Chapter Twenty-Nine
He had left her alone with those instructions to finish the shelter.
It had taken her a long time to figure out how to fill in the framework of saplings with the brush.
At first, the brush kept falling out. Each piece of brush had to be wedged against other pieces and the frame.
The fact that squaws and braves kept glancing at her didn’t help the situation.
The children who came over to jabber excitedly and point and laugh were a distraction—but a welcome one from her tumbling thoughts.
Now, somehow, she was supposed to fill in the brush with bear grass. She was lucky she had gotten this far—the roof had really been impossible.
As she held some grass in her hand and stared at the gohwah, waiting for the solution, she became aware of a squaw standing a few feet away, staring at her.
Candice looked over at her. The woman was slender and pretty.
She was a few years older than Candice, and she stared at Candice with hard, hostile black eyes.
Candice could feel her hatred, and its intensity frightened her.
The woman walked closer, and Candice rose to her feet apprehensively. With a look of scorn, the squaw tapped the gohwah. It shuddered.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Candice asked as calmly as she could, despite the fact that she was sure the woman didn’t understand a word she said. “I’ve spent all afternoon building this, so please keep your hands to yourself.”
“An angry wind, it blows away,” the squaw said in stilted English.
Candice was surprised. “How did you learn English?”
“Nino Salvaje taught me,” she said with a small smile.
“Nino Salvaje?”
“The man you know as Savage.”
A sick feeling spread through her veins. “Why did he teach you English?”
“Why do you think he wants me to know his other language?” The woman’s smile broadened.
Candice refused to acknowledge her rising comprehension. “I have no idea,” she said, but oh, she did.
“I am his woman,” the Apache returned calmly.
Candice was very still—except for the pounding of her heart. She could not mistake the avid jealousy pouring through her. She smiled tightly at the squaw. “What’s your name?”
“Datiye.”
“Well, Datiye, if you are his woman, then why am I building his gohwah?” This was said with more confidence and gusto than she felt, even while she knew she was a fool to be competing with this woman for a man she didn’t even want.
The woman stared, her face darkening, but didn’t answer. It was then that Candice heard his voice and looked up to see Jack approaching with the tall, handsome Apache who had spoken English to her and a stunningly beautiful woman. They were chatting in Apache, the squaw between the two men.
The three stopped, and Candice turned her back deliberately on them, still stunned by the first woman’s admission.
She was filled with dark emotions, thinking about Jack and Datiye, thinking about Jack looking at her and teasing her that morning while this woman—his mistress?
—was here in camp. I really don’t care, she told herself, and knew it was a lie.
When the tall Apache started to speak sharply, Candice had to look to see what was going on. Jack was inspecting her handiwork carefully, obviously as a means to ignore what was occurring, and Datiye was leaving them with a hard, angry stride, clearly sent away by the Apache.
“This is my brother, Shozkay,” Jack said. “And this is his wife, Luz.”
Candice nodded, barely able to restrain herself from demanding just what his relationship was with the other squaw. She looked at Luz and was again struck by her sensual beauty. Luz was staring at her too. “You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen,” Candice told her frankly.
Luz smiled, and she reached out and touched her shoulder. She spoke in Apache, and Shozkay translated. “She wants to tell you the same thing—that you are as beautiful as the sunrise.”
Candice was overwhelmed by the compliment, especially as it came from another woman. “Thank you,” she said softly, and they smiled at each other.
Jack was inspecting the gohwah, pacing all the way around it. “Blessed Usen,” he muttered, “this is the worst I’ve seen.”
“Fine,” Candice snapped, making him jerk around. Her eyes flashed murderously. “You want it built better, you do it by yourself.”
Luz and Shozkay looked at each other.
Jack tested the gohwah. “Fortunately, the weather is good. Come here. Ill show you how to weave this grass in.”
Luz restrained him. “I’ll do it,” she said, smiling. “Do you speak Spanish?” she said, switching to her grandmother’s tongue.
“Yes, a bit,” Candice said. “I understand better than I speak it, though.”
