The Peacemaker (18 page)

Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow she would find out about the next eastbound stage.

Jim Garrity walked down Officers' Row until he came to Aubrey Nolan's quarters, which he and Aubrey were to share during the next few weeks. He stood outside for a few minutes before going in to let the rain wash the mud from his body and clothes.

Aubrey's quarters reminded Jim of his West Point days. The rooms were square and stark, devoid of any furnishings, wall hangings or pictures, curtains, or bric-a-brac of any kind other than what was absolutely necessary. He had to laugh. Even his wickiup had more appeal than this.

Nevertheless, Jim made himself at home. It had been a long time since he had poured water out of a pitcher into a basin to wash himself. A long time since he had smelled lye soap. He stripped naked and washed himself clean. When he had dried off, he opened his saddlebags and took out his only other pair of buckskin trousers, put them on, and stretched out comfortably on the bed and let his mind drift.

He had been out hunting the day the colonel arrived at Bowie via the same ambulance that had later carried his daughter. He had observed him through his field glasses, a remnant, like his saddlebags, from his soldiering days. It was obvious that the man was a martinet, a career officer, who paid more attention to adhering to detail, forms, and methods than to caring about his men. Jim had seen his kind too often during the war and had come to recognize the type before he was even introduced.

Since that first day's observance, there had been several other occasions that he had seen the colonel from afar and had watched, with interest, the way he handled his troopers, leading them out on patrol into the broiling desert heat in their heavy uniforms to look for the enemy Apaches the same way he might go looking for a detail of Rebs in the hills of Tennessee. It might have been amusing if it wasn't so pathetic.

The man was a fool. Even the Apaches thought so. Jim neither liked nor respected him, not only because of the way he treated his men but also because of the way he treated his daughter.

An image of Indy's ravaged expression as she had left the reception after her father had gotten through with her came to mind and he reached for his knife, picking it up off the bedside table. He studied the blade.

There was something else about the colonel that he didn't like. He couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but it had something to do with his posture when he talked to people; his arms were always straight down to his sides and his fingers curled into his palms. It seemed to Jim awkward and unnatural and it made him uneasy.

If it weren't for Aubrey and their long-time friendship, he'd forget the bargain he and the colonel had made and walk away from Bowie, but he owed Aubrey, and he always paid his debts. For six years Aubrey Nolan had been his only link to the world he had left behind—the white man's world, his home, and his family.

Almost an hour had gone by before Captain Nolan returned to his quarters. "For God's sake, Jim. I've been looking all over for you," he said the second he opened the door.

Jim put the knife back on the table. He looked at Aubrey. "That's the same thing Sergeant Moseley said when he found me. Don't you soldier boys have anything better to do than chase after me?"

The captain carefully removed his hat and dumped the water that had collected in the crown into the washbasin. He guffawed. "If we could keep up with you maybe you wouldn't get into so damn much trouble. I've just come back from helping to clean up the mess you made and walked away from. Jesus Christ, Jim! It looked like a Goddamn massacre out there. Three bodies. One of them Chie. Nothing but blood and mud! And here you are . . . bright and clean as a new mirror and not even a scratch!"

Pretending to be grievously offended, Jim said, "Sorry about that. Next time I get attacked I'll make sure to get my throat slit or something equally as bloody."

"Very funny," Aubrey replied dryly as he bent his right leg and struggled to pull off the muddied boot. It came off with a whoosh of air and he tossed it near the door. The left one, however, refused to budge in spite of his efforts. He glanced up and saw Jim watching him.

"Need some help?"

The captain crossed the space between them and presented Jim his foot.

Jim sat up and wrapped one hand over the toe of the boot and the other behind the heel, then pulled back. The boot slid off as if the inside had been greased and hit Jim square in the chest, splattering mud all over his chest and arms.

Aubrey's brows shot up and his brown eyes flashed with amusement. "Sorry," he said, attempting to hide a grin as he reached for the boot.

"Yeah, I can see how sorry you are." Jim stood up and walked over to the washbasin and cleaned himself off for a second time. A moment later, looking composed as ever, he resumed his position on the bed.

