LaceysWay (17 page)

During the ceremony, the Apache believed that the girl
became White Painted Woman. Blue Willow explained that the ceremony
symbolically reproduced the creation of the earth and the creation of man,
showing the girl all the stages of her future life, from childhood into happy
old age. The entire tribe was invited to the ceremony, which was a costly
affair. Food and gifts were given to the guests; a fee was paid to the medicine
man.

The Apache shaman, Blue Hawk, was held in high regard by the
tribe. It was believed that the supernatural powers were under his personal
control. Medicine men who employed the spirits to cause evil were considered
witches and could only be vanquished by the medicine man with greater power and
purity. Blue Hawk was a man of honor and esteem.

Lacey was fascinated by the ceremony. The girl sat inside a
special wickiup, clad in a magnificent white tunic and white moccasins. An
elaborate headdress gave her the look of a queen granting favors. It was
believed that she held special sacred powers at this particular time, that she
could see into the future, that she could ease old hurts.

Later they watched the
Cans
dance. Lacey was awed by
the dancers’ grotesque black masks and wooden headdresses, and by their wild
gyrations. The
Cans
represented the mountain spirits, which brought rain
and health and the good things of life. The dancers were clad in kilts and
moccasins, their bodies streaked with paint.

Lacey was surprised to learn that the celebration would last
four days. Four, she had learned, was a sacred number. There were four seasons
of the year, four directions of the earth.

Matt, too, was caught up in the wonder of it all. The
chants, the dancing, the continual celebration and feasting were like nothing
he had ever seen, and yet, somehow, it all seemed familiar. Here, in the heart
of the Apache homeland, the white man’s world seemed far away. He was content
to sleep beneath a fur robe, to bathe in the chill water of the river, to eat
wild game and ash cakes, to wear little more than a clout and moccasins.

How quickly civilization falls away
, he mused as he
watched the
Cans
cavort in the center of the village.
How quickly man
returns to the wild
. He gazed at Lacey sitting beside him, her lovely face
luminous in the light of the dancing flames. What more did a man need than a
place to lay his head, food in his belly, a fire for warmth, and a woman to
love?

The sound of the drums pounded in his ears as Lacey turned
to look at him. She was Woman, eternal and primal, and he was suddenly overcome
with the need to bury himself in her warmth. Her doeskin tunic did not conceal
the ripe body that lay beneath. Her hair was as red as the leaping flames, her
skin clear and unblemished. In the distance, the
Cans
danced and the
sound of drums vibrated in the night, but Matt was suddenly oblivious to all
but the woman beside him. She was his wife. Someday she would bear his
children. He swallowed hard, the need to make love to her growing stronger and
more urgent with each passing moment.

He was thinking of carrying her off to bed when there was a
change in the drumming and now all the young unmarried maidens danced before
the tribe, their feet moving in a slow pattern to the beat of the drum.

Matt took Lacey’s hand in his. “Let’s go,” he whispered.

“Wait,” Lacey said, smiling prettily. “I want to watch the
dance.”

“They’ve been dancing all day,” Matt growled irritably.

“Please, Matt? It’s so lovely.”

Matt nodded. It was lovely, and if Lacey wanted to stay, he
would stay.

At a pause in the drumming, each maiden left the circle to
lightly touch the shoulder of the man she wished to dance with. When the
drumming resumed, there were two circles, men on the outside facing in, women
on the inside facing out. Slowly they circled back and forth, never touching,
yet Lacey thought the dance oddly sensual and provocative.

The married couples danced next. Lacey grinned with delight
when she saw her father and Blue Willow join the other dancers. It was obvious
that her father was deeply in love with the Indian woman and enjoyed living
with the Apache, and Lacey was happy for him. He had been unhappy for so long,
he deserved to find happiness at last.

Eyes sparkling with joy, Lacey looked at her husband. “Shall
we dance?”

Matt looked a trifle bemused by the idea. Dancing was not
what he had in mind. And then he shrugged. “I’m game if you are,” he said, and
they took a place beside Lacey’s father.

