This Savage Heart (24 page)

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Authors: Patricia Hagan

BOOK: This Savage Heart
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“You would be helping a great deal,” she said in a more controlled voice, “if you would carry the girl. Follow me, please.”

 

The first golden fingers of dawn stretched from beyond the eastern mountains as the bugler sounded reveille, bringing the fort to life.

Julie was awake. She hadn’t slept at all. She sat in a ladder-back chair near her bed, watching the rise and fall of the Indian girl’s chest. Sujen was on Julie’s bed, carefully covered in blankets and quilts. Dear Lord, she dreaded being the one to tell her the baby was dead, but there was no one else to do it. No one, it was obvious, wanted anything to do with this girl.

Shortly after reveille was sounded, Adam knocked and called to her softly. Anxious for company, feeling more lonesome than she had since coming to the fort, she hurried to let him in. “Oh, Adam, what happened last night? The baby was born dead, and I couldn’t get a message to you—”

“Elisa and her damn social life,” he said brusquely, entering the room and closing the door. He walked to the bed and stared down at the girl. “Is she going to live, do you think?”

“Doc Mangone thinks she may, but she hasn’t awakened once. Now that everyone is awake, I’d like for some hot broth to be brought in, and hot tea. I’m going to force it down her if I have to, because she’s got to start getting some strength back.”

He nodded. “Of course, and I’ll have her moved right away so you can get some rest.”

“Oh, no.” She was quick to quell the idea. “No one really cares what happens to her, Adam, and you know it. But I do. I feel so sorry for her. I want to look after her.”

His smile was forced. “That’s kind of you, Julie, but I can’t allow it. She’s an Indian, for God’s sake, a savage. I’ll have her moved to the stockade, and the guards there can look after her. When she’s strong enough, I’ll question her, see how much information I can get out of her.”

Julie was horrified. “You can’t do that! Those men won’t really look after her like I will. Look at her! Her body scarred by what someone did to her…she’s lost her baby. She can’t be dangerous to me or anyone else!” she challenged indignantly.

He looked at her with tenderness, but he would not be dissuaded. “Not only am I not going to take a chance with your safety, I also don’t want you wearing yourself out, Julie.”

Exuding his best military air, he declared firmly and unequivocally, “I’m having her moved at once, and I want you to get right into bed. I’ll have your breakfast sent in, and you can rest all day. Later”—he flashed a tender smile—“I’ll find a way for us to be together.”

She was about to reply when a sudden knock interrupted. Adam looked startled. “Ask who it is,” he whispered. “I don’t want Elisa to find me here.”

Julie called out through the door and heard, “Corporal Timothy Posey, ma’am. I heard the squaw had been brought here, and I’ve got something that belongs to her.”

As Julie opened her door a little, the soldier held out a dirty, worn leather pouch. “The squaw had it with her. One of the men found it in the dirt outside the gate. Nothing in it we can make anything of, but she might want it if she wakes up.”

Julie thanked him and closed the door, then laid the pouch aside. She turned to Adam, wanting to settle things between them once and for all. Her voice firm and unwavering, she said, “What happened yesterday should not have happened, Adam, and it won’t happen again because I won’t let it. We must forget this. We must not become involved.”

“Forget it?” he echoed angrily. “Julie, I want you to understand.
I love you.
We have to be together.” He stepped toward her, but she moved away, holding up her hands to stop his progress.

“Adam, you have a wife.”

“I know,” he replied quietly, painfully. “I’m reminded of my miserable marriage every moment of every day. I don’t love Elisa and she doesn’t love me, but now there’s my son, so I can’t divorce her. But you and I can still be together, still love each other, still find happiness.” Eyes beseeching her, he held out his arms.

She made her voice cold. “Don’t touch me, Adam.” Remember his baby, she told herself.

“Very well.” His eyes reflected despair as his arms fell to his sides. “But I do love you. I wish I were free to marry you, but I can’t give my son to Elisa. You know very well what kind of mother she’d be without supervision. I can’t bear the thought of her raising him without me around.” He shook his head as he implored, “Julie, bear with me, please. As much as I love you, I can’t give up my son. But we’ll work something out. I know Elisa, and she’s not going to stay here. She’ll leave eventually. Just be patient.”

