Sun Woman

Kuchana had no idea how wicked Melissa could be. Gib realized that the colonel’s wife was going to continue to snub and insult her. He didn’t care if she went after him, but Kuchana was innocent. As Gib studied the fresh tracks on the ground, he realized that Juliet Harper had been innocent, too. Damn. Kuchana was too trusting. She had no reason not to be. Pindah women hadn’t made war on her, the men had.

“Come,” Kuchana said, moving Wind down the ridge line, “I see bighorn tracks.” She flashed him a triumphant look. “They are nearby. Four of them. I think young bucks.”

Rousing himself from his worry, McCoy nodded. “You lead the way, and I’ll bring the mules.”

* * *

Dodd Carter’s day got worse when he saw the female scout and Sergeant McCoy return late in the afternoon with the mules laden with bighorn kills. He stood on the porch of headquarters, hands on his hips, watching as they slowly rode by in the direction of the chow tents.

He fumed and raised his arm. “Halt, Sergeant.” Stepping off the porch, he hurried out and intercepted them. Dodd was sure that McCoy had shot all the bighorn with a rifle. This female savage was worthless. No woman could track, much less scout.

“How many?” Carter demanded.

“Four bighorn, sir.” Gib saw the displeasure in Carter’s red face. The officer glared up at Kuchana.

“Who killed them?”

Gib settled in a comfortable slouch on the saddle. “Kuchana not only tracked the herd, but killed two with arrows. I got the other two with my rifle.”

Scowling, Carter muttered, “Impossible,” and walked up to the mules.

Sure enough, there were arrows in two of the bighorn. Angrily, Carter strode back, noting that Kuchana seemed unconcerned about his fury. She was just like the rest of those savages: no emotion registered on her face. As he rounded the horses, he saw laughter in McCoy’s eyes, although the man’s face was like granite.

“Get this meat over to the officers’ mess, Sergeant,” he snapped, spinning on his heel and making his way back to headquarters.

Gib clucked to his horse, chuckling to himself. Word of Kuchana’s ability would spread quickly through the post, and that was good. He aimed his horse between the city of tents. The laundresses looked up, smiling and greeting him. Their eyes widened with envy when they saw the fresh meat on the mules. Only the officers got such food.

Kuchana followed Gib as he led them from the officers’ area toward the enlisted men’s chow tent. Stopping behind the largest tent, Gib ordered two of the cooks to untie the largest bighorn from the mules. Eagerly, the men took the carcass into the tent. Then Gib continued toward the officers’ mess.

Kuchana waited patiently as the other three bucks were delivered. They were heading back to the stabling area before she spoke.

“You said only officers got the meat. Why did you give a buck to the dark-skinned ones?”

“Just between you and me, Kuchana, I’ve always sneaked some of the fresh kills I’ve made to the Negro families. They don’t get any fresh meat otherwise.”

Her brows arched. “A giveaway.” That she understood. Giveaways were always a sign of generosity on the part of those who had much to those who had little. “I will give away every time I make kills.”

He threw her a warning glance. “Don’t get caught doing it, Kuchana. You’d lose your scout status and have to go back to the reservation. Understand?”

Frowning, Kuchana pulled her mare to a halt in front of the stable. It was a busy place in midafternoon. A large group of horses waited to be shod by Kelly McManus. The huge farrier worked beneath an open shed, his anvil ringing with the sound of the striking hammer clenched in his massive fist.

“Then why do you do it if you will get in trouble?” she asked, dismounting.

Gib got off his own horse and strode around to face Kuchana. She stood there, hands on her hips. “I do it,” he said, “because those people deserve better food than what they’re given. They aren’t animals. They’re human beings.”

Kuchana admired him for taking such a risk. “I will do the same.” When she saw Gib’s darkening expression, she added, “I will not get caught.”

That worried him. “The enlisted people will never tell on you, but if an officer or one of their wives catches you, you’ll be in more trouble than you ever thought possible.”

Her smile was wry. “No one is as clever as an Apache, Gib. No one.”

The challenging fire in her eyes made him ache. There was such courage in her tall, proud body. “I know that better than most. Let’s unsaddle our horses, rub them down, and get back to work. Colonel Polk wants you to study the maps we have in headquarters so we can track Geronimo down.”

Kuchana’s triumph over the bighorn kills ebbed. For a few hours, she’d forgotten about Geronimo and the plight of her people. She went about unsaddling Wind, feeling the pain of separation from those she loved.

