
great harm had befalling them and Jason was also reunited with his
sister. The young brave, Star Gazer recovered and they became good
friends. He stayed for almost a year, learning to improve his
shooting and riding skills. This was also where he learned to track
and survive better on the wild frontier. When he left Jason
remained and he later learned that Jason had married an Indian
princess from another clan and returned home to his plantation with
his bride.

He was now looking forward to seeing Melissa
again. She had won favor in the Apache’s eyes after stitching Star
Gazer’s leg and saving his life. She and Blue Thunder were given
permission to marry, something rare since Blue Thunder’s clan were
opposed to mixing white blood with Indians. He was so engrossed in
his musings, it took him a moment to notice the braves approach
until they were almost on top of him. He brought his mount to a
halt and raised his hand in peace. He recognized a few of the
braves and he wondered if they remembered him. Not taking any
chances, he spoke a few words of their native Athabscan tongue. He
also showed them the bear tooth he wore around his neck, a gift
from Star Gazer. One of the braves closed the space between them
and nodded. The red man raised his hand in the same friendly manner
and nodded.

“
Hon Dah.
You are accepted to our
village, Blake. I remember you well, blond man. Why are you here? I
am Shadow.”

“I come for help to find two of my people,
and would like to see my cousin, Melissa again. Is she well?”

Shadow nodded. “She and husband are both
happy.”

“And Star Gazer?”

“He is also doing well. But come, see for
yourself.”

The Indian turned and Blake followed.

When Blake rode into the camp, a little girl
with light brown eyes and soft brown curl’s framing her pudgy
little face, ran and yelled, “White man with hair like mama’s come
into camp!” He believed the tot was running into her parent’s
wickiup. His cousin stuck her heard out of the wickiup, and
recognition filled her eyes. “Blake!” She ran to him as he jumped
from the horse. They hugged for a moment and he thought she had
grown more beautiful in time. Holding his cousin at arms length, he
studied her. Her flaxen hair was braided and held with rawhide. Her
honey eyes still sparkled like dew in the golden sunlight.