“Shit” was all Jack managed, and Luke threw an arm around Jack as he stumbled along. He found himself falling onto Nadi’s straw pallet. “Thanks,” he mumbled, groaning.
Luke stared down at him, glanced around without expression at the squalid little room, nodded to Nadi, and left.
Jack had flung his arm over his eyes. Nadi crouched beside him, pressing her face on his chest. As his world did another spin, he groaned again. Nadi made a funny noise, something that sounded like she was crying. One of Jack’s hands came out and he patted her head.
Later, and how much later he wasn’t sure, but the room was in total darkness, so he knew he had passed out, he became groggily aware of a warm, naked body curled beside his. He was naked too. He remembered what had happened that afternoon and cursed himself for his idiocy in getting so drunk that he couldn’t defend himself.
The woman’s slim, hard body moved on top of his. At the sensation of soft, warm skin and hot groin, his body stirred. He recognized Nadi with a start, despite the numbed, half-inebriated state he was in. “Nadi? What are you doing here?”
She began kissing his throat, and his groin swelled.
“Nadi, no.”
Her hands slid to his jaws, holding his face, and as she kissed him, she rubbed hard little nipples against his chest. “No,” he tried to say, into her mouth, but now his groin was aching and full, his rigid penis straining against her belly.
He was still half drunk and barely awake. He groaned, opened his mouth, closed his arms around her, and surrendered. She was warm, and she was woman. He knew he shouldn’t. It was in the back of his mind. She was too young, and a prostitute for the patrons of the saloon. None of that mattered now. What mattered was sheathing himself in her warm, wet flesh. He flipped her and drove into her, groaning.
She moved her hips in rhythm with his, returned his kisses, ran her hands up and down his back. Because of all the alcohol, it was some time before he found release, but he wasn’t too drunk to tell that he hadn’t aroused her—even halfway. He rolled off her and stared at the ceiling. She instantly curled against his side.
He turned to look at her thin face with the too-big black eyes, which were shining with adoration. Her expression made him freeze. “Nadi, this wasn’t right.”
She smiled, took his hand, and placed it on her heart. The look she gave him was as eloquent as words she seemed to want to say but could not: “I love you.”
Jack looked at the ceiling, feeling awful. He felt her kiss his hand before releasing it. A change of topic was always safe. “How old are you?” Her fingers moved too rapidly, and he grabbed her wrist. “Slow down.”
She smiled, held up ten fingers, then five and two.
She looked fourteen. “Is that the truth?”
Still smiling, she nodded vigorously. She was so sincere, and so pathetic. He had just used her, and even though she had offered herself, he was grim with remorse. He stared again at the ceiling.
She smiled and stretched out alongside him.
He looked at her.
She stroked his chest languidly. He watched her get up and pull on her calico blouse and the buckskin skirt. Her clothes were much mended and could use a wash. He was aware of the heavy odors in the room. He recalled how her hair had felt in his hands. He glanced at the soiled pallet he was lying on.
She returned with coffee and whiskey. His head pounding with an immense headache, Jack reached for coffee and pushed the whiskey away.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Three days later Jack rode into Cochise’s stronghold in the Dragoon Mountains late at night.
Nadi had wept and tried to convince him not to go.
He felt no small amount of guilt. Although he had stayed in Tucson for a few more days, because he needed the time to pull himself together, he hadn’t touched her again. She had offered herself hopefully. But Jack had nothing left to give, and he could not take from her again.
Earlier he had sent a smoke signal up that had been answered, or he would have never gotten past the two sentries that guarded the mouth of the stronghold. The stronghold was actually a canyon with a very narrow gorge as the sole entrance to, and exit from, Sulphur Springs Valley. The stronghold was completely defensible, because even if troops could find the entrance, which hadn’t happened yet, they would be annihilated by just a few warriors as they tried to enter through the gorge. Inside the stronghold, the entire Chiricahua tribe was nestled among mesquite and juniper and scrub oak, cholla and prickly pear and agave. A stream wandered the whole length of the canyon.
Nahilzay, Cochise’s lieutenant and finest warrior, greeted him. “Welcome, my friend,” he said, smiling. He was tall and lean, about ten years Jack’s senior.
Jack returned the greeting as he dismounted.
“Cochise wishes you to share his fire,” Nahilzay said, taking the reins of the black. “It is my honor to tend to your horse.”
Jack didn’t say thank you, it was not the Apache way, although he was very pleased that Nahilzay thought enough of him to see to the black. They had ridden together only once, many years before, on a war party against Mexicans. Jack made his way through the camp and found Cochise’sgohwahwithout difficulty. The tall chief was sitting in the moonlight outside, and he stood as Jack approached. He embraced him.
“Come in, my cousin,” he said, his eyes traveling over his face carefully, intently.