“What’s wrong?” Gib prompted. He had seen darkness cloud her eyes at the mention of Geronimo’s name.

With a sigh, Kuchana rested her hands on Wind’s back and looked at Gib. “My heart is breaking,” she admitted softly.

“You’ve a right to feel that way,” Gib said. “Leaving your tribe to become a scout wasn’t easy for you.”

His understanding made tears rush to Kuchana’s eyes. She forced back the reaction, managing a shrug. “I—yes, I miss them.”

“One of these days, you’ll be reunited,” Gib told her, wishing he could comfort her. The tears in Kuchana’s eyes tore at him.

“No,” she whispered, “that will never be.”

“Sure it will. Geronimo can’t keep running forever. There’re just too many people after him.”

“You do not understand,” Kuchana said, pausing to gather her emotions. “Before I left, Geronimo pronounced me dead.” Her voice cracked. “I no longer exist to them—not even to my sister, Ealae.”

“What?” Gib stared at her suffering features. Kuchana couldn’t be more than eighteen, her skin was so flawless and unlined. Yet, he knew her life had been a harsh one. To be an outcast was worse than being killed. Without thinking, Gib gripped her arm and gently pulled her around to face him.

Tears beaded her thick lashes. “Look at me,” he whispered thickly. When she bowed her head, he placed a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. As her lashes lifted, he saw for the first time the full extent of the terrible pain she carried.

“I can never go back,” she murmured. “I am dead. No one will ever speak to me again, Gib. I am a ghost…” A sob caught in her throat, and with a little cry, she turned away from him burying her face in her hands.

Gib stood there helplessly. He didn’t dare touch Kuchana again or take her into his arms to comfort her as he wanted to. Searching, he tried to find words that would heal her, but it was impossible. “I didn’t realize any of this.” Kuchana would never fit into white society, either. Once Geronimo surrendered, he’d be sent back to the reservation. And most probably, so would Kuchana. Her own people would ignore her. That would gradually kill her. Gib had seen it happen before.

“You’ve paid a hell of a price to come here.”

Kuchana turned toward him. She longed to lean against Gib, instinctively realizing that she would find solace in his arms. The fierce blue fire in his eyes told her he understood. “I believe in what I did, Gib. I have watched my family dying for the past two years. I have only one sister left. What else could I do? Geronimo has filled the heads of my people with impossible dreams.” With a trembling hand, she touched her brow. “I had no choice but to offer myself to the army. Geronimo must be brought in to save those who blindly follow him.”

Studying Kuchana in the silence that followed, Gib held her softened gaze. She was incredibly vulnerable in ways that most women would never be. The desire to slide his fingers across her smooth cheeks, frame her face and kiss away the pain he saw there was unbearable. “Such courage,” he whispered, managing an unsteady smile. “You’ve got more than any ten men I know.”

Kuchana took a ragged breath. “I do not see myself as courageous. I see only my people slowly dying of starvation.”

The urge to comfort Kuchana was overwhelming. If Gib didn’t move to break the spell between them, he’d do something he’d regret. She confronted too much adversity to be humiliated by him in front of all these men. Knowing the truth of her decision to become a scout only served to make him that much more protective of her.

“Somehow, things will work out for you,” he told her. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ve got a feeling they will.” When he saw her rally, he smiled. “Come on, let’s get to work. First things first. Let’s go study those maps. Afterward, I need to go over to Laundry and pick up my clothes.”

Never had a woman held his heart as gently in her hands as Kuchana. Gib wrestled with his feelings toward her. He’d been in love before, but never had such an intense or all-consuming emotion taken him so completely. He studied her closely. Love? Impossible. Forcing himself to shove his discovery aside until later, when he could think straight, Gib headed toward headquarters with Kuchana at his side.

Grateful for his unspoken support, she looked up at him. “I want to see your maps. Geronimo must be caught soon.”

* * *

“Look, she’s coming!” Nettie squealed, up to her skinny elbows in hot water and suds. She stood just outside one of the many laundry tents, washing clothes. “Mama!”

“I’m coming,” Poppy grunted, bent over a pot in the tent. One of the cooks had just made a delivery of fresh bighorn meat to the rear of their tent. Poppy had thanked the soldier and promptly dropped the meat into a large black kettle with onions and beans. She rubbed her hands together and straightened.

“Mama!” Nettie’s high, excited voice warbled again.

