For three days they had followed the winding trail alongside the Rio Grande before veering east across the northern limits of the Jornada del Muerto, a section of desert aptly named the Journey of the Dead. Water had been carefully rationed during the crossing, but it had escaped no one’s notice that the soldiers received the lion’s share of the water from the great barrels attached to the army supply wagon.
Skylar suspected that she should have been grateful to receive any water and rations at all, and she knew that Major Ashford was responsible for the relatively decent treatment she and her people—as she had come to think of them—had received. The doctor had caught up with the company the evening before they left the Rio Grande valley, and his first act upon entering camp had been to seek Skylar out and report on her father.
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Though he had not sugarcoated the news, he had encouraged her to hope that her father would survive. He had also told her about Rayna’s departure for Santa Fe. “If anyone can secure your release, she can,” he had said with a wry smile. “Your sister is a most determined young woman.”
“That she is, Major Ashford. I’ve never known her to fail at anything she tried—well, almost anything,” she had added with a shy smile.
Meade cocked his head to one side curiously. “And what might that be?”
“Her needlework is atrocious,” she whispered, as though revealing an embarrassing secret. “And her biscuits have been known to choke a mule.”
Meade laughed. “Why do I not find that difficult to believe?”
Skylar’s smile faded as she thought of her family and how much she missed them already. “Rayna’s strengths lie elsewhere, Major. She has a loving, loyal heart, and that’s worth more than all the petit-point pillows and flaky biscuits in the world.”
“Her sister has great strength, too,” Meade had said with a tender look that had bolstered Skylar’s flagging spirits.
Throughout the journey she had gathered a great deal of comfort from the doctor’s presence. He was almost always on hand to act as a buffer between the soldiers and the Apaches, and he was always quick with an encouraging smile or word for Skylar in particular. Often she found herself searching for a glimpse of him. He became almost a talisman for her, the only tangible cord that connected her to her family.
After two days of searing desert heat they had reached the foothills of the Capitan Mountains and turned south; within another day they reached the reservation. The arrival of a full cavalry company caused a great stir in the small Apache camps they passed, and long before they reached the cluster of rickety wood and adobe buildings that housed the offices of the agency, Buck Newsome, the Indian agent, had been warned of their arrival.
It was apparently ration day, and a considerable number of Mescalero had gathered at the agency. They stood in long lines in front of two wagons at the end of the compound, and Skylar wondered how two small wagons could possibly hold enough food to feed so many people.
The cavalry line eventually veered away from the agency buildings, and the wagon jolted to a halt. Somewhere in front of the team, Skylar could hear Captain Greenleigh’s voice, but his words were indistinct. Private Gless, however, was all too understandable as he stepped to the end of the wagon and unceremoniously ordered everyone out. Some of the old women moved too slowly to suit the trooper, and he took a perverse pleasure in hurrying them up by grabbing them roughly and all but slinging them onto the ground.
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Throughout the journey Skylar had stayed close to Tsa’kata, and she did the same now, holding the old woman’s arm to balance her as she moved to the wagon gate. They were the last out, and when Gless yanked at Tsa’kata’s arm, Skylar tried to protest.
“Please, Private. There’s no need to hurt her. I’ll help her out.”
“You just get out here yourself, squaw, and let me worry about the old woman,” he growled.
“That’s enough of that, Private. Let her go.”
Skylar looked up and wasn’t at all surprised to see Major Ashford, still mounted, scowling down at Gless. She flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Major.” Moving quickly, she jumped out of the wagon and helped Tsa’kata down.
“That will be all, Private Gless,” Meade said as he dismounted. “I’ll handle it from here.”
Gless hesitated a moment, then joined his fellows some distance away.
Skylar watched him go. “I’ll be glad to see the last of him,” she told Meade.
“He enjoys hurting people.”
“I’m sorry to say he’s not the only such man in the army,” Meade replied.
Skylar looked toward the agency and caught sight of Captain Greenleigh.
“No, he isn’t.”
Meade followed her glance. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to see the last of him, too.”
Skylar’s answering smile was gentleness personified. “That I will, but I shall regret your departure, Major Ashford. I shudder to think how much more difficult this journey would have been without you along. You have been more than kind.”
Meade smiled down at the young lady who had become a study in para-dox to him. Except for her youth and beauty, she looked no different from any of the other Apaches, yet her manner rivaled that of any gently bred lady of his acquaintance. Even Libby, for all her quiet compassion, couldn’t hold a candle to Skylar Templeton.
Unbidden, Meade thought of the other Miss Templeton and wondered how two young women raised in the same household by the same loving parents, given the same education, could be so different in personality and temperament. Given Skylar’s brief Apache upbringing, he would have expected her to be the more aggressive of the two, and yet she was not. Rayna was fire, and Skylar was a draft of cool, soothing water.
But that wasn’t his concern, he tried to remind himself. In a short while both the Templeton ladies would be out of his life forever. To his great irritation he suspected that Rayna would be more difficult to forget. She hadn’t been far from his thoughts for a minute since he’d left Rancho Verde.
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“Come,” he said, offering Skylar his arm. “I think we should have a talk with Mr. Newsome, the agent. I want to explain your situation to him.”
“Does he have the power to release me?”
Meade shook his head. “I don’t believe so, but he should be made aware that your incarceration is unfounded and possibly even unlawful. It might secure better treatment for you and your friends.”
“I wonder if that would be wise, Major,” Skylar said with concern. “If we are treated differently, it might cause resentment among the other Mescalero.”
“I don’t believe talking to Newsome can hurt anything. From what I’ve heard about him, it’s unlikely that he’ll be more generous with your friends, but your sister made it clear to me that we were to leave the wagon and teams with you, and I want to be certain that Newsome doesn’t try to confiscate them. I also want it made clear that you aren’t to be mistreated in any fashion.”
Skylar lifted her head, trying to replace fear with pride. “Once you are gone, Major Ashford, I fear nothing will guarantee that.”
Meade didn’t know how to respond, because she was absolutely right.
Anything could happen. Encouraging words failed him, and all he could do was introduce her to Buck Newsome and hope for the best. With any luck, Rayna had already secured her sister’s release and someone would arrive soon with the appropriate papers to get Skylar off the reservation and back where she belonged.