I was sitting up, clutching the blanket closely around myself, and his eyes seemed to strip me of its protection.
“Guess that’s up to you,” he drawled, in his infuriatingly husky voice. “Got a few days’ business left around here, an’ then I’m going home to visit my family. Now you,” and his voice had hardened, “can choose whether you’re goin’ as a guest, or a servant. Always did promise my mother a white woman for a servant. She thought a lot of your pa, same as I did, but seein’ as you’ve let Todd Shannon convince you we’re all thieves an’ murderers…”
“My father saved your life!” I flung at him. “And he saved your mother’s life! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“You beggin’ me to let you go for Todd Shannon’s sake, or your pa’s, or your own? You remindin’ me of a debt I owe? Well, I owed that debt to Mr. Guy Dangerfield. I thought his daughter would be more like him, but you ain’t. You’re whatever they made you—your grandfather, your ma—that fine London society. Came to New Mexico to visit, didn’t you? See how the natives live. You didn’t care to see under the surface they showed you…” He broke off, his face dark with suppressed anger. “Ah, shit! What’s the point? You’re lookin’ at me, hatin’ me, and you don’t see any further than that. Well, you got your choice. We’ll talk about the rest later.”
He talked of offering me a choice, but for the time being, I had no choice. After that one occasion Lucas Cord hardly spoke to me, except to give some order. I felt he was only waiting for me to rebel, to disobey, or perhaps to throw something at him; I would not give him the satisfaction of having an excuse to beat me in front of the whole camp, nor to prove to me all over again how ambiguous my position here was. I compressed my lips and did what I was told, although I knew he realized I was being sarcastic on occasion.
Little Bird, who was Julio’s wife and the daughter of a chief, was hardly communicative, although she spoke some Spanish. I suppose my position puzzled her too.
She showed me how a wickiup was built, and which roots and herbs to gather. I was taught how to tan a hide and how to light a fire, how to cook food their way. I learned, and I did as I was told.
The Apache society was an example of society in the Middle Ages. The men, all-powerful, were warriors; the women were subservient and did all the work. A warrior went out hunting or raiding, and saw to his weapons himself. His woman s
aw to everything else. As in every other primitive society, there were taboos. A man must not look on the face of his mother-in-law, or converse with her. A man usually lived with his wife’s family. A woman never spoke out in the presence of males, unless she was asked for her opinion.
I saw Jewel on a couple of occasions, but at a distance. I learned that she had been bought by the comanchero Delgado. She still wore the ragged remnants of the garments she had worn when we were first captured, and she did not seem too unhappy, although she was subdued and silent, just as I was.
When Lucas went out on a hunting trip with the men on the second day, he dressed just as they did, in a breechclout with knee-high moccasins. I noticed that they carried a bow and arrows as well as rifles.
I hated him. What had he meant by saying I might be a guest or a servant when he went to visit his family? When would he leave the camp? There were times when I wondered what the reactions of my friends might have been, when they learned what had happened.
Poor Mark! How he must blame himself! And Mrs. Poynter and the colonel. Much worse, when Todd found out what had happened. He would blame everyone else, of course. But I lived in the present, because I had to. I would not speak unless I had to. I looked down whenever there were males present.
It was not too difficult to adapt; I had adapted before to more hostile environments. My put-on meekness of manner was exaggerated, and Lucas Cord knew it. When Little Bird was not present I saw his brother look at me, and I could sense that he still wanted me. Good, I thought. It might be another weapon I could use against Lucas Cord. Perhaps, for money, Julio would set me free.
Two weeks passed—and a third. Only the trained, controlled strength of my mind, my will, enabled me to remain submissive and calm on the surface. I would not be conquered. He had a reason for “rescuing” me. I would find it out and use it against him.
I found out we were to leave in the morning when Little Bird instructed me on preparations for the long journey. As usual, she would not say more than was necessary, but I received the impression that she was no more eager than I to embark on this particular trip. She and Julio and their two small children, a girl and a boy, still strapped to his cradleboard, would accompany us. We would have to cross the Jornado del Muerto again, I gathered, from the quantity of water we would have to carry with us. We would skirt the Canada de Alamosa, the centuries-old home of the Eastern Chiricahua Apaches, and travel from there to the Black Range.
Was that where this mysterious secret valley was located? She would not give me a direct answer, but turned her head away. I had the impression there was something she would have liked to tell me, but her respect for her husband and his brother prevented her from doing so.