Aubrey stripped down to his trousers and pulled a chair out from under the table and straddled it backward. "Are you going to voluntarily tell me what went on out there tonight, or am I going to have to pry it out of you word by word?"

Jim chuckled. "All you had to do was ask." His expression then grew somber and he launched into a detailed retelling of the entire evening from overhearing the colonel publicly accuse Indy of killing her family to his fight with Chie. He prudently left out the description of the intimacies he and Indy had shared.

Dumbfounded, Aubrey shook his head. "Sometimes I don't think I know you at all anymore. Like the way you came into camp the other day with that dead warrior slung over your horse, and tonight—My God, Jim! If anybody else had told me what you just told me, I would have called him a liar. One man against three Apache warriors! Armed with only a knife!"

"Four," Jim corrected him.

"Four what?"

"Four warriors. That is if you count Chie's son. I let him go."

"What do you mean you let him go?" Aubrey was incredulous.

"Hell, he was just a kid. Seventeen. Maybe eighteen. I told him to tell his people to go back to Cochise."

"What makes you think he will listen to you?" Aubrey wanted to know.

Jim hesitated. For all that he and Aubrey had remained close friends these last six years while he was living in the Valley of Thunder, he had never talked to Aubrey about the Apache way of life, their customs or beliefs. Most white men had trouble accepting the importance that the Apaches attached to their religious ceremonies and superstitions, just as the Apaches considered many of the formalities that the soldiers deemed necessary to be pure foolishness—like lining up for formal roll call instead of just getting started, or riding two by two in a line, or carrying flags.

"Because—when I killed Chie, I took his power."

"Power? What power?"

"Apaches believe that when a man dies he gives up his power. When one man kills another, he may take the dead man's power and add it to his own. The more men he kills, the more power he gains."

"That's ridiculous." Aubrey made a sour face.

"To you maybe, but not to them. It's what they believe," Jim affirmed. "The Apaches are a superstitious people. Chie was thought to have a great deal of power because he had killed many men. That qualified him as a leader among his people."

Aubrey appeared to give the information consideration. "So now . . . you have Chie's power . . . and that added to your power makes you . . . what? Their leader?" Doubt and confusion contorted his face.

"No. Let's just say that they'll think twice before they challenge me."

Aubrey stood up, took a bottle down from a shelf, uncorked it, and poured himself a whiskey. "Here's my power. Join me?"

Jim shook his head. He wasn't a drinker. He had never acquired a taste for whiskey. "You might be interested to know that Chie came here specifically looking for Indy." Aubrey choked down his first mouthful and met Jim's gaze. "I suspected he was after her that day he attacked the ambulance. You weren't carrying any supplies or anything else he would want—except Indy."

"But why would he want her? As a wife? I can't imagine that." Aubrey tapped his fingers against the side of the glass. "A slave maybe?"

"I think it was because she is the
nantan’s
daughter. He probably figured he could use her to bargain with."

"But, Jim. Women come through Apache Pass all the time. How the hell would he have known that Indy was the colonel's daughter?"

"Didn't I hear you complaining about the condition of the mail coming through San Simon? That it looked like it had been tampered with?" Jim asked.

"Well, yeah, but it's to be expected what with all-- Wait a minute. Are you suggesting that Chie intercepted the mail and read it? I never heard of an Apache who could read English."

"I'm thinking someone at San Simon reads the mail for him. Chie understands English well enough."

Aubrey stared thoughtfully at the glass he was holding. "That would explain a lot—like how the Apaches always seem to know when supplies are coming through. I'll have to investigate and find out who could be doing it."

"Good idea," Jim agreed. "The sooner the better."

Nolan started to pour himself another shot of whiskey when he stopped abruptly and did an about-face.

"Indy—she wasn't hurt was she?"

Jim gave Aubrey a considering glance. "No. She was scared half to death. Chie's horse damn near trampled her and he threatened her with his knife, but he didn't actually hurt her."

Intense relief washed over the captain's face. "Thank God." His expression abruptly changed to suspicion. "You didn't say what the two of you were doing out there so far from camp?"

