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She reached a hand up to her hair and ran her fingers through its thickness. She wished she had taken time to braid her hair before going to the fort. In that way, she would have looked totally Apache.
Today she would show everyone who she truly was, and how she wished to live the rest of her life. She was proud of her Apache heritage, and could hardly wait to begin life as it would soon be with Storm.
As the fort came in sight, Shoshana’s insides tightened. And when she realized they had been spied by the sentries, she felt a frisson of fear over what Storm had decided to do. After so many years of staying hidden in the mountains, avoiding these soldiers at all costs, he would now come face to face with them.
She hoped that his generous offer of handing over the scalp hunter to them would be taken in the way it was meant—as a friendly gesture that would prove he was a man of peace.
“Halt!” ordered one of the soldiers who had ridden out to meet them. He drew rein beside Storm, his hand on his holstered pistol as he gave Shoshana a surprised stare, then looked past her and looked in wonder at Mountain Jack.
“He is now yours,” Storm said stiffly. “We found him. A panther had taken him to its den.”
Another soldier rode up. His gaze met Shoshana’s. “What are you doing with Chief Storm?” he asked, his gaze slowly raking over her, taking in her Indian attire.
“I would rather explain things to Colonel Hawkins,” Shoshana said, even now seeing the colonel riding toward them.
When he drew rein a few feet away and gazed questioningly at Shoshana, then at Mountain Jack, and then at Storm, she felt her insides tightening. She went over what she had said in her note, how she had made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with the white community, especially soldiers.
She knew that the words must have insulted the colonel, and felt that he looked at her now with antagonism.
“Shoshana, why are you with Chief Storm?” Colonel Hawkins blurted out.
“In my note I failed to tell you that Storm saved me after Mountain Jack took me hostage in his cabin,” Shoshana said, her eyes meeting the colonel’s. “Storm took me to his stronghold. There I was reunited with my true mother, who I believed dead ever since Colonel George Whaley rode into my village and spared no one . . . but . . . me. I want nothing more now than to live the rest of my life with my people, the Apache. I plan to marry Chief Storm soon.”
“Marry?” Colonel Hawkins said, his eyes widening. “But, Shoshana, you have known nothing but how it is to live with white people. Can you truly live as an Apache?”
“As I said, I want nothing more than that for myself,” she murmured.
“Storm took a chance by coming today to bring the scalp hunter to you,” she said anxiously. “He knew that you could follow him and finally learn where his stronghold is. He trusted that you wouldn’t.”
“That trust is appreciated,” Colonel Hawkins said, smiling at Storm. He glanced down at Mountain Jack, then looked at Storm again. “I appreciate this, Chief Storm. Know this: You will not be followed.”
Then he gazed at Shoshana again. “Your father’s . . . I mean George Whaley’s . . . funeral is in a short time,” he said thickly. “Would you want to stay long enough to attend?”
“Sir, in the past few days I have come to terms with George Whaley, who he was, and what he truly was to me. I have concluded that I was wrong ever to show any love for him,” she murmured. “As a child, he took everything precious from me. Only because the terrible day was erased from my mind was I able to show this man any love. After I remembered what happened that day, and how much I lost because of him, my love turned to loathing.”
“Then you go on your way, my dear,” Colonel Hawkins said softly. He reached a hand out to Storm. “Chief Storm, thank you for what you did here today. We’ve been searching long and hard for this despicable man. I know you could’ve taken him to your stronghold and dealt with him in your own way. I’m glad you brought him here to meet his punishment.”
“All I want is for my people to live in peace without being threatened by white-eyes,” Storm replied. “Do I have your word that you will not follow me and Shoshana?”
“You have my word, and I will make certain none of the men under my command will go against that promise,” he said. He smiled at Shoshana again. “My dear, you deserve happiness. I do hope you find it with Storm and his people.”
He cleared his throat. “I am so glad that you have been reunited with your mother,” he said. “Your true mother. Be happy, Shoshana. And know that I will never forget you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Storm clasped the colonel’s hand and shook it, nodded, then waited for the travois to be detached from his steed. When it was done, he did not bother to take even one more look at the scalp hunter. He wheeled his horse around and rode toward his mountain, with Shoshana clinging to him, her cheek on his muscled back.
Suddenly a voice rang out from behind them. “I’ll get you for this, you damn Apache!” Mountain Jack screeched. “I’ll . . . get . . . you, Shoshana!”
Shoshana’s skin crawled at those words, but she knew that there was nothing more to fear from that man. She ignored his threat, as Storm ignored it.
“Now we can concentrate on our marriage and on the rest of our lives together. We can concentrate on making plans to go to Canada,” she murmured. “All of the ugliness has been left behind us.”
Storm gave her a smile over his shoulder, but could not help having doubts about what had been promised him. Too many white-eyes had spoken with a forked tongue to the Apache. How could he believe that the lies would stop just because he had handed over an evil man to these soldiers?
“Yes, behind us,” he said, but only to help put Shoshana’s mind at rest.
He glanced over his shoulder to be certain Colonel Hawkins had not sent soldiers to follow him and Shoshana.
