Savage Courage (18 page)

Storm gazed at Shoshana, then at the panther, then yanked his rifle from the gunboot.

He was in luck. He had found not only the woman he loved, but also the deadly panther. He took aim.

“No!” Shoshana shouted. “There are three kittens there. Don’t you see them?”

The panther was now pacing protectively back and forth before the kittens, its green eyes moving from Shoshana to Storm.

“Storm,” Shoshana said. “This is a mother. She is only protecting her young.”

Storm glanced over at Shoshana, so glad that he had found her, and found her safe. Then he looked at the panther again. It had not yet crouched to attack. It still paced, its eyes ever watching.

He had a strong feeling that this panther was not
the one doing the killing. He slowly lowered his rifle as the panther took one of the kittens in its mouth and bounded away, while the two others followed until all were out of sight.

Storm slid his rifle into his gunboot, then rode up to Shoshana.

His eyes took in her loveliness and the stubborn look in her dark eyes.

He understood now what he had done that had angered her; she had the right to be angry. He never should have given her any ultimatum, especially one that threatened the loss of freedom.

Yes, he had been wrong, and he would make it up to her. He knew now that he could not live without her.

“I was wrong,” he blurted out. “
Nuest-chee-shee
, come. Come back with me to my village. You will not be there as a captive. You will be there as my future bride. Your mother—she was so happy to have found you again. I saw the happiness you felt at finding her. Come back with me, Shoshana. I . . . was . . . wrong.”

“Storm, I want nothing more than to be with you and my mother,” Shoshana murmured, her whole being eager to have his arms around her. “But I have something I must do. I will not ask you to
allow
me to do it. I
am
going to. I’m going to the fort.”

“But why?” Storm asked.

“I will go to the fort and let George Whaley believe
that I have come back to live with him. But the very next morning he will find me gone. He will know why I have left because I will leave him a note explaining that I no longer want anything to do with him,” she murmured. “I would prefer to tell him to his face, but I know that would be too dangerous. If he knew what my plans were . . . to come back to you . . . he would probably put me behind bars. As it is, I shall wait until all are asleep at the fort and then leave.”

She reached over and gently touched his face. “Storm, please come with me,” she said softly. “Wait for me in the forest at the edge of the fort. I will leave the fort when it gets dark. I will come to you. We can return to your stronghold together. Then we can truly begin the rest of our lives.”

“I still see danger in your plan,” Storm said. “How will you know that everyone is asleep? And will there not be sentries posted to guard the fort through the night?”

“Yes, there are sentries, but as I have noticed many times since my arrival at Fort Chance, the sentries who are supposed to keep the fort safe almost always fall asleep on the job,” Shoshana said, lowering her hand. “That is when I shall slip past them. But I won’t be able to leave on my horse. That would make too much noise. I will come on foot to you in the forest.”

She gave him a soft, sweet smile. “Don’t you see?”
she said. “You and I will gain vengeance at the same time when George Whaley reads the note and knows that he has been duped, and duped by the daughter he adored.”

“We must be far up the mountain when he awakens and finds you gone,” Storm cautioned.

“Are you saying that you agree to my plan?” Shoshana asked, her eyes wide.

“
Ho
, I do,” he said tightly. “But there are still many dangers in your plan. I have protected my people for many years in our stronghold. I have kept its location secret for so long. Should the pony soldiers track you and discover its location, I will be forced to hand over the chieftainship to someone more trustworthy than I. For in a sense, I will have betrayed my people’s trust if the soldiers should find the stronghold because of what we do.”

Shoshana’s smile faded. She inhaled a nervous breath. “Knowing that, I’m not sure if I should go to the fort after all,” she said, her voice drawn. “I don’t want to be responsible for bringing trouble to your . . . our . . . people. Nor do I want the title of chief to be taken from you because of something I did.”