“I will teach her. After all, she is now my sister.” Luz bit her lip, and there was a quick exchange of glances between Jack and the two Apaches.
“What does she mean?” Candice asked Jack, understanding Luz perfectly.
Shozkay answered. “My brother has traded for you. You become our sister the way Luz became his sister through me. It is just a manner of speaking.” He smiled.
Candice watched them walk away, her arms crossed over her chest.
Luz showed her how to weave strands of the long bear grass through the brush. She did it quickly and efficiently. Candice was tired of the task and tired in general, and her weaving was loose and shoddy.
“Do you like Jack?” she asked curiously as she picked up another length of grass. The strands were between three and four feet long.
Luz smiled. “Very much. He is brave and strong. He brings much pride to the path he walks, and never shame.”
Candice absorbed that. “Why is he called ‘Nino Salvaje’?”
“It was the name the great Cochise gave him many, many winters ago.”
“Cochise named him?” She was curious.
“Yes.” Luz glanced at Candice briefly as she wove the grass into the brush. “It was a great honor to be given such a proud name by such a great warrior—the son of the chief. And he was only a boy.”
“Well, it suits him.” She yanked out the strand of grass and started over. “Why did Cochise name him? Are they related?”
“No. Cochise gave him as a gift to my husband’s parents. They loved him from early on and adopted him.”
“He gave Jack as a gift?”
“Yes.”
“But, what about Jack’s real parents?”
“I don’t know. You would have to ask him. They probably died.”
Later, after the gohwah was finished, hides stretched tautly over the shell, Candice accepted a lesson in cooking.
It wasn’t that she was interested in how to prepare the bland stew made from acorns—but she did like Luz.
Some time later Luz sent her down to the creek with two woven baskets for water.
Candice looked at the baskets doubtfully. “Don’t these leak?”
Luz laughed. “No, look inside.”
She uncovered one and found that there was a clay urn within.
“We make very little pottery, it breaks too easily,” the squaw said. “But sometimes it is necessary.”
The creek ran along the entire edge of the back of the camp.
She walked slowly through the pines, tired from the day, glad of the time alone.
Soon she had left the gohwahs behind. She didn’t want to think, but she instantly started speculating about the woman Datiye.
She was almost at the creek when she heard Jack’s voice.
She looked up, stopping short.
Datiye was in his arms. She was pressed against him, her hands on his bare chest. She was talking rapidly in Apache, looking up into his face. He had both his hands on her waist, and his face was unreadable. Candice stood frozen.
Jack looked past Datiye and saw her. Immediately he dropped his hands and stepped away from the slender squaw. Then he looked back at Datiye and spoke in a harsh tone. Datiye interrupted, throwing her palms back on his chest.
Candice didn’t want to see any more, but she didn’t move. Datiye stared boldly back. Jack said something to her and she turned and left, but not before throwing a last cold dance at Candice. Jack approached, taking the urns from her.
“I’ll do that,” he said, his gaze searching her face.
Candice looked at him coldly, trying to remain expressionless and not show him that she felt like murdering somebody. Preferably that other woman. “That’s all right,” she huffed, reaching for the urns.
A tug-of-war ensued. “No, I’ll fill them. They’ll be heavy.”
“Do you fill her urns too?” Candice released her grip so abruptly, he momentarily lost his balance.
“What?” he asked blankly, recovering.
“Nothing,” Candice said, her nostrils flaring.
Jack gave her a cautious look and started for the stream. Candice glared at his back, then started after him, crashing noisily through the bushes and brush. She pulled up short behind him as he finished filling the urns, and glimpsed a smile he was trying to hide.
“Is something funny?” she asked in an icy voice.
He straightened, and the smile burst, wreathing his face. “No,” he said, and started laughing.
“Just what is so funny?” she cried furiously.
“You!” he said, laughing harder. “My God! For such a graceful woman, you move like a hurricane! Candie, shiji, I must teach you how to walk.”
She stared. She stared at him, laughing. She waited for him to stop, and when he finally did, her voice was as casual as she could make it. “So,” she said, “is that woman your mistress?”