LITMIR.BIZ

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on the reservation. McManus had dancing green eyes, a red mustache that drooped like twisted ropes down the sides of his mouth. As she reclaimed her hand, his smile made her relax.

      “Your mare is over there,” the farrier said, pointing down the aisle of the open building where at least twenty horses were tethered.

      The black mare wore a halter, and the rope was tied to an iron ring that hung from a stout wall. She pricked up her ears as Kuchana thanked the farrier and walked down the well-swept aisle.

      Gib escorted her down the center of the building, walking at her shoulder. On either side were roomy box stalls, and other rooms at the rear that held tack and barrels of grain. He noticed that Kuchana had washed and neatly combed her hair. The faint scent of soap lingered around her. Memory of Melissa’s cutting remarks yesterday that Kuchana smelled came back to him. It was obvious she had tried her best to look neat and clean under the circumstances. The clothes she wore were threadbare and would have to be replaced. It crossed his mind that he would like to give her a pretty dress to wear, instead. He laughed at himself. It was the first time in his life he’d ever wanted to give a woman gifts. Kuchana invited that kind of response.

      “Has your horse ever worn a saddle?”

      “Yes, I had a cottonwood saddle for many years until the culo-gordos attacked our camp and I had to leave it behind.”

      Wind nickered as Kuchana walked up to her. She patted the mare fondly as she inspected the new iron shoes on her hooves.

      McCoy took a blue wool blanket edged with yellow and threw it across the mare’s back. “From now on, you’ve got to ride with army gear.” He pulled a black, bull-hide-covered McClellan saddle off the rack and settled it on the animal’s back. In no time, he showed Kuchana how to cinch the double girth. Next came the military-issue bridle. Wind wasn’t very happy about having a metal bit in her mouth, but she accepted it with grace after attempting to chew on it.

      Kuchana stood back, amazed at all the items that McCoy had piled in front of the pommel and behind the cantle of the saddle. There were canteens, pouches for ammunition, a blanket, and containers to carry food and even grain for Wind.

      “When you’re assigned to ride with a column, you’ll come over here and saddle the mare up just like this.” He saw the stunned expression in Kuchana’s eyes. “Something wrong?”

      “No.” She stepped up to Wind, placing her hand on the mare’s neck. “There is so much.”

      “When a column goes out, we usually patrol for five to ten days at a time.” Gib gestured to the saddle that had been created for endurance riding. “We have a saying in the army. We ride forty miles a day on beans and hay. The pack mules carry the hay and most of the food, but sometimes, on a forced march, we have to rely on what we can carry on our saddle.”

      “Pindah horses can never keep up with our horses,” Kuchana noted proudly. She pointed to a bay gelding tied next to Wind. “Look at him. He is grain fed. I have seen many army horses unable to stand the heat or the distance.”

      “You’re right. I told the officers here they shouldn’t feed our animals grain.” He grinned, giving the mare a pat on the shoulder. “We ought to train our horses to eat cactus like you do yours.”

      “Wind will not die on a march. She knows to eat cactus for food and also water in order to stay alive.”

      “The Apache know how to survive,” Gib agreed with a smile. “Come on, let’s go over to Supply. We’ll be coming back to do some hunting, so leave Wind saddled.”

      Kuchana’s eyes shone with excitement as she walked with Gib toward another large two-story adobe building. “We hunt four-leggeds?”

      “Yep. I figure the only way to get Chee and the colonel to believe in you is to prove your worth as a tracker. Lieutenant Carter ordered Chee to send someone out to the mountains over there—” he pointed to the north “—and kill some deer or bighorn for the officers’ families.”

      “I will prove myself worthy.”

      Gib saw the challenging fire in her eyes. “Well, whatever we kill, some of it is going to be dropped off to Poppy so she can distribute it among the laundry families.”

      “Who is Poppy?”

      “One of the women who washes clothes.”

      “A dark-skinned one?”

      Gib smiled “Yes.”

      As they climbed the steps of Supply, Gib noticed the soldiers giving Kuchana discreet looks. He led her inside the building where clothing, weapons and tack were kept. Sergeant Mulrooney, head of Supply, nodded a good-morning to them.

      “Kuchana needs a scout’s issue, Sergeant,” Gib told the gray-haired man.

      “Right away, Gib.”

      Kuchana turned around, looking at the columns of boxes stacked around the room. There were huge piles of green wool blankets, canteens, saddles and row upon row of rifles.

      McCoy was sure that she’d never seen so many new things. Her face glowed with excitement when Mulrooney led her to the clothing section.

      A blue wool uniform jacket was finally found to fit her slender build. When she gently ran her fingers reverently over the brass buttons, Gib found himself wondering what her touch would feel like on his skin. The unexpected thought was inviting.

      Mulrooney gave her a set of blue kersey pants to replace the thin ones she wore. When he tried to give her a set of black boots, she adamantly refused them, saying that her hardy kabun boots were better. The distinctive curled toes on the boots were good for picking up and moving poisonous snakes or Gila monsters out of her path with ease and safety. The black boots had a rounded toe and were, in her opinion, worthless.

      Gib watched Mulrooney’s reaction to Kuchana. The old supply sergeant couldn’t seem to do enough for her. Crossing his arms on his chest, Gib leaned against a rough beam and watched them with pleasure. He was sure it was Kuchana’s winsome smile and her bubbling gasps of delight that spurred Mulrooney to hunt for just the right items.

      When Mulrooney brought out five brightly colored cotton shirts, Kuchana gasped. Her fingers moved lovingly across the shirts. The supply sergeant blushed fiercely when he gave them to her.

      “These are all mine, Sergeant?” she whispered in disbelief, holding them in her arms as if they were a babe.

      “Why, sure, Kuchana. Every scout gets five of ’em. Don’t look like I just gave ya the world, girl. Go on, take ‘em!” he ordered gruffly with a wave of his hand.

      Gib suppressed a smile as Mulrooney colored even more deeply when Kuchana gave him a smile.

      “A-co-‘d,” Kuchana whispered, hugging the beautiful shirts to her breast.

      “Ahh, don’t get sentimental on me, girl.” Mulrooney slanted a glance at McCoy. “Git her outa here before she cries.”

      Smiling, Gib nodded and, picking up the rest of Kuchana’s issue, walked to the door. She came to his side, marveling at the cotton shirts.

      “Come on, let’s get this gear back to your tent,” he told her.

      Chapter Four

      Melissa was just coming out of her quarters in the officers’ building when she spotted Sergeant McCoy and Kuchana. This morning Clarissa had fashioned her blond hair in a cascade of curls that grazed her shoulders. With her straw bonnet decorated with brightly colored ribbons and her apple-green dress, she knew that she presented a comely picture. She’d brushed her bangs, making sure they were in place across her wing-shaped brows.

      A beautiful woman was a rarity at any post, and Melissa reveled in the wishful and admiring glances the hard-bitten army men gave her. Why hadn’t the sergeant looked at her that way, too? He acted as if she didn’t exist, and that made her angry. Her gaze

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