Chapter Sixty-Nine
Candice ignored the stares and obvious speculation as they rode through the Apache village. She was sitting in front of Savage, trying to look indifferent—trying to be indifferent. She was numb. But not numb enough not to be stricken with painful grief.
She grimly watched the activity around them, and it was no different from Shozkay’s camp.
Women were cooking, mending buckskins, or preparing foodstuffs.
Children ran, shouting and playing. Men were cleaning their guns, replacing arrows, sharpening knives and the stone points of spears.
She saw the back of one tall man and instantly recognized Cochise.
Although it was a cool spring day, he was wearing only thigh-high moccasins, completely plain, and a loincloth that reached almost to his knees.
His hair had been shorn. It reached only to the nape of his neck. He turned and immediately saw them.
Jack stopped the black when the tall chief approached.
“Now I understand,” Cochise said, smiling at Candice and then Jack, “why you are gone so many days.”
“I decided her place was at my side,” Jack said easily.
Candice stared boldly at Cochise. He was handsome, and compelling. She realized she was sorry he was on the warpath. And she wondered if he would help her.
“A good choice,” Cochise said. “A woman should be with her man.”
She knew then that he wouldn’t.
‘Welcome, Sun Daughter. I am glad this man has seen his foolish ways. Now perhaps he will stop mooning after a woman and prepare to fight.” Cochise smiled at her and walked away.
Jack nudged the black forward. They had ridden in absolute silence all day.
Jack had made several attempts at necessary conversation, such as: “Would you like to stop for a rest?” But Candice had not spoken a word.
He was beneath her attention, she had decided, and she intended to ignore him forever, if she could.
More important, she was afraid that if she opened her mouth to speak, great sobs and moans would come out instead of words.
They moved to the outskirts of the rancheria, and Candice recognized Datiye in front of a gohwah, doing something with what looked to be the stems of yucca plants. Candice stared at her with pain and jealousy and the beginnings of anger.
Dative was larger than she was, but not much.
Everything suddenly dawned on her. The two women were both equally pregnant, so that it was even possible Candice had conceived first. Candice was no fool.
She knew the odds of Datiye conceiving from just one night with Jack were minuscule.
Of course Jack would tell her he had slept with Datiye before they had discovered each other.
She blinked away tears. The more she thought about it—the more she remembered Datiye’s words in Shozkay’s camp and her jealousy—the more she was positive Datiye was and had been his mistress. The pain was unbearable.
Jack slid off, reaching up to help her dismount. Candice ignored him, trying to slide off by herself, but he cursed audibly and pulled her into his arms before setting her down as if she were a china doll. She lifted her nose into the air and spoke distinctly. “Don’t touch me.”
“Candice, he warned.
Datiye rose. There was no mistaking the expression on her face, one of complete dismay and surprise. She came forward. “I worried, you were gone so long,” she said to Jack in Apache.
Jack looked at the two women, who were doing their best to ignore each other.
Candice was looking past and through Datiye.
Datiye was looking at him. Their neighbors were watching with great interest. It was not an unusual thing for wives to be jealous of each other, and even hate each other and fight—viciously—until their husband grew sick of it and beat one or both of the culprits.
“Datiye, arrange another bed in the gohwah. Today Candice will rest, but tomorrow she can help you with your chores.”
Candice turned to look at him. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she said calmly. “But I have no intention of helping your whore with anything.”
Datiye seemed stricken, then furious. Jack reached out and grabbed her wrist to prevent her from attacking Candice with her nails.
He looked at Datiye, who was waiting for him to defend her.
He felt it was the honorable thing to do, but he didn’t want Candice to know that she was considered his second wife.
“Datiye is not a whore, Candice. Datiye, there will be no fights between you and Candice. That is my law. There will be peace between you.” He knew that she, at least, would obey him.
Datiye’s look was incredulous.
“I will be very displeased if you do not follow my wishes,” he added.
He hesitated. Candice was bound to find out the rest, and it would be better if he told her himself.
She had been looking at him, and now she quickly looked into the woods to avoid his regard.
“Candice, when a man provides for a woman and lets her sleep in his gohwah, that woman is considered his wife.”
She turned to stare at him disbelievingly.
“Datiye, leave us.”
With an indrawn breath and a hateful look at Candice, she left. Jack was grim. This was never going to work.
“You fornicating bastard sonuvabitch prick,” she hissed. “That whore is also your wife? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I don’t love her,” he gritted. “But it’s my baby, and taking care of her is my responsibility.”
“I want to be alone,” Candice said. How could he do this to her? How? Didn’t he know he was breaking her heart irreparably? She couldn’t take any more.
“Candice.” He took her shoulders. “I intend to find Datiye another husband after the baby is born. I swear. Just bear with me. Bear with this. Just for a little while.”
She couldn’t answer. There was no answer to make. She shrugged him off and strode into the gohwah. Datiye was there arranging a bed of hides. “Get out,” Candice said.
“Don’t order me around,” Datiye returned, her eyes flashing.
“Get out before I kill you!” Candice shouted, all her frustration and fury spewing.
Jack opened the canvas door. “Come on, Datiye, leave Candice alone for a while.” He pulled her out. His brow was wet with perspiration.
“I don’t want to sleep with her in there,” Datiye told him rigidly.
He couldn’t take it. “Fine,” he said. “Sleep in the woods for all I care!”
Datiye sat down in a huff, grabbing the basket of yucca stems, rootstocks, and tule shoots. She began sorting them angrily.
“Here,” Nahilzay said from behind him, laughing. “You need this.”
Jack started, then saw the proffered gourd. He took a few heavy drafts of the tiswin, wishing it were the stronger tulapai. “Christ!” he said, wiping his mouth.
“Forget the white god. You better say some prayers to the gans.” Nahilzay grinned. “Maybe the shaman knows a dance to help you.”
“I don’t think prayers will help me through this one,” Jack said. He looked at Nahilzay. “Hey, my friend. How would you like a wife?” Nahilzay was in his thirties and unwed.
Nahilzay’s grin grew wider. “Sun Daughter would warm my bed of hides nicely.”
Jack shot him a look. “No. Datiye. She is obedient and eager to please.” He stole a look at her, but he had lowered his voice and she hadn’t heard. “Very good to look upon. Good in the bed of hides too.” He smiled encouragingly.
Nahilzay just laughed and walked away.