Apache Tears

Book 18: Panorama of the Old West

by Georgina Gentry

Genres: Historical Fiction; Sagas; Historical Romance

Synopsis

In the midst of the Apache wars, a fiery heiress is captured by a halfindian scout named Couger who will figh tagainst his own desire for this tempting woman. Original.

Release date: December 1, 1999

Publisher: Zebra

Print pages: 352

Sample

“But I’m not sure I want to marry the lieutenant!” Elizabeth Winters pouted as she leaned back against the bouncing seat of the stagecoach and brushed a stray red tendril away from her face.

Mrs. Everett, her gray-haired guardian, mopped her sweating jowls and glared at her. “My stars! Libbie, don’t be difficult. Of course you’re going to marry young Van Harrington! Must I remind you that your inheritance is almost gone? Now, let’s hear no more—and put a smile on that pretty face! We’re about to arrive at the fort.”

She would have to do as she was told, Libbie thought with a frown of despair as the stagecoach pulled through the gates in a cloud of dust. What other options did she have? Her parents had spoiled her and granted their only child’s every wish, but they were gone now and her fortune seemed to have melted away. Since her mother’s old friend had become her guardian, Libbie seemed to have a voice in almost nothing. Now even her heavily mortgaged California mansion had been sold to pay expenses. With increasing frustration, Libbie had reacted by becoming as difficult as possible.

Now she forced herself to smile as she peered out the window at the passing action on the parade grounds, soldiers coming and going, the orderly rows of adobe buildings shimmering in the early morning heat. “I must say I like what I’ve seen of Arizona Territory.”

“Pah!” Mrs. Everett wiped dust and sweat from her beefy face with a dainty handkerchief. “It’s a savage land, fit only for savages! Lieutenant Van Harrington must have been out of his mind to request an assignment like this. Thank the heavens we’re on to Boston tomorrow!”

The sun was just rising over the hills to the east, painting the scene all red and gold and purple. Libbie caught her breath at the distant beauty of the untamed landscape surrounding the fort as the stagecoach pulled to a halt with a jangle of harness in the square of the parade grounds. Libbie brushed the dust from her green silk gown and felt the confining heat of her corset and long petticoats. Like it or not, it had already been decided that she would marry the wealthy young blue blood late next spring when Libbie graduated from Miss Priddy’s Female Academy in Boston only two weeks before she turned eighteen.

At least, marriage would get her out from under Mrs. Everett’s thumb. Although she’d only met him a couple of times, she remembered that Lieutenant Phillip Van Harrington was handsome and he did write lovely letters. Maybe she could make the lieutenant dance to her tune; men had always been smitten by her beauty.

The rangy old driver swung down from the seat and came around to open the door, slapping his Western hat against his leg, dust billowing as he opened the stage door. “Here we are, ladies.”

“My stars! What a godforsaken place!” Mrs. Everett snapped as he helped her down from the coach. Then she turned sternly to Libbie. “Don’t forget your parasol! You mustn’t take a chance on that sun ruining your skin.”

“But I like the feel of the sun on my face,” Libbie argued with a haughty shake of her fiery hair.

“Libbie, ladies do not have sun-tanned skin, and the Lieutenant expects to get a lady. Need I say more?”

Feeling both angry and helpless, Libbie sighed with frustration and snapped open the lace parasol. In the times she had seen the sun-drenched skies of this wild, fierce land as she passed through from California to Boston, she had come to love the desert and the vast landscape she had seen from the train window. But of course, her guardian was right; ladies were admired for their pale, delicate skin, and with her fair complexion, she tended to freckle anyway.

Damn! Someday, she thought, and gritted her teeth, someday I’ll be of age and then I’ll defy Mrs. Everett and do as I wish. No you won’t, she thought as she stepped from the coach, the wedding is planned for a few days before your eighteenth birthday. After you marry Phillip, he will make all your decisions for you. Well he might boss me, but he won’t make me like it.

Even as she thought that, there was the lieutenant striding toward her; mid-twenties, tall, handsome, and broad-shouldered with blue eyes under sandy hair and a square, mannish jaw. It was only his pale mustache, his thin, tight lips, and his manner that made him seem a little prissy, she thought.

