“An abundant land for those who know what to look for,” he said later, casually. “Gathering must have been tiring work.”
“Yes … I mean, I suppose so, I wouldn’t know, though,” Candice said, wondering if he’d caught her mistake. She had almost agreed that gathering was hard work—which was an admission that she’d been out of the stronghold.
He studied her, then smiled.
“Tell me about Cochise.”
“I saw him only from a distance, a few times.”
Again he tried to trap her. This time Candice refused to be lulled into confidence, and successfully avoided a comment designed to lead her into an admission of having conversed with the Chiricahua chief. Bradley swiftly moved on, without a pause. He asked questions about the morale of the Apaches, and Candice was relieved to be able to answer honestly that it seemed fine.
“Will Jack Savage come after you again?”
She started, then a glimmer of comprehension dawned. He was using her as bait! Jack would come after her, she knew it, deep inside, and maybe she had expected that all along. Maybe she had hoped her leaving would jolt him to his senses and he would choose her over the Apaches. Yes, she had known he would follow her, just as Bradley somehow knew, and that’s why he was keeping her there—it was a trap! “I doubt it,” she said unevenly, beginning to perspire.
“Sometimes you lie very well, and sometimes not so well, as now.”
She sucked in her breath. “A rude remark.”
“A dozen expressions crossed your face, including comprehension and fear. For whom are you afraid, Candice? I doubt it’s for yourself or your child—or are you afraid of him? Savage?”
“Yes,” she cried, jumping at that explanation.
“Or are you afraidforhim?”
“I hate him,” she cried. “I live for the day that bastard is hanged!”
He smiled. “Then you have no objection to remaining as my guest a few more days?”
She swallowed. “None.” Could she sneak away at night? And how would Jack even know she was there?
This time Bradley did not change the topic. He wanted to know how many war parties she had seen ride out, how many were in the parties, how many braves were in the tribe. Candice lied constantly. She refused to give an accurate picture of the Chiricahua strength. She found herself underestimating their numbers when pressed beyond an initial “I don’t know.” She could barely believe what she was doing: lying to the United States Army. They were in a war. She was, with her lies, aiding the enemy. But she couldn’t tell him the truth! And thank God she didn’t know where the stronghold was.
Of course they came back to that topic Almost an hour and a half must have passed. Candice was too tense to worry about Christina, although the child was always in the back of her mind. In a little while she would be hungry. How long was this going to go on?
“You rode into the stronghold in the light of day after Savage abducted you.”
“Yes.”
“Surely you can estimate how far south from the pass the entrance was.”
“No. I can’t.”
“Did you go through Apache Pass to reach the entrance or down Sulphur Springs Valley?”
“I—I can’t remember.”
“Surely you remember where the guide left you just a few days ago. Where was that?”
“On the Butterfield Overland Trail,” she lied. It had been in Sulphur Springs Valley.
“How long did it take to reach there from the time you left the camp?”
She tried to breathe more easily. “About forty minutes.” A total fabrication. In any case, now he would think the entrance was much farther north than it was.
“Where on the Butterfield Trail?”
She swallowed. “Close to Apache Pass. East of the summit.” She was thinking desperately. It was a middle-ground answer. They could or could not have gone through the pass after leaving the entrance to the stronghold.