Wiping her hands on a worn towel, Poppy trundled forward. She saw Sergeant McCoy and Kuchana walking her way. Beaming, she stepped outside and into their path.

Kuchana had never seen such a huge woman in all her life. There was warmth in the woman’s big brown eyes and an even warmer smile on her thick lips. She heard Gib chuckle.

“Poppy, you look like a sly fox.”

“Sergeant McCoy, I just wanted to thank you.”

Gib glanced at Kuchana who was politely trying not to stare at the Negro woman. “Better thank Kuchana, then. That was her kill we dropped off.”

Picking up her blue calico skirts, Poppy barreled toward the Apache woman. She grinned broadly and gripped Kuchana’s hand. “My name is Poppy, chile. We just got the meat and wanted to thank you.”

Kuchana was overwhelmed by Poppy’s gushing warmth. She stared down at the woman’s ebony skin, amazed at how pink her palms were in comparison. “The food is for all,” she said. Poppy’s callused palms dwarfed her own slender hands.

“And we’ll use it, chile.” Poppy released her hands and grinned at her. “You’re a purty thing. Isn’t she, Sergeant McCoy?”

“Yes she is,” he agreed.

Poppy saw a dull red color creep into Kuchana’s cheeks. “The girl’s blushing.”

Gib grinned. “She’s not used to such personal remarks from strangers, Poppy. Her people are very reserved in comparison to us.”

Nettie leaned forward then, gingerly touching Kuchana’s outstretched hand.

“And I thought Apaches were tough as nails,” Nettie said.

“They’re people just like us,” Gib said with a chuckle.

“They’ve got heart,” Poppy corrected her daughter, relinquishing Kuchana’s hand. “They ain’t got thick skin, Nettie.” A rumbling laugh erupted from her. “I know some officers that are thick-headed as mules, though.”

Gib laughed as he watched the rapport between the three women grow. He saw the glow in Kuchana’s features and her eyes sparkling with new life. Poppy’s motherly nature was making her feel at ease for the first time.

“Nettie, fetch Sergeant McCoy’s pressed clothes. And Kuchana, you come with me, chile.” She grabbed her hand again and led her into the tent.

Poppy opened one of the large, battered leather trunks. “Now, you just stand there, chile. I’ve got something for you.”

Kuchana strained to look over Poppy’s shoulder—difficult, for the woman was as large as a mountain. And Poppy’s friendliness was genuine. She came from the heart.

Poppy threw several pieces of clothing to one side, digging deeper in the trunk. “Now, I know I’ve got them here. Unless Nettie gave them away to the children…”

Kuchana saw Gib saunter to the front of the tent. Nettie came rushing back from another tent, his pressed and folded clothes in her arms. Gib took them and thanked her. He dug out some coins from his pocket and gave them to her.

“Sergeant McCoy, you always pay us too much.”

“Keep it, Nettie.” Ten cents was a lot of money. It could buy a pound of food, and Gib knew that Poppy would put it to good use. The woman was forever feeding the scouts and the other enlisted men who couldn’t afford to buy enough food for themselves. Malnutrition was a real problem within the cavalry. Poppy was always making deals with men who hawked fresh food at the post. She kept it on hand in her large trunks to dole out to the men.

“I found it!” Poppy crowed. She brandished a stick of candy she’d pulled from the trunk. Turning, she gave it to Kuchana. “Here, chile, you suck on this. I bet you never had peppermint before.” Her eyes danced as she watched Kuchana stare at the candy. “Go on, now, eat it.”

Sniffing it cautiously, Kuchana noted it smelled wonderful. Poppy stood there, grinning, as Kuchana put the stick in her mouth. It was pleasantly minty and sweet. Surprised, Kuchana took it out of her mouth and studied it more closely.

“It is sweet, but it is not honey.”

Chuckling, Poppy clapped her on the back. “Chile, you just come around once a day, and Poppy here will fatten you up.”

Kuchana needed some care, Gib thought. And he couldn’t give it to her without being accused of favoritism. Poppy gave him a knowing look, and Gib breathed a sigh of relief. Kuchana might not have a place among the Apaches or the white world, but if he was any judge of the situation, Poppy had just adopted her as part of her own family.

