Apache Dream Bride

Oh, Kathy, stop it, she admonished herself. What Dakota did, or did not, think of her was not important. Her reactions to him as a man meant nothing, would not be allowed to mean anything. No.

She had concentrated as hard as she could as they’d sat by the Dream Catcher, sending their mutual message that Dakota be transported back to 1877. She’d tried her best.

Or had she? she now wondered.

Had she held something back from the focus of her thoughts? Had the tiny portion of her heart that didn’t want him to leave…not yet, please, not yet…been more powerful than the truth of what must be done?

Oh, she didn’t know. She was confused, tired, excited, frightened, all in one jumbled maze.

She had so many questions with no answers.

Three

Dakota suddenly rolled to his feet, startling Kathy back to attention.

“The Dream Catcher,” he said, “must be kept in a safe place. I don’t want to stay here, in this world, and if anything happens to the Dream Catcher, I’ll have no hope of returning to my own time.”

“We can slide it under my bed,” Kathy said, pushing herself off the sofa.

“Fine.”

Kathy stopped and looked directly at him. “I realize that this whole scenario is overwhelming. Your traveling through time, and encountering all the new and strange things that you’ve never seen before, must be very unsettling. Even so, I can’t help but wonder if you’ve considered staying here.”

“No.”

“Dakota, what would you be going back to, other than loneliness and danger? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life on the run, hiding from the soldiers, never able to settle in one place?”

He splayed one hand on his chest. “I didn’t choose the way of my existence, it was the white man’s doing. The choice I did make was not to go to the reservation with my people. I’m prepared to live with the consequences of that decision.”

“But you don’t have to, don’t you see? You’d be accepted here, judged only by who you are as a man, not by your heritage. Oh, Dakota, you’ve said yourself that the Dream Catcher has great powers. Couldn’t it be possible that you were meant to be here for some reason?”

“Such as? Do your people need to be taught how to live off the land, fish and hunt for their food, build shelters to live in?”

“Well, no, but…”

Dakota shook his head. “Then the Dream Catcher has no purpose for my being here.”

“You don’t know that to be true.”

“Kathy, there’s no point in discussing this any further. I intend to do everything possible to enable me to go back to 1877.”

“But…”

“That is enough! Let’s put the Dream Catcher under the bed.”

Kathy sighed, then they carried the Dream Catcher into the bedroom and carefully maneuvered it beneath the bed.

Back in the living room, Dakota folded his arms across his chest and frowned as he looked at Kathy.

“There’s something disturbing me that I cannot put to rest,” he said. “Why are you alone? Is there something about you that doesn’t please the men of this time? I beheld you, which is Apache custom. I have seen you on the outer side and sensed who you are within. You please me, Kathy Maxwell. I would give serious thought to making you my woman.”

“I…” Kathy started to reply, then snapped her mouth closed as she realized she had no idea what to say.

A strange warmth swept through her as Dakota’s words echoed in her mind. What he had said was one of the most exciting, yet frightening, things she had ever heard. Dakota’s woman.

Oh, stop. She wasn’t going to dwell on it a second longer. Dakota was simply curious about the customs and social structure of this era.

You please me, Kathy Maxwell.

Kathy, she scolded herself, just cut it out right this second.

“Well, you see, Dakota,” she said, wishing her voice was steadier, “choosing a life’s partner is much more complicated now. It’s done more slowly, carefully. I have to be as pleased, as you put it, with the man as he is with me. Just looking at someone, beholding them, isn’t enough.”

“Why not?”

“Because there are discoveries to be made first.”

“Such as?”

“Well, values. You know, your stand on truth, trust, fidelity. Then there’s stuff like what do we have in common? How do you spend your leisure time? How do you feel about security, a home, children, a woman who has her own business and wouldn’t give it up for the world? Then there’s…Oh, good night, you aren’t really interested in all of this, are you?”

He nodded. “It fascinates me. You’ve listed what people in this time must discover about each other, and most of it is reasonable.” He paused. “No man has pleased you as you made these discoveries?”

