“It was worth it, Libby. It gave me some much-needed time away from Fort Apache, and I learned a great deal about the new surgical procedures that are being introduced. At the time, trading attendance of that course for an additional two years of service to the army seemed like a good deal.”
“Well, it wasn’t.”
“In your opinion.”
She glanced up at him. “Hasn’t Case told you? In this house, my opinion is the only one that counts.”
Meade laughed because he knew that was far from the truth. The love and respect Case and Libby felt for each other had made their marriage one of harmony and equality. In the beginning Meade had violently opposed his sister’s relationship with the Apache army scout who had been raised and educated by frontiersman Jedidiah Longstreet after Case’s parents were murdered.
Even after their love was put to the ultimate test and survived, Meade had still had reservations.
He couldn’t deny, though, that despite the prejudice they often encountered, they had made a good life together. Case was respected and accepted by most of their neighbors because they knew that his close ties with the nearby reservation Apaches was responsible for much of the serenity they enjoyed at a time when most ranchers in Arizona lived in constant fear for their lives and property.
“Laugh at me if you like, Meade, but I won’t rest easy until you’re back here in October.”
Meade sobered as he studied his sister’s worried countenance.
Thoughtfully he reached out and touched the medallion hanging from the turquoise and silver choker that encircled her throat. Four eagle feathers representing Case, Libby, and their two children were suspended from the medallion, which was carved with the symbol of the Thunder Eagle, Case’s guiding spirit. The necklace had been a gift from her husband, a legacy left to him by his parents, and Libby wore it only on special occasions.
“Libby, does your concern for me have anything to do with this?” he asked as he fingered the medallion. “Has Case had a vision about me?”
The question surprised Libby so much that she couldn’t keep from smiling.
“Why, Meade! I didn’t think you believed in Case’s visions.”
“I don’t,” he said quickly, then hesitated. “But I do have to admit that he sometimes has an uncanny ability to foretell coming events.”
“Like Geronimo’s outbreak?” she asked slyly, remembering the somewhat heated discussion Case and Meade had engaged in when her husband tried to warn her brother that the Chiricahua was stirring up trouble.
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“Oh, well, that . . . that could probably be attributed to rumors he’d heard around the reservation.”
“Or a vision from the Thunder Eagle.”
Meade raised one eyebrow again. “Of the two explanations, I prefer the former.”
Libby laughed. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever known, but I do love you.”
She looked at him expectantly, as though innocently waiting for a new topic of conversation to crop up, and the small silence extended into a long one as Meade wrestled with his pride. Damn her, she was going to make him ask for it.
“Well? Has Case had a vision about me?” he finally demanded with a burst of disgust at his own curiosity and superstition.
“No,” she assured him with a smug chuckle.
“Would you tell me if he had?”
Libby thought it over. “Probably, though I doubt that Case would tell me if he foresaw some tragedy ahead for you. He would be far more likely to warn you directly.”
“I wonder about that,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said smoothly. “Nothing at all.”
The front door opened wide, spilling another patch of light onto the shadowy porch, and Case stepped into the doorway. “Cida’ké? I’m sorry to interrupt, but our guests are beginning to ask about you.” The tall, broad-shouldered Apache smiled at his brother-in-law. “And Miss Metcalf is organizing a scouting party to track you down.”
“Typical,” Meade muttered as Libby went to her husband and slipped her arms around his waist.
“I’m sorry I abandoned you, beloved. I’ll see to our guests while you talk to Meade.” She turned a pair of sparkling brown eyes on her brother. “I believe he has a question to ask you.” She stretched up, brushing her lips lightly against her husband’s, and Meade felt a swift stab of envy. He didn’t really believe in the kind of romantic love Case and Libby felt for each other, yet lately he found himself becoming more and more envious of their relationship.
Of course he rationalized the emotion by convincing himself that it had only to do with the kind of woman Libby was. She was truly a lady—a gentle, loving, nurturing spirit who seemed too fragile for this world, or any other.
Yet beneath that gentility lurked a core of iron, capable of withstanding the worst the world could throw at her. Case Longstreet was a very lucky man.
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hadn’t happened yet, though, and it seemed unlikely that it ever would, since Libby was one of a kind.
She disappeared into the house, closing the door behind her, and Case joined his brother-in-law at the porch rail. “What did you want to ask me?”
Wild horses couldn’t have dragged his question about Case’s visions out of him this time. “Nothing. Libby was just teasing me.”
“She’s very concerned about you,” Case noted.
“I know. Frankly I’m concerned about her, too. Are you sure Libby and the children are going to be safe here, Case?” he asked bluntly. “Perhaps you should send her to Fort Apache until Geronimo is captured.”
“That’s not necessary,” Case replied with the certainty that never failed to irritate Meade. He was always so damned sure of himself. And most of the time he was right, which irritated Meade even more.
“How can you guarantee that?”
“Because Geronimo will not come back here for a very long time.”
“But what about the rumors that the Chiricahua who stayed behind will take to the warpath, too? If that happens, there could be trouble here.”
Case’s dark eyes met Meade’s. “I give you my word that no harm will ever come to Libby or our children.”
Meade didn’t see any way to argue with that. If anyone could live up to that promise, it was Case Longstreet. He glanced up at the shining silver-slipper moon on the horizon. “Do you have any predictions about what the future holds, Case?”
Case smiled into the darkness. “I’m not a soothsayer, Meade.”
He sighed irritably. “Is that a yes or a no?”
The Apache was silent for a long moment as he tried to decide how much, or how little, to tell his skeptical brother-in-law. The fact that he had asked the question was remarkable in itself, but Case knew that Meade didn’t really believe that a phantom Apache spirit sometimes visited him, showing him shadowy visions of the future. Case was hesitant to relate the visions he had experienced recently, but not because he feared Meade’s ridicule. Case simply didn’t understand them all himself, and until he did, he would never speak of them to anyone. Not even Libby.
There was one thing he could relate, though. “The Gray Fox is coming back,” he said finally.
Shocked, Meade turned toward him. “General Crook is being reassigned? When?”
“That I do not know,” Case replied. “But I believe it will be soon.”
Though he wanted very much to believe it was true, Meade found it difficult—not because it was one of Case’s visions, but because he didn’t credit the army with enough good sense to bring the general back. George Crook was 30