Dorothy Garlock (7 page)

“He ain’t never married.”

It was something Johanna hadn’t thought of, and it shocked her into silence for a moment. Why did she suddenly think of Jacy’s baby? There could be no comparison in the situations, she was sure, because Luis knew his father, something Jacy’s baby would never know.

“Poor Luis,” she said at last.

“There ain’t no call to feel sorry fer Luis, Johanner. It’s the ol’ man what’s got his tail in a crack. He never did have no use fer Luis, ’cause his ma was a Mexican, but after him ’n’ Burr took off his foot t’keep the ol’ fool from dyin’, he ain’t got no use fer nobody. Luis keeps the ranch supplied with horseflesh ’n’ Burr does the ramroddin’.”

“Are you saying that Burr is Mr. Macklin’s son, too?” Johanna asked.

“Yup. You’ll know soon’s you clap eyes on him. Spittin’ image of the ol’ man.”

“And,” she went on, although she hesitated to ask, “Mr. Macklin didn’t marry his mother, either?”

“Nope. Said he never married.”

“I don’t think I’m going to like Mr. Macklin very much.”

“It ain’t all that bad. Don’t seem to set very heavy on Burr. Luis is a mite shy, but could be his nature. The only thin’ ’bout it is . . . nobody goes ’round callin’ nobody a bastard. It just ain’t done in Macklin Valley. Course, now, the ol’ man—he ain’t got no sense atall when he’s riled, and that’s the first thin’ he says. Don’t bother the boys none, leastways they don’t let on.”

Johanna was convinced by now that she would not like Mack Macklin and she told Mooney as much.

“Never figured ya’d take to him. Ya thinkin’ a goin’ back?”

“I need this job, Mooney,” she answered slowly and sincerely. “I’ll work for Mr. Macklin, but I’ll not tolerate any abuse of Jacy because of her mixed blood.” Johanna lifted her head, and the defiant look in her eyes brought a chuckle from Mooney.

“Glad to hear it.” He punctuated the statement by spitting a long stream of tobacco juice into the dust. “You’ll need spunk to stand up to the ol’ man.”

Johanna had much to think about as the hot afternoon wore on. They crossed a virtual desert and overhead the inevitable buzzard soared with that timeless patience that comes from knowing that sooner or later all things that live in the desert become food, and he had only to wait. Despite the heat, a roadrunner poised beside the trail and flicked his long tail and took off, running on swift feet along in front of the wagon. A tiny lizard, its little throat pulsing with the excitment of seeing the train go by, raced across a hot rock and paused in the shade. These things that would have been interesting to Johanna passed unnoticed, as absorbed as she was in her thoughts.

*  *  *

That night they made camp in a narrow, oddly shaped arroyo. It was an easy place to defend, Mooney explained. This was Apache land.

“Nope,” he said, when asked if they expected an attack. “But where ’paches is concerned they don’t never do what you think they’re goin’ to.”

The wagons were drawn in a tighter circle and the horses staked out closer to the camp than on previous nights. The cook prepared the pinto beans and chilies quickly so that the fire could die down sooner. There was a feeling of tension in the camp, although the sisters seemed not to notice it. They excused themselves as soon as they finished their meal and went to bed.

In the privacy of their wagon Johanna told Jacy all the information Mooney had given her about the Macklins. Jacy’s interest centered around Luis, and she pressed Johanna for any details she could remember from her conversation with Mooney.

“I’ve told you everything I know, Jacy.”

“Don’t you think he’s handsome?”

“Yes, dear, I do,” Johanna said after a short pause. “He’s very handsome, and brave, too. Facing two armed men takes exceptional courage, but . . . we don’t know anything about him except that he’s Mr. Macklin’s son. He may be a gunman for all we know.”

“He isn’t anything bad, Johanna. I know that. I think he’s been alone a lot and he’s shy. He didn’t say a word to me when he came for the mare. He just looked into my eyes the way he did before, untied the horse, and went away.”

The sound of running hooves broke the stillness of the night. Johanna lifted the canvas flap and peered out. An outrider had come into camp and was talking to Red. It obviously wasn’t Luis, as this man sat low in the saddle. The conversation was in Spanish.

“There are three of them, señor. The same ones Luis saw before we cross the river. All gringos. Got good horses, one pure Arabian, Luis say. Black as midnight, got deep chest and strong legs. Luis say he ain’t seen a horse to compare.”

