Sun Woman. Lindsay McKenna
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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.
Kuchana met Gib at the center rail. She saw the hardness in his eyes, his attention directed to a small group of miners who were approaching them.
“Whatever happens, you stay behind me,” he warned her.
“But—”
Gib pushed her behind him as a big miner with a long, scraggly black beard stopped a few feet away, his face plum-colored with anger.
“My name is Barstow. What the hell’s going on here?” he rumbled. “That’s a redskin.”
“She’s a scout for our post,” Gib said, keeping his voice low and calm.
“Right nice scalp she’s got,” a second miner crowed, his eyes shining with excitement. “Why, I could get thirty dollars for it.”
Gib’s hand moved to the pistol. “Don’t even think about it, men,” he warned them. “She’s been hired by the army.”
The black-bearded miner spat to one side. “Don’t make no difference. Who the hell do you think you are, bringing one of those bastards up here?” He waved his hairy arm at Kuchana. “You boys in blue think you can rub our noses in it. Hell, you don’t get up here often enough. Just two days ago a bunch of renegade Apaches robbed Bob King’s mine of two mules.”
The murmurs of the gathering miners joined the confrontation. McCoy turned to Kuchana. In Apache he told her, “Get in that building and stay there. These men aren’t going to listen to reason.”
Her eyes narrowed on the miner with the black beard. “I will not run like a coward and leave you here to fight alone.”
Gib wanted to strangle her. “I said, get the hell in there and don’t give me an argument. These men mean business.”
“No.”
Frustrated, Gib returned his attention to the ten miners who stood in a small, tense group in front of them. Damn Kuchana for disobeying his orders. But what had he expected? She was a warrior, and he’d never seen one run yet from a battle. It was then, in those seconds before Barstow lifted his rifle, that Gib realized just how very much Kuchana meant to him. The festering situation had ripped away all his defenses against his feelings toward her. He loved her. God, how could it have happened so quickly?
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