“Ah, Mrs. Everett, and Elizabeth, my dear! Did you have a good trip?”

Mrs. Everett wiped her beefy face and grumbled about the heat, but Libbie nodded as he bent to kiss her hand. “Yes, Phillip, actually, we did, although it is a long way from the train.”

“Beastly country!” Phillip snorted. “Snakes and savages! I can hardly wait to return to Philadelphia and civilization.” Now he turned his warmest smile on her pouty guardian. “Ah, so glad to see you again, dear lady! I’m sorry about the heat! Arizona is hell for civilized people.”

Mrs. Everett simpered at him like a schoolgirl. “It was made agreeable only by the knowledge that you were waiting for us, dear boy. Isn’t that right, Libbie?”

“What?” Libbie barely heard her. A man had caught her attention; a tall, big-shouldered, dark-skinned savage who leaned against the corner of a nearby adobe building and watched her with startling blue eyes in his dark, square-jawed face. More shocking was that he was bare-chested, wearing only a skimpy loincloth, knee-high buckskin moccasins, and an interesting necklace of silver and turquoise beads set off by tear-shaped black gemstones that hung against his massive, muscled chest. His black, straight hair reached almost to his shoulders and a red headband held it in place. She studied him carefully. He was perhaps three or four years younger than Phillip, but already much more of a man than the lieutenant would ever be.

The savage stared at her in a bold, impudent way that sent a chill of either fear or anticipation up her back; Libbie wasn’t sure which.

Ndolkah leaned against the building and studied the haughty white girl who stared at him with such frank curiosity. So this was the future wife of the arrogant lieutenant. Everyone at the fort had been saying she would visit as she passed through from California on her return to school back East.

She was very beautiful and very young, Ndolkah forced himself to admit, noting the early morning sun glinting off the red hair that peeked from beneath her expensive hat with its sweeping plumes. The lace parasol partially shaded the pale complexion. Her green eyes matched her fashionable dress, and the bustle only accentuated her small waist and the creamy swell of her bosom. Libbie, the lieutenant had called her. A better name for the flame-haired beauty would be Blaze, Ndolkah thought. Yet she was more than beautiful; there was something about her that hinted that behind that ladylike manner, she was also as rebellious and headstrong as a wild mustang filly. One thing was certain—this beauty was too much woman for the prim tenderfoot lieutenant to tame. Ndolkah smiled ever so slightly at the thought.

“Elizabeth,” Phillip scolded, “what are you looking at?”

She knew she shouldn’t stare, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the virile, half-naked man leaning against the adobe building. “Who is that?”

Phillip turned to look. “That half-breed savage?” he snorted. “Ndolkah, one of my Apache scouts; old Mac McGuire’s son. Hey you, Cougar!” He shouted and made a gesture of dismissal, “haven’t you got work to do?”

Ndolkah nodded to the English translation of his Apache name, gave the lieutenant a mocking half-salute, and looked boldly into Libbie’s eyes before turning and sauntering away.

Libbie took a deep breath, unnerved from the frank appraisal of his gaze, but she watched him go, his long-legged stride accenting the hard muscles of his tanned, naked back. The nerve of that scout! His blue eyes had seemed to taunt her; almost seemed to undress her with his look as he left. “Ndolkah,” she murmured, “what does it mean?”

Phillip made a gesture of annoyance. “Cougar, or so the Apache tell me.”

Cougar. Yes, that name fitted him, Libbie thought, watching him saunter away with easy grace; tawny skin, muscular as a wild animal, moving with a powerful gait.

“He’s an arrogant devil,” Phillip snapped, “if he weren’t so darned good as a scout, and old Mac’s son, I’d let him go, and I may have to have him whipped yet.”

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you, Phillip,” Libbie blurted without thinking, “he looks like he could take you in a fight.”

“What did you say?” Phillip asked.

Mrs. Everett’s fat face paled. “Libbie said she’s really looking forward to tonight, didn’t you, dear?”

Libbie sighed at her prompting. “Yes, of course.”

