The Peacemaker (24 page)

There were a few laughs that were quickly stifled when Jim turned his lethal look on them. He knew his hostility was a carry-over from last night, and decided he'd better work it out if he was going to teach these men anything today. As soon as he was through giving them a few facts about the enemy they would be fighting, he'd take them into the desert and teach them some necessary survival skills.

He stood before them, hands behind his back. "Apaches usually attack in the morning from the east so the sun is in their enemies' eyes. They seldom attack unless they're sure they have all the advantages. Most times they sneak up on you quiet as a snake and strike before you even know they're there. When they do yell, it's because they're trying to scare you.

"Today, while it's still cool, we're going to start out—" He broke off—that feeling that he was being watched again. But this time, knowing who was doing the watching, he refused to acknowledge her. "We’re going for a run," he went on. "An Apache can run all day under the summer sun." He turned to Sergeant Moseley. "Have all the men been issued knives as I asked?"

"Yes, sir. Nice shiny new ones."

"Very good, Sergeant. Let's go." They hadn't gone but a dozen yards when Jim realized the men were running in a column, two by two. He pulled himself to an abrupt stop and held up his hand. "What do you think this is? Have you ever seen Apaches run in a column?" He needed say no more. An hour later he again brought them to a halt, this time to see if he had any stragglers.  Surprisingly they were all together, which made him feel they might make it after all.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man named Ryker pull a small flask out of his trousers. Before the soldier could get the cork out, Jim had crossed the space between them and knocked the flask out of the soldier's hands. "If I had wanted you to bring water along, Ryker, I would have issued canteens. I'm teaching desert survival here. You'll find your water the same way the Apaches do."

Ryker's expression turned from surprise to undisguised hate. "I didn't ask to be in this goddamn wolf pack of yours. And I ain't gonna take no orders from a deserter." He spat on Jim's moccasin.

"You should have saved that, Ryker. You're going to wish you'd had it back."

Ryker's lips pulled back in a feral snarl. He feigned turning away, then came back throwing his right fist. Jim ducked and grabbed the man's arm, turned his back into him, and hurled him over his shoulder onto the ground. Standing back from the groaning soldier, and crouching low with his arms dangling in front of him, Jim waited for Ryker to get up. "Come on, Corporal," he said venomously. "You want to kill me so let's see you try. These men can use a good show."

Ryker struggled to his feet and charged forward. Jim reached down, grabbed a handful of sand, and tossed it in his face, causing him to reel backward. "Had enough yet?"

Blinking the sand from his eyes, the corporal came after him again. Weary of the game, Jim decided to put an end to it and teach Ryker a lesson about fighting. "All right, you jughead, you asked for it." With that he leapt up in the air like a cat, kicked out his right leg, and hit Ryker square in the gut, doubling him over and ending the fight.

"Anybody else want to call me a deserter?" he queried the onlookers. Satisfied with the respectful looks on the men's faces he shook himself off. "When you're fighting an Apache, your life could depend on how resourceful you are. Sand thrown in his face can temporarily blind him." He picked a rock off the ground. "You can stun or kill him with a rock. You can run him down with your horse."

He walked over to Ryker and offered him a hand up. "You can never predict what an Apache will do," he added, "so don't ever assume anything." To make his point, he pulled Ryker halfway up, then backhanded him hard, forcing a loud groan from him before he went unconscious. "Ryker just made two serious mistakes. One: never cry out when you're hurt. Two: never trust the enemy."

For the next few hours the men learned various fighting techniques and practiced them on each other and on him. Looking up into the sky, Jim judged the time to be approaching noon. The men were tired and would be even more tired by the time they got back to camp, but he had no intention of letting up; they had a lesson waiting for them at the corrals.

Before starting out he told them, "Put a pebble in your mouth. It'll bring out the saliva."

With an escort of twenty infantrymen mounted on saddle mules, a battery of two twelve-pounder prairie howitzers, and a guide from Tucson, the new Indian commissioner, sent by President Grant himself, arrived at Camp Bowie exhausted and out of sorts.

