cleared his throat. “Chee, it’s up to you to make sure she is trained properly to take over scouting duties when called upon.”
Chee nodded, assuming an air of importance. “She is a scout, Sergeant. I’ll give her a tent and tell her the rules.”
“Good. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be back over here and issue her a kit and weapons.”
Kuchana moved uneasily. She had no choice but to trust Chee. All her weapons had been taken earlier, but no warrior, even without weapons, was defenseless. She had courage and strength born of the knowledge that she would survive where others had died.
Gib glanced at her. “If Chee can’t help you, or answer a question, you come and see me over at the barracks. Understand?”
She nodded, moistening her lips, looking in the direction he pointed. The two-story barracks stood in rows several hundred feet from the scout area.
Pointing to the building closest to the scout area, Gib added, “I have a small office in there. The scouts are free to come and go to the laundry, chow tent, or to the enlisted barracks, but that’s all. Don’t be caught unescorted up by headquarters or on the parade ground.”
“I will stay here,” Kuchana said, pointing to the ground.
“Get some rest. I’ll come for you tomorrow morning and we’ll fill out the rest of your billet.”
Kuchana gave him a small smile of appreciation and whispered, “A-co-’d.” The word meant ‘thank you.’ And it wasn’t often that an Apache spoke it. Gib’s face changed and softened for a moment.
“You’re welcome,” he acknowledged.
Without any further word, he turned and left. Kuchana’s pleasant features wavered in his mind’s eye as he crossed the parade ground, dodging a troop of cavalry coming back in from an assignment. She stirred his senses and feelings as no other woman ever had. He wondered if Polk would allow her to continue as a scout, or send her back to the reservation. If she was going to stay, Kuchana was going to have to prove herself to everyone, and quickly.
Lieutenant Carter hated anyone who wasn’t white or an officer. He didn’t care one whit if a scout was killed in the line of duty. Too often, while on assignment, the scouts were fired upon by civilians who thought they were Geronimo’s people. Carter wasn’t cautious enough about protecting the scouts in that kind of situation. Gib was damned if Kuchana was going to be gunned down by a jumpy silver miner just because Carter chose to ignore certain directives that would keep her safe. He’d have to remain vigilant.
Wiping the sweat off his upper lip with the back of his hand, Gib climbed the wooden stairs. All his life, he’d protected the underdog. That’s what had gotten him in trouble in Fort Apache. With a sigh, he took off his hat and entered headquarters.
Kuchana presented some potentially damaging problems to his own floundering career. The last time he’d placed himself in jeopardy for a woman he’d lost his officer’s commission. Many felt he should have left with his tail between his legs, but he hadn’t. In his heart, he knew what he had done had been right. Instead of retiring, he’d forced the army to give him sergeant’s stripes and retain his services for the duration of his twenty-year enlistment.
Stopping at Corporal McClusky’s desk, Gib picked up several sets of orders that would involve his scouts on future expeditions. Once a month, Polk set out riding assignments for the Fourth, and McCoy was responsible for assigning scouts to the Negro columns.
As he perused the orders, his mind dwelled on Kuchana. He wondered if she was going to get along with the other scouts. With a mental shrug, Gib swung his focus back to his duties. He couldn’t afford to keep thinking about Kuchana. But whether he wanted to admit it or not, his heart was still lingering on her sweet, soft smile.
* * *
The sky was crimson with the rising of the sun. Gib settled the hat on his head and gingerly touched the spot on his chin where he’d cut himself with the razor this morning. Swinging off the barracks steps, he headed for the scout area. The mountains to the north were dark, rugged shapes carved with deep ravines. Juniper and piñon clung to the lower reaches of the slopes like a scraggly green skirt above the sandy-yellow reaches of the desert floor.
Sentries on horseback rode slowly around the huge rectangular area that comprised the buildings and grounds of the fort. As he passed the bustling laundry facilities, he saw Poppy and waved.
“Sergeant McCoy, come over here!” she called out in her booming voice.
Gib smiled and changed direction. As he approached she wrung out a shirt and handed it to her daughter, Nettie, to rinse.
“Why, you look fit as a fiddle this morning, Sergeant McCoy.”
Tipping his hat, Gib halted at the front of the huge tent, now open to the breeze. “Thanks, Poppy. Looks like you’re hard at work.” Most of the laundresses washed from dawn until noon, and then pressed and folded the clothes throughout the hottest part of the day.
Poppy’s hair was wrapped in a bright blue turban, and sweat streaked her face. “Word’s flying around here that the army hired a woman Apache scout.”
Nettie looked up from her tub. The girl’s hair hung in two neat pigtails and she was rail-thin compared to her mother. “I saw her, Sergeant McCoy, yesterday when I took some clothes back to the enlisted barracks.” Her eyes grew merry. “She’s a purty thing, ain’t she? I never knew Apaches to have gold-colored eyes.”
“Some do,” Gib said.
“Lordy me,” Poppy gushed, “what’s this gonna do to the post? Why, I heard from Clarissa, that Miz Melissa is livid about this woman being here. Is that so?”
Gib kept his face neutral. The laundresses were a gossipy bunch. Anytime he wanted to know what was really going on at the post, he came to Poppy. He wasn’t surprised Melissa Polk was throwing a fit over Kuchana’s presence. Melissa was jealous, that was all; Kuchana was a hell of a lot prettier than the snobbish banker’s daughter.
“Ladies, you know I don’t have much to do with the officers or their wives. I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person.”
Poppy pushed her lips together, eyeing him with laughter in her eyes. “You’re a wolf among sheep, Sergeant McCoy.” She made a jab with one thick finger toward the officer’s quarters in the distance. “And they all know it, too. You might be wearing sergeant’s stripes, but the men of the Fourth trust you.”
That was part of the problem, Gib thought. He hadn’t let color dissuade him from becoming a protective buffer between the men of the Fourth and the likes of Lieutenant Carter. “Poppy, have you got a couple of cups of coffee hidden somewhere in that tent of yours?” She always had some forbidden officers’ supplies stashed away.
She grinned, placing her hands on her ample hips. “Two cups, Sergeant? Usually, you only want one. By any chance, you heading for the scout tents?”
Gib rubbed his jaw. “Can’t fool you, can I, Poppy?” The laundress didn’t miss much, but then, Poppy could be trusted with knowing things like this and keeping it secret.
Cackling, Poppy asked Nettie to fetch the coffee. “Ain’t like you to take the scouts coffee. They know they can come here and get it from me.”
“The second cup is for Kuchana,” he said, trying hard not to smile.
“I thought so.”
“Mind if I bring her over here and introduce her to you ladies later? I think she could use some friends.”
Nettie handed Gib the tin cups filled with steaming coffee and clapped her palms together. “Oh, would you? Why, Clarissa is just dying to get a look at her.”
“Ladies, she needs some friends, not curiosity seekers.” Gib held Poppy’s knowing gaze. “Kuchana isn’t liked by the scouts because she’s Chiricahua. And I know the officers’ wives will snub