Naleen dropped from her horse and carefully walked toward the man lying on the trailside, his army shirt soaked with blood. She looked around, hoping there was no one waiting to ambush her as she approached what could be a dying enemy of her tribe.
A low moan greeted her as her moccasin brushed against his side and she decided to try and save his life even though there was an unspoken war between their two peoples.
She went back to her horse and got the canteen which had been taken from a long forgotten enemy and gave some water to the wounded man. He moaned again, his hand slowly moving toward her wrist until he grabbed her hand and pulled her down, promptly causing him to pass out again.
Naleen pulled her hand away from him, wondering if trying to help him was stupid. She pulled his shirt open and looked at the flesh wound surrounded by a still bleeding cut across his chest. Ripping his shirt to form a crude bandage, she bound up his wound and took his pistol away, putting it in her bag on her horse. She returned to the trooper and once again poured water on his face, hoping that he would wake up.
He did.
*****
John looked at the Apache girl... then he changed his view. She was a fully grown Apache woman, armed with the sharpest knife he had seen in quite a while and as his hand reached for his missing gun he realized he was at her mercy, his life hanging in the balance of a war that never seemed to quit.
"Do you speak English?" he asked, wondering if his life depended on such a simple thing.
"Yes," she answered. "Missionary school."
Well, that answered that, he thought, hoping that she had learned more than just the language at the school. The fact that he was still alive gave him hope.
"Come, we go to my village." Naleen jumped up on her horse and pointed the way. John slowly followed her, realizing he had no other choice. His dog, Skipper, approached from around the boulder and followed at what it considered a safe distance.
*****
Entering the Apache village caused a silence to descend upon the group on braves that sat in front of the wikiups eating the day's portion of meat that had been brought by the army. They were angry that by treaty they were limited in what they could do.
Naleen brought John to the chief's wikiup and slid off her horse, then gave John's gun to the chief. She then spoke to him rapidly in their native language, explaining what had happened. The chief listened until she had finished her somewhat short story and then directed two braves to take the army sergeant inside the next wikiup and take care of his wound.
Several women entered and cleaned his deep cut and then bound it up once again using a clean bandage.
Naleen entered and knelt down next to the army trooper, putting her hand on his forehead and was satisfied that he was only running a slight temperature. "I will stay with him," she said. The women left her, her status as the chief's daughter was enough to sway them.
Several hours later, it was dark as the sun set and the only light given was from the various fires in front of the wikiups. Naleen had some roasted deer meat and had set some aside for her patient, or prisoner, she was sure which. The war between the army and the Apache nation was over, even if it caused a sour taste in the mouths of the braves.
John woke up to a dull ache that bothered him but not as much as the realization that he was a "guest" of the local natives. At least, he thought, he wasn't dead and he felt the new bandage tightly wrapped around his chest. He moved to sit up and saw Naleen in the firelight from the front of the wikiup,
"Hello," he ventured carefully, unsure of her feelings toward him, only remembering that she had probably saved his life by bringing him to the Apache camp.
She looked at him, finally bringing herself to answer, "Hello, Sergeant. I see that you are awake now. Are you in pain? The braves will not respect you if you show pain."
Surprised that she cared, John answered that he was alright, although his chest was very uncomfortable as the cut tightened while it healed.
"Can you walk?" she asked, extending her hand as if expecting a positive answer.
"Yes," he replied, grabbing her forearm and pulling himself up then letting her lead him outside into the bright Arizona sunshine many miles east of Phoenix. They walked together, quickly reaching the edge of the camp and continued toward the river, although the Apache culture did not eat fish.
"It's beautiful, here," he said, walking with her, his hand somehow in hers as they followed the riverbank alongside the water's riffles.
"We are here," she said, sitting on a large tree trunk near the river and waiting for John to join her side. It was quiet while they sat together, the only sound coming from the blue water that flowed nearby.
And then a shadow covered them, brought by an Apache brave who angrily began arguing with Naleen, demanding to know what she was doing. Skipper started barking, chasing around the two of them.
Naleen answered back, her position as the chief's daughter giving her strength in her argument, her voice rising as she stood up. The brave pushed her. John struck him in the jaw, causing the brave to fall back into the river. He weakly tried to push himself out of the water with his hands and arms. Water filled his lungs as he struggled to keep his head above the water.
John quickly knew the young brave was going to die and dove into the water toward him, putting his left arm around the brave's neck and dragged him back to the river bank. John pushed the youth over onto his stomach and pushed his back, hoping that it was enough to get the river water out of his lungs.
Finally, the young Apache coughed and water gurgled from his mouth. He eventually sat up and glared at John and Naleen and then left as silently as he had approached several minutes earlier.
"Why was he so angry?" John asked.
"He is my brother," Naleen replied.
"Damn."
*****
"Your father wants to see you... now."
Naleen was angry, but worried just the same. While her father was lenient with her, this was a situation that had never happened before, especially with her brother.
As the two approached the camp, she unconsciously withdrew her hand from John's and straightened herself to face her father. She hoped her ancestors would give her strength and the traditional power that women had in Apache customs. She straightened her cotton clothing that her tribe had adopted from the Mexicans. Skipper followed, giving his attention to her.
"Explain yourself," her father demanded.
"We were just sitting on the log by the river and Naiche came up and yelled at me and then pushed me so John struck him and he fell into the water and John saved him."
"Not what your brother says."
Naleen looked at her father and then her brother and then quietly said, "He's lying. You know his name means 'mischief maker.'"
The chief looked at her and then her younger brother and finally the army sergeant. "I believe you," he said to her and she could tell he was unhappy that his son would lie. "Tend to his wound, now that Naiche owes him his life."
Naleen took John away to the wikiup he was using and once inside, unwrapped his bandage and checked the healing cut on his chest. "I am sorry," she said, tears flowing down her cheeks.
"Why is your hair cut short?"
"My husband is dead."
John embraced her and tenderly kissed her, breaking the tribal customs that their group followed.
"What are you doing?" her brother angrily asked, still determined to keep the two lovers apart. He pulled a hunting knife from his belt and approached John, blade first.
John retreated, pushing Naleen behind him, looking for a way out of his predicament. He pushed back, tripping the young woman to the ground. Not having her to worry about, John extended his arms to confuse the youth, not wanting to hurt him, knowing that would forever destroy the growing relationship he had with Naleen.
"Get back... I don't want to hurt you." John knew by now that a man married in the Apache custom had to live with her younger brother or sister and provide for them.
Skipper stood his ground and growled.
The Apache youth moved his knife in a great circle, point forward and then back and forth. He lunged at John who stepped aside, bringing his own fist down on Naiche's extended arm, the knife flying into the air as John struggled to keep the boy disarmed.
"Stop! Stop!" Naleen cried, coming to her feet and picking up the knife. "Don't you understand?"
Naiche wiped his mouth, feeling for blood and finding none. He tried to get up but his sister pointed the knife at him, convincing him to stay on the ground.
Suddenly the chief entered the wikiup and glowered at his son, who he once thought would have made a good chief. "I apologize for the actions of my son," he said quietly.
"That's all right," John replied, "I understand... it's his sister, after all."
"What are your intentions for my daughter? Are you an honorable man toward her?"