Phillip beamed at the pair as he barked orders to some enlisted men about handling the ladies’ luggage. “Oh, yes, I did write you that we’d planned a ball in your honor?” He took Libbie’s elbow and they walked along the wooden sidewalk, her guardian puffing in their wake. “There’s not much excitement out here at Fort Grant except trying to keep the savages from attacking settlers. I’m still hoping to get into a real battle and avenge my father’s death.” He smiled at Libbie and pulled at the sandy mustache above his thin, tight lips. “I’m sure you’d be pleased if I won a medal or two. If I’m lucky, I might get assigned to the President’s staff.”

“Isn’t it tragic about the shooting?” Mrs. Everett asked, puffing along behind them.

“Yes,” Phillip flung over his shoulder. “If Garfield doesn’t survive his wounds, I guess I can kiss that promotion good-bye.”

“Really, Phillip,” Libbie said before she thought, “you might show a little compassion for the President! After Lincoln, I’m sure the country thought we’d never have another assassination attempt.”

Mrs. Everett poked her in the back again—hard. “We’d be thrilled if you won some medals, wouldn’t we, Libbie?”

Libbie gritted her teeth and smiled prettily at him from under her parasol. “Of course, Phillip; every woman loves a hero.”

Behind her, Mrs. Everett said, “And they’d look so good on your uniform in the wedding.”

He threw a smile at the woman over his shoulder. “By then, I hope to be transferred back to Washington, whether the President survives or not.”

“My stars! How exciting!” The dowager fanned herself as she puffed along. “Isn’t that exciting, Libbie?”

“Hm? Oh, yes,” Libbie said, stifling a yawn. “Somehow, I was hoping we’d stay out here. This is beautiful country; wild and untamed and savage.” In her mind’s eye, she saw the half-naked scout and the intimate way his blue eyes had assessed her. His bold gaze had said: I want to possess you; to strip away all that civilization along with that green silk dress.

“Ye gods, my dear, you must be joking!” Phillip snorted and patted the hand looped through his arm. “No civilized person would want to live out here; only the Apache feel at home in this wild country.”

In her mind’s eye, she saw the Apache scout galloping across this sun-splashed wilderness—uncivilized, untamed and free. In her imagination, he reached for her, swung her up on his pinto stallion, and galloped away with her.

“Elizabeth, are you all right?” Phillip peered anxiously at her as they paused on the sidewalk. “Your face is flushed.”

Oh, dear God, if he should even guess at what she’d been thinking ...

“It’s this blasted heat,” Mrs. Everett said behind them, “and Libbie is such a delicate, high-strung lady. Thank goodness I brought some smelling salts!”

Smelling salts? What she needed was to get out of this corset and long petticoats. “I’m fine.” She gave her escort a haughty shake of her head.

“Here we are.” Phillip paused in front of an adobe building and opened the door. “I’m afraid this is the best we have to offer—not good enough for real ladies, but I’m afraid it will have to do.” He stepped aside so they could enter.

Mrs. Everett beamed up at him, still fanning herself with a lace hankie. “You’re such a dear boy! I knew I was making the right decision when I introduced you two at that Christmas ball!”

Phillip took her beefy hand and kissed it. “And let me assure you, sweet lady, that I will never forget the favor you did me in doing so! When I marry Elizabeth, there will always be room for her guardian at our home.”

“Go along with you, Lieutenant.” Mrs. Everett giggled like a schoolgirl as they entered and looked around.

It was much cooler inside the thick adobe walls. The room was primitive in its furnishing—a pair of beds, a chest, several chairs, and a Navaho rug spread on the wood floor. There was a big tin tub in the corner and Libbie looked toward it with longing.

The soldiers had followed and now put the luggage down. The lieutenant dismissed them curtly and they saluted and left. Libbie had a distinct feeling that the lowly soldiers didn’t like the young aristocrat any better than Cougar did, but they weren’t arrogant as he had been.

“Now, Elizabeth, dear,” Phillip said as he bustled about opening the windows, “I’ll have a girl sent over with food and bathwater. You two can rest until this evening.”

“Oh, but I don’t want to rest,” Libbie protested as she closed her parasol with a snap. “I want to see as much as possible; maybe go riding.”

“But there’s nothing to see! ” Mrs. Everett looked aghast.

