Apache-Colton Series Page 6

  “Did you make it by Fort Buchanan again on your way home?”

  Jason’s deep voice interrupted Travis’s memories, which was just as well, for they weren’t particularly pleasant memories.

  “Yes, for all the good it did me. Damn that Lieutenant Lord. He’s nothing but a puffed-up jackass,” Travis said fiercely.

  “What’d he say this time?”

  “Oh, just the usual. You know—finding Matt is the Army’s business, and I’m just getting in the way. Hell. Benito talked to some of the troopers and found out their patrols haven’t been more than ten miles from the fort in weeks. They’ve had their scouts out though. Their best guess is that Matt’s in Cochise’s stronghold, in which case they can’t touch him, or won’t.”

  “How soon are you going out again?”

  “Two or three days, as soon as the men rest up a bit.”

  Travis never gave a thought to his own need for rest. His only concern, which drove all other thoughts from his mind, was to find Matt. Find him and bring him home. Nothing else mattered.

  “You fire Quint?” Jason asked.

  “Didn’t have to. He quit.”

  Travis downed the rest of his whiskey, then pushed himself up from the sofa and trudged down the hall to his room.

  Two doors away, Carmen Martinez tiptoed softly across the hardwood floor and pressed her ear to her door. If her dueña, Tia Maria, wouldn’t snore so loudly, Carmen could hear better. Still, she heard all she needed to hear—the closing of Travis’s bedroom door.

  He’s home. Carmen’s heart pounded with anticipation. Three weeks he’d been gone. Her breath came rapidly when she remembered the last time Travis had been gone that long. Oh! Such a night they’d had when he came home. He’d been wild with despair and frustration, and his lovemaking was savage, nearly brutal, as if to punish them both for his inability to find his son.

  She wished he would give up his futile search for the boy, except she realized that when he was in a good mood, as he’d been before his trip to New Orleans, he wasn’t nearly so exciting in bed. She liked him the way he’d become since then—wild, untameable, sometimes cruel. But having him once or twice every few weeks wasn’t enough. She wanted him every night, and she’d have him, too, she vowed silently.

  The rhythm of the snores behind her remained constant as Carmen quietly opened the door and crept down the dark hall to Travis’s room. Tia Maria never woke up during the night. She had no idea her niece and been sleeping with the handsome, blond American for the past several months.

  But just to be on the safe side, Carmen vowed to move into a room of her own soon.

  Without knocking, she entered Travis’s room and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, head in his hands.

  “Mi quierdo,” she cried, dashing to his side and throwing her arms around his neck. “You did not find him? Was there no word? No word at all?”

  “None,” Travis answered dully, ignoring the soft red lips pressed against his neck and the purposeful brush of her breasts against his arm. He wasn’t in the mood for her games tonight.

  Christ. What was she still doing here, anyway? More to the point, how the hell did he ever get tangled up with such a grasping, shrewish bitch in the first place?

  Ah, yes, he thought. Now I remember. My brain was between my legs that night for sure.

  Travis and Jason had been at Lucien Renard’s ranch down near the border when Pete Kitchen, across the river at El Potrero, invited everyone to his place. Pete’s wife, Doña Rosa, was entertaining visiting relatives with a grand fiesta. That’s when Travis met the beautiful, dark-eyed Carmen. Those black eyes of hers had issued a most blatant invitation. Of course, there was a definite lack of privacy at the time, so Travis hadn’t been too surprised when she accepted the invitation, which he’d never extended, to visit the Triple C.

  The next morning, Carmen and her dueña, Maria Francesca Vargas, had met him beside his wagon, their luggage packed and ready to go.

  Her first night at the Triple C, Carmen slipped into his bed after the house was quiet and delivered what her body and eyes had promised.

  Unfortunately, Carmen turned out to be just like most other women Travis had ever met. She talked constantly of clothes, jewels, and traveling, all of which she’d like to have more of. She was heavy-handed with the servants, never lifted a finger to help anyone, and pouted if she didn’t get her own way.

