Apache Ambush. Will Cook

rumor’s out that Crook’s due in.”

      “Yes,” O’Hagen said. “He’ll let Sickles off and it’s too bad. I thought I had him this time.”

      “Not on th’ strength of th’ raid, sor. He’s got a ready out if it gets tough for him. He’ll say you were right and make a fool of you.”

      “I made a fool of myself,” O’Hagen said. “Dammit, Mike, I got mad because—” He waved his hand and turned to the wall.

      “Seein’ as how I’ve been sort of a father,” Herlihy said, “there is a thing or two I’d like to say. Ivver since you seen that Spanish colleen you’ve been actin’ like a fool. Sickles hates you, lad. And he won’t sleep until he gets you. An’ he’ll get you through the Spanish girl because he knows a man who thinks he’s in love is a fool.”

      O’Hagen blew out a long breath and jammed his hands deep in his pockets. “I ought to resign my commission. Then I could get Sickles. I ran those mountain trails for seven years, Sergeant. Seven years with a breech clout and a filthy sweat-band around my head. I can make it so miserable he’ll hate the sound of the wind!”

      “That’s not th’ way to do it!” Herlihy said quickly. He turned to the door and paused there. “Don’t quit th’ army, sor.”

      O’Hagen smiled. “Now you’re talking like Libby.”

      “The girl makes sense,” Herlihy said and went out.

      O’Hagen emptied his bath water and hung the wooden tub against the outside wall. The post was quiet and he stood in the shadows, watching. From the far end of the long porch he heard the light tapping of heels and saw someone flitting across the lamplight thrown from the spaced windows. He waited for a moment, then recognized Libby Malloy. She stopped to give him a glance then went into his quarters without invitation. O’Hagen followed her.

      After closing the door, he said, “Do you want to get me in trouble?”

      She turned to look at him, the lamplight building shadows around her eyes. “You’re in trouble now. A little more won’t hurt.”

      “Herlihy know you’re here?”

      “I don’t know,” she said. “He didn’t tell you, did he? I thought he’d lose his nerve.”

      “Tell me what?”

      “Rosalia wants to see you. She’s at Herlihy’s place now.”

      O’Hagen looked at her and Libby turned away from him. Finally he said, “I can’t go to her, Libby. You know that.”

      “But you will go to her,” she said. “You’re that much of a fool.” He moved deeper into the small room so he could see her face. She sat down at the table and laced her fingers together, gripping them tightly. “I know you, Tim. Better than anyone else. I’ve watched you volunteer to take patrols to Tucson just as an excuse to see her. Just to sit in her fancy parlor and—” She raised a hand and brushed her forehead. “Oh, why don’t I shut my mouth?”

      O’Hagen put his hands on her shoulders. “Libby, I don’t love you. How can I apologize for that?”

      “Don’t!” She gave her shoulders a twist so that his hands fell away. “Go to her—that’s what you’ve always wanted, an excuse. All right, you got your wish; she’s asked for you. Go and make a fool of yourself. I’m not interested one way or another!” She turned around quickly, rising and knocking over the chair. “Tu-no vale nada! You’re no good!”

      He slapped her, a stinging blow that drove her back against the table, nearly upsetting the lamp. She straightened slowly, the imprint of his hand clear on her cheek. Tears formed in her eyes and began to spill over.

      She came into his arms when he reached for her and they were tight against each other. Her voice was muffled against the rough weave of his shirt. “Why did you have to find me, Tim? I’d almost forgotten what it was to be white. Oh, darling, don’t hate me; I couldn’t stand that. She’s no good for you because she can’t love anyone. She doesn’t know what love is, Tim. You flatter her with your attention and she has to have that or she’ll wither. Tim, go away with me. I need you; she doesn’t need anyone, not even Sickles.”

      “You better go back now,” he said, putting her away from him.

      She dried her eyes. “The situation never gets better for us, does it, Tim? I want you to love me, but I only succeed in making you hate me.”

      “I don’t hate you, Libby.”

      “I guess you don’t,” she said and went to the door. “You just hate Apaches, and what they made you do to yourself. Every time you look at me and my baby, you’re reminded.”

      “Libby—”

      “You’d better go to her,” she said and went out, her shoes rapping lightly along the porch. He waited a few minutes, then let himself out. On the porch he paused to look right and left. Bars of lamplight bathed sections of the porch and he heard a woman laugh somewhere along the row. He studied the parade carefully; there was no movement. Across from him, the commanding officer’s house sported lights in the parlor. Headquarters was on the left, near the north gate.

      He stepped down and walked leisurely toward Suds Row.

      Sergeant Herlihy’s quarters was on the near end and he rapped lightly. The door opened immediately and O’Hagen stepped in, doffing his kepi. His eyes went to Rosalia. Mrs. Herlihy, a heavy, graying woman, gathered her shawl. “Mrs. Callahan asked me to drop by,” she said and left.

      “I’ll look in on th’ troop,” Herlihy said and followed her.

      Rosalia Sickles was very young. Too young to be Osgood H. Sickles’ wife. Her hair was blue-black, parted in the middle and swept into coils behind her head. She was slender; some would have said frail, but O’Hagen knew she was not. Her face was heart-shaped, almost classic. She said, “I am so sorry, Teemothy. Are we still friends?”

      “No more than friends?” He heard a stir in the other room and opened the door. The baby was on the bed, a boy of two, and O’Hagen picked him up. Immediately a pink hand grabbed his nose and the boy laughed.

      He carried him back to the other room and Rosalia Sickles frowned slightly. O’Hagen said, “You want to hold him?”

      “No,” she said quickly. “Teemothy, what are you going to do if things go badly in the morning?”

      “You mean if I’m kicked out of the army?” He hoisted the boy high in the air and listened to him laugh. The boy grabbed O’Hagen’s ear and tugged. “I figure I’ll go to Tucson. There’s a little something between myself and your husband that’s not finished.”

      The boy released O’Hagen’s ear and bent away, both fat arms reaching for Rosalia. She backed up a step involuntarily. O’Hagen said, “He just wants you to hold him.”

      “I don’t want to hold him!” She spoke sharply and then bit her lip. The boy stared at her, his dark eyes round and curious. He had the fair skin of his white mother, but his hair and eyes were dark. Apache blood! “Teemothy,” Rosalia said, “I would wither if you hated me.”

      O’Hagen’s expression was puzzled. “Rosa, what is it you want? You married him. I’m out, regardless of how I feel.”

      She raised a hand and brushed her forehead. “Please, can’t we go on—I want it that way.”

      O’Hagen stared at her while the boy pulled his hair. “I’m not sneaking around behind Sickles’ back! What do you expect, my regards? Rosa, I’ve asked you a dozen times to make up your mind. All right, you did. That ends it.”

      “You know better,” she said, a smile tipping her lips. There was a shine in her eyes that he could not understand; then Rosalia’s eyes swung past him as the door opened. Libby Malloy looked from one to the other before taking the baby from O’Hagen.