“Damn it. You don’t have to go,” Libbie said. Her patience with the woman was wearing thin.

“Libbie!” Her guardian gasped. “What on earth will Phillip think about a girl who swears? Can’t you say ‘darn it,’ or ‘drat,’ or something?”

“I say what I mean,” Libbie answered with a toss of her fiery curls.

“Never mind, dear Mrs. Everett,” Phillip’s thin lips forced a smile. “I’m sure when we’re wed, I can tame the lady and teach her proper behavior.”

Tame the lady. Damn it, she didn’t want, didn’t intend, to be tamed. Libbie looked at Mrs. Everett’s stricken face and remembered their financial situation. With a sigh, she turned her most charming smile on the wealthy young officer. “I would love to go riding. I do ride very well, Phillip.”

He took out his handkerchief and mopped his face. “Ye gods! Really, my dear, Mrs. Everett is right; there’s nothing to see but desert and hills and savages.”

She favored him with her most pretty pout. “I must warn you that I’m quite spoiled, Phillip; Daddy did that. I usually get what I want.”

“I can indulge you a little now, my dear,” Phillip frowned, “but of course, when we’re married, I’ll expect unquestioned obedience, as any husband would.”

When we’re married. Libbie sank down on a chair and took off her hat. She barely understood what it was a married couple did in bed, but she was certain it was awkward and embarrassing. The more she thought about Phillip taking off her nightdress and kissing her breasts with his thin, prim mouth and that wispy mustache, the more she was sure she wouldn’t like it at all.

“My stars!” said Mrs. Everett, “Libbie looks faint.”

Phillip came over to her chair. “My dear?” He took her hand and rubbed it anxiously. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

His hands were as pale and delicate as her own, Libbie thought and imagined the Apache scout’s dark, big hands. They would be strong and hard. She had a sudden vision of his full, sensual lips kissing her breasts. She felt an unexpected surge of excitement and took a deep breath. “Mrs. Everett is right, Phillip, I’m tired and need some rest.”

“Fine.” Phillip backed toward the door.

“However, I’d still like to go riding later this morning.” Libbie stood up. “I wish I didn’t have to use a sidesaddle.”

“Libbie!” Mrs. Everett rolled her eyes. “You mustn’t shock young Phillip with your jokes.”

“I’m not joking,” Libbie pouted.

The lieutenant paused at the door. “Of course you are, my dear.” He used the smug tone of a condescending father to a not very bright child. “Very well, I’ll bring horses over about ten and we’ll go riding. However, we won’t get too far out of sight of the fort. There’s a lot of unrest among these savages right now, and you’d be a delicious prize to any of those bucks.”

Mrs. Everett gasped at the image his words presented, but Libbie felt an unaccustomed thrill run through her. “Thank you, Phillip.”

He smiled and bowed. “Ten o’clock it is then. I’ll send a girl with food and bathwater.”

Libbie watched him walk away from the door. He might be handsome, but even the way Phillip walked was prissy.

Mrs. Everett sighed with relief and closed the door. “My stars! What on earth were you thinking, young lady?” she snapped as she turned on Libbie. “The Van Harringtons have a high position in Philadelphia society; Phillip will marry a girl only if he thinks she is a real lady and as blue-blooded and proper as he himself.”

“He’s a prissy prig,” Libbie frowned as she began to unbutton the green silk.

“But he’s a rich prissy prig,” Mrs. Everett said as she came over to help Libbie with her dress. “I went to a lot of trouble arranging to come by here on the way back to Boston so he could be reminded of how pretty you are. Phillip Van Harrington is quite a catch, my dear, and the only son of a prominent Philadelphia society leader.”

“I don’t care,” Libbie sighed and stood up so her guardian could unhook the back of the green silk gown and begin to unlace her corset.

“You will care when you’re out of money, Elizabeth Winters,” the dumpy lady huffed as she struggled with the laces. “Now that we’ve sold your parents’ home in California, that money should last less than a year, considering the fancy wedding we’ll have to put on. But by then, we’ll be into the Van Harrington wealth and won’t have to worry anymore.”

“I’m not worried,” Libbie protested. “Money isn’t important to me; freedom is.”

