Comanche Rose (35 page)

"No! They'll get you!" she screamed back. "Go on up!"

"Not without you!" As he said it, he lowered his body over the edge, then dropped down in a hail of bullets. "Whooeee!" he managed, ducking back on the ledge. Hearing the buzz behind him, he swung around. A western diamondback lay coiled, ready to defend its territory. It was the biggest he'd ever seen. "Damn."

As she raised the rifle to shoot it, he had another idea. Taking the gun away from her, he jabbed at it. As it struck for him, he caught it with the barrel and flung it over the side. An Indian below bellowed in pain as it struck him.

There were shouts coming from the canyon floor, then the shooting stopped. Taking advantage of the lull, Hap checked the Henry's magazine and reloaded. He didn't know what they were planning, but he knew he wasn't going to like it. Putting his arm around Annie's shoulder, he sat there, waiting.

"I shouldn't have asked this of you," she said, her voice low. "I'm sorry, Hap."

"For what? For giving me the best six or seven weeks of my life?" he countered.

"For getting you killed." She bit her lip to still its trembling, then leaned her head back against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have come. I should've known it wouldn't happen, but I had to hope, Hap. I couldn't let go of her."

"Hey, it's not over yet, Annie."

"There must be a hundred Indians down there." Twisting her head, she tried to see his face. "I didn't want to believe it, but I'm never going to find her. She's just gone."

"You don't know that."

She swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in her throat. "I had no right to ask this of you."

"It's all right, Annie. I never had much until I had you, you know. I never had an Ethan or a Jody or a Susannah, but I've got a notion I'd do my damnedest to get any kid of mine back. I always wanted one, you know."

"You'd have had one. Sometime after the first of the year. I'm sorry, Hap. I didn't meant to cheat you out of that, too."

He sat very still, holding her, trying to take in what she was telling him. "How long have you known?" he said finally.

"About two weeks." She swallowed again and closed her eyes. "I was afraid you'd make me go back if I told you. I was afraid once you knew, you wouldn't care anything about finding Susannah. I think I was wrong, wasn't I?"

"Yeah."

"You'd have gone on, anyway, because you gave your word."

"Yeah."

It was too quiet out there, as though nothing was moving, nothing was happening. Easing a little closer to the edge, he looked down.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said softly. Turning back to her, he was grinning.

"I don't understand. What...
?"

"Look for yourself."

"You're not making any sense."

"You've got yourself a friend down there."

She peered cautiously, then drew back. "Bull Calf!"

"Sure looks like him, anyway."

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, she shouted down,
"Wyitepah!"
waving at him. As he shaded his eyes to see her, she added, "Saleahweah! Nermernuh!" pointing to herself.

The ugly Comanche raised his hand in the sign of peace, then gesturing toward Hap. "Tondehwahkah!" Turning to those gathered around him, he pointed up again. "Tondehwahkah!" Several of them began holding their hands up, showing peace also. The ugliness evaporated.

Annie clutched Hap's arm. "It's all right, we're going to make it. We're going to get to go home, after all, Hap. We're going to get our chance." Seeing that he frowned, she sobered also. "What's the matter?"

"I'm wondering how the hell I'm getting you down from here."

"The same way I came up," Then she understood. "I knew if I told you, you wouldn't want me to do anything. And it's not like that at all. I never had any trouble carrying Susannah or Jody."

"Yeah, but you're older."

"And I'm healthy. That's all that counts, you know."

"I'll go first," he decided. "At least that way I can catch you. And give me that damned cat." Retrieving the hissing animal, he stuffed it inside his shirt. "Scratch me again," he warned it, "and it won't be Cheyennes eating you."

By the time they'd slipped and slid down the rocks, the Penetaka chief had dismounted and was waiting for them. His piercing, black-eyed gaze took in Hap, then her before he spoke. Leaving the white man out of it, he engaged in a lengthy conversation in Comanche with Annie, punctuating his words with his hands. After a number of exchanges and much head shaking, he finally turned to Hap.

"You come." It sounded more like an order than an invitation. Before Hap could respond, he barked out something to a Mexican slave. "You come," he repeated. "Bull Calf give gift."