“Sounds like an Arabian. Not many of that ilk in these parts. The gringos are a-ridin’ in our dust ’cause they’re feared of the ’paches. If they want to trail us, ain’t nothin’ we can do ’bout it but keep our eyes peeled. Where’s Luis?”

“He make sure they bed down.” The man laughed. “Luis hate like hell to have Apaches get that horse.”

*  *  *

Luis left the camp before daylight and headed west toward the hills. He rode cautiously along the dim trail. It was rugged, lonely country where stunted cedars and gnarled oaks clung to the ridges of the canyon and the low-spreading shrub with its hooklike thorns thrived. He was tired and the sun was hot. He went off the trail and into the rocks, to give himself better cover.

He had come to this place for two reasons. He could see along the trail for almost two miles, and he was accessible if Gray Cloud wished to contact him. The unpredictable Apache had been trailing the train for the last two days, and that puzzled Luis. He knew Gray Cloud didn’t have enough men to attack the wagons, and he supposed his surveillance of the three gringos following discouraged him from attacking the camp.

Settling into a comfortable position against a rock, he lowered his head and waited. Soon there was movement on the trail below. Luis recognized both mounts and riders. Gray Cloud and two of his men were headed toward him.

Luis’s horse scented them and grew skittish at the intrusion.

“It’s all right,” Luis said softly to his horse. “It’s all right.”

When the Indians reached the spot where the trail started upward again, the two braves stopped and Gray Cloud came on alone. The mare the Indian was riding lifted her head, and her nostrils flared when she became aware of the big black. Unhurriedly, Luis left his observation spot and stepped into the saddle, keeping a firm grip on the reins of his excited stallion.

He held up his hand in greeting and spoke in Apache dialect. “Greetings, Gray Cloud. My brother is far from his lodge.”

The Indian stared at him silently with dark, fierce eyes. Luis knew that the man had strength and courage. He was also a shrewd trader, but for the last few months Luis had found trading with him distasteful. Gray Cloud had become difficult, bitter. Luis suspected that he was not receiving the recognition from his people that he felt he deserved.

“Why does my brother bring whites to Apache land?”

“We promised to bring no whites into the valley of the stone house, and we bring none.”

“What of the woman who sits on the wagon? I will barter for the one with hair like a cloud.”

Luis was surprised, but his face and voice didn’t register the feeling. “The woman is not mine to trade.”

The Indian stared into his eyes. “Whose woman?”

“My brother’s woman.” Luis knew that the Indian was testing him, and he never took his eyes from the stern face.

The Apached glared at him with burning intensity. “He can have other woman,” he spat out heatedly.

“Other woman is my woman. I keep my woman,” Luis said, matching his tone to that of the Indian.

Gray Cloud turned his eyes down the trail where the freight wagons had raised a dust that drifted against the cloudless sky. The dark eyes moved back at Luis, his eyes glittering with hatred.

“I could take pale woman.” His expression changed to one of arrogance. “Mescalero wait in hills.”

Luis watched closely and chose his words carefully. “A Chiricahua Apache brave has need of the Mescalero to take a woman?” He put a touch of scorn in his voice.

“Because of Gray Cloud, Mescalero stay in hills.” A look of cunning came into the dark eyes. “I will trade mare for rifles and talk to my brothers, the Mescalero.”

Luis had no doubt that he could draw and kill Gray Cloud and at least one of the braves. But if there were Mescalero in the hills and if Gray Cloud did have influence with them, there was a chance they would seek revenge on the train. He studied the situation carefully before he spoke.

“I thank you, my brother Gray Cloud, for holding off the Mescalero. Come to the place near my lodge and we will trade horses for food, blankets, tobacco. We have traded together many times. Your chief is a friend to the whites of the stone house. We will be friends and barter as before.” Luis purposely omitted mention of the rifles.

The expression of hatred appeared again on the Indian’s face.

“Soon we will kill all whites and take your pale-skinned women. I, Gray Cloud, will lead my braves against the stone house and take what you have.” He paused, but Luis knew he was not finished and waited for what he knew would come. “I will kill Sky Eyes and take his woman to be my slave.”

Without waiting for Luis to reply, the Indian wheeled his horse around and trotted back down the trail. His braves fell in behind him.