  Travis had grown bored with her in no time at all. Months ago, when he and Matt had left on their trip, Travis told Carmen it was over between them. When he’d come to after the Army brought him home, he’d been more than irritated to find her still hanging around. Since then he’d paid little attention to her, except for his last visit home a few weeks ago. He winced when he remembered that night, what little of it he could remember.

  He’d come home, headed straight for the liquor cabinet, and got blind, stinking drunk. Then, as now, Carmen had crept into his room and flaunted herself, letting the straps of her transparent negligee fall until the gown caught on the dark tips of her breasts, threatening to reveal all if she so much as breathed. She hadn’t bothered with breathing. She simply shrugged her shoulders and sent the wispy material to the floor.

  He wasn’t too certain what happened after that, except they had both been savage and wild, tearing at each other in a lust-filled frenzy born of frustration. He’d known from the first Carmen liked her men to play rough, but he’d had no idea how rough until that night. He’d taken all his frustrations out on her, and she’d loved every minute of it. The next morning they were both covered with bruises, scratches, and bite marks. Her dark eyes had glowed with pleasure, and she’d licked her lips in anticipation of more. All Travis had felt that morning was disgust—with her and with himself.

  Tonight, three weeks later, he knew she was back for more, and he didn’t want any part of her. He was every bit as frustrated as he’d been the last time, but tonight he was sober. Her wet lips sucking on his throat filled him with loathing instead of desire. He pushed her away.

  Carmen, who reminded him more each day of a cat, one with sharp claws only temporarily sheathed, rubbed her lush curves against him.

  “Oh, Travis, don’t you see how hopeless it is?” She bit the side of his neck none to gently, then rushed on before he could interrupt. “I know you love your son, quierdo, but he is gone. He is lost to you forever. The Apaches will never release him, if he’s even still alive. Let go, Travis. Let go of the past. I can give you more sons to ease your heart. Let me, Travis. Let me love you.”

  Travis couldn’t believe it. Give up? More sons? The bitch was out of her mind! He stood abruptly. She tumbled to the floor with a cry of dismay.

  Carmen looked up into his face and gasped. One glimpse into those cold brown eyes and she knew she’d made a mistake. The muscle ticking in his jaw warned of an impending explosion, as did the throbbing red scar on his cheek. This was not the kind of explosion she’d been hoping for. Her mind scurried in all directions trying to find a way out of the tangle she’d created.

  “Travis, I didn’t mean—”

  “The hell you didn’t. Get out. Get out before I break your disgusting little neck.”

  Carmen swallowed heavily, deciding she’d better do as he said. Tomorrow he’d be calmer, and by then she’d have thought of something to make him believe he’d simply misunderstood her.

  Under other circumstances, his violent anger would have fascinated her. Even now she felt the flames of desire licking hot and fierce in her belly. But she’d erred in trying to get him to forget his son. The boy was everything to him.

  Soon, Travis would realize on his own that he’d never see Matt again, then Carmen intended to step in and fill the void in his life. No interfering little brat was going to get in her way. It was ridiculous that Matt should be more of a hindrance to her since his capture than he’d ever been before. But she’d find a way around that. Oh, yes, she certainly would.

  Chapter Sevenr />
  Daniella pulled Blaze to a halt at the hitching rail in front of the sprawling adobe ranch house. Her little home in the valley would probably fit in one small corner of this house.

  She had left home scarcely two hours ago, not knowing where she was headed, only certain that the golden-haired man in her visions was somewhere near. She’d seen him again last night, had seen how tired and miserable he was. She’d even heard his voice this time, calling out to Matt, the boy who’d been torn from his side months ago—his son.