It was Old Red. The wily Penetaka was giving him his own horse. That and his life, Hap reminded himself. If old Bull Calf hadn't shown up, he'd have been parting with his hair. As it was, the Cheyennes who'd just gathered up their dead didn't seem too happy about that turn of events, but they weren't arguing either. Walking to the mules, he knew he had to make a real gesture. Behind him, Annie said low, "He'll take us to Quanah—he's seen Quanah."

Quanah Parker, the scourge of Texas. As many times as Hap had crisscrossed the state tracking Indians, he'd never gotten a look at the half-white Quahadi war chief who had such a bitter hatred for everything Anglo. And it was something he could have stood missing, but he realized the significance of Bull Calf's offer. This was what they'd been hoping for, and one way or another, maybe it would answer the question of whether Susannah Bryce had survived.

"Well, I guess you've finally struck paydirt" was about all the could think to say.

Aware of the longstanding enmity between the Texas Rangers and the Quahadi war chief, she said quietly, "You don't have to go, Hap—you can wait for me. Bull Calf said he'd bring me back."

"Like hell." His forced smile twisted. "I'm in this for the full haul, Annie. Ever hear of 'whither thou goest'?"

"That was Ruth and her mother-in-law," she reminded him. "But Quanah's on the warpath. Bull Calf says he's smoked the war pipe with the Kiowas and the Cheyenne. And I guess even some of the reservation Comanches are coming down to join him."

"And Mackenzie's going to cram it down his throat," he muttered tersely. Rummaging through the few things that had been left in the packs, he found Annie's sack of coffee, his tablet, and his dirty clothes. Hiding his anger at being robbed by the Cheyennes, he turned back to Bull Calf. "Tell him he can have the mules, if he can get 'em back for me," he directed Annie.

She repeated the offer, drawing a wide grin from the Comanche. After a quick conference with their earlier attackers, he managed to persuade them to return most of what they'd taken, even the animals. As painted Cheyenne warriors mounted up to continue along the war trail, and Comanches melted into the canyon, the Mexican promptly took possession of Bull Calf's new mules.

"You'd better take what you want, Annie. I'm going to have to give 'em the rest. Reckon it'll be pretty light traveling from here on out."

"Bull Calf says we'll have to hurry, Hap. He says Quanah's going to be moving down to the Big Spring before long."

"Maybe we should've waited for him down there."

"It'll be a big war party. There are hundreds of them, I guess."

And he had no way of stopping them. After all his years of fighting the damned Comanches, he was going in to Quanah Parker's camp, acting like some sort of relative. And knowing they were going to be raiding the farms and ranches he'd fought so hard to protect would stick like a bone in his craw. But for her he was going to do it. Then just as soon as he could get up to Sill or over to Richardson, he was going to tell the army where to find Quanah.

"What did you tell him about me?" he asked finally.

"That you're my husband. He knows why we're here, Hap—I just told him. But he can't promise anything except that he can get us to Quanah. He says we'll be even then."

"Yeah. Well, I won't be telling any of 'em. Hell, I can barely sign enough to keep my hair on." Walking back to the packs, he began stuffing his clothes and shaving gear into one of the pouches. "When does he want to leave?"

"Now. The others are going on without him, and I think he hopes he can catch up."

"How far is it?"

"He didn't say—only that he's been there, and he knows where it is. There are a lot of places in this canyon to hide, Hap." She hesitated for a moment, then said somberly, "He says there are a lot of Noconis in Quanah's camp. I, uh, didn't ask him anything about Two Trees."

"You don't have to worry about the son of a bitch. All you've got to do is point him out to me."

"You can't kill him, Hap. You wouldn't get out alive."

"I'll find a way." Clasping her shoulder, he turned her to face him. "When I get riled, I've got a real mean streak in me, Annie. And every time I think of what he did to you, I get real riled."

"I'd rather have you alive than anything, Hap—than anything else in this world."

Even there, in front of Bull Calf and his Comanches, he wasn't proof against those blue eyes of hers. A slow, confident smile spread across his face. "You didn't marry a fool, Annie. We've both got a lot to live for now."