Kathy shrugged. “No. Emotions come into play here, too, you know. There has to be love that is real and rich and deep. But, no, I haven’t found the man I want to spend my life with.”

“I please you.”

Kathy blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You beheld me. I can tell from what I’ve seen in your eyes that you desire me. You have had thoughts of joining with me, man to woman.”

A flush of embarrassment heated Kathy’s cheeks. “Well…um…you’re a very handsome, well-built man, Dakota. I’m a healthy, normal woman who…Oh, for Pete’s sake, this is ridiculous.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I did not ask to come here and I do not intend to remain. However, while I’m here I wish to understand this world. To learn and enrich my mind. A man who isn’t constantly attempting to add to his knowledge is lazy, worthless. You have customs that are new to me, things you can teach me during my stay.”

“But what if when you go back you don’t even remember having been here?”

“So be it. It’s important that I live for the moment I am in. That’s the Apache way. Each beat of our heart is to be cherished.

“Apaches also pride ourselves on our patience. If we encounter an enemy who outnumbers us and it would mean certain death to engage them in battle, we withdraw to fight another day when we will be assured of a victory. That isn’t cowardly, it is wise. We place high value on life, living. We don’t treat lightly the gift of the body we were given to walk the earth in.”

“That’s a lovely philosophy,” she said quietly. “People in this time era could use some of that kind of common sense.”

“I haven’t betrayed the Apache way,” Dakota went on, “but I’ve had to struggle to maintain my patience. My people were robbed of their land, their way of life. They were herded like animals to the reservation, never again to be free. Patience will change nothing.”

“I’m so sorry about what was done to the Indians back then. I’ve only read about it, but I realize you’re suffering the pain of it right now.”

“I’ve been alone these many moons,” he said, his voice gritty, “and questions with no answers have plagued me. Now I’ve been brought here where I don’t wish to be, but at least I can ask questions and have them answered. I can learn.

“I am a man, Kathy, a proud Apache brave. All I wanted was a place, a home, a sense of self and worth. I wanted a woman of my heart and sons of my seed. The white man hasn’t killed my body. I won’t let them crush my spirit.”

Tears filled Kathy’s eyes as she heard the raw emotion in Dakota’s voice, saw it on his face and in the depth of his expressive dark eyes. Before she’d realized she had moved, she had wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

“No one is going to crush your spirit,” she said, tears echoing in her voice. “We won’t let them, Dakota. We won’t. I’ll teach you whatever you want to know about this era, if that’s what you want, if that will make you feel better about being here.”

Dakota encircled Kathy with his arms, then buried his face in the soft tumble of her curls, savoring the fragrance of flowers.

“We haven’t solved the mystery of the Dream Catcher’s powers,” he said. “We don’t yet understand the Dream Catcher’s spirit call to enable us to send me back. So while I’m here we will live for the moment we hold in our hands.”

Dakota’s words echoed in Kathy’s mind as she stayed nestled against his warm, massive body. He felt wonderful, smelled wonderful. Being held in his strong arms was wonderful. Desire was beginning to churn hot and low within her.

But there was more than basic physical yearnings involved. Dakota was touching an emotional place deep within her that she hadn’t even known existed. She was beginning to feel connected, bonded to him. She had felt his pain as he’d spoken of what had been done to his people. The chill of his loneliness as he’d roamed the land alone was an icy fist within her.

While I am here, we will live for the moment we hold in our hands.

Did she have the courage to actually do that? Could she live for the moment, treasure what they might share, then be prepared to let him go? How long would she ache for him when he was gone? How long would she cry?

Oh, she couldn’t think straight. Too much was happening so quickly that she was off kilter and terribly confused. She was going to put her emotional turmoil on hold, she had to.

Dakota inhaled Kathy’s feminine aroma once more, then moved her gently away from him.

“What discovery do you want to make first?” he said.

Kathy laughed in spite of herself. “You make this sound like research for a term paper.”

“A what?”

“Never mind. I’m such a wreck that a dose of practical thinking is called for. Therefore, we’ll shift our focus. You need some clothes.”

“I have clothes.”

“Yes, but you don’t have a shirt. Men in this era are free to go without a shirt, but not all of the time. You need a shirt.”

