Chapter 11

 

Callie forced herself to uncurl her fingers from around the derringer, fisting her hands even deeper into the pockets of the warm leather. Her knuckle touched something that, at first felt like a seam of the leather, but as she ran her fingertip over it, she felt it move. A chain. A necklace. She folded it into her palm and put it in the pocket of her dress, followed by the small gun. She couldn’t help wondering why Jax would have a woman’s necklace in his coat pocket. A stab of jealousy coursed through her. She would examine the necklace later, when there was time. She couldn’t think of what that necklace might mean right now, and Jax would be needing his coat again soon.

MayBell lowered her head, only daring to look up with quick glances every few minutes. Her hands were trembling, Callie saw, and Sam Briscoe reached over and took them in his big paws. “It’s almost over, Ma’am,” he told her softly.

“Can we go now?” she whispered.

Sam smiled. “Not yet. Not til the marshal settles it all with these red devils.” He squeezed her hands gently. “He’ll do it soon enough, looks like.”

As they watched, the Apache that Jax had fought held up his hands for quiet. He spoke in a loud voice, looking at Jax from time to time. When he was done, Jax began to speak, then bent and cut the thong that bound them together at the ankle.

The reverend let go a deep sigh of relief.

“What’re they sayin’, preacher?” Trey whispered.

“It’s going to be fine,” Reverend Manley assured the rest of them. “We’re going to be spared by the grace of God—and Marshal McCall’s abilities.”

One of the warriors brought Jax’s gunbelt and shirt to him. He shrugged into the shirt quickly, but not before Callie had seen the blood trailing red down his side. She started forward instinctively, but the preacher put a staying hand on her arm.

“You mustn’t do that, Miss Callie,” he cautioned quickly.

“But, he’s hurt—”

Manley nodded. “I saw it, too. But he’ll be all right until we get to the next stage station, or even a few miles down the road. There must be no sign of weakness, now.”

Callie looked back to where Jax stood talking with the Apache, surrounded by several of the other warriors.

“A gift would be a good idea,” Manley murmured.

“They can take anything they want. They have us dead to rights, Reverend,” Sam said in a low voice.

Manley did not look at him. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Callie’s fingers curled around the necklace. Would it be an appropriate gift?

Just then, Jax and the Indian broke through the circle and walked over to where the others sat on the ground.

Jax reached down and helped Callie to her feet. The Apache watched her with an appreciative stare as Jax spoke to him in Apache. He grunted, and made a dismissive gesture. “Let us speak in the tongue common to the whites.”

If Jax was surprised at the Indian’s ability to speak English, he didn’t show it. He nodded. “Let it be so, my brother.”

“I am Blue Feather,” the stocky Indian announced proudly.

Callie saw that by the other white men’s reactions, they had heard of Blue Feather. And judging by their looks, what they had heard had not been good.

She delved into her dress pocket, her fingers brushing the necklace. It was a locket, in the shape of a heart. Painfully familiar. It couldn’t be. That locket had been buried with her mother! She thumbed it open, and looked down slowly, as Blue Feather and Jax spoke together in low tones once again. A gift would be good.

The face looking up at her was her own, the locket she’d never expected to see again clutched in her tight grip. The last time she’d seen it was two years ago—in the casket on the pillow beside her dear mother’s face. How did Jax happen to have it? How?

“Do you belong to this man?” Blue Feather was asking her. Callie looked up, dropping the locket back into the pocket. She glanced at Jax, who watched her warily, as if he wasn’t sure she’d answer correctly.

Callie took a deep breath and met Blue Feather’s eyes, not daring to look at Jax.

“I bear his child. A child made of our love. Can there be a doubt that—that I am his—” she started to say ‘wife’ but thought of Jax’s words to her that day in Fort Smith, a lifetime ago, it seemed now.

They’ll remember the half-breed’s woman.

She lifted her chin a notch. “I am his woman.”

Blue Feather’s black eyes searched Callie’s, for any sign of untruth. She did not look away, but met his stare boldly with an air of defiance that he seemed to appreciate. After a moment, he laughed softly and stepped forward, reaching for her hair. She flinched, but held his gaze with her own. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jax inch closer.

“You are—different,” Blue Feather said after a long moment. He lifted the strand of copper hair between his fingers. “It is like living sunlight. Like golden flame.”

“Jaxson, may I borrow your knife?” Callie’s voice was surprisingly steady, though her knees were ready to buckle.

Blue Feather’s eyes snapped to Callie’s unwavering look. She held out her hand and Jax laid the knife handle in her palm, his face impassive. Raising the blade, she cut a wide, long lock of her hair. She handed it to Blue Feather, then returned Jax’s knife to him. By now, several of the other warriors had gathered round, all watching enviously as Blue Feather solemnly tucked the hair into his medicine pouch.

Callie took her hand from the pocket of Jaxson’s coat, letting the locket swing before Blue Feather’s eyes. He reached for it. She took his rough brown hand in hers. She hesitated only a moment, then laid the locket into his open palm and closed his fingers around it.

It was insurance, Callie told herself, feeling the keen loss of her mother all over again as she parted with the locket a second time.

Blue Feather slowly opened the silver heart, looking at the picture inside.

“It is good,” he said judiciously, returning his obsidian gaze to Callie. He snapped the locket shut and put it in the medicine bag along with the strand of hair. Then, he turned to the rest of the Apaches. “Let no one harm these white men and their women. The men are strong fighters.” He looked from Jax back to Callie. “The women are…generous. They are protected by Blue Feather. It is said, now let it be done.”

He turned to Jax. “You are free to go, my brother. You fought well.”

Jax gave him a wry smile and looked down at where the blood still freshly stained his own shirt. “We both fought well, Blue Feather.”