CHAPTER 24

After more than two days of searching through the huge Quahadi camp, Annie finally conceded she'd done all she could. As she and Hap were walking back along the river, she gave up. She was tired, sick, and there was no longer any reason to believe that Susannah was alive. That, coupled with the fact that the camp was swelling with more Cheyennes every day, made it difficult to stay where sentiment ran high against Hap. It was only Bull Calf's influence and Comanche reluctance to murder a guest that kept them from killing an old enemy.

She'd been silent, lost in thought so long that she startled him when she spoke up. "I think we ought to go home, Hap."

As much as he'd wanted to hear those words, he ached for her. "We don't have to, Annie. The summer's not over," he said gently.

"No, it's over. You were right in the first place, you know. She probably didn't live through that first awful winter."

"Annie—"

"I'm all right, Hap. I looked as hard as I could, and I can live with that."

"Yeah."

There were no words of comfort to say. Later, when she lay in his arms, he'd try to ease the pain, but right now there was nothing. Instead, he took her hand and walked slowly back to the tipi Sun in the Morning had set up for them. Now there wasn't any sense prolonging her agony.

"We'll leave in the morning at first light," he decided finally.

"Yes."

His hand tightened around hers, pressing his father's ring into his fingers. "We've got the baby to think of now. When I get home, I'm going to try my hand at making a cradle. I know I haven't said much about it, but I didn't want you to think I didn't care about Susannah," he went on. "I would've really liked having a daughter, Annie, I want you to know that."

"Yes."

"I always wanted a kid, you know, but I never really thought it'd happen. I know you're hurting, but I kinda feel like I've got everything a man could want. Maybe I'm an old fool, but I'm looking forward to seeing what it's going to look like, how it's going to grow, who it's going to be."

"You want a son, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter. To tell the truth, if it gets my hair, I hope to hell it's a girl."

"I don't know why you hate it so much. I've always liked it—it makes you look like a kid yourself, you know. And there's nothing wrong—" She stopped dead in her tracks to stare at a group of half-naked Indian children splashing in the water, and for a moment there was no mistaking the yearning in her face. Then she recovered. "I almost thought..."

He followed her gaze, looking them over with what had become a practiced eye. While he couldn't see all of the faces, none of them looked white.

"What?"

"I don't know. The way that girl turned her head—" She sighed, then settled her shoulders. "I can see now I was mistaken."

"Yeah."

"I've wanted to believe so many times that my mind plays tricks with my heart, I guess."

"There's nobody over there that looks like you, Annie."

"I know."

"You probably ought to lie down for a while."

"I will. But first I'm going to tell Bull Calf we're going."

"Yeah, I thought he wanted to catch up to that war party," he recalled.

"I think he was afraid if he left, Tondehwahkah might not get out of here alive." Sighing again, she admitted, "I don't want him to die, Hap. I know what happened at Sill gave him a bad taste of the reservation, but he's got to go back, and I'm going to tell him that." Spying Sun in the Morning outside Bull Calf's tipi, she stopped. "I'll be along directly, but first I'm going to try to convince her, too."

It was over. It was as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he could go home with a clear conscience. He hadn't found Susannah Bryce, and he hadn't killed Two Trees, but he was taking his wife home, and that counted for more than anything. Right now, as he ducked through the borrowed tipi's flap door, he didn't care if he ever saw another Indian for the rest of his life.

It was too dark, too close, and too hot inside. He stood there, leaning against a lodge pole, looking around. Then he went to his saddle bag for his tablet. He hadn't written much in his book lately, and now he had two reasons to write it. By now Clay's kid had come into the world, and sometime after the next New Year, his would, too.

As he put the bag back, he noticed some yellow silk hair hanging out of Annie's pack. She'd brought the doll he'd found that September day, and apparently Spider'd discovered it. The damned cat had been chewing on it. Taking it out of the pack, he smoothed the hair, straightened the new calico dress Annie'd put on it, then replaced it in the pack. It was a real nice doll—maybe someday his daughter would be playing with it.

"Suppose you want to go outside, huh?" he asked the cat.

In answer it stretched its body and hooked its claws in his pants leg. Sticking the pencil in his pocket and tucking the tablet under his arm, he scooped up Spider and headed for the open air. He had a lot of catching up to do. Where he'd once thought he couldn't fill twenty pages, now he kept thinking up things to add.