The Peacemaker (29 page)

Tears smarted at the backs of Indy's eyes. "I'm really going to miss you, you know. Once you leave, I won't have anybody at all to talk to."

"You'll have Jim. I used to talk to Major Stallard for hours and hours at a time. He said the most interesting things." With a faraway look in her eyes she continued, "He used to tell me about all the places he had visited and the amazing things he had seen. He made everything so exciting and he described everything so clearly. Why I could see those places in my mind, just as though I had been there myself." Her head bent. She looked up at Indy through her lashes. "That's what I miss most, him taking me to all those distant places."

Indy solicited the help of two young enlisted men on their way to the mess hall to take her new chair back to her quarters and then spent the next ten minutes trying to decide where to put it. She wished now she had thought to purchase it from Prudence privately rather than at the auction. That way she could have offered her more money for it. Prudence would need all she could get to start her new life in Tucson.

Before beginning the morning dusting, she stepped outside a moment to shake out her dust cloth, when she saw Jim at the far end of the officers' quarters talking with Doc Valentine. She had thought Jim was with his men this morning outside the camp, but apparently she had misunderstood.

Whatever Doc was saying, he was certainly adamant about it. He showed Jim the palm of his hand as if it represented whatever point he was trying to make.

"You've seen smallpox enough, Jim, to know what it can do," Doc was saying. "A few days after the fever comes the rash, most times on the face but just as prevalent on the extremities," he explained. "As to scarring—depends on the individual. Some people are lucky and don't scar at all. Others, the rash leaves terrible scars on the face. Or like me"—he turned his hand over, palm up, for Jim to see—"this is my little reminder." Jim looked closely at the deep scars crisscrossing Doc's palm. "There's more on the soles of my feet, but ain't nobody gonna see them 'cept an undertaker."

Fury flashed white and hot within Jim. He looked toward the adjutant's office where he had seen the colonel go a few minutes ago.
You son of a bitch. You blamed her, but it was you!
Jim turned his gaze to Indy, knowing she had been watching him. It was everything he could do to keep his anger under control so that she couldn't see it, feel it.

How was he going to tell her that her father had lied to her—that all these years he had been hiding his smallpox scars from her so she wouldn't know he'd had it too? On second thought, maybe he shouldn't tell her; she'd already mentally distanced herself from him. Knowing about the scars would only hurt her more, but knowing about them would also free her from her guilt—a guilt that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

She smiled at him when he glanced her way and he took it as a sign that telling her would be the right thing to do.

He smiled back and Indy felt herself go weak with wanting him. Ever since that night he'd made love to her, she couldn't look at him or think about him without becoming all warm and tingly inside, the way she'd felt when she had realized he was outside her window watching her. Even now, she couldn't imagine what had possessed her to act so boldly wanton. Just the thought of what she had done made her blush.

She thought it uncanny that she could
feel
his eyes upon her and understand what it was that he was thinking. She wondered if this sort of thing happened to other people, or did she and Jim have something rare between them? It would be nice to think it was indeed an uncommon ability that only they shared.

Jim turned back to Doc who was still talking about the effects of smallpox, when he caught sight of a cloud of dust rising out of the mountains to the east. His first thought was that it was a stampeding herd of wild horses. He had seen them many times. They numbered more than a hundred, but he had never seen them this far west.

Putting a silencing hand on Doc's shoulder, Jim lifted his head to listen. He could hear them now—hear the rumbling of horses'  hooves. At least a hundred, he thought. Riding fast. Riding hard. Too hard!

Not wild horses! Apaches!

He grabbed Doc's shoulder. "Get to cover. It's a raid!" Bolting away from Doc, Jim raised his carbine and shot into the air. "Apaches!" he called out. "Sound the alarm!"

He ran toward Indy, who was standing out in the open. He had to get her to safety.

Indy heard the shot and saw Jim running toward her, but before she could fathom what had happened, the camp erupted into chaos and everything seemed to happen at once. She whirled around at the sound of rumbling hooves.

From out of the blaze of the morning sun, dozens of warriors spewed forth from between buildings at a thundering gallop to pound down on the parade ground.

