He grinned, handing her back the garment. She inspected it ruefully. “Sewing was never my favorite pasttime. Before El Paso I hadn’t picked up a needle in years,”
He carefully bit back a response.
She looked at him, “It shows, huh?”
“No, no, it’s really a fine dress.”
“You’re lying,” she said, smiling because his eyes were filled with mirth.
“No, I swear I’m not,” he said, putting his arm around her. “Let’s take a walk.”
“I wanted to do some more sewing,” she protested, strolling along with him anyway.
He laughed. “Babies do grow quickly.”
“I get the message,” she said. Then, earnestly: “Jack, I …”
“What?”
“Damn! I want our baby to have things, Jack, real clothes, and toys, and candy and a pony and a damn house! With a garden!”
He stopped, placing his hands on her shoulders. Her words tore at him. He was torn up inside as it was. “I want to give you those things,” he said finally.
“Then let’s leave here!” she cried.
He stared. “You want me to run away like a coward, don’t you?”
“You have your family to think of!”
“Apache children grow up very happy. I think you’re thinking of yourself, not the child.”
“No, I’m thinking about both of us—all of us! And the child isn’t a damn Apache—can’t you get that through your head?”
“I thought you were happy.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” she said bitterly. She turned away.
“I know you care for me,” he said a bit desperately. “Don’t you?”
She didn’t answer. She strode away, clenching the dress in one fist.
Jack stared after her. He knew she was right. Their child was three-quarters white. And he wanted to give her everything she wanted—but how could he? When his duty lay here? Or did it? Maybe his duty was not to the people who had raised him, but to his family, their future.
And then there was Shozkay. His spirit still cried out in anguish for revenge. Jack turned and walked to an oak tree, leaning against it. He had known from the start that this life was not right for his wife and child. That was why he had ridden away to join Cochise without taking her with him. He had abducted her in anger and jealousy. He was glad she was there; he wanted her with him. He couldn’t imagine living without her there by his side, and he thought that if she truly loved him, she would gladly make the sacrifice.
Yet it wasn’t fair to ask her to live like an Apache.
And if he was less selfish, he would let her and the child go.
The realization was too painful. He quelled it. But he knew it would remain now to taunt him, no matter how hard he tried to chase it into the shadows.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
Her look was accusing.
The black moved restlessly beside him. “We won’t be gone long. A couple of days.”
Candice looked sick. “How can you do this? You’re killing your own flesh and blood!”