“Easy to say when you’ve always lived in the lap of luxury,” the other scolded, “but I haven’t. As your mother’s close friend, I’m trying to look after your best interests.”

“My inheritance seems to have just melted away in the six years since their deaths in that railroad mishap,” Libbie thought aloud. “I thought Daddy told me I would have plenty to keep me in the lap of luxury the rest of my days.”

“Well, your father misfigured.” She didn’t look at Libbie as she began to unpack their luggage. “Expenses are higher than expected. Besides, it costs a fortune to keep you in that fancy Boston school.” She sounded defensive and angry.

Why was the plump woman so upset?

“You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go to Miss Priddy’s Academy. You just enrolled me.” Libbie stepped out of her dress.

“You are not only spoiled, you are unappreciative!” Mrs. Everett took the gown, shook it, and hung it up without looking at Libbie. “Besides, it takes a lot to live the way we live; that’s all.”

“That’s your choice, not mine,” Libbie complained. “Except for horseback riding, my life is dull, dull, dull! And I don’t care a fig about fine clothes and society balls—and I hate living back East!”

“You could at least think of me,” her guardian complained as she fanned her damp face with a kerchief, “and if you weren’t so silly and immature, you would care about all the good things money can buy. Don’t let young Phillip see how spoiled and headstrong you are, or even your beauty might not be enough to cinch this deal. Remember, you might not get another chance at such a fine catch!”

Libbie whirled around. She started to answer that Mrs. Everett seemed more interested in her own comfort than Libbie’s happiness, but decided she was wasting her time.

“Now what are you pouting about?” her guardian demanded.

“Nothing,” Libbie said, and bit back a torrent of anger. At seventeen, she was underage and helpless; Mrs. Everett had complete control and would until she handed her ward over to Phillip on their wedding day. Libbie would never get to make any decisions on her own; she was powerless to do anything but sulk and make life difficult for those who commanded her life.

“That’s more like it.” Mrs. Everett brushed a wisp of gray hair back into her bun and began to shake out clothes and hang them up. “By the way, I saw the way you stared at that half-naked savage with such boldness. It’s a wonder your fiancé didn’t take offense.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Yes, you were. Proper ladies keep their eyes downcast.”

“Then it’s a wonder more of them don’t collide with walls and furniture,” Libbie snapped.

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady!” Her voice was as stern as her plain face as she returned to her unpacking. “We came by the fort just to dangle you like a carrot in front of the lieutenant’s nose to remind him what a prize he’s going to get next spring when you graduate.”

“Damn it, I don’t want to be a prize!” Libbie complained, flopping down on the bed, “I want to laugh every time I think of what it will feel like on our wedding night when he takes my nightgown off. His mustache will tickle.”

Mrs. Everett paused and gasped, plump hand to her throat. “My stars! Such thoughts from an innocent girl! I’m frankly appalled! Remember that a woman is expected to do her duty in her husband’s bed. Give him some heirs as quickly as possible and think of the money and prestige that goes with the union; that’s the most a girl can expect.”

“But I want more than that,” Libbie insisted, “I expect him to make me want him to take off my nightdress, to thrill me with his kisses—”

“You must stop reading those trashy romance novels those naughty girls hide under their mattresses at Miss Priddy’s,” the lady scolded, shaking her finger in Libbie’s face. “What’s really important is making a secure match so we’ll both have comfort the rest of our days.”

“But I want love and excitement, and most of all, freedom!” Libbie’s green eyes blazed.

“Then you expect too much”—the other shrugged—“especially for women of your social class—”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, and Mrs. Everett turned and called out, “Yes?”

“Your breakfast, señora, ” a woman’s voice called, “and some bathwater.”

The plump matron opened the door and gestured. “Bring it in.”

A pretty Indian girl entered with a tray. Libbie rolled over on the bed to stare at the girl and smiled. “Hello.”

But the girl glared at her. “I am Shashké, your maid.”

Libbie nodded and watched her. The Indian girl was about Libbie’s own age—maybe seventeen or so, but dark, and her drab clothes hid a voluptuous body. A bright red flower was tucked in her black hair. Now why would the girl frown at her?