Nearly deafened by their savage war cries, the rumble of hooves, and the shouts and cries of Bowie's men, women, and children, Indy couldn't think what to do. Fear held her captive. She couldn't move.

"Indy! Get inside!" Jim called to her as he ran.

The bugle blared, drowning out the warning.

Indy watched in horror as a group of soldiers, armed only with knives and forks, ran out of the mess hall, squinting and shading their eyes. They barely had time to digest that they were under attack when the Apaches wheeled their ponies into their midst and cut them down where they stood with bullets and lances.

Over and over the trumpet sounded the alarm, then ended on a sour note and didn't blow again.

Indy saw Prudence running just a few yards in front of a warrior on a galloping horse. Fear for Prudence mobilized her and she picked up her skirts and ran to save her friend. She saw Prudence stumble and prayed she wouldn't be trampled beneath the Indian's horse.

The warrior was nearly upon Prudence now, leaning off the side of his horse, ready to sweep her up and carry her off.

"Pru!"

There was only one thing Indy could think to do. She positioned herself directly in the path of the galloping horse and jumped up and down, frantically waving her arms and screaming.

As she had hoped the horse shied. While the warrior attempted to regain control, Indy grabbed Prudence and pulled her to her feet.

"Come on. Let's get out of here!"

"I can't," Pru cried. "I've twisted my ankle."

"I don't care if you broke it. Hop if you have to, but come on!" Indy put her arm under Prudence's and half carried, half dragged her toward the closest row of buildings. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the Apache was heading toward them. "Hurry, Pru, hurry!" They had made only a few steps when Prudence's ankle gave out, and despite Indy's efforts to keep her moving, she fell.

Jim stopped, knowing he couldn't reach them in time. "Get out of my way," he yelled at a young private who had bumped into him. He ripped his knife from its scabbard and put it between his teeth. Then he raised his carbine, aimed, and fired.

Concurrently, Indy heard the report of the carbine and saw the Apache fly backward off his horse. She silently thanked whoever had saved her and Pru. Again, she bent and struggled to pull Prudence to her feet but she was a dead weight. "Help me, Pru."

"Leave me, Indy," Prudence begged.

Indy caught a glimpse of her father running out of the adjutant's office. He was only thirty feet away. "Father! Help us!" She saw him turn to look at her. Relief washed through her. Then he looked away and took cover behind a buck-board next to his office.

It was then that Indy saw the two warriors bearing down upon them, leaning low over the sides of their ponies. One of them was Chie's son.

"Oh, God." Indy wheeled around. "Father! Please, we need you. Help us for God's sake!" But she knew it was useless. He wouldn't help her. Jim! she thought. Where was Jim? She had seen him only a moment ago. "Jim!" she called, turning toward the direction she had last seen him.

It was bedlam. People, horses, mules, everywhere! Fire licked at wagons. Desert dust whirled and lifted. Arrows fell from the sky like rain. Black smoke coughed from revolvers and carbines.

Jim cursed himself for not recognizing the sounds of attack sooner. An arrow whizzed by his head. He ran headlong into a civilian, using up precious seconds to untangle himself from panicked, grasping arms. Finally, he made the center of the parade ground where he had last seen Indy, but now she wasn't there.

A horse went down in front of him, flinging its rider clear. He leapt over the animal even as it struggled to gain its feet. All around him, sabers rasped from scabbards, rifle fire crackled, revolvers echoed.

When he broke from the melee, he saw Indy. Diablo was reining up next to her. He scooped her off the ground, set her in front of him, and raced off. Jim raised the carbine, then tossed it aside and grabbed his knife, afraid the bullet that would kill Diablo would kill Indy too. He drew back his arm, and took aim.

Too late he heard the warrior's conquering cry. His horse ran past Jim, knocking him off his feet a second before he could release the knife. He felt a white-hot pain rip across his forehead and through his hair.

Then nothing.

Jim reared and bucked like a stallion when he came to, thinking he was still in the middle of the fight.

"Easy now, Jim." Aubrey Nolan pressed him to the cot to hold him still until he was fully awake and rational.