Jim frowned. "Not that it's any of your business, but we were walking. I was trying to explain that she cannot be held responsible for giving her brother and mother smallpox when the whole town had it."

"I should have stayed with her at the reception," Nolan said guiltily, completely ignoring Jim's explanation. "I must have been out back rehearsing how I was going to ask the colonel for permission to call on her."

Jim came off the bed as quick as if he had discovered a rattler beneath his mattress. "Call on her? You mean as in court her?" He laughed out loud.

Nolan chuckled. "You think I'm joking? I'm not. I'm serious. I've been thinking a lot lately about getting married, settling down, and starting a family. A few weeks ago I was halfway considering taking a leave so I could go to California and look for the right girl—a girl who wouldn't mind following the drum. And then here comes Miss Independence Taylor. She's everything I would have been looking for. I don't think I could have found anyone more suitable."

"Suitable!" Jim spat the word back. "You mean because she's from a military family?"

Aubrey looked at Jim. "Well, that's just one of the reasons. There's others. She's pretty, well educated—"

Jim was incensed. "Suitable!" he said again. "That's one hell of a reason to want to marry her if you ask me."

Aubrey frowned, yet his reply was cool. "Nobody's asking you."

"Just because she was raised in a military family doesn't mean she would want to turn around and marry a military man."

"And it doesn't mean she wouldn't either. What the hell is the matter with you? You act like—" Slowly, his mouth widened into a smile and a mischievous look lit his eyes. "By damn! I should have seen it before. You're in love with her yourself!"

Jim swung around, his eyes glittering lethally. "That must be some pretty bad whiskey to get you drunk that fast."

Aubrey persisted. "It's true. Admit it. You're in love with her, aren't you?" Jim bent down and started rifling through his saddlebags. "I wish to hell you would have told me so I wouldn't have gotten myself all worked up for nothing."

"You mean now that you think I'm in love with her, you won't call on her?" At length Jim found his shirt and put it on.

"Hell no! We're friends, Jim. We've been through a lot together. I like Indy. Even care for her. But I'm not in love with her. Not yet, anyway."

Jim stood up, surprised, relieved, and more uncertain about what he was doing than ever. "I need some air. I'm going out," he replied stiffly.

Aubrey smiled benignly. "You'll be back at reveille to pick the men and start training?"

"Haven't I always kept my word?" Jim asked as he opened the door.

Aubrey nodded. "As soon as things calm down around here, maybe after the Indian commissioner has come and gone, I'll put in for that furlough and go to Los Angeles or San Francisco and find me a
suitable
woman."

Jim glanced at Aubrey over his shoulder. "Do what you want. It makes no difference to me one way or another."

"Yeah, I can see that."

The rain had let up, but the sky was still dark with clouds. Disgruntled, Jim followed the well-worn footpath in front of Officers' Row. He walked all the way to the end and found himself standing in front of Colonel Taylor's quarters. The parlor was dark.

It was no happenstance that he had walked this way. He needed to confront his feelings and see if he couldn't make some sense out of the shock of emotion that had gone through him like a fiery arrow when Aubrey had talked of Indy as a suitable wife.

The last time he'd been that emotionally upset was when nobody would believe that those four men he had killed were Reb spies. It was the utter helplessness of being unable to prove it that had made him so violently angry.

The emotions weren't exactly the same. That much he recognized. The incident with Aubrey had made him feel like his heart had been torn out of his chest. With the idiot judge who had convicted him, it was just the opposite. He had wanted to tear the judge's heart out.

Definitely not the same.

So what were his feelings? he wondered. Was he in love with Independence Taylor? He had been attracted to her from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. She was a beautiful woman. As beautiful as Tess but in a different way. Tess was fire and ice with her wild red hair and bright blue eyes. Indy's was a more placid beauty, like a quiet mountain stream. Her light brown hair was soft and silky and had a clean, fresh scent that he couldn't identify. Her hazel eyes were anything but quiet; she had by far the most expressive eyes he had ever seen. They told everything she was thinking and feeling. And he couldn't help but listen when they had told him that she liked him kissing her and touching her and that she wanted more.