“Something
we
did,” he corrected. “For, my
ish-tia-nay
, we are going to follow your plan. I will escort you as close to the fort as it is safe to go. Then, as you suggested, I will wait in the forest for you. Shoshana, you must be cautious every moment that
you are at the fort among
pindah-lickoyee
. Some might become suspicious of you. You do know the lack of trust the
pindah-lickoyee
have for Apache, and you, my
ish-tia-nay
, are a full-blood Apache.”

“If you truly think that I should do this, I will,” she murmured. “And I promise that I will be very careful. I would die before bringing harm to you or our people.”

“Do not say such a thing,” Storm said. He reached over and twined an arm around her waist and drew her closer to him. He gazed intently into her eyes. “My Shoshana, my Shoshana. How I love you. I was so afraid after you left that I would never see or hold you again. I came after you not because I still felt the need to hold you captive, but because I love you and could not live without you.”

“Nor could I without you,” Shoshana murmured.

Her insides melted when he leaned closer and kissed her.

He straightened up again and brought his hands back to his reins. “We have lingered too long here,” he said tightly. “We are fortunate that that panther was not the one that haunts my mountain. Let us go now. And be watchful, my
ish-tia-nay
, be ever watchful. You know how quickly a panther can appear and attack.”

Shoshana shuddered at the thought, for she also recalled the way Mountain Jack had appeared out of nowhere.

He and others like him were always out there, threatening havoc. Danger lurked everywhere, it seemed, in Arizona. Missouri had been so tame in comparison.

But Missouri was no longer her home. She was where she belonged. She was with Storm and her mother.

They set out toward the fort together, able to ride side by side now because the pass was not so narrow here.

“And how is your sister?” Shoshana asked, drawing Storm’s eyes quickly to her. “Why was she unconscious? Had she fallen from her horse?”

“She was not ill at all,” Storm said, his voice tight with anger. “It was all pretense. She had sneaked up near us when we were talking and heard what we said. She heard me call you my captive. She saw how it angered you. She pretended to be ill in order to give you a chance to escape. She knew that was what you wanted, and it was what she wanted, as well.”

“It was all false?” Shoshana said, stunned to know that Storm’s sister could hate her so much. “She did this in order to make certain I would no longer be a part of your life . . . or hers? Why, Storm?” she quickly added. “Why does she dislike me so much?”

“It is not dislike that caused her dishonesty, but instead . . . jealousy,” Storm said, hating to admit such a thing about his sister. “She believes you mean too much to me. She knew that if I did hold you
captive, you would eventually forget your anger toward me, as my white mother forgot her anger at my father, who also held her captive. She feared that like my white mother and my Apache father, we would marry. Dancing Willow has been the most important woman in my life since my mother’s death. She enjoys doting on her younger brother.”

“Why hasn’t she married?” Shoshana asked softly. “If she had a man, she would not worry so much about you.”

“She has never found a man who interested her enough to marry him,” Storm said. “As a Seer, she enjoys a position of much respect among our people. I see such contentment in her eyes when she makes someone else happy. She is a good person. But in this one thing, she must change. She must accept that I have found the woman I wish to make my wife. And she will accept it. She will have no other choice. Soon she will understand, and there will be peace among we three.”

Shoshana’s eyes wavered, for she now recalled the coldness and resentment she’d seen in Dancing Willow’s eyes. If Dancing Willow could go as far as to pretend to be ill in order to take Storm’s attention from Shoshana, what else might she do?

“She will accept you,” Storm said, smiling at Shoshana. “You will see. She is good at heart. She would never do anyone harm.”

“Yet she pretended to be ill to gain something for herself,” Shoshana said tightly.

Storm’s smile faded, for he knew that Shoshana did have cause to be wary of Dancing Willow.

“Storm, you are suddenly quiet,” Shoshana said. “What are you thinking?”

“That I love you so much,” was all he would say. He could not voice his doubts about his own sister.

They rode off the mountain onto open prairie land that stretched to the trees fringing the Piñaleno River. The cottonwoods were beautiful. Beneath them grew bushes that produced many kinds and colors of wild berries.

