Jeremiah and David were dead, and she could pray that Chavez was dead,
yet it had done little for her. She was where von Heusen had intended
she should be, and she was certain that men braver than she and far more
knowledgeable of the rugged terrain could not escape the Apache.
Nalte was finally sleeping. She rose very carefully and tiptoed across
the dry earth flooring of the tepee to the slit.
She glanced at Nalte again. His eyes were closed, his features immobile.
She started to slip beneath the flap.
A hand wound around her ankle, bringing her down hard upon the floor.
In seconds the fierce warrior had crawled over her. His eyes were ebony
in the night.
'You have courage,' he told her.
'But you are stupid!'
'You speak of our savagery!' she charged him.
'You deal with the despicable Comancheros, you buy rifles and women from
them!'
'My sister is my only family,' he told her in turn, 'because the others
were killed. Killed by white men. Beaten, skewered, broken and left to
die. My mother died this Way, my sisters. Babies, little babies. I have
not brought you here to kill you. Not unless you force me to.'
'You are holding me against my will.'
He touched a long strand of her hair. He seemed reflective for a moment.
'You will come to understand me,' he told her.
'You will learn our ways, and you will be happy here.'
'I cannot be happy!' she told him desperately. 'We are not savages!'
She shook her head, moistening her lips.
'No, no more so than we. But I am not what you wanted. I' -- 'You are
more than what I wanted,' he interrupted, and he was smiling.
'Now go back to sleep or I will forget that I keep a sacred vigil this
night.'
'Nalte, please' -- 'Go back. Now.'
She felt the tension in his arms and saw the fierce glitter in his eyes
and she knew that his warning was not without good reason. Hastily she
retreated. She curled into her blanket, pulling it around her ears. She
shivered. She didn't hate the Indian, but he didn't understand that. She
was not repulsed by him, but she had to be free, for she was not part of
his society. She wanted revenge. She wanted yon Heusen hurt as he had
hurt her.
And she wanted Jamie. She was in love with him, and that hurt more than
anything else. If it weren't for him, she could bear anything that
happened.
But he was out there, somewhere. And she could never forget him.
Morning came, and the blanket was pulled away from Tess's shoulders.
She gasped and opened her eyes, expecting to discover Nalte, but it
wasn't him. Several women stared at her.
They spoke to her, but she didn't understand them.
They pulled her to her feet. She protested, but was ignored. Nalte's
little sister smiled at her encouragingly. She had little choice, for
the women set upon her arms and drew her along with them. They left the
