When he was finished, Datiye took the bowl and disappeared. She returned with a large pitcher of water and a cloth. He had closed his eyes, tired after eating, but when he felt the cool cloth on his face he stopped dozing.
“I haven’t bathed you since the fever broke,” she said.
He closed his eyes and let her bathe him. There was nothing like a sponge bath by a woman, he decided, which of course made him think of his wife. As soon as he was able, he would go to see her. He missed her. But damn, he didn’t want to fight with her. He knew she hadn’t meant it when she said he should never come back. At least, he didn’t think she had meant it. And even if she had, she was his wife. He would merely give her no choice in the matter.
It had hurt when she said it.
He asked Datiye about the rest of the battle, and she began telling him about the exploits of different warriors, many of whom he knew. She wrung out the cloth and wiped down his chest, his abdomen. She told him of how Cochise’s oldest son, Tahzay, had taken thirty warriors, covered the major party’s tracks, and led the troops following into a box canyon. There they disappeared up a steep, seemingly impassable slope of rock and pinyon. She flicked the blanket down to his feet. “It was very bad. They had to lead the ponies up what was nearly a cliff on foot, and three broke their legs and had to be shot and hidden so the troops would not see. But even if they did see, no White Eyes would dare to climb that mountain. Except you.”
Jack didn’t smile. She was bathing his genitals, and he knew he was better because he was having an unavoidable reaction. She sucked in her breath and looked at him. He sighed. “It’s been too long,” he said.
“There are many widows and divorced women. As soon as you are stronger, you should take one to your bed. It is not right you deny yourself.” She spoke matter-of-factly. Jack was relieved when she moved to his thigh, but the fullness in his groin did not go away. Datiye could be objective about his taking another woman because Apache men did not sleep with their wives from the time of pregnancy until they had finished nursing, and Apache women nursed their children until they were two. It was expected that widows no longer in mourning—and divorced women—would pleasure themselves, and men, in Jack’s situation. Usually such casual, out-of-wedlock couplings occurred during victory celebrations.
The Apache believed in moderation in all things, including sex. An Apache man, in fact, was supposed to show the height of good judgment and not impregnate his wife more than once every four years. A man whose wife had children spaced less far apart was considered unbalanced because of an obviously too lusty nature. Two pregnant wives at once was even more of an indication, and remembering Nahilzay’s carefully guarded expression when Jack had fold him that his first wife was also pregnant, he smiled.
He would not tell Datiye he had no intention of bedding a divorced squaw. Instead, he would ride out and visit Candice, the only woman he wanted.
Besides, he wanted to make sure she was all right.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
“Candice, I’d be a bit happier if you put on more weight.”
Candice sighed. “I’m eating quite a lot, Doc.”
“Try to slow down,” Doc Harris said, glancing pointedly out the window at the Confederate gray uniforms hanging to dry in the sun. Fort Bliss had surrendered to the Confederacy on March 31, with little ado, but it meant nothing to Candice, not as long as she still had soldiers who needed their laundry done. The War between the States seemed very remote and very far away.
“I’ll try, Candice said, thinking bitterly that if her husband were there she wouldn’t have to be pushing so hard; she wouldn’t have to be preparing to pack herself and her baby up to start a new life. Then she realized her slip. He wasn’t her husband anymore.
Oh, Jack.
“Have you heard from him at all?”
Candice didn’t mind Doc Harris’s question. It was asked out of concern, not malicious prying. “Not in almost a month, since he came to visit.” She saw the pity in the doctor’s eyes too.
After the doctor left, Candice sat down heavily and thought about Jack. Every week there was news of attacks. So far, all the activity had been east of the High C, and while she knew the Apaches would be foolish to attack that ranch, it was inevitable that they would start marauding in the Santa Cruz Valley. Candice was waiting with dread and apprehension for the worst, and every time a soldier brought her laundry she prayed he wouldn’t be bringing her news of an attack upon her family’s home.
By now rumor in town had it that Jack was riding with Cochise. He was considered a traitor. When she went to the general store for supplies, townspeople made a point of letting her overhear them discussing Jack with venom in their voices. She was openly shunned, and still called the “breed’s woman.” And she was more than a little afraid when she left the safety of her house. More often than not, her hand was on the little gun in her apron. She hated this town. It was another reason to leave as soon as her baby was born. Back East no one would be able to call her baby a breed and a bastard. East—they would head east, and if they didn’t have enough money to get to St. Louis they would go as far away as the money she was saving would take them.
She stretched and rubbed her back. It ached—more than ever. And the discomfort had become steady. So had her crying. She had become incredibly emotional. The littlest thing set her off, mostly thinking about her husband—or rather, Jack.
She heard the horse’s hooves and went to the window, thinking Doc Harris had forgotten something. She stiffened and nearly fainted.
So he had come. So he had finally come.
He sat very still and erect on his stallion, looking pale and thinner. As the light-headedness eased, a warm flush stole over her. She was not and would never be impervious to him. He was magnificent, and angry as she was, she was glad he had come—not that she would ever let him know. He was staring at the gray uniforms waving in the breeze like so many banners.
He dismounted.
Candice opened the door.
Jack looked at her steadily, his gaze hard and angry, and Candice braced herself. As she watched, she saw the changes—the cold hard light warming as he stared at her, silvery points of light glittering in his irises, becoming hot and bright. She swallowed and took a step back, knowing she was already lost. It didn’t take much—his presence, a look. Why did she have to love this man?
He approached slowly, steadily. “Candice.”
She took another step back. “Dammit, Jack. You can’t just come riding in here …”
His hands closed over her shoulders, and the look he gave her was so poignant, all words fled. “Ahh, God,” he said, and kissed her.