He shrugged.

“So, I’m going shopping and buy you a shirt. I’ll get you some jeans, too. Man-pants. Do you shave?”

“What?”

“Do you grow hair on your face that you cut off each day?”

“No,” he said slowly. “Kathy, are you talking nonsense?”

“No. White men grow hair on their faces. I’ve read that most Indians don’t, and I guess it’s true. Okay. Cancel the shaving cream and razor. Do you—” she paused, feeling the now-familiar warm flush creep onto her cheeks “—use underwear?”

“I don’t know the meaning of that word.”

Dandy. Go for it, Kathy. “Do you have anything on beneath your pants?”

Dakota frowned. “For what purpose? Do white men wear pants under their pants?”

“Well, yes.”

“Strange. No, I don’t have this underwear you speak of.”

“Good. I’ve never bought Jockey shorts in my life. Dakota, listen to me. You must promise that you’ll stay inside the house while I’m gone. You can’t go wandering around until I think of a way to explain who you are and why you’re here.”

“I need to breathe fresh air. The walls are closing in on me.”

“Oh, dear. Well, all right. Let’s go into the backyard and have a stroll. I’ll show you my herb garden. Then will you be able to stay inside while I go shopping?”

“Shopping is what you do to get me a shirt?”

“Bingo. I mean, yes, that’s correct.”

He nodded. “I’ll agree to your plan. We’ll see your herb garden now.”

They left the living room, went through the kitchen, then Kathy stopped on the enclosed sun porch beyond.

“This is where I dry my herbs,” she said, sweeping one arm in the air.

Dakota looked at the multitude of plants covering the walls of the sun porch. Kathy had designed, then hired a handyman to build, the drying walls with pegs where she hung the herbs, utilizing every spare inch of space.

“I can’t grow everything I need for the store,” she said, “but I’m pleased with what I’m able to add to the inventory myself. I get most of my teas from a woman in Sedona, and the oils and lotions from Flagstaff. I also sell commercial vitamins.

“I dry the herbs here, then put them in brown paper bags because they must be kept in a dark, dry place. I take the bags to The Herb Hogan. That’s the name of my store.”

“It’s good,” Dakota said, nodding. “You’ve tended to your herbs as it should be done. No Apache woman could do better.”

“Oh, well,” she said, smiling, “thank you. That was a very nice compliment.”

She was pleased to the point of ridiculous by what Dakota had said. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her talents, but the warm, fuzzy feeling she was registering was evidence that it did. She was as adept as an Apache woman would be at growing and caring for herbs? Goodness, wasn’t that something?

Dakota continued to scrutinize the herbs, then finally nodded again.

“Are you ready to go outside?” Kathy said.

Dakota started toward the door, then stopped, looking through the window.

“No. It’s too open, with nowhere to conceal myself if the soldiers come.”

“Dakota, there aren’t any soldiers trying to find you to take you to the reservation. Your people are free now. Free. They can go anywhere they want to. They live, work, play, right beside white men if they choose. Some are still on Indian land, on reservations, but it’s because they want to be, not because they’re forced to stay there. You have nothing to fear by leaving the shelter and safety of this house.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “I’ll trust what you say, Kathy. These are peaceful times?”

“Not everywhere, I’m afraid, but here in Prescott it’s peaceful.”

“Mmm,” he said, then followed her out the back door.

It was another picture-perfect day. The air was clean, the sky a brilliant blue with a sprinkling of fluffy white clouds.

Dakota spread his arms wide, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. Opening his eyes again, he swept his gaze over the multitude of neat rows of Kathy’s herb garden.

“This is good,” he said, nodding. “The soil is rich here?”

“Yes, it’s excellent. I have it tested to be certain it’s in proper balance. This year I added some iron.”

“Mmm,” he said, walking forward.

Kathy watched as Dakota started along the first row of the garden. He stopped often, hunkering down to gently grasp a leaf between his thumb and forefinger, then rose again and went on.

He moved with such a smooth flow of motion, she mused, like a graceful animal in the wilds. He was comfortable in his own body, his command and control over it a given.

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