Apache Flame (31 page)

He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Get some sleep,
darlin’.”

“Mitch…”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

With a sigh, she snuggled against him and closed her eyes.
He was right. There was nothing they could do tonight.

* * * * *

Mitch woke abruptly, wondering what had awakened him.
Sitting up, he saw a large group of warriors gathered near the lodge of Fights
the Wind.

He glanced at Alisha, sleeping soundly beside him. Being
careful not to disturb her, he slipped out from under the buffalo robe and went
to see what was going on.

A warrior he didn’t recognize stood in the middle of the
group, speaking rapidly. The Apache warriors gathered around him nodded,
exclaiming, “Ai, ai!”

Mitch moved around the circle until he found Fights the
Wind. “What’s going on?”

“Many Horses just arrived. He has come from our brothers,
the Jicarilla. They want us to join them to fight the Blue Coats.”

Mitch glanced at the faces of the men gathered nearby. It
was easy to see they were anxious to fight, anxious to strike back at the Blue
Coats for the unwarranted attack at Apache Pass.

He couldn’t blame them. “How soon will you be leaving?”

“As soon as our women can be ready to go. Will you join us?”

Mitch turned as Alisha came up beside him.

“Go?” she asked. “Go where?”

Mitch gestured at the Jicarilla warrior. “He’s come to ask
for our help in fighting the soldiers.”

“Another fight?” Alisha asked anxiously. “When? Where? Not
here?”

“No, not here.”

“Mitch, you’re not going with them?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Thank God.”

“We will miss you,” Fights the Wind said. “You fight like
one of us.”

It was, Mitch thought, the finest compliment he had ever
received. He felt a keen sense of regret as he turned away from the warriors.
He had come to love and respect these people and couldn’t help feeling that he
was turning his back on them, that he owed it to them to stay and fight.

But then he looked down into Alisha’s face, saw the worry
and the fear in her eyes, and knew he couldn’t ask her to stay. She wanted to
go home, and he couldn’t blame her for that.

“Mitch?” She gazed up at him, her expression troubled. “You
want to stay, don’t you? You want to fight with them.”

He nodded. He had never lied to her before; he wouldn’t
start now.

“How can you, Mitch? The soldiers are your people as much as
the Apache.”

“Are they?” He shook his head. During the fight in the
rancheria
,
the soldiers had been the enemy, nothing more. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll take
you home.”

She looked up at him for several minutes, and then shook her
head. “No, we’ll stay.”

“‘Lisha…”

“I don’t want you feeling guilty later, and blaming me.”

“And I don’t want to risk having you or Rides the Buffalo
get hurt.”

“We’re staying,” she said firmly. And with a toss of her head,
she pushed her way through the warriors.

Frowning, Mitch watched Alisha make her way toward Fights
the Wind’s wickiup.

“She is a wise woman,” Fights the Wind remarked.

“Yeah,” Mitch drawled. “Pretty, too.”

Fights the Wind slapped Mitch on the back. “Come, there is
much to do.”

In a remarkably short time, the camp was dismantled and the
people were ready to go.

Mitch rode near the back of the caravan. His mother rode
beside him. Rides the Buffalo shared a horse with Alisha.

Fights the Wind had told him it was only a short distance to
the Jicarilla encampment. They would be there by late afternoon.

Mitch glanced at his mother, wondering if it was a mistake
to move her. She looked haggard and worn out. Frail. He knew she was grieving
for Elk Chaser, but her silence bothered him. She was too quiet, too withdrawn.
It was if she had lost the will to live. He had to make her realize that her
life wasn’t over, that Rides the Buffalo still needed her, that being his
grandmother was as important as being his mother.

“Mitch?”

He glanced over at Alisha. “Something wrong?”

“Where’s Red? I just realized I haven’t seen him since we
got back.”

“He went to be with his family. I reckon we’ll see him soon
enough.”

Alisha nodded. She had grown quite fond of the man.