"Riders comin' in!"

Captain Nolan had gotten back from morning fatigue an hour ago to find Jim and the troopers gone. He met the commissioner as he was getting down off his mule. "Captain Aubrey Nolan, G Troop, First Cavalry, at your service, sir," he said, saluting.

"Kindly inform your commandant that Isaiah Moorland has arrived and that I should like to see him at once."

"My apologies, sir, but Colonel Taylor is directing operations at the old Camp Bowie and won't be back until much later this afternoon. However, I am authorized to officially welcome you and to show you to your quarters."

"And my escort, Captain?"

"We have a barracks under construction, sir. The beds and bedding arrived last week. Your men should find it very comfortable."

"When the colonel returns, Captain, you will please tell him that I wish to have a word with him and you…someplace
comfortable.
 I've been sitting this damn John Daisy for the last two days—not that I don't prefer riding mules to horses, for indeed I do, but I would welcome a well-cushioned seat, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, sir. That would be in the colonel's quarters. His daughter, Miss Independence Taylor, has made it real comfortable." With that, Captain Nolan summoned an orderly over to take the commissioner's mule. "If you'll follow me, sir."

A lone, motionless cottonwood tree stood like a tall sentry on the mountain slope south of Indy's kitchen. Indy had come to think of the tree as a quiet friend who was always there, eager to hear her thoughts. Yesterday morning, as she had stood within its long shadow, she had ruminated on how embarrassed she was for fainting and causing everyone so much trouble. It had been quite a scare to wake up to find Prudence beside her, wiping her face with a cool, wet cloth. Her first thought was that something terrible was wrong with her what with the way she was laid out in her petticoat like a corpse. But Pru had explained that she had fainted and that Captain Nolan and Major Garrity had brought her to her quarters and summoned help. That had apparently been the end of it.

That had also been the end of her favorite calico dress, which had been badly torn and soiled. Pru had proclaimed it beyond even her strongest lye soap and had carried it off to be burned with the other camp rubbish. Pru should know, Indy thought, lamenting the loss of the dress.

Today, she communed with the cottonwood through the open kitchen door. She had gotten a late start on her day. She had not slept well and had awakened to an all over feeling of lethargy. As yesterday, Jim was already working with the men on the parade ground when she came out into the parlor. And also as yesterday, the sight of him brought on that terrible inside-out feeling. It had been worse this morning, she thought. Much worse.

She was cleaning up the flour that she had somehow managed to get all over the place while she had been kneading the bread. The mess was a result of too much thinking and not enough paying attention. Hopefully the thinking wouldn't result in over kneaded bread that was hard as a brick.

Even now she couldn't seem to stop thinking.

Looking out at the cottonwood she asked herself if falling in love was always painful. If it was, why did people let it happen? A silly question, she thought, drawing a sustaining breath. People didn't
let
it happen. She hadn't
let
it happen. It had come about all on its own and now that it had, there was nothing she could do to ease its pain or make it go away.

She wondered if it was Fate stepping in to keep her at Bowie with Jim that was the reason the eastbound stage operations had been suspended. And if it was, what did Fate have planned for her now? She stared down at the cloth in her hand.

If Jim loved her as Pru seemed to think, he certainly had an odd way of showing it, which was not at all. Conversely, he seemed to go out of his way to ignore her, and when he was forced to confront her, as he had been in the adjutant's office, he couldn't even be civil!

It was on a sigh that she remembered what else Pru had said. That he may not yet know he loved her. She had thought at the time Pru was talking nonsense, but after examining her own reluctance to admit to her feelings of love, she knew it was possible.

But what good was admitting it? Even knowing she loved him, she had gone to the adjutant's office. She had still wanted to go home. And when she had discovered him there, had she shown him loving kindness? No. She had responded to his sarcasm with sarcasm. And yesterday, prior to the monkey drill, he had ignored her as he came from talking to her father, and she had pretended to ignore him.

Was that the way of love?

Sarcasm. Indifference. Ignoring the one you loved?

