“Let her go!” Joe demanded.
Talbot gave him a shove that sent him into the dirt. “Keep yer hands off me, you stinkin’ Apache. Andy, get your butt down here and help me search this squaw!”
But his friend didn’t comply. He was frozen by the sight of the dozen mounted Apaches who had closed in on the wagon. “Stan, you better quit that right now. We got trouble,” he said as one ancient old man urged his horse toward Talbot.
“Let her go,” Consayka ordered.
His voice was soft and cracked with age, but there was no denying the power of it. Startled, Talbot looked around and realized he was outnumbered.
With one hand dug tightly into Skylar’s arm, he whipped out his revolver and pointed at the old man. “You get yourself and these braves back, old man, or you’re gonna be a dead Injun.”
“When you let her go, we will move. You cannot kill all of us.”
The commotion had drawn considerable attention from the other Apaches, and even more were gathering around the wagon. Talbot saw his life 125
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passing before his eyes, but he was too cussed stubborn to give in. He raised the gun and pointed it at Consayka’s heart.
With a strangled cry, Skylar lunged for the gun, trying to shove it upward. Her movement set them both off balance, and Talbot fell heavily against the wagon. His gun discharged in the air, and the horses shied away.
A second later Talbot heard the thundering charge of horses approaching, and he cast Skylar away from him, pushing her so hard that she fell to the ground.
“Make way! Make way!” someone ordered, and the Mescaleros scattered as a half-dozen cavalrymen charged through them. Only Consayka and the Verdes held their ground.
“Private, what’s going on here?” Lieutenant Zaranski demanded, gun drawn as he glared down at the soldier.
“Norris and me was searchin’ this wagon just like you ordered, an’ these Apaches tried to bushwhack us.”
“That’s a lie,” Skylar said, her voice trembling with anger and the remnants of her fear.
“I beg your pardon?” Zaranski said, looking around to see who had spoken.
Skylar stumbled to her feet and stepped toward him. “I said that man is lying,” she repeated. “He was using the search of this wagon as an excuse to assault me. My friends were only trying to protect me.”
Zaranski stared down at her with a combination of bemusement and irritation. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought himself in some grand lady’s parlor in Philadelphia. “You speak English.”
Skylar sighed heavily. “That’s right, Lieutenant. And so do all of the Mescaleros you see here.”
Zaranski nodded. “Ah, you must be the Apaches from Rancho Verde that Mr. Newsome was telling me about.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re the one Newsome uses as an interpreter, isn’t that correct?”
he asked.
“I have acted in that capacity, yes,” Skylar replied.
“Well, we have our own interpreter, so don’t expect any special treatment,”
he said somewhat haughtily.
“We have asked for none,” Skylar said tightly. “But we do not expect to be singled out and abused, either.”
Zaranski wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he looked at Consayka.
“Are you the chief of this band?”
“Yes.”
“Well, get them loaded up and join the others. Everyone with horses will be allowed to keep them, but you’ll have to be responsible for feeding and 126
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watering them yourselves. When it comes to forage, remember that the army’s livestock comes first. Understood?”
Consayka nodded. “We understand. Are you going to punish the soldier who attacked my daughter?”
Zaranski looked at Talbot, who had slowly edged away from the circle of Indians. “I believe Private Talbot has learned his lesson. Have a care in dealing with these people, Private,” he warned lightly. “We don’t want any more misunderstandings.”
“Yes, sir.”
The lieutenant looked at the soldier on his right. “Sergeant, get these people moving again.” With that, Zaranski wheeled his horse and returned to the agency headquarters. The sergeant’s command to load up came a little late, since the Verdes had all started climbing back into the wagon.
Still trembling from her disgusting encounter with Talbot, Skylar gingerly fingered the darkening bruises on her arm and tried to ignore the similar pain in her breasts. “That will happen again, won’t it?” she asked Joe quietly, too embarrassed to look at him.
He kept his eyes straight forward as he urged the mules into motion. “You should never go anywhere alone until we reach Rio Alto,” he advised.
It was good advice, but it was less than reassuring. If Talbot or someone like him wanted to have his way with any of the Mescalero women, a witness or two wouldn’t stop him. Any of the soldiers could kill an Apache, claim self-defense, and be heralded as a hero. Conversely, any Apache who tried to defend himself or herself would be shot without question.
Sickened by the injustice of a situation she couldn’t change or control, Skylar glanced at the growing number of Mescaleros gathered at the agency.
When she saw Sun Hawk looking at her, his face set into a hard, unreadable mask of marble, she looked away, too humiliated to hold his gaze.
She didn’t see that his hands were clasped in barely controlled rage.
It took most of the day to count the four hundred Mescaleros and get them on the trail. Captain Haggarty, commander of the cavalry detail charged with moving the Apaches, was anxious to get on his way despite the fact that more than a dozen braves and several of their women were missing. He wasted no time looking for them, since they were undoubtedly long gone, probably making their way to Mexico.
Before they moved out, Skylar was able to place her letter to her family in Newsome’s hands, and he promised to post it as soon as possible. What she considered truly miraculous, though, was that he had quietly given her the balance of the money Rayna had sent to him as a consideration for handling Skylar’s correspondence. It wasn’t much, but it could come in handy.
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They were less than ten miles from the western boundary of the reservation when they made camp for the night. Some of the soldiers erected tents, but there was no shelter for the Mescalero. They spread out as much as the soldiers would allow and built their fires.
The huge sea of humanity hemmed in like animals in a pen sickened Skylar, but she did her share of the work as always. Though fetching water was considered woman’s work, Joe Long Horn and the other braves accompa-nied the women to and from the nearby stream. No one commented on it, but Skylar knew they were hoping their numbers would prevent a repeat of this morning’s attack. Fortunately the soldiers kept their distance, and Skylar was relieved that she didn’t spot Talbot all evening.
When darkness came, the camp fell silent, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional wail of an infant or the abrupt bark of a laughing soldier.
Conversations around the campfire were hushed, and nearly all of the Mescaleros laid out their blankets early and tried to sleep.
Skylar made her bed alongside Gatana, but before they could retire, a shifting shadow that Skylar recognized instantly as Sun Hawk approached stealthily and crouched in front of Consayka.
Skylar studied his face in the light of the fire and found it as unreadable as it had been moments after Talbot’s assault on her.