She wanted to grab him and shake him and make him understand. “You aren’t listening to me. I’m not
asking
you to divorce Elisa. I’m not
asking
you to give up your son. There can never be anything between us, Adam. You’ve got your life and I’ve got to make my life. It’s too late for us, and we have to accept that and forget anything ever happened between us.”

She was searching his face, praying for a sign that he understood. It would be so easy to love Adam, to fall into his embrace. But what she couldn’t tell him was that his marriage was not the only thing holding her back. There was another reason, and it would all come clear one day why she couldn’t love Adam Thatcher.

“Go now,” she whispered, her back to him. “Please. Leave me, please.”

As quick as a striking rattlesnake, he grabbed her and spun her around and crushed her against him, his mouth possessing hers. As he released her he cried, “I’ll never let you go, Julie, never. By God and by everything holy, I’m going to have you. Maybe not this moment, or this day, but you will belong to me. Remember that.” He left before she could muster a reply.

As the door slammed shut, the girl in the bed stirred, moaning. Julie turned. She was awake, a startled expression in her eyes, as though she could not believe what she was seeing. For an instant, Julie was frightened. Hesitantly, gently, she asked, “How are you feeling?” Good heavens, would she know any English?

The faint words that came in response made her heart stop.

“Julie. It is you!”

Julie blinked. Had she heard correctly? “You know me? How do you know me?” Her body began to tremble.

“You do not remember Sujen?” The girl lifted her head, then fell back upon the pillows. She moaned, “The baby. It is dead?”

“I’m sorry.” Julie sat down beside her, smoothing her long, dark hair back from her forehead. “You had a little boy. He was born dead. There was a doctor, but there was nothing he could do. I’m so sorry. Please believe me, we tried.”

“I feared that my baby had died inside me,” Sujen whispered mournfully. “For days I did not feel him move, but no wonder. The Chiricahua were very bad. Even the Utes were not as cruel when they took me from my people. These men were.” Her voice trailed off. She looked suddenly at Julie and cried, “Your man. They did not kill him. He lives, Julie, he lives!”

“My…man.” Julie couldn’t understand why her body trembled so violently. “I don’t understand you. How do you know me? Who are you?”

Sujen suddenly realized that Julie truly did not remember. “Derek Arnhardt.” She tried to sit up, all her attention on Julie’s face. “You do not remember? Captain Arnhardt. The wagon train. Arlo Vance. He came to the Chiricahua while I was there. He helped them find the guns and kill the wagon train. Julie, you remember?”

Julie felt like sobbing, but she didn’t know why. “Please,” she begged, reaching out to clutch the Indian girl’s shoulder. “Tell me what it
is
that I should remember, for I swear I remember nothing of my life at all.”

Sujen glanced around the room. When she saw the worn pouch, she gestured to it, and Julie quickly picked it up and handed it to her. “Perhaps now you will remember.” Sujen rummaged in the bag. “This is something I have kept with me, for I was so touched by the girl’s dying words that I took part of what she left you. Forgive me if it was wrong, but I hoped to keep her spirit alive.”

Tenderly, she held out a small packet, which Julie took. She looked at it curiously. Then she poured the contents into her hand, and as the seeds touched her flesh, a voice whispered, “Plant these seeds…and when the wild flowers grow, think of me…and I will never die…”

“Oh, God…!
Sujen
.” Julie wrapped her arms around her friend, tears flowing freely, her body quaking as memory washed through her. It was all rushing back. Images danced through her mind one after another, crowding each other out. Teresa’s death after giving birth…Myles leaving, grief overwhelming him… Amidst the stabbing pains of awareness, buried in the past that her mind had attempted to shield, there was Derek. “He’s alive.” She had to hear her own self say those words. “Derek is alive.”

Sujen nodded. “He is well. The Apache chief wants him alive. Derek is a great warrior. You see, he was hurt, and his mind is still hurt. He knows not who he is…just as you knew not your own heart before you held the seeds.”

