The Darkest Heart (44 page)

The men around him followed in an apparent order, first Nahilzay, who, though graceful, looked clumsy after Cochise, then five others. Some of the men were very inventive and got carried away, leaping wildly around the clearing, chasing foes, throwing imaginary lances, wrestling in hand-to-hand combat. Others were clearly reluctant to dance their tales. One of the men’s dances was so brief the crowd roared with laughter. He grinned foolishly, and Candice realized he was drunk—as drunk as the entire tribe was getting.

She was about to leave when Jack stood. She gasped.

The crowd grew very quiet, waiting. He was wearing only a loincloth and moccasins, and his torso gleamed in the firelight. He put his hand to his head, looking, searching. He ran … gracefully, corded muscles standing out on his thighs and arms. Galloping into the fray. Someone shouted
for help. He jumped from his stallion, searching. All around him was the confusion of bloody battle. He warded off an attack. He leapt over chaos and carnage. He was attacked from behind. He fell, twisting, and brought his opponent down. They wrestled, back and forth. Jack got the man beneath him and, with a savage motion, slit his throat.

He returned to his place with the others.

He was magnificent, she thought, awed. Graceful, powerful, as fine a dancer as any of the others. She was stunned.

Other men got up and began to dance, no longer singly, and in no particular order. Women came into the circle, dancing. Candice was shocked again. Some were fully dressed, but others wore nothing but tiny loincloths. They danced unashamedly.

One of the near-naked women gravitated toward the dais, and Candice watched fixedly—with growing anger. The woman was slender, her body perfect. Long black hair fell loosely to her hips. Her breasts were full but young and firm. Dark nipples were taut. She was very graceful and very sensuous, and she had the attention of half the men on the dais, then all of them. She moved directly in front of Jack.

He watched her dance with full attention. Candice wanted to slap the half smile off his face. The woman swayed closer to him, her message unmistakable. For what had to be five long minutes she undulated in front of him, for him, and he never once took his eyes off her. Then she beckoned with her hand, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.

The men on the dais started laughing, and one of them pummeled Jack on the back. They gestured after the girl, encouraging him. He rose, amid hoots, and started after her. Candice was frozen with disbelief. He disappeared in her wake into the crowd.

Her heart was pounding furiously. She picked up a stone and stood. Should she bash her head in, or his? She strode grimly, purposefully, down the knoll. How in hell was she ever going to find them? They had probably gone into the woods. She would never find them. She vowed to kill Jack when she next saw him—and hoped that would be very soon.

Away from the firelight it was dark. She skirted the woods instead of going through-them. She walked right into a pair of powerful arms, and started to twist free. He laughed.

“Looking for me?”

“You bastard!”

He pulled her against him and silenced her with a kiss. His lips were hard and demanding. She could feel his arousal. She was furious. “Stop it, you bastard! Just stop!”

“You look beautiful,” he breathed, lifting her easily into his arms. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all day.” He began walking into the woods.

“What about your little squaw?” Candice hissed, but her body was melting rapidly.

“Who?”

“Don’t ‘who’ me!”

He chuckled. “You sound like a jealous witch.
Inlgashi shijii
. Witch of my heart!”

“You’re not funny,” she cried, but he dropped to his knees and kissed her again. Candice wrenched away. “Who is she?”

He slid his hand up her arm, his eyes smoking. His tone was husky. “Nobody. Trust me. Come here,
shijii
, kiss me … greet me properly.”

She pushed herself out of his arms. “Greet you properly? You couldn’t even say hello when—”

He caught her with a chuckle and kissed her again. “I’m saying hello now.” He urged her gently backward, until she was lying on her back. The ground was damp.

“Jack …” she started.

He smiled and slipped his hand beneath her petticoats, instantly silencing her. She closed her eyes and was lost to waves of dizzying pleasure. And when his mouth followed the path of his hand, and his tongue started seeking her sweetest, slickest recesses, she clutched at his hair and forgave all. A tidal wave of pleasure soared over her, again and again.

Then he took her and claimed her as a man claims a woman, fiercely, intently, purposefully. That night his harsh cries mingled with hers, unheard beneath the din of revelry.

“Who is she, Jack?”

