“Yes?”
“Will I be given an escort home tomorrow?” While she smiled easily, inside she was tensed in knots.
“In a few days,” he said. “Certainly you don’t mind sharing what you can of your experiences in Cochise’s rancheria? It might prove to be of vast importance to the army in their campaign against him.”
She lowered her lashes docilely. “No, of course not. Perhaps—you could send word to my family that I’ll be on my way home soon?”
“As soon as I have a man available,” he said, and ushered her out.
Major Bradley paced to the window, waiting. He watched as she appeared and crossed the yard, her baby in her arms, wearing the cowboy hat, the aide at her side, his face flushed. Incredible, he thought, that a woman dressed as she was could still be so desirable. And he knew he had been in this godforsaken land too long.
He turned as Sergeant Holden entered. “How can we make it known she’s here?” he asked. Holden was a veteran of many Indian wars. Bradley didn’t mind asking his advice; in fact, he relied on it quite often.
“Who do you want to know?”
“Jack Savage,” he said, smiling. “The man went to a lot of trouble to kidnap her, and if Ladd is right, he killed Kincaid to do it, then kept her prisoner—against her will or not—for a long time. I do believe she ran away from him, because there’s no other explanation for her being alone in the middle of the desert. I also believe he’ll come after her. Especially if the child is his—and I think it is.” He stared back out the window. “Although she is a commendable little liar.”
“I see,” Holden said, not smiling, but with professional interest. “I’ll have sentries and pickets on double watch. Do you want him alive?”
“Absolutely,” Bradley snapped. “He’s our key to Cochise.” And to my future, preferably behind a desk in Washington. “But we still have to let him know we have her.”
“That’s easy,” Holden said. “Don’t even worry about it. Cochise knows everything that goes on from Fort Yuma to El Paso. He’s got scouts everywhere. They talk with their smoke signs. I’ll bet the news that we got Savage’s woman is already drifting back to him.”
“But I want to be sure.”
Holden frowned. “Well, we don’t want to make it too obvious, like we’re sending out an invitation. The best we can do is send a few boys into town to spread the word. But I know Cochise will hear of it through his own sources before ours.”
“Do it anyway,” Bradley said. “Thank you, Sergeant.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
He rode into the stronghold at twilight, with a searching gaze. Of course she didn’t know he was returning tonight. It was not like the arrival of a war party, the news of which flew through the camp, although certainly the sentries at the stronghold’s entrance would be relaying news of his return privately to Cochise. He urged the black into a lope. His heart was thudding in excitement. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he told her it was over—that they were leaving and would be building a new life together in Texas. He was sure Candice would love Texas.
He dismounted at thegohwahto find Datiye coming up to him, smiling, taking his horse from him. As she led the black away, giving him a warm look, he got a glimpse of his son. Shoshi was awake, his eyes bright, at a new stage where he was starting to absorb all the stimuli around him. He seemed to smile at his father. Savage a felt a pang of regret to be leaving him behind.
“Candie,” Jack called, stepping into their gohwah. He stepped back out, then walked over to Datiye. “How’s my boy?” he said crooningly, lifting him out of the cradleboard. Shoshi squirmed, fists flying against his father’s face. “He’s bigger already,” Jack said, startled.
“He will be big and brave, like his father,” Datiye said, her eyes intent on his face. “You must be hungry.”
“Starved. Where’s Candice?”
“I do not know,” Datiye said. “I have not seen her for days.”
Savage straightened, a sudden sense of warning shooting through him. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Sometimes we go days without seeing each other,” Datiye replied evenly. “You know that.”
His jaw clenched. That was impossible, not unless Candice was furious over something and was going out of her way to avoid Datiye. “I’m going to go find her,” he said. “I’ll eat when we get back.”
“I found this yesterday,” Datiye said, her face impassive, holding out a piece of buckskin, a square scrap. “It has white man’s writing on it, I think.”
He took it and saw that it did indeed have writing on it, scrawled in charcoal. He went to the fire and squatted down by the light. His heart stopped.
“Jack, I’ve taken Christina and left you. By the time you get this I will be en route East. Don’t bother coming after me. It’s over. You can’t give Christina and me what we need … C.”
He sat there staring at the crude, cruel note, feeling as if his heart had been ripped out of his body. She had left him—run away. Taken Christina. He couldn’t believe it.
He stood. “When the hell did you find this?”
