Apache Fire by Raine Cantrell

her brother could be.
    She had driven the buckboard a little ways off the trail and, beneath the shelter of sapling oaks, made a pillow of one of her carpetbags, wrapping herself in the blanket Kathleen had provided. This was one morning when she did not watch the rise of the sun. But the hard bed and her turbulent thoughts had made the little sleep she had a weary battle.
    The small parcel that her sister-in-law had left her contained the bread and cheese that broke her fast. Later, Angie never recalled why she reached for her other bag. It was the one she had never unpacked, the one holding her watercolors and charcoal, the sketches she had made of Amy, and of Tim, all the precious memories she had left of her past.
    Grant had destroyed them. The papers were ripped apart.
    Everything was crushed and broken. Angie wept for its loss, then walked out to the land and scattered what remained. She never looked back as she drove the mules toward the trail.
    It was nearly six weeks before Niko learned what had happened to her. He was part of one of the small raiding parties that crossed into Sonora, where unguarded herds were. The stock was driven to Janos, where the animals were exchanged for needed clothing and food, which was then loaded onto Indianowned horses and packed back to the reservation through the Dragoon Mountains. Rarely was there any risk.
    But Geronimo had brought back a boy from Mexico, and word quickly spread. Niko was there when Tom Jeffords came to get the boy to return him to his family. As ever, Red Beard was welcomed in Geronimo’s camp.
    Only once did his voice rise in anger over the boy being taken and the continuation of the raids. “I’ve denied the raids to Howard, and the general is beginning to question my word. I’ve written to the commissioner, too, and denied the raids to the press and public. I can’t do my job as agent and get fair treatment for all the Inde’ if you will not stop the raids.”
    â€œMy people are hungry. Friendship is an empty word.” Geronimo was short, as were many of the Apache. His hair, parted in the middle, hung down to his shoulders. His small, black eyes were set close to the bridge of his nose, and his mouth was a thin, angry slash against his coppery skin.
    â€œIf Geronimo has closed his heart to hear me, then I can say no more. I still wish you good. I have always been a friend of the people.”
    Jeffords rose and motioned the young Mexican boy to his side.
    â€œI believe you. There are too few of your kind.”
    Niko heard Geronimo’s last words, but he waited near the horses for Jeffords.
    â€œRed Beard, I would have words with you.”
    â€œNiko? I might have known you’d be here. When I heard what happened—”
    â€œIt is past.”
    â€œThe hell it is. Grant Cowan put a price on your head. Said you raped his sister.”
    â€œ Inde’ no rape.” Fury simmered, dangerously close to exploding. Niko looked away, swiftly regaining control. “Does the woman claim this rape?”
    â€œAngie Wallace left her brother’s house, or some say he threw her out that same night. She stayed with Mary Ten Horses for a few days at the post. They came to see me at San Simon. You heard that we moved the agency there?”
    â€œI heard.” Within him there was a need to hear more of what had happened to her . He had to wait for Jeffords to tell it his own way.
    â€œCochise is ill. This business with the raids has got to cease. I’ve got the commissioner on my back, the army demanding to be turned loose, and now this stealing of a boy to smooth over.” He could barely make out Niko’s face in the wavering light spilling from the fires.
    â€œI know your honor, Niko. You would never have touched a white woman. She’s a strange one, all right. I wouldn’t have given her permission at all, but there was something about her that just wouldn’t let me