  Next Daniella had seen the boy, Matt, inside a wickiup at Cochise’s stronghold, the same place she had been. Then it came to her—that was the Chiricahua winter stronghold. Winter was long past; they’d be leaving soon. She knew she could get the boy back, but time was running out.

  She had scribbled a brief note to Tucker, afraid to wake him for fear he’d try to stop her. God knew this was the most foolhardy thing she’d done yet, going after a man she didn’t know, who was searching for a boy she didn’t know. The man was going to think she was absolutely crazy.

  She wasn’t ready for this. She and Tucker and Simon had only been at their new home for a few weeks now, and she was still unable to sleep at night. The three of them had settled into an easy routine of hard work and good companionship. They repaired the barn roof, cleared out and planted the garden, gave the house a thorough cleaning, and started repairs on the split-rail fence that divided the valley into three separate pastures.

  It was really starting to feel like home. She wasn’t ready to leave it. But she could no more ignore the plea she saw in the young boy’s eyes in her vision than she could stop the sun from rising. He thought his father was dead, but he had an air of expectancy about him, as though he knew someone would come for him. She just couldn’t let him down. Besides, she knew she was the only one who could get him free. His father, the golden-haired man, would never find him on his own.

  As she dismounted, her nerves stretched taut. How was she going to explain this to these people? Was the boy’s father really here? Tucker would definitely not have approved of this scheme. She was glad she left him a note instead of waking him. Now that she thought about it, however, she realized she didn’t even know if Tucker could read. Too late to worry about it now.

  With trembling fingers, Daniella raised the brass knocker on the solid oak door and banged it against the wood several times. She hadn’t seen a living soul since she rode up, and the sun was well over the horizon. What if no one was here? There should have been ranch hands out working by this time on a spread this size. Where was everyone?

  The door before her swung inward, and Daniella was left staring at a broad chest covered in blue cotton. Her gaze traveled up until she met a pair of curious brown eyes. The man before her looked about fifty years old, his blond hair streaked with silver. He looked like the man in her vision, but this couldn’t be him—the man before her was too old.

  “Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “What may I do for you?” He took in her appearance in one glance, eyeing the poncho, the hat, the breeches, and the moccasins, then his face went carefully blank.

  But not before Daniella saw his expression. She cringed. She’d seen vagrants in the alleys of Boston dressed better than she was. With a deep breath, she pushed the thoughts aside. It was time to get down to business.

  “You’re not…Matt’s father, are you?” she asked.

  The man’s eyes lit with interest. “I’m his grandfather. What do you know about Matt?” he asked cautiously.

  Daniella took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then blurted out, “I know where he is.”

  The man paused only a second before grabbing her by the hand and dragging her inside. “Travis!” he bellowed. “Travis!”

  A moment later he stopped abruptly. Daniella ran smack into his back. When she righted herself, her gaze immediately settled on the man seated at the table eating his breakfast. She sucked in her breath sharply. It was him! The man in her visions! Their eyes met, and locked. Something indefinable passed between them. Each read the acknowledgment of it in the other’s eyes.

  “Travis, this…” The older man’s eyes traveled down Daniella once more, taking in the way the poncho did not hang straight down in front of her. She felt like a mare being inspected for possible purchase. Would he check her teeth next? “This girl says she knows where Matt is.”

  Travis felt his breath leave his lungs. Those eyes! Sweet Jesus. It was like looking into the other half of his own soul, looking into those eyes. He mentally shook himself. Ridiculous, he thought.

  In weeks past, he never dreamed he’d have to force himself to remember Matt, but that’s exactly what he had to do now. The very idea infuriated him. It only seemed proper to place the blame for his rage on this girl in boys’ clothes. “Tell me what you know and how you know it,” he demanded.

  The girl took a deep breath. “I know Matt is with an Apache family, in Cochise’s winter stronghold,” she said. “But not for long. They’ll move to the summer location soon. Matt thinks you’re dead. I can get him back, but we have to leave now before they move their camp, or I won’t be able to find them. Will you come with me?”

