“You can’t do this!” she cried. “What do you mean? You’re going on the warpath with Cochise?” Her voice was shrill.
He nodded.
“You can’t—you’d leave me here, pregnant, to go ride with those damn Apaches?”
He almost flinched. “I have no choice.”
“No choice?” she shouted. “Every man has a choice!”
“God!”he cried. “Candice, I have no choice—it’s my duty—there’s honor and loyalty involved.”
“Honor and loyalty?” She gasped. “Duty? Your duty is here—with me!”
His expression hardened. “I’m taking you back to your family.”
It took a full second for the import of his statement to sink in. “No. No, I won’t go. Jack, don’t leave, please, there’s nothing you can do up there.”
“I have to go, Candice, don’t you understand?” He pleaded.
“No! I don’t understand! You’re my husband and I’m having your baby! We need you here!”
“That’s why I’m taking you to the High C”
“No!” she cried. “No, Jack, I won’t go!”
He took her cold hands in his, his eyes searching her face. He couldn’t help the bitterness in his tone. “Afraid to face them while you’re carrying my child?”
“Yes!” She flung back the truth furiously, hoping to devastate him. “Yes, I’m afraid to face them, afraid of what they’ll say, what they’ll think—damn you!”
He stood up, his expression as hard as granite, and moved to the table where he began packing his things in his saddlebags. He heard her muffle a sob. He hefted the bags onto his shoulder. “I’ll have the Santana boy see to your heavier needs. Here’s forty dollars. It will hold you for a few months if I can’t get back sooner.”
She said nothing, staring at the sheets, twisting them in white hand, tears falling. He waited for her to look at him, and when he realized she wouldn’t, he walked to the door.
She reached him at the door, grabbing his arm and hanging on desperately. “Don’t go—I need you here!”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, and as often.” He tried for a reassuring smile and failed miserably.
“No,” she cried, but it was half a wail. Her eyes were filled with horror.
He paused and kissed her, but she was frozen into immobility, her lips like stone. He didn’t look at her again as he walked out the door, leaving her standing there naked and shocked.
Candice closed her eyes. What if he was killed? God, I love him, and he’s leaving me—what if he’s killed? What if I never see him again?
She shrugged on her wrapper, not even bothering with the nightgown, sick and hysterical because her world was falling apart and the man she loved was riding off to war—against her own people. And then she was flying as fast as she could outside, barefoot. He was leading the black out from the corral, and she cried out his name, running across the yard. He hesitated as she came, then swung into the saddle.
“No!” she cried, grabbing his ankle. “Jack, don’t go! You can’t!”
“I have to.” He looked down at her, but his face was masked. “Get back inside, Candice, before the neighbors see you.”
She stood, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t go, Jack, damn you, don’t go!”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I love you,” he said softly, then urged the black into a trot, breaking free of her.
She clung to the fence, weeping, watching his shadowy figure until the night swallowed him up.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Three days later Jack reached Apache Pass. He had pushed as hard as he could, and the black was exhausted and lathered. After using a smoke sign to announce his arrival—for he had no intention of being killed by his own people—he rode up to the summit and was greeted by six warriors who led him to Cochise.
