Apache Flame (32 page)

White Robe smiled faintly. “Of course you don’t. You were
asleep.”

“Asleep! Where? When?”

“It was by the river. I went looking for Otter and found the
two of you. He was sitting with his back against a rock. You were asleep beside
him.” She glanced down at Rides the Buffalo and smiled. “You had your head in
his lap. I don’t remember now why I had gone looking for my son. I only
remember that he told me he couldn’t come with me because he didn’t want to
wake you. You were the only friend he had.”

“I’m sorry we never met before,” Alisha said quietly. “It
might have made all this so much easier. For everyone.”

“I have behaved badly. Please forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

White Robe placed her hand on Rides the Buffalo’s shoulder,
a world of love and tenderness in that simple gesture.

“You’ve done a wonderful job raising him,” Alisha said. “No
one…no one could have done better.”

“
Ashoge,
my daughter.”

Alisha drew a deep breath as she glanced into the distance,
wondering where Mitch was, if the battle had started. She turned as she felt White
Robe’s hand on her arm.

“The waiting is never easy,” White Robe said.

Alisha nodded, thinking how awful it must be for Mitch’s
mother, not knowing for certain what had happened to Elk Chaser. She didn’t
think she could bear it if Mitch didn’t come back, if she never knew how he was
killed, or where his body lay.

“Mitchy…oh, Mitchy,” she whispered. “Please be careful.”

* * * * *

The noise. It pummeled him from all sides. The sound of
gunfire. The shouts. The high-pitched scream of a dying horse. The gasps of the
wounded. The sound of flesh striking flesh. The thunderous beat of his own
heart.

Dust filled the air, so he saw everything through a
dun-colored haze. Gun smoke stung his eyes, filled his nostrils, along with the
cloying scent of blood.

His own blood, oozing from a bullet hole in his side.

He ducked, reining his horse in a sharp turn, barely
avoiding a bayonet thrust. Turning in the saddle, he fired point-blank at the
trooper. The force of the gunshot sent the man toppling from the saddle.

It seemed the fighting had been going on forever. He had no
idea who was winning. Did anyone ever really win?

The numbness was wearing off the wound in his side, to be
replaced by a throbbing, burning pain. Blood soaked his shirt, his leggings.

He fired at another trooper, missed, and fired again. He was
lining his sights on another soldier when everything went black.

Chapter Thirty-Six

“They come!”

The words were shouted through the village. Women, children,
and men too old to fight hurried from their lodges, their faces anxious as they
searched for their husbands, sons, and fathers among the returning war party.

Alisha stood beside White Robe, hardly daring to breathe as
she searched for Mitch. Oh, Lord, where was he?

A high-pitched keening wail filled the air. It sent shivers
down Alisha’s spine. Mitch, Mitch…

She glanced at White Robe. “Do you see him?”

White Robe shook her head. “No…”

So many wounded.

So many dead. Alisha stared at the blanket-wrapped bodies.
Was he one of them?

She looked down as Rides the Buffalo slipped his hand into
hers and gave it a squeeze. “There,” he said, pointing.

She looked at the travois behind Fights the Wind’s horse.
Red Clements rode beside Fights the Wind. Mitch must be alive, she thought.
They wouldn’t haul him on a travois if he wasn’t. With a cry, she ran across
the sun-bleached ground.

“Mitch. Oh, Mitch.” His eyes were closed. His face was pale.
A bloody cloth was wrapped around his middle.

Fights the Wind reined his horse to a halt before Red’s
lodge. Mountain Sage embraced Red when he dismounted, then stood aside so he
could hug his children.

White Robe and Rides the Buffalo had followed Alisha and now
they stood on the opposite side of travois.

“Rides the Buffalo, go for the shaman,” Red said. He looked
up at Fights the Wind. “Help me carry him inside, will ya?”

With a nod, Fights the Wind dismounted and the two men
carried Mitch inside and laid him on a pile of furs.

Alisha followed close behind. It frightened her, how pale
Mitch was, how still. His breathing was shallow, labored.

Red and Fights the Wind spoke a few moments, then Fights the
Wind turned to leave the lodge.