The steps were simple, and Lacey and Matt quickly learned
the pattern of the dance. It was nothing like a waltz or a polka or any of the
other dances Lacey was familiar with, but she found it thrilling to be dancing
with Matt, to look into his eyes and see his love for her shining there. The
beat of the drum seemed to infuse itself into Lacey’s soul, and she felt
suddenly wild and primitive. The music began to move faster, and Lacey’s ears
were filled with the rhythmic beat of the drum and the wild pounding of her heart.
As the drumming grew faster and faster, the spectators began to clap, urging
the dancers on and on until, at last, the music ended.

Breathless, Lacey took Matt’s arm and started back toward
their place in the crowd, but Matt shook his head and led her into the darkness
beyond the village. Excitement fluttered in the pit of Lacey’s stomach as she
followed Matt into the woods. When they were well out of sight of the camp and
its occupants, Matt took Lacey in his arms and began to kiss her fervently,
passionately. Lacey surrendered willingly to the onslaught of his lips, her own
parting beneath the pressure of his mouth as her arms twined around his neck. A
wild elation heightened her senses, and it was as though every nerve ending in
her body was tuned to his touch. There was a sweet singing in her blood as his
hand cupped her breast, a tingling in the core of her being as his tongue
tasted hers. She was fire and he was the air she breathed. Without him, she
would wither and die.

Matt groaned low in his throat as Lacey ground her body
against his groin. The dancing, the primal beat of the drum, the sight of Lacey
clad in a doeskin tunic, her hair flowing down her back, all had fired his
desire until he felt he must possess her or perish.

His hands were urgent as he unfastened her dress, gentle as
they caressed the warm flesh beneath. He kissed her deeply, his lips drifting
from her mouth to the curve of her throat to her shoulder. His hands slid down
her back, over her softly rounded buttocks and down the gentle curve of her
hips, and each touch sent tremors of desire pulsing through him. Carefully he
lowered her to the ground, needing her, wanting her as never before.

They came together in a rush, their mouths fused as
everything else faded away save their need for each other.

Later, wonderfully content, Lacey smiled at her husband.
“You really are a savage,” she teased.

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I was just thinking perhaps we
should stay here forever.”

“Would you be happy here?”

“I’d be happy wherever you were.”

Touched by her words, Matt kissed her tenderly. He was about
to tell her he loved her more than life itself when the sound of someone moving
stealthily through the underbrush caught his ear. Dropping his hand over
Lacey’s mouth, he motioned for her to remain silent, then carefully gained his
feet, his eyes and ears straining for a clue as to the whereabouts of the
intruder.

He was just turning to glance toward the village when there
was a sudden hissing sound past his ear, followed by a loud thwack as an arrow
struck a tree only inches from Matt’s head. Muttering an oath, Matt dropped to
the ground. He held his breath, his eyes searching the shadows, but he saw
nothing, heard nothing.

He remained motionless for several minutes, his eyes warning
Lacey to keep silent, and then some inner sense told him the danger was past
and they were alone.

Rising, Matt went to Lacey. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She was trembling visibly. “Who was that?”

Matt uttered a short laugh. “Who the hell do you think?”

“High Yellow Cloud,” Lacey said slowly.

“That’d be my guess.”

“Let’s get out of here before he comes back,” Lacey said
urgently. Grabbing her tunic, she pulled it over her head and began to fasten
the laces.

“Take it easy, Lacey. He’s gone. I think that was just his
way of telling me he hasn’t forgotten that I beat him, and that it won’t be
over between us until one of us is dead.”

“Oh, Matt, we’ve got to get out of here. Right away.”

“I thought you wanted to stay here forever.”

“Not anymore. Not if it means worrying about High Yellow
Cloud shooting you in the back.”

“He could have done that tonight. I don’t think he’s the
type to backshoot me. I think maybe he just wants to keep us on edge.”

“Matt, I’m so scared. Please, let’s just get out of here.”

“I’m not ready to leave, Lacey,” Matt answered with a shake
of his head. “These are my people. I’d like to learn more about them, more
about myself. I feel at home here.”

“All right, Matt, if it means that much to you,” Lacey
agreed reluctantly. “But promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I’m always careful. Come on, let’s get back to the
village.”

