Constance Bennett—Moonsong

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“This is true. She is a hard worker, and she does many things to take care of her elders. It is clear she has a good heart, but you told me that she longs to return to the whites who raised her.”

Sun Hawk clenched his fists, collecting a handful of useless dirt. “Why do you say these things to me? I do not care if she goes back to her people.”

Naka’yen fell silent a moment, looking him over, and Sun Hawk prayed that the discussion would end. It did not.

“Where is your knife?” the old chief asked, looking down at the sheathed blade at his son’s waist. “Not that one, but the one you took many years ago in your first battle against the Mexican soldiers?”

Disgusted, Sun Hawk tossed away his handful of dirt and jumped up. “I told you, Father, you ask too many questions,” he said harshly, then gathered up his belongings and moved to the opposite edge of the camp, as far away from his father—and the Verdes—as he could get.

The next day, Skylar saw Talbot again. He was riding with Norris as part of the detail that swept through the Mescaleros several times a day to hurry them along and make certain no trouble was brewing.

Skylar knew that it had to be a tense job for them, outnumbered as they were by so many Apaches, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel sympathy for any of them—particularly Talbot. She was easy for him to spot because she stayed close to the wagon, and with his first pass through the slow-moving crowd, he drew his horse alongside her and stared down at her for a short time that seemed like hours to Skylar. She didn’t acknowledge him with so much as a glance, and he didn’t say a word. There were no threatening gestures, no posturing . . . but he made his presence known and his intentions clear.

He sought her out on his return pass and twice again that afternoon. The tension he created was almost more than Skylar could bear, for it went beyond her own jangled nerves. Whenever Talbot approached, all the Verdes became watchful, alert for any sign of trouble. When he passed on, Skylar invariably saw that Sun Hawk, too, had drifted a little closer to the wagon, but he never made an effort to speak with her or even acknowledge her presence.

The encounters with Talbot became a daily ritual, but repetition didn’t make them any less unnerving.

By the end of the first week as they reached the rugged trail that led through the Caliente Mountains, the forced march had become a grueling test of endurance. The heat was fearsome, rations were scarce, and water was even more so. On the seventh day, word circulated among them that an old woman had died. A detail of soldiers stayed behind while her family buried her in a shallow grave along with all her worldly possessions. In less than an hour the mourners rejoined the main body of the procession.

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Constance Bennett—Moonsong

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That night they made camp near a tributary of the Gila River, and for the first time since they had crossed the Rio Grande, there was enough water for all to drink their fill and ample grazing for the animals. There were even trees for firewood in the glade where they made camp. Captain Haggarty announced to Naka’yen that they would stay there for two nights to allow them to “recuperate” before they began the difficult trek through the Calientes.

The Mescaleros were too weary to rejoice, but Skylar noticed a subtle difference in their demeanor that night. They were able to build fires for the first time in days and the next morning the women took advantage of the opportunity to wash clothing and bathe. This they accomplished by entering the cool swift river fully clothed, for soldiers had been assigned to patrol up and down the irregular banks because the rugged terrain hid the river from view of the camp.

Even the men had a great deal to do that day, but Joe Long Horn and several others took the time to escort the Verde women to the river near midday.

They were all keenly aware of the isolation on the trail, but once they reached the hill overlooking the stream, the number of women grouped in small pockets up and down the banks made Joe feel it was safe to leave Skylar and the others alone. They left with a promise to return shortly.

At first, Skylar felt perfectly safe, but as she and Gatana picked their way through the rocks to the edge of the stream, she realized that the area was more isolated than it had appeared from above. The soldiers were widely scattered, and occasionally she heard one of them in the distance shouting to the women in the water. Once, she looked upstream and saw a soldier standing on a rock overhead, holding out a string of beads. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his posture and his crude gestures made it clear that he was trying to trade sexual favors for the paltry trinket.