Alisha laid her hand on the warrior’s arm. “Fights the Wind,
thank you.”

Fights the Wind shrugged. “I owed him a life.”

Alisha nodded, remembering that Mitch had saved the life of
Fights the Wind when they fought the Comanche.

Alisha knelt beside Mitch and took his hand in hers. “Mitch?
Mitchy, can you hear me? Mitch!”

Red placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be all right.”

She nodded, wanting to believe him. But how could she, when
he looked so pale? When he lay so still? A fine sheen of sweat covered his
brow.

It seemed like hours before Red Shield entered the lodge.
Red and his wife took Rides the Buffalo and their three children outside, but
Alisha refused to budge from Mitch’s side. She sat there, clinging to his hand,
while the shaman examined the ugly wound in Mitch’s side. White Robe sat near
the fire pit, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

Alisha turned aside, fighting the urge to vomit, as Red
Shield dug the bullet from Mitch’s side, cleansed the wound, sprinkled it with
healing herbs, then bound it in a length of clean cloth.

When the medicine man had done all he could, he left Alisha
some yarrow root for the pain, spoke briefly to White Robe, then left the
lodge.

Alisha stayed at Mitch’s side all that day, only vaguely
aware of Mountain Sage moving about the lodge as she cared for her children.

White Robe lingered close by, as did Rides the Buffalo, all
of them waiting. Waiting.

* * * * *

He writhed in pain. Hot, burning pain that throbbed through
his right side, burning, like all the fires of an unforgiving hell. He could
see the flames all around him, shimmering fingers of fire that rose higher and
higher, hotter and hotter, threatening to consume him.

He cried out, begging for a drink. One drink of cool water
to put out the fire.

And an angel appeared beside him. An angel with a halo of
honey gold hair and brown eyes filled with worry and compassion. And love. So
much love.

“Alisha…”

“I’m here.”

She offered him a cup of water and he drank and drank, then
fell back on the robes, exhausted.

When next he woke, it was to quiet darkness. Alisha slept
beside him, her head resting near his shoulder.

Turning his head, he brushed a kiss across her brow.

She woke instantly. “Mitch?”

“Shh.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

The wry tone of his voice made her smile. “I’ve been so
worried.”

He glanced around the lodge. “How did I get here?”

“Fights the Wind brought you.”

Mitch grunted softly. The last thing he remembered was
someone hitting him across the back.

“Fights the Wind said they’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Leaving? For where?”

“They’re going across the border to Mexico.”

Mitch grunted softly. His mother had told him the Apache
often sought refuge in the Sierra Madre Mountains of Mexico. It was a favorite
hideout for Geronimo and his band.

Alisha took a deep breath. “Are we going with them?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I just want to be with you.” She brushed a lock of hair
from his forehead, worried by the fever burning through him. “You should get
some sleep.”

“We need to talk.”

“Later. You rest now.”

“Could you get me a drink?”

“Sure.” She filled a cup and held it for him. He drank
greedily, emptied the cup, and asked for more. Nothing had ever tasted better.

“Rest now,” she said. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

* * * * *

He felt a little better when he woke again. His fever had
gone down. The pain in his side had lessened, though not much. He started to
sit up, but the movement sent pain splintering through his side and he fell
back, cussing. From outside, he could hear the sounds of the camp being
dismantled as the Apache prepared to move.

Damn! He had to get up, had to find Alisha and decide if
they were going to the Sierra Madre with the Apaches.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself into a sitting
position as Alisha entered the lodge.

“Here, now!” she scolded. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting up.”

Hurrying toward him, she put her hands on his shoulders and
pushed him back down. “Oh, no, you ‘re not. You’re not getting up for at least
a week.”

“A week! I can’t lay here for a week.”

“Oh, yes, you can.” She placed a hand on his brow. “You’ve
still got a fever.”

“Dammit, ‘Lisha, if we’re leaving, I’ve got to get ready.”

“We’re not leaving.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “You’re in no condition to be riding a
horse, or go bumping around on a travois. Besides, I don’t think I want to go
to Mexico. Do you mind?”