We were to take mules as well as horses, the former loaded down with silver. The Apaches knew its value, I had learned, but only vaguely. They would trade the silver and gold they stole for rifles and ammunition, bolts of cloth and trinkets, cooking pots and tools, things of more tangible value to them. The comancheros, who knew the real value of the precious metal, would trade for it and sell it in Mexico.
I had my only chance to speak with Jewel just before we left, when the mules and the horses were already loaded. I thought she looked wistful, as she stood some distance behind her new owner, and with a defiant glance at Lucas I went up to her.
“Jewel! I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to talk with you before. Are you all right? Do they treat you kindly?”
She shrugged. “Guess you know as well as I do how it is! But ’Gado ain’t unkind, and he seems to like me. ’Least, he’s been talkin’ like he don’t aim to get rid of me down in Mexico right away. Who knows?” She gave me a philosophical look. “He’s not as bad as some ‘protectors’ I’ve had. Don’t beat on me an’ give me to other men.” She gave me a surreptitious, hasty embrace. “It’s you I bin worryin’ about. You didn’t seem like the type… but then he’s young, ain’t he? An’ not half bad-looking. Be sensible, Rowena. Only way a female can survive is by bein’ smarter than a man, an’ learnin’ how to roll with the punches.”
That was our farewell, for we had no chance to say any more to each other. Little Bird pulled me by the arm, and I caught Lucas Cord’s strange, green-fired glance upon me. With the men leading the way, we left the small, concealed canyon on foot, leading the horses.
Eighteen
We traveled very slowly and cautiously, sometimes continuing our journey at night, although I could tell that Little Bird was terrified by this. Apaches would seldom travel at night, because they believed that evil spirits lurked abroad then, but Julio, in spite of all his Apache ways, was like his brother in scoffing at such superstition.
I learned that Little Bird was expecting another child, and although she never complained or fell back, it became clear to me that the long hours of walking with a baby strapped to her back were a strain on her. I offered to carry the child myself, and though she glanced at me gratefully, her look was strange. The little girl rode on one of the horses, her small face solemn and unsmiling. The baby, like most Apache infants, never cried.
His name was Coyote Walking, and he had round, curious black eyes and a fringe of straight black hair. I would think he was watching me sometimes, and wonder if he would grow up like his uncles. Still, he was an infant, and although I had never been able to feel anything more than awkwardness around children, I grew fond of him, and of the little girl too.
Sometimes I would feel Lucas Cord’s eyes on me, never giving anything away, and sometimes Julio’s. What had Lucas told him of me? What did he think? I would not, I had willed myself not to think. It was easier that way, when we had to trudge what seemed endless miles across burning white sands in order not to overtax the horses, and then set up camp at the end of it, while the men rested. It was easier to keep my mind a blank and my body rigid and unyielding when Lucas came to lie by me at night. We did not talk at such times, and invariably he turned his back on me. Sometimes I thought Little Bird looked at me in a puzzled and almost pitying way, although she never said anything. She was kind to me, and spoke enough Spanish to make herself understood. She tried to teach me the Apache words for various objects, although I found it difficult to master the guttural sounds they used.
Lucas Cord was still a stranger to me. There were times when I felt a stranger to myself. I was on an arduous, ridiculous journey—the hunted now, instead of being on the side of the hunter. I knew there had to be other people not too far away. White settlers, soldiers. Surely Todd would have had half the territory out searching for me? And yet we saw no one until we had reached the foothills that reached up hungrily, it seemed, toward those towering peaks and ridges that formed the Black Range, legendary hideout of the Apaches.
Little Bird seemed almost animated when we entered an Apache ranchería. Her father, who was a relative of Victorio himself, lived here. We were enveloped by her family. Only her mother, out of politeness, carefully hid herself from her son-in-law. I realized again that the Apaches loved children as little Coyote Walking and his sister were immediately surrounded by affectionate, admiring relatives. I received many veiled, curious glances, but with the innate politeness that the Apaches displayed to guests, no one asked any questions, nor did my presence meet with any disapproval. Little Bird, in her own environment, went out of her way to make me feel welcome, and the only awkward moment I had was when the medicine man of the tribe, an extremely old man with lank gray hair escaping from under his ceremonial headdress, fixed his eyes sharply upon me, where I sat discreetly in the shadows with the other women.
I know he asked Lucas something, and the answer he received made him look at me even more penetratingly, although he did not say a word to me at the time. We were to spend a night here, and I remember feeling relieved at the prospect. The site of the ranchería was beautiful. A tiny plateau, protected on three sides by steep cliffs, it was high enough to be richly green, shaded by pine and aspen trees. A small stream, gushing down like a miniature waterfall from