Luis waited a full five minutes before moving his horse out. Gray Cloud and his men didn’t worry him, but the information about the Mescalero did. He headed his horse into the hills, scouting the area with care until he found a spot where six ponies had been tied to a few clumps of brush. The leaves on the brush had been freshly cropped, Luis determined, which indicated that the Indians, riding unshod ponies, had definitely been trailing the wagons.

Mounting up, he took the most direct route to the train, to warn Red of the possibility of an attack. He considered it would be no more than harassment if only the six riders were involved, but there was a chance that they were part of a larger party.

*  *  *

The freight wagons circled once again for the night. Johanna and Jacy had kept up a steady flow of conversation all day, and the time had passed so quickly that they were surprised to notice that night had fallen.

The drivers squatted around and ate the meager meal the cook prepared over the tiny semblance of a campfire. They talked in hushed tones. Johanna and Jacy’s wagon had been drawn closer inside the circle, and gradually Johanna came to realize that something peculiar was happening. As time passed, she became more and more uneasy.

“Mr. Redford?” Her voice was low but managed to reach him.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Is something wrong?”

The old cowboy took off his hat and scratched his head. “You might say that, ma’am. Luis spotted Mescalero in the hills. Might be they’ll try to steal horses. If it comes to it, and I ain’t a-sayin’ it will, I want you women to stay down in the wagon, keepin’ your heads below the sideboards.”

“Are the men still following us, Mr. Redford?” Johanna felt a sudden spurt of worry for the three white men and their Arabian horse.

“They’ve pulled up a mite closer.” Red grinned. “They be all right. You go on to bed and don’t be worryin’ none.”

“It’s hard not to worry.”

Johanna glanced at her sister, dreading to see fear in her face. To her surprise, Jacy was calm.

“We’ll be all right, Johanna.”

“That’s right, little lady,” Red said gently. “We’ll all see to it that nothin’ happens to you.”

*  *  *

It was dawn when the sound of gunfire woke Johanna from a sound sleep. Her first instinct was to jump up and see what was going on, but remembering Red’s words, she hugged Jacy to her and lay flat on the floor of the wagon. Her heart beat rapidly with fear and she felt a flash of guilt for having brought her sister into danger. She prayed that God would protect them and the men who were fighting to keep them safe.

Off in the distance a shrill cry broke through the roar of the guns and she felt Jacy’s hand, tightly held in hers, tremble. A horse whinnied and a man, close by, cursed. But they heard nothing more.

The gunfire stopped in a matter of minutes, and the waiting became almost unbearable.

“Is it over?” Jacy whispered.

“I don’t know.”

“Can we get up, Johanna? Oh, I hope Luis is all right!”

“Johanner?” It was Mooney’s voice just outside the wagon. “Ya can come on out if’n ya want to.”

Both of the women stuck their heads out of the canvas flap.

“Was anyone hurt?” Johanna asked.

“None a us,” Mooney said dryly. “Rag-tail bunch of Mescalero a-tryin’ to steal the mules. We be a-gettin’ started soon’s coffee’s been had. Gettin’ to the valley today, and they ain’t goin’ to follow us in there—that’s Chiricahua country.”

F
our

T
he wagons wound their way down the rocky side of a canyon that widened gradually and soon the horses were walking in knee-deep, rich green grass. Alongside the stream they followed, birds flitted from bush to bush, some scolding the intruders, others singing happily. A startled deer raced into the trees, its white tail standing straight up. Johanna caught her breath and laughed with pure pleasure.

The long, magnificent sweep of the Macklin Valley lay before her, green and shining in the morning sun. It was breathtaking, overpowering, beyond anything she could have imagined. The slopes on either side of the valley were blanketed with stately pine trees, and beneath their branches was an abundance of wild flowers and ferns. The green was a startling contrast to the snow-capped ridges that towered above them.

Johanna turned her head quickly and looked at her sister’s glowing face. Jacy seemed to be even more impressed with the beauty of the landscape than she was. She reached for her hand and gripped it tightly.

“Just look at it. It’s magnificent!” Jacy’s voice was joyous.

Johanna looked down the long valley again and suddenly became uneasy. Silent as the wagon made its way deeper into the lush valley, she kept turning over in her mind what she had learned about Mack Macklin. Thinking about it now gave her a twinge of doubt that she allowed to linger for a troubling moment before she thrust it from her mind.