Julie said all there was left to say. “I love him.”

Sujen nodded. “He is held by a powerful magic, the peyote spell. Even if I could get to him, there would be nothing I could do to help. But perhaps you—”

“I will find a way to him, Sujen,” Julie said, and there was no arguing with her.

Sujen closed her eyes and fell back against the pillow. She had done her job. She had lost her baby, but she’d given Julie back her life.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Captain Adam Thatcher sat behind the large mahogany desk in his small tidy office. A tray to his right held a stack of paperwork yet to be done. That stack was much smaller than the tray of completed work to his left. Adam was fastidious. He abhorred disorder and wouldn’t tolerate indolence. He maintained a firm hand with those ranking below him and acquiesced respectfully to officers above him. He’d been comfortable during his years at West Point, comfortable with the military way of doing things. That spilled over into his personal life.

Everyone around him knew Thatcher was ambitious. He had felt cheated because he’d missed heavy action during the Civil War. Requesting assignment in the West had been looked upon with favor by higher-ups, and he’d received a great deal of praise when he asked for the transfer. He wasn’t surprised when Wendell Manes named him post commander. Only the usual time-consuming military paperwork lay between Adam and a giant jump to the rank of major—and permanent command of the fort.

In part, the transfer west had been to escape his miserable marriage. He believed in a family and he wanted one, but he’d discovered, too late, that Elisa was a selfish nag, cold in bed, a thorn in his side. Had he not carelessly gotten her pregnant, he’d have been free months ago. But freedom from Elisa was no longer possible.

That morning, as ever, Adam appeared coolly collected and ready for anything that might challenge him. But he was grateful for the training that cloaked his feelings. For right then, Adam’s world was being torn apart, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop what was happening.

Before him sat the only woman he had ever loved deeply, the one he wanted with all his eager heart. Julie. And now he knew he couldn’t have her.

She was insane. She hadn’t just lost her memory, she was insane. And she threatened his son, the only good thing in Adam’s life. He could not let her do it.

He rose from the desk and began pacing in measured, heavy footsteps. He didn’t want to think about Elisa, but she’d been right about Julie Marshall all along, had tried to warn him off. He pushed that thought aside and cleared his throat.

“Julie,” he began sternly, “you mustn’t think I’ll let you get away with this ridiculous story. Of course Adam is Elisa’s—Elisa’s and mine.” He held up a hand to prevent her speaking.

Tense moments had passed since she’d finished her incredible story, and he had tried to appear as calm as possible while his mind scattered, then collected itself.

He made his voice as tender as possible. “Julie, you’ve been through a terrible ordeal. It was so horrible as to make you lose your memory, so I’m sure that this hallucination you’re having was also caused by the ordeal.”

Her green eyes sparked with fury, and she leaped to her feet. “Adam, it is not an hallucination! Talk to Sujen yourself. She’ll explain. I have my memory back. I know who I am, and I know the baby you call your son is my nephew—my brother’s child. I’m sorry for you Adam, but your own son died at birth. We both know the only reason you allowed her to come out here was the baby. When the massacre happened, when I didn’t know my own nephew, Elisa leaped at the chance to pass Darrell off as hers.”

Struggling for control, Adam said very softly, “Julie, I realize you believe what you’re saying, but I know it’s all part of your illness.”


I
am not ill.
And I know you don’t like it, but I’m telling the truth.”

“Sit down!” he yelled, and she had no choice but to obey.

“Will you talk to Sujen, Adam?”

He nodded, smiling a false smile, confident that nothing a squaw could say would make any difference. In the girl’s weak, vulnerable state, Julie had probably had no trouble coaxing her to back up her hallucination. He wondered what Julie had promised in exchange. “And if I believe Sujen,” he asked smoothly, “what then? Do you wish to raise my—your nephew? Do you want the baby, Julie?”

Julie shook her head. “I haven’t decided what to do about him, Adam. First I have to find Derek. The Apache are keeping him prisoner.”

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