Lacey nodded, her eyes darting from side to side as Matt
slipped into his shirt and pants. Her earlier feeling of contentment had fled
and in its place stood fear. Unlike Matt, she did not think High Yellow Cloud
was above sticking a knife in a man’s back.

Matt placed his arm around Lacey’s shoulders and they walked
back to camp. High Yellow Cloud was standing near the campfire. He grinned
knowingly as Matt and Lacey walked by.

Matt felt his anger rise, but held it in check. Instead of
smashing his fist into the warrior’s face, as he longed to do, he stopped
outside their lodge and kissed Lacey full on the mouth. Then, with a smug grin
at High Yellow Cloud, he took Lacey by the hand and entered their wickiup.

“Do you think that was wise?” Lacey asked.

“Probably not,” Matt allowed, “but I couldn’t resist it.”

“Please be careful, Matt. I’d die if anything happened to
you.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” Matt assured her. “Come on,
let’s get some sleep. All that dancing wore me out.”

“That’s too bad,” Lacey murmured. Provocatively she began to
unlace her tunic, letting it fall slowly to the floor around her feet. “I’m not
tired at all.”

Matt sucked in a deep breath as his eyes traveled over
Lacey’s delectable body. He had spoken the truth when he said he was tired, but
now, suddenly, he was wide awake. Awake and wanting.

Whispering her name, he lifted Lacey into his arms and
carried her to bed.

The camp was in turmoil the following morning. Sometime
during the night, the Comanche had raided the horse herd and had killed one of
the herd boys.

Lame Bear called a council of war, and all the warriors and
the medicine man attended. There was no question but that the Apache would
retaliate.
Usen
, the Supreme Being, had not commanded his people to love
their enemies, nor had he taught that a life for a life was compensation
enough. For every Apache killed, many enemy lives were required. The herd boy
had been cousin to High Yellow Cloud, and as the boy had no other adult male
relations, High Yellow Cloud would lead the raid. Most of the younger warriors
declared they would go, while the older warriors elected to stay behind and
guard the village.

Lacey was horrified when Matt remarked that he was going out
with the war party.

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” she asked, aghast that he
would even consider such a thing.

“No. Red Knife has asked me to ride with him.”

“But they’re going to fight.”

Matt shrugged. “I’ve been in fights before.”

“But not like this.”

“It’s something I’ve got to do.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either, not really.” Matt smiled at her, his eyes
warm with love. “I’ll be all right, Lacey. Don’t worry.”

“But you could be killed,” Lacey replied in a choked voice.
“And for what? Please don’t go.”

“I’ve got to go,” Matt said, taking her in his arms. “I’ve
already told Red Knife I would accompany him. I can’t back out now. He’d think
I was a coward, or worse—that you ruled our lodge.”

Lacey nodded unhappily. She wanted to yell and scream and
accuse him of not loving her enough to stay behind, but she knew it would
accomplish nothing. Matt had made up his mind to go and nothing she could say
would stop him.

That night there was a war dance called
haskegojital
,
which, Lacey learned, meant angriness dance. All the men who were going on the
raid participated.

The war dance, or angriness dance, was nothing like Lacey
had expected it to be. The men sang softly, accompanied by the low beat of a
drum. They never raised their voices, since to do so in battle meant certain
death. Occasionally one of the warriors fired a gun into the air. None of the
men wore paint. They wore only headbands, moccasins, and breechclouts.

Four men started the dance, then the other warriors who
intended to fight joined in. All the women at the dance were called White
Painted Woman and were not to be called by their own names. The dance ended
when the warriors had circled the fire four times. Four again, Lacey mused.
There was a round dance after the
haskegojital,
and after that, a
partner dance.

Lacey tried to resist when Matt insisted she dance with him,
but he ignored her protests and drew her into the circle. His insensitivity
made her angry. She did not want him to go to battle, nor did she want to
participate in the dancing, which would go on all night. And yet, he looked so
handsome. Shirtless, his hair hanging to his shoulders, his face bronzed by the
flickering flames, she thought he looked as much an Indian as any of the
others. He looked wild and untamed, and her stomach quivered strangely at the
thought that he was becoming more uncivilized every day. She wished he would
forget about going to war and make love to her instead.