Chapter Five

“Sergeant, I want you to go pick up the food supplies from Jacobsen’s Mine,” Carter ordered, triumph blazing in his eyes. During the two weeks since that woman savage arrived, Dodd had been giving her every detail he could think of. Although she had brought in fresh meat twice, he still didn’t believe she could track. McCoy must have brought down the game and lied for her, he was certain. He saw the disgust in the sergeant’s eyes at his command.

“And take Kuchana with you. You’ll need help with that string of mules to and from the mine. Go get a voucher over at Supply to pay for it.”

What was Carter trying to do? Get Kuchana shot? Gib had watched a pattern develop the past couple of weeks. Carter was trying to get Kuchana in trouble. If Gib hadn’t been as alert as he was with his enlisted men, Carter might have gotten his way. Kuchana was rapidly learning about army and post life, but her naiveté could be her downfall.

Holding on to his temper, Gib drilled the officer with a scathing look. “Sir, it isn’t wise to send a scout up to Jacobsen’s. Those miners are constantly getting raided by Apaches. If I take Kuchana along, there could be real trouble.”

Carter shrugged. The day was just beginning and the sun was already sending hot streamers across the arid land. “Sergeant, just do as you’re ordered. Pick up the ten mules and get up to Jacobsen’s.”

“Sir, those miners hate Apaches.”

“I don’t care,” he said irritably.

“You’ve never ordered one of our scouts along on this supply trip before. Why now?” Sweat was forming on McCoy’s upper lip. He longed to wipe it away with the back of his hand. Carter stiffened, his eyes blazing with anger.

“Sergeant, are you questioning my orders?” he snarled.

“Sir,” McCoy said evenly, “I’m not questioning your orders, just your choice of who should go with me. Normally, one of the cooks goes along to help pick up the officers’ supplies.”

Setting his mouth, Dodd glared up at the tall sergeant. He hated McCoy. The Negroes jumped to carry out the sergeant’s orders. While, when he gave orders, the men were sullen and slow about obeying them. “You may have been considered a brilliant Indian campaigner at Fort Apache, Sergeant, and you may have more medals than I’ll ever get, but you’re not an officer any longer. What you think isn’t important. It’s my responsibility to give orders.” He punched McCoy in the chest. “It’s your job to carry them out. Or do you want to be drawn up on charges of disobeying a direct order?”

The urge to reach out and pin Carter against the headquarters building was very strong. West Point had swelled Carter’s already arrogant head. Worse, McCoy realized, was that Carter had been in the Southwest less than a year and didn’t have a flea’s intelligence about Indians. Nor did he care.

“For the record,” McCoy ground out, “I protest Kuchana being chosen to go along. She’s an Apache, and the miners aren’t going to like her presence in their camp.”

With a wave of his hand, Carter turned away. “Go file your protest, Sergeant. Those miners know we have scouts. Nothing’s going to happen.” He turned on his heel, stalking off toward the stabling area.

With a curse, Gib stood there, mulling over the options. Kuchana was going to be in danger. Over the years, the miners had killed a lot of Apaches. They were trigger-happy and liked to collect black-haired Indian scalps for the twenty-five dollars apiece they got from scalpers. Turning, McCoy went into the office to file his protest. If anything did happen, he’d at least be able to protect Kuchana and himself from any further charges by Carter. The snot-nosed officer was out to get him, and was using Kuchana as a lever to do it.

Kuchana was visiting Poppy’s tent when Gib located her. The laundress and her daughter were hard at work, scrubbing clothes on the corrugated tin washerboards set in tubs filled with hot, soapy water. He hid his worry and anxiety over the forthcoming trip to the mine as he approached. Kuchana was helping out by hanging clothes on a line.

“Morning, Sergeant McCoy,” Poppy greeted, her features shiny with perspiration. She wore a bright red scarf around her head, and a voluminous red dress. The sleeves were folded up to her elbows but the material was soaked, anyway.

Gib tipped his hat. “Morning, Poppy. I see you have Kuchana hard at work.”

“No-o-o, Sergeant McCoy. Why, I told that chile she didn’t have to help us, but she got it in her head to do just that.”

Kuchana smiled and waved to Gib. Hanging the last two items of clothes on the line, she brought the woven basket over to the laundress and set it down.

Every time Kuchana smiled, an ache shot through Gib. The past two weeks had wrought a miracle of sorts in her. With Poppy’s feeding her three times a day and making her feel at home, Kuchana had blossomed from a silent, suspicious woman into one with a ready smile.