They rode onward, and Shoshana sighed with pleasure when she saw a large field of wild sunflowers. She saw a number of fat wild turkeys eating the sunflower seeds, as well as many other birds swooping down to challenge them for their late-afternoon meal.

“It is all so beautiful,” she murmured, yet deep inside she was beginning to dread the task that awaited her.

If she couldn’t pull this off, she knew she might cause Storm’s people a lot of grief.

Even if she
did
succeed, the same could be true. If George Whaley got angry enough, would he not demand that the cavalry search for her? Would they know to look for her in Storm’s village?

That was one thing she certainly wouldn’t reveal in her note to George . . . that she would be marrying a powerful Apache chief. It would be too dangerous.

No. He would never know where she had gone, or with whom.

As I long for your love,
My heart stands still inside me.

—Love Songs of the New Kingdom

Shoshana arrived at the fort just before dusk. As she passed by the sentries, she saw that they hesitated to greet her even though they knew very well who she was. There was something odd in their eyes . . . in their behavior toward her.

Riding on past them, she got the same cold treatment from the soldiers coming and going from one adobe hut to another. She was puzzled by this reception. Surely George Whaley had told them that she was missing, and had probably even been searching for her.

In the sunset’s orange glow, she rode onward,
stiffening when she wasn’t greeted in any way by anyone.

Then it came to her in a flash why she was being shunned. She glanced down at what she wore. Yes, it was the way she was dressed. She was dressed in doeskin. She was dressed as an Apache, not a white woman.

Proud that she was Indian, and was now finally dressed as one, she lifted her chin and rode on past the soldiers.

She stopped at her father’s quarters. She dismounted and hurried inside, then paused and gazed slowly around. The room was strangely quiet. There were no lamps lit, even though darkness was quickly falling. There was no fire in the fireplace to ward off the chill that came with night.

“He’s not here,” Shoshana whispered to herself.

Then it came to her that surely he was with soldiers, out searching for her.

Perhaps it would be just as well to avoid seeing him again. With George gone, she would write the note that would conclude her relationship with the man she’d once called father. Tonight, after everyone at the fort was asleep, she would leave once and for all.

But first, she would go to the trunk in the storage room and take from it some mementos of her adoptive mother, for she had loved her with all her heart and still missed her so much.

If anyone was responsible for how Shoshana was today . . . a happy, well-centered person . . . it was Dorothea Whaley, not her husband.

Until George had retired from the military, Shoshana had rarely seen him. It was his wife who had given Shoshana her undivided attention, building within her the confidence that had been taken from her by the attack on her village.

It had been her adoptive mother whose arms had given comfort to Shoshana when nothing or no one else could.

“Yes, I want to take something of Mother’s to keep with me always,” she whispered.

She lit a kerosene lamp and started down the corridor that would take her to the room where the trunks and travel cases were stored.

As she started to walk past George Whaley’s bedroom, the lamplight shone in, and she realized he wasn’t gone after all. He was there on his bed, his back to her as he lay on his left side.

She tiptoed to the door and held the lamp out before her so as to get a better look at George. Her pulse raced at the thought of what she was going to do. She was going to awaken him and pretend she was happy to be reunited with him.

She would get his hopes up, only to dash them in the morning when he found her gone and discovered the note explaining why she was no longer there . . . and that he was nothing to her. Nothing!

She could even now envision his reaction. His eyes would grow wide with disbelief. He would clutch at his heart, a habit that he had started a year or so ago.

She wondered if knowing how much she detested him would cause George Whaley to have a heart attack.

That made her frown. She didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s demise, not even a man who had the blood of so many Indians on his hands.

She held the lamp up higher and gazed more closely at George. An eerie feeling came over her when she noticed how still he lay. He was much, much too still. She didn’t see his body moving at all, not even the rise and fall of his chest.

She leaned over so that she could see his eyes.

She gasped and took a quick step away from him when she realized that he was dead!