Libbie watched the girl set up a breakfast tray. “Is Shashké an Apache word?”

“Yes.” The sultry girl did not smile. “I am named for the month I was born; whites call it January.”

“You are very pretty.” Libbie smiled.

The girl scowled. “My husband thinks so.”

Mrs. Everett hissed at Libbie under her breath. “Don’t be so democratic to the help; it isn’t seemly for a lady. You,” she addressed the Apache girl in a loud command, “get on with your work.”

Libbie was embarrassed by her guardian’s behavior, but she kept silent. She sat on the edge of the bed and Mrs. Everett drew up a chair. There was steaming strong coffee, fresh oranges, and warm tortillas with scrambled eggs and fried pork covered with spicy hot sauce. Libbie thought the food delicious and dug in with gusto, while her guardian complained about the peppery fare. The hostile Apache girl said nothing as she filled the tub with buckets of hot water carried in from a cart outside.

Libbie finished her food and pushed her plate away, curious about the Apache girl. “Have you worked at the fort long?”

The girl paused, eyeing her sullenly. “Not too long. My people are camped to the south of the fort.”

“Libbie,” Mrs. Everett reminded her, “you shouldn’t talk to the servants. You’re interfering with the girl doing her job.”

“No, I’m not,” Libbie said.

The Indian girl finished filling the tub and frowned at Libbie. “You are as Ndolkah said, very beautiful,” Shashké admitted grudgingly and her dark eyes shone with anger.

“Thank you,” Libbie answered, still puzzled by the dark beauty’s hostility. Why would the Apache girl be discussing Libbie with the scout? Was it only idle curiosity or was there more here than met the eye? Could the pair be a couple? A feeling passed over Libbie at the thought of the virile scout holding Shashké, touching her with the hot intimacy his gaze had hinted at as they swept over Libbie in such frank appraisal.

She had a sudden vision of the pair locked together in a torrid embrace and shook her head to chase the image away. To clear her thoughts, she asked, “Will you be at the dance tonight?”

The girl hesitated, then smiled, but there was no mirth in her face. “Of course. Someone has to serve the punch and clean up after the white people’s dinner.”

“You arrogant wench!” Mrs. Everett rose to snap at the Apache girl, “Get out of here before I report how uppity you are!”

Shashké turned and fled out the door.

Libbie frowned at the other. “There was no need to do that.”

“That Injun wench was forgetting her place!” The guardian shrugged as she went over to the luggage and began to arrange Libbie’s fancy soaps and delicate undergarments on a chair. “Almost as arrogant as that Injun buck this morning. How dare he stare at you that way!”

“I didn’t notice,” Libbie lied. “I’m sure you misread his intentions.”

“Hah! An idiot could have seen what he was thinking as he looked at you. Imagine the effrontery of that savage thinking about you with lust—”

“Oh, please, you exaggerate.” Libbie took off her corset and lace pantalets, then slipped into the tub of steaming water with a satisfied sigh. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the tub, feeling the warmth against her skin and remembering the way Cougar’s eyes had caressed her with heated emotion. If he truly belonged to Shashké, Libbie felt guilty about her strong attraction to the scout.

“Everybody knows Injuns can’t be trusted,” the other woman said as she bustled about, getting out fresh lace underthings for Libbie.

“Don’t be silly, Mrs. Everett, these Indians work for the whites.”

“That one scout looks like he wears no man’s cellar,” the other predicted dourly.

That was what had been so fascinating about him, his arrogant independence and his rugged masculinity, Libbie thought, but of course she dared not say that. Instead, she began to take down her long, fiery hair so she could wash it and wondered idly what it would feel like to have a man tangle his fingers in her locks and pull her hard against him while his hot, demanding mouth dominated hers and his strong hands covered her breasts.

Libbie closed her eyes a long moment, trembling with excitement. Mrs. Everett was right; Cougar signified danger and forbidden excitement. Libbie wondered suddenly if he would be at the dance. Abruptly, she began to look forward to the night ahead.

After her bath, Libbie put her hair up and slipped into a pale blue broadcloth riding outfit, complete with perky feathered hat and fine leather boots.

Mrs. Everett scowled at her charge. “Put. . .