  Travis shook his head and laughed. “Sure, honey, I’ll come with you. We’ll just waltz right into ol’ Cochise’s camp and he’ll hand Matt over like we’re old pals.”

  The girl’s eyes narrowed. Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “You got it all correct except one thing.”

  “Oh?” Travis bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at her nerve. She was a cool one. “What part wasn’t correct?”

  “I’m not your honey,” she hissed. “The sooner we get that straight, the better we’ll get along.”

  “What makes you think we need to get along at all?”

  “Well, I suppose that was a little presumptuous on my part. I’m going to get your son back, and I assumed you’d want to come with me. If you’d rather stay here, that’s up to you. I’ll let you explain to Matt why a stranger brought him home instead of his own loving father.”

  Travis would have laughed out loud at her audacity if they hadn’t been talking about Matt. His head spun with questions. “Who are you? How do you know anything about Matt?”

  “My name is Daniella Blackwood, and aside from your being Matt’s father, I don’t know who you are either, except this man, who I assume is your father, called you Travis.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Travis exclaimed. “Are you telling me you don’t know my name? How did you know where to find me?”

  “Look,” she said urgently. “If you don’t want to tell me your last name, that’s fine. But I swear I can get your son back. Will you come with me?”

  “No,” he said flatly.

  She blinked at him in surprise. “Why?”

  Where did she get her nerve, Travis wondered. What’s she after? “Who put you up to this?” he growled. “If this is supposed to be some sort of joke, I don’t think it’s funny.”

  “Do you see me laughing?” she demanded. “It’s not a joke. I do know where Matt is, and I can get him back for you.”

  “How do you know where he is?” Travis demanded.

  The girl closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A moment later she pierced him with her blue-eyed gaze. “I know where he is the same way I knew how to find you. The same way I know how you got that scar on your face.”

  Travis resisted the urge to touch his cheek.

  “You were on the stage, on your way home, when you were attacked,” she added.

  “Hell, everybody in the territory knows that.”

  “Does everybody in the territory know that just before it happened, you were tickling your son, and both of you were laughing?”

  Travis felt the blood drain from his face. He stared at her in awe. How could she know those things, unless she’d seen Matt, talked to him? It couldn’t be, but just maybe… “What did you say your name was?”

  The girl squared her shoulders and looked him straigh
t in the eye. “Daniella Blackwood.”

  Something tightened in his chest. He swallowed heavily, then whispered, “Take off your hat.”

  For a brief second he saw panic flash across her eyes. Her hand shook when she pulled off the hat. Long black and white curls fell down her back and over her shoulders.

  “Goddamn,” Travis muttered. He sat forward in his chair and clenched his fists. It was her—the girl he almost shot that day at the ambush. “You’re the one I…the one Lord told me about.” What was it Lord had said? Something about…magic. Woman of Magic…that’s what the Apaches called her.

  The girl sneered at him. “If you mean Lieutenant Lord at Fort Buchanan, I can imagine what he had to say about me.”

  A wry grin twisted Travis’s lips. “Well, let’s just say you’re not exactly one of his favorite people.”

  “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

  “If you don’t like the good lieutenant, I suppose that’s one point in your favor,” Travis said with a smirk.

  “How very kind of you,” she replied with exaggerated sweetness.

  “He said I’d be wasting my time talking to you because you didn’t know anything about Matt, and if you did, you’re too cozy with the Apaches to help me.”

  “Had he bothered to ask me about Matt, I couldn’t have told him anything, because at the time, I didn’t know where your son was. Now I do.”

  “Why are you so willing to help me?”

  “I’m not helping you, I’m helping Matt. But we’re wasting valuable time. We need to leave immediately.”

  Travis leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “In the first place, Miss Blackwood, I haven’t said I’d go anywhere with you at all. In the second place, we just got in late last night. My men need a couple days’ rest before I can ask them to head out again.”