"Let me go, goddammit!" Jim raged. Everything was blurry and he had black spots in front of his eyes.

"Simmer down, will you? Doc's going to stitch you up, put a bandage on you, and get you out of here."

"Where's Indy?"

"They took her, Jim. They got Prudence and the commissioner too."

Jim ran his hand through his hair and felt blood. His memory started coming back in fragments. "I should have killed him that night. I never should have let him go," he said in a low, tormented voice.

"Killed who?" Aubrey took his hand away and let Jim up.

"Diablo! Chie's son. Toriano warned me that he would try to get revenge, but it never even occurred to me he'd attack Bowie." He slammed his fist into his hand. Between his teeth he said, "I just got through preaching how unpredictable Apaches are, and told the men never to assume anything where they're concerned. You'd think I'd listen to my own advice!"

"You can't know everything, Jim."

He was too distraught to see the logic of Aubrey's words. "How long have I been out?"

"Twenty minutes is all."

"That's twenty minutes too long. We've got to go after them right now."

"If you don't let Doc sew you up first, you won't make the first mile. Now be sensible and sit back and shut up. I've sent Moseley to round up the men. By the time Doc's finished with you, they'll be outside, mounted and waiting ready to go." As Jim started to speak, Aubrey cut him off. "I've taken care of everything. I told them to pack light, except for weapons and ammunition, and I told them to dress for the occasion—moccasins instead of boots and such."

Jim passed a hand over his face and looked up at Aubrey. "There's just one thing I want to know. Why didn't the sentries alert the camp of the attack?"

"I don't know yet but I mean to find out. My guess is that there weren't any, that they were doing something else."

Doc was quick with his needle and thread and had Jim sewn up and ready to go in five minutes. Aubrey handed him a red kerchief to use as a bandage. Jim tied it around his head Indian fashion and strode out the door.

As Aubrey had promised, the men were mounted and waiting when he exited the hospital. They looked mean, tough, and anxious, just the way Jim wanted them to look. Aubrey handed Jim his knife and his carbine and while Jim was checking his cartridge belt, the colonel came stomping across the parade ground.

"What the hell is going on here?" When Jim ignored him, wouldn't even acknowledge his presence, he became enraged. "I asked you a question, Major Garrity, and as your commanding officer, I demand an answer!"

It was Captain Nolan who stepped forward to answer the colonel's question. "With your permission, sir, we're going after the captives."

"Permission denied, Captain," he answered sharply, emotionlessly.

Jim glanced up from loading his carbine.

"Begging your pardon, Colonel," said Nolan, "but I don't think you understand. One of those captives is your daughter."

"You think I am not aware of that, Captain? I saw them take her."

"Well then, if you saw them take her, how can you deny us going after her?"

"I am deeply saddened that those savages captured my daughter, Captain. However, I cannot allow my personal feelings to interfere with my duty as commander of this garrison. Nor can I allow a whole company to go chasing around the territory for God only knows how long on an off chance that you'll find them. The welfare of Camp Bowie is at stake! That may have been the first of many raids. Taking a company of troopers out now, when the camp is in such a state of turmoil, would leave Bowie severely undermanned."

Without warning, Jim grabbed the colonel by the neck of his uniform, drew him up close, and laid the sharp edge of his blade across his throat. "I saw what you did, you miserable bastard," he hissed into the colonel's face. "Indy called to you, begged you to help her, and you turned your back on her and hid behind the buckboard."

The color drained from the colonel's face and he started to shake. "No. No, I didn't. I—I wanted to help her but—" he whined plaintively, his eyes bulging with fear.

Jim shook his head. "You're a liar. I saw you! You turned your back on her. You could have saved her."

"That's not true! There was nothing I could do."

"It is true," Jim answered in a low, savage voice. "But you didn't make an effort to save her because you hate her. You hate her so much you made her believe she killed her mother and brother. There wasn't a day that went by that you didn't blame her for their deaths. But she had nothing to do with it." Slowly, purposefully, he slid the knife blade an inch to the left, cutting a shallow crease in the colonel's throat. "It was you. You're the one who carried smallpox into your house."