And every night, he dreamed of her in his arms. Gib tried to tell himself it was infatuation, not love, that he was feeling for Kuchana. It was agony to be with her and not reach out and make contact with her. This urge to touch her was a hunger he was barely able to control. Kuchana was in his blood and he was helpless to do anything about it.

Gib nodded in her direction. “We’ve got orders to get up to Jacobsen’s,” he told Kuchana.

Poppy gasped. “You aren’t going to take this chile up there! Why, that’s plumb stupid, Sergeant McCoy.”

Kuchana frowned at the alarm in Poppy’s voice. “Who is Jacobsen?”

Uncomfortable, and wishing he could express his anger and concern just as the laundress had, Gib explained, “It’s a mining community about five miles from here. Lieutenant Carter usually sends the cooks up with the mules to get supplies for the officers and their wives once a month.” Trying to hide his worry, he added, “Carter has ordered us to do it this time.”

“Oh, Sergeant McCoy,” Poppy pleaded, “you know that’s foolish. Kuchana’s Apache. Oh, Lordy, something awful could happen.”

“It won’t,” Gib answered tightly. He could see Kuchana becoming upset over Poppy’s dramatic display. Taking Kuchana by the arm, he gently pulled her to his side. “Come on, we’ve got a long day ahead of us. I’m sure Lieutenant Carter expects us to be back in time for the officers to get fresh food for dinner tonight.”

Poppy gave him a helpless look. “You be careful,” she warned.

Kuchana remained at Gib’s side. The time spent with him had been rare. If she saw him once a day, that was a lot. To be able to spend a day in his company answered her prayers. She looked at Poppy’s distraught features.

“Painted Woman will protect us, Poppy.”

“Somebody better,” Nettie wailed. She wrung her hands, giving Gib an anxious look.

“We’ll see you late this afternoon,” he promised the ladies. Kuchana’s gold eyes shone with happiness. He’d wanted time alone with her, but not like this. Not under these circumstances. “Come on, Kuchana, let’s get our horses saddled.”

In no time, the pack-mule train was assembled. Kuchana sat on Wind, watching as McCoy checked the long string of harnessed brown mules carrying a huge canvas sheet on their strong backs. Each mule’s halter rope was tied to the next mule’s tail.

Holos was barely above the horizon, and excitement thrummed through Kuchana. A whole day with Gib. True, he’d be at the head of the mule train and she’d be bringing up the rear, but that didn’t matter.

They left the post, working their way slowly up and out of the valley. The breeze was warm and the only sour note to the day was that Gib had insisted that Kuchana wear the heavy wool army jacket to identify her as a scout. The blue jacket was cumbersome. Gib had never made her wear it before, although the other scouts proudly walked around wearing their jackets all day long.

Kuchana felt happiness sing through her as she watched Gib up ahead of her. Ealae had once confided in her that love made her feel like a cloud—light and happy. That was how she felt toward Gib. She’d had no experience with the wonderful feelings that lived within her heart since meeting him.

Frowning, Kuchana wondered if it was the love Ealae had spoken of. Her vow to bring her people to safety must override such a personal need. And yet, every time Gib looked at her, she felt like warm honey. Confused, she refused to hide her feelings from herself. Perhaps she was wrong. In time, this beautiful emotion toward Gib would dim. Perhaps…

* * *

Jacobsen’s Mine was a thriving mining community comprising fifty silver mines in the rugged mountains north of the fort. Gib went on internal guard as the city of gray tents and spindly wooden shacks came into view. Bearded miners with floppy, sweat-stained hats and small gray donkeys moved in tow up and down the main street.

Kuchana’s joy over the beauty of the mountains and being with Gib disappeared. She watched his back become ramrod straight, his hand resting across the flap of the pistol holster at his side. As she brought up the rear of the mule train, she saw her presence in the mining community ripple like wind across the water.

Several miners halted, gawking at her as the mule train swung down the street. She saw surprise and then hatred in their accusing eyes.

Gib looked over his shoulder and saw Kuchana’s face become expressionless. A number of miners had stopped to stare at her. Damn! Turning, he kicked his horse into a trot, forcing the train to amble along a little more quickly. The butcher shop was at the other end of the town.

There was a long hitching rail at the butcher shop. Gib dismounted, giving orders to Kuchana to start tying the mules to it. Ordinarily, he’d have gone straight into the butcher shop, but he didn’t trust the gathering miners who had followed them down the dusty street. He and Kuchana tied the mules, one after another, to the rail.