* * * * *

They reached the Jicarilla stronghold just before dusk. It
was a larger village than the one in Apache Pass. An air of anticipation hung
over the camp. She felt it as soon as they entered encampment. Everywhere she
looked, she saw preparations for war. The men all seemed to be working on their
weapons—cleaning and repairing old ones, or fashioning new ones. Old men sat in
the sun, telling tales of battles past to wide-eyed youngsters. Boys not yet
old enough to fight stood in small groups, bragging about their fathers,
talking excitedly of the battle to come, of the time when they would be old
enough to fight the Blue Coats. Women were preparing food and clothing. The
shaman moved among the people, distributing
hoddentin
to the warriors.

Alisha saw Red Clements sitting in front of a lodge,
cleaning a rifle. He looked up just then. Seeing her, he rose to his feet and
walked briskly toward them.

“Wal, hell,” he drawled. “I never expected to see you here.”

“I never expected to be here,” Alisha replied with a smile.

Clements looked at Mitch and shook his head. “You crazy,
bringing her here? We’re going to war.”

Swinging a leg over his horse’s neck, Mitch dismounted. “It
was her idea.”

Clements looked at Alisha, his eyes thoughtful. “Is that
so?’

Mitch slapped Clements on the shoulder. “She had some idea
that I’d regret it if I ran out on…on my people.”

Red nodded slowly. “As wise as she is pretty,” he said.

Reaching up, Mitch lifted Alisha to the ground.

“I see you found the boy,” Clements remarked. “How ya doin’,
son?”

Rides the Buffalo grinned. “I am well.”

Clements glanced at White Robe, then looked over at Mitch.
“How’s yore ma doin’?” he asked quietly. “She don’t look so good.”

Mitch blew out a sigh. “She’s grieving for her husband. This
business with Rides the Buffalo has got her down, too.”

“Wal, I reckon I kin understand that,” Clements replied.
“But, hell, it ain’t like she’s gonna lose the kid forever. She’s his grandma,
after all.”

“I know. She’ll come around,” Mitch said. And hoped it was
true.

“The boy and yore women can stay in my lodge,” Red offered.
“Course, you and me’ll have to bed down outside.”

“Thanks, Red.”

Reaching up, Mitch lifted Alisha from the back of the horse.
He held her close a moment, then lifted Rides the Buffalo to the ground. He smiled
at his son, then turned to help his mother dismount.

“
Ashoge, ciye
,” White Robe murmured.

With a sigh, Mitch folded his mother into his arms and held
her close. “It’ll be all right,
shi ma.”

Looking around, watching the warriors prepare for battle, Alisha
wondered if anything would ever be all right again.

* * * * *

The battle, when it came, came quickly. Scouts rode into the
village the following afternoon, advising that the army was less than an hour
away. The news spread quickly through the village. The women hastily gathered
their children to them. The men ran for their horses, then collected their
weapons.

Alisha stood outside Red Clements’ lodge, along with White
Robe and Rides the Buffalo, watching as Mitch and Red Clements got ready. Red
Clements’ wife, Mountain Sage, sat nearby. She was a lovely woman, much younger
than Alisha had imagined, with a round face and huge dark eyes. Her three
children, a girl of about six and two boys which she guessed were about two and
four, sat beside her. Mountain Sage’s expression was solemn as she handed Red a
small pot of paint. He smiled at her, then dipped his finger in and began to
apply it to his face.

Alisha watched with a sense of trepidation as Mitch spread a
thin layer of black paint over the lower half of his face. It reminded her of a
night when she had gone down to the river to meet him. She had been nine or ten
at the time.

He hadn’t been there when she arrived. She walked along the
riverbank, noticing the way the moonlight danced on the water, listening to the
sounds around her. Mitchy had taught her to be aware of the creatures that
lurked in the shadows, those who only came out in the dark.

She paused near their rock, gazing down at the river. It
glistened like a twisting black ribbon as it snaked its way along. She held her
breath as a deer picked its way down to the edge of the water on the opposite
side of the bank. The animal tested the wind a moment, then lowered its head to
drink. She stood, frozen, until the deer bounded away.

Deciding that Mitch wasn’t coming, she turned and started up
the narrow path that led home.

She was about halfway up the hill when the most horrible
creature she had ever seen jumped out at her from behind a tree. She had taken
one look at its face, screamed, and ran for home.

