delicious.
"How does the ceremony progress?" she asked. "The gift has been taken to
the ceremonial tepee with her shaman. She has knelt down on the buckskin
and lain prone to be massaged by her sponsor, and she has run in the
four directions. Tonight she will dance in the ceremonial tepee, and
others will dance in the center of the village."
He paused, looking at her.
"I am leaving tonight. Nalte will not let you go until this ceremony is
over, and we think it is important that I hurry to Wiltshire with the
news that you have been found."
"Oh!" Tess said, setting down her bowl and staring at him. Then she
moved across the tent and hugged him close.
"I don't want you to leave. I'm so afraid for you."
"The Apache will see me past the Comancheros, as they will do for you if
they choose to let you go."
"If" -- "Whenl" he assured her.
She pulled slightly away, staring into his deep green eyes and feeling
as if she had found a friend she would cherish all her life. In his
buckskins he appeared very much the Indian, but his words were those of
the white man who knew her society and understoocf her fears.
"Oh, Jon, be careful!" she pleaded with him. "I'm quite sure he will
be."
Jamie's deep drawl startled them both. Tess stood quickly. Jon came to
his feet more slowly, staring at Jamie.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Jamie said drily. He ducked beneath
the flap and was gone.
Tess instinctively ran after him.
Jon caught her before she could leave.
"You cannot go to him!" he ordered her hoarsely.
"He has explained to you.
You are still Nalte's. You remain here, untouched, until a decision is
made.
"But he--he misconstrued what he saw!" Tess wailed. Jon offered her a
dry smile.
"Perhaps he deserved to, eh?" She didn't smile in return, and he
hastened to reassure her.
"He is my friend, and I am his. He knows we said goodbye and nothing
more." He didn't let her answer, but gave her a quick squeeze.
"I'll see you in Wiltshire," " he whispered, then he was gone.
And she was left alone. Outside the light was fading. Darkness was
coming, and despite the summer heat of the day, the night was coming
with a chill.
Tess shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, staring miserably at
the center of the tent where the fire burned no longer.
Jamie walked almost blindly into the growing darkness of the night.
Soon, the evening ceremonies for the young girl would begin, but at the
moment, there was a lull as preparations were made. This puberty rite
was one of the most important for the Apache. It was a structured
society, a social one, and respect and honor were tremendously
important.
The anger that seethed through him lightened for a moment as he thanked
God that Nalte happened to be an exceptionally honorable man. Nalte had
known when he first bargained with yon Heusen that the man who intended
to sell a blond woman to him had to be somewhat of an outcast in his own
society. But he had not imagined the things Jamie told him. Jamie
explained that yon Heusen had made war on Tess and had tried to make the
people around him believe it was the Comanche or the Apache who had car-
tied out the raids.
That had infuriated Nalte, and it had almost given him Tess.
Almost. Nalte wasn't quite ready to let go.
Jamie clenched his teeth and his fists as he hurried past the circle of
tepees and into the night. He wanted to reach the stream, to bathe his
face in its coldness.
Yet even when he reached the stream, the water could do nothing to
soothe him. He could not forget Tess's eyes-huge, violet and luminous
upon his.
She had been so straight and rigid, and yet she had seemed so very small
and vulnerable when she had talked to him in the tent. She had explained
the past few days with a simple dignity, and he had been so relieved to
discover that she had received a minimum of abuse that his knees had
gone weak. He had wanted to wrap her in his arms and promise her
everything would be all right, that no one would ever hurt her again.
But he hadn't been able to do that. He couldn't make any promises. He
didn't even dare touch her lest the emotion or the passion tear him
apart and lead to Nalte's fury. But he had never hungered more deeply
inside for her.
She was always fighting; she was always strong. She had endured so much
that she could be no less than strong. And yet now she had that air of
vulnerability about her. She did need him. And he wanted to be all
things to her.
He splashed more water on his face, and his temper cooled. He owed Jon
so much--and not his anger. Yet he had been angry, seeing her trustingly
in his friend's arms, seeing the tears in her eyes, the emotion within
them. He wanted her. He wanted her in his arms.
He closed his eyes, and saw again the picture of the young woman with
the luminous violet eyes and the soft storm of golden-red hair falling
over her shoulders and down her back. So quiet and still, and somehow
achingly soft in the bleached white buckskins. There'd been a strange
serenity about her, a serenity she could not possibly be feeling. He'd
felt impotent to be just standing there talking to her. He was her gun,
her hired gun. He'd said that he'd protect her, but he hadn't been able
to. Others had descended upon her, and she had endured fear and
suffering at their hands. He'd been praying for a miracle. Praying that
she hadn't been so abused that he'd never manage to live with himself
again.
He'd never felt good about killing a man. Never. Not during the war, not
after. But he'd wanted to kill yon Heusen's men when they had taken her.
He'd wanted to do more than kill them--he'd wanted to tear them limb
from limb and watch them die in horrible agony. Chavez had taken that
away from him. For the good of his soul, maybe it was just as well. It
was hard for a man to live with that kind of hate. He knew. He'd watched
it fester in his brother Cole, and it had nearly cost him his wife,
Kristin. Then there had been Chavez.
He'd never seen Chavez, except from the mountaintop. And watching the
Comanchere shoot the men in cold blood had kept him from feeling the
least remorse when Chavez had fallen beneath his blade. The fight
between them had been cold, both men knowing that it was life or death.
Jamie had been a little quicker, and Jon had managed to come around with
the horses before the Comancheros knew that their leader had been
visited, much less killed. The bound woman on the bed had never moved,
and she hadn't seen anything. They were done with the Comancheros--for
good, he hoped.
He smiled suddenly. He would have to ask Tess how the woman had come to
be bound and tied on that bed. It would surely be an interesting story.
But when they had fled the Comancheros camp, Tess had been nowhere to be
seen. They had tracked the trails up and down all night, calling softly
to her. He hadn't been willing to admit that they had helped her elude
the Comancheros only to send her into the arms of the Apache. But Jon
knew the territory, and he knew something of Nalte. And in the end they
had decided that the only way they could deal with the chief was to lay
their cards on the table. Jamie was going to have to count on his
reputation with the Indians. Jori would change into his buckskin attire
to approach Nalte first, then Jamie would ride in. It had been risky for
them both. The Apache were a warlike people, and Nalte was known to hate
the white man. But he had a reputation, too--one for upholding his own