It seemed a very peculiar way of behaving. There didn't seem to be any behavioral difference between not knowing you loved someone and knowing you did . . . .

Indy hurried to finish cleaning up. The sooner she got done, the sooner she could get out of the kitchen and find something to absorb her thoughts. Maybe she could stop by Ava's and ask to see the new baby. That would get her mind off things . . . for a while anyway.

For fire safety, all the kitchens were detached and set some twenty feet away from the main quarters. Having set the bread to cool, she hurried outside. She took off her apron and used it to fan her face.

Captain Nolan came around the east side of the building and saw her. "Do I take that as a sign of surrender?"

She couldn't imagine what he was talking about.

Evidently seeing her confusion he explained, "In war, when the enemy waves a white flag it indicates they want to surrender."

She nodded. "Oh, yes, of course." She laughed lightly because she was too uncomfortable to manage anything else. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"I came by to—" He headed for the kitchen.

She held up her hand to stop him. "I know what you came by for, Captain, and yes, I did bake bread. As a matter of fact, I baked two loaves, one for us and one for you." At least he had the good manners to look suitably embarrassed, she thought. The first time she had offered him some fresh baked bread, he had eaten more than half of her only loaf all by himself. "It's my way of saying thank you for rescuing me yesterday."

His brow furrowed. "It's too bad it had to happen. You seemed to be thoroughly enjoying yourself."

"I was." She laughed in spite of herself at the memory. "I had no idea the men would have so much trouble just getting on their horses, let alone staying on them. Major Garrity always makes it look so easy, but then he seems to do everything easily. Even the Grand March," she blurted, unthinking, recalling Jim assuring her that she too would remember the march once they had begun. "It must have been years since he danced. And yet he didn't miss a step."

The captain gave her a long searching look, like he knew something she didn't. "At least six years. Maybe longer," he confirmed. "Back in the days when he was engaged to Tess." She felt a stab of jealousy, but her chin stayed level as he continued to talk. "It's a darn good thing he found out what kind of woman she was before he married her."

"Yes, I suppose so, but do you really think he would have actually married her?"

He nodded slowly and smiled, looking curiously pleased with himself. "Of course. He's often talked of having a home and a family—a very large family as a matter of fact."

She gave a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry I just can't imagine such a thing. He's so . . . ." She waved a hand. "Well, he's so undomesticated. Like a wild animal. Untamed, if you know what I mean."

"He wasn't always like that, you know. It's circumstances that have made him that way. It was the only way he could survive."

"Yes, of course, I understand."

"The right woman could tame him," the captain asserted.

She tilted her head to look at him. "The right woman? What kind of woman would be the right woman, Captain?"

He appeared to give the question serious thought. "Jim's a very irascible fellow as I'm sure you know. It would take a very special woman to handle him and to put up with him." His brow wrinkled as he looked down into her face. "Probably somebody a little like you, Indy. Somebody who's honest, loyal, very courageous. And of course, she'd have to really love him."

"Of course," she agreed on a half laugh.

"I know he's looking forward to the pardon your father promised. That will allow him to go home and live like a white man again. He's from a good family. His grandfather was a stern old man. Ruled his household with an iron fist. When he didn't approve his son's marriage, Jim's parents ran away and ended up owning a trading store just a few miles south of here. Jim was born there. That's when the Apaches and whites were on friendly terms, mind you. He practically grew up in the Apache strongholds. That's also how come he came back here. He knew he'd be welcome and that nobody would find him."

Indy was numbed by all the information. After a moment she said, "Excuse me while I go get your bread. It's been cooling while we've been talking."

She returned momentarily.

Seeing her coming, the captain stepped forward and took the loaf from her hands. "Thanks, Indy. If I'm ever lucky enough to find a woman who can bake bread half as good as you, I'll marry her! Umm." He bent his head and sniffed the bread appreciatively. "I brought this along just in case," he said sheepishly, pulling a yellow kerchief out of his pocket. "I figured I'd have to hide it if I was going to get it back to my own quarters without anyone seeing it. If Jim gets word of it, I won't even get a bite."