Thoroughly disgusted, Skylar returned to her bathing. Despite the restriction of her clothes, the water felt better than she had imagined anything could feel. It was shallow and swift in many places, but she found a pool deep enough to sit down in, and she let the current wash over her, cooling her skin and rinsing away the stench of the journey. She longed to strip off her overblouse and skirt, but nothing in the world could have made her do something so foolish. Instead, she lived with the limitations, enjoying every second of this respite from weariness.

Unfortunately her pleasure died a violent death when she looked up and saw Talbot and Norris conversing with the soldiers who had been patrolling this section of the stream when Skylar arrived. After a moment the first two disappeared back up the trail, leaving Talbot and Norris alone on a craggy shelf above the stream.

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Constance Bennett—Moonsong

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The changing of the guard? Skylar wondered, fighting down a sense of panic. Or had her tormentor merely traded places with his comrades because he’d seen her coming down the trail?

It really didn’t matter. Skylar knew that she could be in for trouble. To her surprise, Talbot made no effort to climb down to the stream. What he did, instead, proved almost as bad, though. Like the other soldiers she’d heard upstream, he began shouting lurid comments at her. While she was in the water, he shouted in vivid detail the things he wanted to do to her. Skylar never acknowledged him with so much as a look, and certainly none of the soldiers paid any attention—if they heard him at all.

Skylar scrubbed her dress as best she could with it on her, but eventually she had to return to the bank to get the other clothes she had brought to wash. Gatana stayed with her as they knelt on the rocky bed near the shore, and Talbot finally came down from his perch above. Norris stayed where he was, taking advantage of his bird’s-eye view of the river, but the two men still talked back and forth. Or perhaps “argued” would have been a better term for it, since they were debating the issue of sex with white women versus sex with Apaches.

Though Norris was opposed to the latter, Talbot took great pleasure in proudly relating tales about the Apache women he had “had.” The word

“rape” was never used, of course, because taking an Indian against her will wasn’t considered a violent attack and an offense to human decency. Apaches weren’t human, so where was the harm?

Though Skylar tried to shut out his words, which she knew were directed totally at her, she had no language barrier to insulate her from his disgusting barrage. His constant verbal assault made her feel nauseated and weak, and the harder she tried to ignore him, the more abusive he became. Soon her hands were shaking so hard that she couldn’t hold the calico overblouse she’d been trying to scrub against the rocks.

“I cannot stand this any longer,” she said softly to Gatana. “I’ve got to get out of here. Perhaps if I complained to Captain Haggarty . . .”

Gatana kept her head low, not looking up from her washing. “It would do no good, daughter,” she replied. “Finish what you are doing and we will go back to the camp. Joe will come for us soon.”

Collecting her wits, Skylar did the best she could with her clothes and wrung them out. She had volunteered to wash Tsa’kata’s things as well, so the bundle she gathered up when she had finished was a large one. Gatana assembled her own clothes and Consayka’s, and they looked around for Joe, but he was nowhere to be seen. Desperate to escape, they looked for someone else who was ready to walk back to camp and spotted Naka’yen’s wife and two daughters gathering their things.

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Constance Bennett—Moonsong

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Moving downstream, fighting the slippery rocks and current, they tried to hurry toward them.

“Done so soon?” Talbot asked, splashing into the water to catch up with them. “But you didn’t take a good an’ proper bath, Miss Skylar.”

“Stan, don’t,” Norris called after him, but the river swallowed his voice.

The water deepened, forcing Skylar and Gatana onto the shore, and Talbot stayed with them as they moved along the jutting inlets and crags that bordered the stream.

“What’s your hurry, squaw?” Talbot asked, leering down at Skylar. “I been waiting a long time for this.”

“Leave us alone,” Gatana ordered, but Talbot only laughed and ignored her.

“I’ll bet them clothes is heavy, ain’t they, Miss Skylar? Here, let me give you a hand.” He snatched at the bundle in her arms, deliberately knocking it to the ground. “Oh, ain’t that too bad.”