“Alisha, wait! It’s me.”

She ran a few more steps; then, recognizing his voice, she
turned. “Mitchy? You scared me half to death!” Hand pressed to her heart, she
had stared at him, at the bold black slashes that covered his face. “What are
you supposed to be?”

“A warrior!” he said proudly.

“What’s that stuff on your face supposed to do? Scare
your enemy to death?”

It had scared her then, she thought. It scared her even more
now. He hadn’t been in any danger when he’d been a boy; now he could be killed.
Why hadn’t she insisted on going home? She could live with his guilt better
than his death.

All too soon, the warriors were ready. They were going to
ride out and engage the cavalry on the prairie rather than let the cavalry
bring the battle to the camp.

There was a last flurry of activity as the women bid their
men farewell.

Alisha blinked back her tears, stifled the urge to beg Mitch
to stay with her, as he came to tell her goodbye.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he pulled her into his arms.

She nodded, knowing she would burst into tears if she tried
to speak.

She clung to him tightly, then stepped aside as he hugged
Rides the Buffalo and his mother. He kissed her one last time, and then he was
riding away with the other warriors, leaving her feeling cold and empty and
wondering if she would ever see him alive again.

* * * * *

Mitch rode between Red Clements and Spirit Walking, his
heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. There hadn’t been time to be
afraid back at Apache Pass, no time to think, no time to worry. The soldiers
had attacked, and he had responded.

But now…thoughts of Alisha, of his mother, his son, crowded
his mind. Never had he had more to live for, more to lose.

He rubbed his shoulder, which was still sore. He thought of
Elk Chaser and the other Apaches who had been killed by the soldiers. He
thought of his mother, who might have been killed, of the women who had been
shot trying to protect their young, of the little boy he had seen clubbed to
death, of the old woman who had been trampled beneath a cavalryman’s horse, of
the old man who had been bayoneted while trying to protect his aged wife.

The need to avenge their deaths rose up within him. He
looked at the warriors riding ahead of him, and he knew their anger, their
pain, their need for vengeance. The spirits of all the Apaches who had been
killed, who had died protecting their families, who had watered the earth with
their blood, seemed to call to him, demanding they be avenged. He heard the
voices of Elk Chaser, of Cheis, of Diyehii, felt his own spirit swell within
him. The blood of warriors flowed in his veins. It tied him to the People, to
the land. Though he hadn’t been raised as a warrior, he was one of them,
accepted as such. He was suddenly ashamed of the white blood that flowed in his
veins.

* * * * *

Alisha wandered through the camp, too nervous to sit still,
too upset to eat, to think of anything but Mitch. Had the battle started? What
would she do if he were killed? How could she live without him?

She studied the other women, noting that they, too, seemed
to be filled with nervous energy. No doubt they were wondering and worrying,
too. Some of them were tanning hides, others were drying meat, others were
sewing, or sitting outside, nursing their babies. She wished she had something
to occupy her hands, her time, something to take her mind off the fearful
present, the uncertain future.

Finally, needing someone to talk to, she sought out White
Robe. She found Mitch’s mother sitting in the sun, staring off into the
distance. Rides the Buffalo lay beside her, his head in her lap, asleep.

“May I sit with you?” Alisha asked.

For a moment, White Robe didn’t acknowledge her and then,
with a wave of her hand, she gestured for Alisha to sit down.

“Tell me about Mitch,” Alisha said as she sat down.

“I would think you would know him as well as anyone,” White
Robe replied.

Alisha shrugged. “What was he like when he was Rides the
Buffalo’s age?” She hadn’t known him then.

“Much like this one,” White Robe said, stroking Rides the
Buffalo’s cheek. “Curious, always wanting to know why.”

“He’s still yours, you know,” Alisha said quietly. “All
that’s changed is that you’ve taken your rightful place in his life. He still
needs you. He still loves you. I only hope that some day he’ll love me as much.”

“Alisha.” White Robe studied her face a moment. “I remember
you.”

“We never met.”

“No, we never did. But I knew who you were. Otter spoke of
you often. I remember seeing you one day.”

“You do? When? I don’t remember.”