“What is it?”
“He’s hurt,” he said. “Easy, fella, easy, sshh,” he said, and then began soothing the beast in soft Apache words.
Candice looked past him and saw the horse’s heavily bleeding hindquarter. “Oh, Jack, he’s been shot.”
“It’s just a graze, but it probably hurts like hell.” Jack’s hand stroked down the stallion’s neck. “This horse has more courage than any I’ve ever seen.”
He left the animal and returned to her, tenderly wiping her face of blood, then holding a strip of cloth in place to stop the bleeding.
“Will he be able to carry us?”
“Yes, but not far. He needs rest, and more important, so do you. You look very pale, Candice. Are you all right?”
Tears came to her eyes. She touched his face. “I was afraid they were going to kill you.”
“And keep me from you?” he said with attempted levity. “Never.”
“Jack, I’ve had a few cramps.”
Jack sucked in his breath harshly. “I want you to lie down. Now. How do you feel?”
“Weak. Relieved. All right.”
He cursed, again and again. “I should have never left you there in the first place. We’ll stay here the night.”
“We’re too close to town,” Candice said.
“I won’t jeopardize the baby. We have some natural protection, and I’ll keep watch. Besides, a mob is a coward. They want to take what is easy. I wounded four of them, and unless I saw wrong, you got one too. I doubt they’ll come after us, and if they do, they’ll regret it.”
Candice found herself closing her eyes. Jack laid out his bedroll and lifted her onto it. His hand was gentle on her hair, smoothing it back from her face. She turned her cheek into his palm. She was exhausted, so exhausted. She fell asleep.
It was while he was salving the stallion’s flank that Jack’s hands began to shake. He glanced over at Candice. If anything had happened to her … He would have never forgiven himself. Never.
In making the spontaneous decision to take her back to the camp with him, he had acted without thinking, responding to the male instinct of possession and territoriality. Candice was his, whether that preacher was a fake or not, just as the child she was carrying was his. Nothing and no one could change that. But now coherent thought returned. He was in deep water. Almost drowning.
How in hell was he going to explain Datiye’s presence in hisgohwah?
Things were bad enough. The mob had only delayed the conflict between them. He knew she had meant it when she’d told him she would not give birth to her child in an Apache camp. He knew she was with him unwillingly. But it was too late. Circumstance had forced his hand. He was no longer giving her a choice—he couldn’t.
He needed to think his way out of this predicament. It wasn’t easy. He thought up a dozen different ways of telling her about Datiye and her pregnancy, and in each his relationship with Candice was irrevocably ruined. He decided to put off telling her about who would be sharing theirgohwahuntil the morning—or the next evening—or the day after that.
He kept watch all night, repeatedly checking on Candice, who slept heavily and undisturbed. Then, just before the first flush of daylight, he crawled into the bedroll with her. He wrapped his arms around her and fell asleep.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Candice awoke to an early-morning sun that promised more of spring. She was in Jack’s warm embrace. Instinctively she snuggled closer, then remembered where she was, and why. Jack had come back, as she’d known he would—only to take her with him. Now, in the light of a new day, with the terror of the mob behind them, Candice felt grim and sad. Nothing was right. Nothing was as it should be. There was no way she could live with the Apaches, who were at war with her people. It was impossible. She sat up.
She gazed down at him, and although she suspected he hadn’t joined her until very recently, his eyes were open and alert. She could see tired lines etched around his mouth. “Come back here,shijii,”he said softly.
She looked at him, with sorrow she couldn’t hide in her eyes. She pulled her shawl more tightly against her and walked away, to relieve herself and to think. When she came back Jack was saddling the stallion. He didn’t look at her.
“I want you to take me back, Jack,” Candice said. “Take me home, or take me east. What you’re asking of me isn’t fair.”
He turned to her, his mouth hard. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
“It’s not fair to our child either.”
“That’s why I didn’t take you with me to begin with,” he said harshly, with ill-concealed anger. “But now fairness doesn’t matter.”