He smiled. “Her name is Gaage and she’s a widow. Have no fear. I have no intention of making any more trouble for myself, I have enough as it is.”

“You certainly enjoyed her dancing,” Candice said jealously.

He stroked her hair. “I was imagining my wife dancing naked in front of me, dear heart.” He chuckled.

“You liar.”

“I was also imagining the very delicious things I intended to do to you tonight—and I assume you’re satisfied?”

She had to smile. “Just stay away from her,” she told him.

“I give you my word,” he said, biting off laughter. She was jealous, and while he meant every word he said, he was thrilled that she should be so green. A jealous woman was a woman who cared.

“What happened, Jack?” She peered up at him.

He stiffened. “I don’t want to discuss that now. Let’s make love again.” He began unbuttoning her camisole.

“You rode on the Santa Cruz Valley, Candice persisted. She had to know. His hand stopped, then slid negligently into her bodice, cupping a breast. “I want to know what happened. Did you attack Tucson?”

He withdrew his hand and sat up abruptly. “You have great timing,” he said harshly. Silver eyes were bitterly angry. “Do you really want to know all the ugly details?” He stood, reaching for his loincloth. “All right. Reinhart’s place is gutted. He won’t be able to rebuild. Henderson’s is gutted also. At least ten men died yesterday. Four were Apache. Is there anything else you want to know?”

She sat, clutching the ends of her camisole together. “Yes, Is Judge Reinhart all right?”

He stared, his mouth tightening. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, God,” she said.

“Do you still fancy yourself in love with him?” he snarled.

“Oh, grow up! Judge is a good man! My neighbor!”

“You were practically engaged to him, remember? You seemed to be in love with him!” His eyes were flashing shards of ice.

“I can’t believe you could attack a man like Judge,” Candice said. “How could you?”

He stared, furious. “Don’t you dare condemn me—or even judge me.” He strode away. But even as he did so, he knew his anger wasn’t directed at her, but at himself, and the whole damn war.

Candice decided she would not bring up what was obviously an extremely sensitive topic for Jack again. She found him at
their gohwah
drinking
tiswin
, alone and brooding. She was exhausted, still very disturbed, but no longer agitated about the slender squaw. It was what had happened to Judge Reinhart that held her attention—she hoped fervently that he was all right. She slipped into her usual place in Jack’s bedroll, thinking about Judge and his children, her husband (in Apache law), and their unborn child. It took her a long time to fall asleep.

She found him the next day packing his stallion’s foreleg with a poultice of mud and herbs. “What happened?” she asked, pretending their disagreement yesterday had not occurred.

“He’s a bit sore,” Jack said, apparently in the same mood as she. He patted the black and straightened. He smiled. “I never asked yesterday, but why are you running around in your petticoats?”

“To make Datiye jealous,” Candice said truthfully.

He burst into laughter. “Were you looking for me?” His gray eyes had become warm and tender.

“Yes, Jack, I need some buckskins.”

“For what?”

“To sew. For the baby.”

He was startled and pleased. “Can you sew clothing?”

“Of course. Will you get me the material?”

“You’ll have to tan the hides yourself.”

“Will you show me how?”

He smiled. “Gladly. I’ll go hunting today. For a doe. Doeskin is softest.”

Candice frowned. “Make sure she doesn’t have a fawn.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He came back empty-handed that day, but brought her a doe the next morning. Candice was filled with excitement and determination; the urge to prepare and provide for their
baby, now that its arrival was imminent, propelled her relentlessly. She would prefer to see her child clad in fine clothing, but soft buckskin would do for now.

Jack spent the next two days showing Candice how to make buckskin cloth. He was still surprised and amused at her eagerness. And knowing the material was for their child warmed him thoroughly. He was truly enjoying helping her in her efforts over the past few days. They weren’t quarreling. They were working side by side, and it was more than companionable. It was the way it was supposed to be between a man and a wife, sharing their endeavors, working toward a mutual goal. He liked his wife’s company. He liked her determination, her pleasure at work performed well, her smile and her laughter. Most of all, he liked seeing her absorbed in a task that involved care for their unborn child.