“No. But I’m not sure it’s safe for us to stay here alone,
either.”

“We won’t be alone. Red is staying, too.”

“Is that right?”

“He said he needs to go see his wife in St. Louis, so he’s
sending Mountain Sage and their children to Mexico with Fights the Wind, and
he’ll meet them there in the spring. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“You need to eat. Mountain Sage made some rabbit stew.”

Mitch shook his head. “Just get me something to drink, will
ya?”

He drained the cup she brought him, then grimaced.

“What is it?”

“I need to go outside.”

“What? Oh.” She glanced around the sparsely furnished lodge.
“You need a bedpan.”

* * * * *

By late afternoon, the Apaches were gone. Alisha stood
outside Red Clements’ lodge, staring at the emptiness that surrounded her.
Nothing remained but patches of blackened ground where lodge fires had burned.
It was quiet, so quiet. Red had gone hunting. White Robe had gone looking for
wild vegetables. Mitch was sleeping.

She glanced at Rides the Buffalo, who was sitting in the
shade. Thinking this might be a good time to get to know her son better, she
went to sit beside him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Rides the Buffalo shrugged. “I am all right. Why did we not
go to Mexico with Fights the Wind and the others?”

“Because your father is badly hurt.”

“Will we go with them when he is better?”

“No.”

“Will we stay here?”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “We going home. To my home,”
she added quickly. “In Canyon City.”

Rides the Buffalo frowned. “Where is this place, Canyon
City?”

“Not too far.”

“What tribe lives there?”

“No tribe,” Alisha said, smiling.

“There are no Apache there?”

“No.”

“It is the village of the white eyes then?”

Alisha nodded.

“They will not want me there.”

“Maybe not at first. But only because they don’t know you.
Your grandmother used to live there, long ago.”

“She ran away.”

“Yes,” Alisha said. “But she didn’t run away from the town.
She ran away from her husband.”

“Do we have to stay there?”

“I don’t know. As soon as your father can travel, we’ll go
home. And then we’ll see.” Alisha smiled cheerfully. “You might like it, you
know. I’ll teach you how to read and write.”

“What is read and write?”

Alisha picked up a stick. She wrote Rides the Buffalo’s name
in the dirt, and then pointed at it. “That’s your name.” She pointed to each
letter and told him what it was. “Where I come from, people can read those
letters, those words, and know what it says. We have books which are filled
with words. Some of the books tell stories, called fairy tales. They’re like
the stories White Robe tells you about Coyote.”

“Write something else,” Rides the Buffalo urged. “Write my
father’s name.”

With a smile, Alisha printed Mitch’s name, and then drew a
heart around it.

Rides the Buffalo looked at her strangely. “What is that?”

“It’s a heart,” Alisha said, giggling. “When you draw a
heart around someone’s name, it means you love them.” She looked at her son,
and then drew a heart around his name, as well.

Rides the Buffalo smiled at her. “I think I would like to
know how to read and write.” He took the stick from her hand and drew the
letter R in the dirt. The lines were rough and wiggly, but it was definitely an
R. He looked up at her, obviously waiting for her approval.

“That’s very good,” she exclaimed softly, and praised him
lavishly as he spent the next half hour writing his name.

“What is this?”

Alisha and Rides the Buffalo looked up at White Robe’s
approach.

“I am learning how to read and write,” Rides the Buffalo
said proudly. He pointed at his name. “I wrote that.”

“I see.” White Robe looked at Alisha. “Perhaps you will
teach me, too.”

* * * * *

Six days passed before Mitch felt strong enough to travel,
but Alisha insisted they wait another week. She said it was to give Rides the
Buffalo injuries more time to heal, but Mitch knew it was on his account.

On the day they were to leave, Mitch and Rides the Buffalo
sat in the shade while Alisha and Red packed their belongings, and White Robe
dismantled the lodge.

Mitch looked at his son and grinned. “There are advantages
to being laid up,” he remarked, though it galled him to have to sit there.

“Laid up?” Rides the Buffalo asked curiously.

Mitch pointed at his son’s broken arm. “Injured.”

Rides the Buffalo nodded.