In the afternoons, toward dusk, he took her up the canyon to a secluded glade by the creek where they bathed, played, and made love. At night she slept in his arms, and when he awoke from taunting nightmares—visions of the Warden woman’s face just before her death haunting him, or the sounds of battle and human death knells ringing in his brain—he would turn to her and take her urgently, before she was even awake—stroking her with a need to lose himself in her and escape guilt and torment. When her moans became audible he silenced them with hot, hard kisses. If anyone knew he was bedding his pregnant wife, no one gave any sign. He no longer cared. He needed her too much to care.

“Datiye, I want you to rest,” Jack said. His voice was firm. He took the basket, which was too heavy for a pregnant woman, away from her. “I mean it.”

“I am not tired,” she said, but he could see she was exhausted.

“Rest, now,” he said with a touch of anger. She was somewhere in her eighth month, and she was trying to do too much. It made him feel guilty. He knew it was because he gave all his attention to Candice, but, dammit, he hadn’t wanted a second wife. He was coping with a precarious situation in the best way he could. If he showed Datiye any more interest than he already did, he would jeopardize the tranquillity
between him and Candice. That, he was not about to do. He was lucky, he knew, that she had accepted things as much as she had.

He watched Datiye waddle away and disappear into the
gohwah
. Then he turned as Candice came up to him. She was frowning, watching him. He gave her a smile.

“Jack, she’s so big. Has it ever occurred to you that her child isn’t yours?”

“It’s mine, Candice,” he said, more sharply than he meant to. “I inquired around of the men in the camp. From the time of her husband’s death, Datiye went with none of them—except me. A man who thought the child was his would be only too eager to claim it. Apaches love children.”

“It was just a thought,” she said contritely. Then, surprising him, she smiled and produced something from behind her back. She held up a buckskin dress. “What do you think?” she asked, a bit shyly.

He carefully kept himself from laughing. It was a good try. The sewing was awful. The stitches were large and childlike, but he pretended not to notice. “It’s fine,” he said. “But,
shijii
, don’t you think it’s a bit large? Or are you planning on birthing a twenty-pound baby?”

She was dismayed. “Is it too large? Well—he’ll grow into it.”

“That he will,” he said, chuckling. “I take it you’ve never seen a newborn baby?”

“Of course not. I was guessing as to the size.”

He grinned, handing her back the garment. She inspected it ruefully. “Sewing was never my favorite pasttime. Before El Paso I hadn’t picked up a needle in years,”

He carefully bit back a response.

She looked at him, “It shows, huh?”

“No, no, it’s really a fine dress.”

“You’re lying,” she said, smiling because his eyes were filled with mirth.

“No, I swear I’m not,” he said, putting his arm around her. “Let’s take a walk.”

“I wanted to do some more sewing,” she protested, strolling along with him anyway.

He laughed. “Babies do grow quickly.”

“I get the message,” she said. Then, earnestly: “Jack, I …”

“What?”

“Damn! I want our baby to have things, Jack, real clothes, and toys, and candy and a pony and a damn house! With a garden!”

He stopped, placing his hands on her shoulders. Her words tore at him. He was torn up inside as it was. “I want to give you those things,” he said finally.

“Then let’s leave here!” she cried.

He stared. “You want me to run away like a coward, don’t you?”

“You have your family to think of!”

“Apache children grow up very happy. I think you’re thinking of yourself, not the child.”

“No, I’m thinking about both of us—all of us! And the child isn’t a damn Apache—can’t you get that through your head?”

“I thought you were happy.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” she said bitterly. She turned away.

“I know you care for me,” he said a bit desperately. “Don’t you?”

She didn’t answer. She strode away, clenching the dress in one fist.

Jack stared after her. He knew she was right. Their child was three-quarters white. And he wanted to give her everything she wanted—but how could he? When his duty lay here? Or did it? Maybe his duty was not to the people who had raised him, but to his family, their future.

And then there was Shozkay. His spirit still cried out in anguish for revenge. Jack turned and walked to an oak tree, leaning against it. He had known from the start that this life was not right for his wife and child. That was why he had ridden away to join Cochise without taking her with him. He had abducted her in anger and jealousy. He was glad she was there; he wanted her with him. He couldn’t imagine living without her there by his side, and he thought that if she truly loved him, she would gladly make the sacrifice.