carrying a knife, and a bow and arrow. Really, Harvey, she’s disgusting. I really don’t believe she’s a woman warrior. This may be a ruse. If it is, Sergeant McCoy has stupidly fallen for it. He’s outside with her right now.”
Moving as quickly as his bulk would allow, Harvey came around the desk. “Pet, there are women warriors among the Apaches. I’m sure I’ve mentioned that to you from time to time.” He headed toward the door.
“But,” Melissa wailed plaintively, “aren’t you going to make her stay down at the scout camp?”
Harvey turned, his hand on the brass doorknob. “My dear, you really ought not be here. This is army business. And I understand your disgust for this woman. They’re all savages in my opinion, too. Come, come.” He held out his hand toward her.
Pouting, Melissa moved slowly toward her husband. “What are you going to do, Harvey?”
“Well,” he said, raising his thick, white eyebrows, “if she was indeed with Geronimo, we’ll interrogate her on his whereabouts.”
“And then?”
Shrugging, he opened the door. “If she wants to be a scout and help hunt Geronimo down, I don’t care.”
“But, a woman in an all-male camp of scouts?”
“Tut, tut, pet. I know all this is a shock to your gentle sensibilities. These savages live differently than we do. If this redskin can lead us to Geronimo, I don’t care if she’s a woman dressed in men’s clothing or not.” He smiled and led her into the outer office. McClusky leaped to attention, straight and tall.
Melissa rested her gloved hand on her husband’s arm and he led her out onto the porch.
“Lieutenant Carter, what’s going on?” Polk demanded, sizing up the Apache woman as he spoke.
Sputtering, Carter told his commanding officer the series of events.
Kuchana stared up at the large, overweight man in the dark blue uniform trimmed with gold and rows of brass buttons. His hair was thick and white. A mustache partially hid his thin lips. His silver sideburns drooped, following the line of his jaw, making his face look fat and round. When the colonel came forward, she tensed.
Harvey peered into the woman’s face. Typical of all savages, she displayed no emotion except wariness. Looking her up and down, he muttered, “How can you be sure she’s from Geronimo’s party?” His question was directed to McCoy who had the most experience with the Apaches.
“The shaft on the arrows she carries, sir.” Gib brought one out for the officer to examine. Polk was a lazy bastard at best, he knew, shunning his duties as commanding officer except when necessary. Most of his work fell to the majors and captains below him. McCoy doubted if Polk knew one tribe’s shaft from another, but he said nothing.
“Hmph. Interesting.” Polk handed back the arrow to McCoy, his gaze settling again on Kuchana.
Bristling at his inspection, her lips tightened. She vividly recalled similar inspections by soldiers at the San Carlos Reservation.
Straightening, Polk turned and headed for his office. “Get her in here, Lieutenant Carter. I want to question her at length.”
“Sir,” McCoy said, “I think she needs to eat and rest first. She hasn’t had food for four days.”
Carter turned angrily on McCoy. “That’s enough, Sergeant. She looks perfectly fine to me. Now, get her in here.”
Polk smiled at his wife. “I’ll take care of this, Mellie. Why don’t you and Claudia visit Ellen? I understand she’s faint from this heat again. I’m sure she’d like to see you.”
Dismissed, Melissa stood there, glaring at Kuchana. She hated the woman. And McCoy’s protectiveness toward her nettled her even more. How dared he. “Come, Claudia,” she demanded, “I can’t stand the stench around here. My poor nose is about ready to fall off.”
McCoy gave the two white women a look that spoke volumes. In the army, the men were required to take a bath every third day. Clothes were washed once a week by the many laundresses. Everyone smelled at the post. Except for the officer’s wives, who went daily to Draper’s Pool, a secluded pond with a stream located two miles from the post at the end of a box canyon. They were the only ones with time for such a luxury.
Kuchana hesitantly followed McCoy into the large adobe building. Her eyes rounded as she studied the interior. Thirty rifles hung on one wall. Geronimo stood no chance against so many guns. Once in Polk’s office, she was forced to stand in front of the desk while the colonel sat down.
Polk looked at McCoy. “Sergeant, I understand she knows some English, but for the sake of speed, I want you to interpret.”
Gib stood next to the Indian woman, refusing to sit down. “Yes, sir.”
Kuchana noted the tightening of McCoy’s face. She wished mightily that the pindahs wouldn’t speak so quickly. If they slowed their speech, she’d be able to understand what they said. Dizziness assailed her. She planted her booted feet apart so as not to appear weak in front of them and waited for her inquisitors to begin their questioning.
* * *
Gib’s patience thinned. For the past two hours Polk and Carter had relentlessly questioned Kuchana. Polk seemed oblivious to the fact she was weak with hunger. If the fat bastard had gone one day without food, he’d be baying like a coyote. Their treatment of Kuchana was unconscionable.
Risking another blistering tirade from Carter, Gib came to attention. “Colonel Polk, I request this session end. The woman is obviously tired and in a weakened condition. I’d like permission to take her to the cook’s tent, feed her, and then find her quarters over at the scout area.”
Carter glared at the sergeant. “We’re not done interrogating her. After all, these Apaches are tough as nails.”
Polk chuckled in agreement. “I’ve never seen such endurance.”
Kuchana closed her eyes as another wave of dizziness nearly overwhelmed her. She was dying of thirst and wanted to sit down. McCoy’s hand settled on her arm. She quickly opened her eyes and realized she was swaying. Heat flooded her face and she looked away from the concern in the sergeant’s eyes.
Gib glared at Polk. “You’ll get more out of her on a full stomach than an empty one, sir.” He hated putting it in that context, but Polk’s regard of Apaches as little more than animals was well-known.
“Very well,” Polk muttered. “Get her out of here, Sergeant.”
Carter leaped to his feet. “You’re in charge of her, McCoy. If she escapes, you’re responsible.”
Gib nodded. “Yes, sir.” Carter would like to see him drummed out of the army for allowing one of Geronimo’s warriors to escape. Turning his attention to Kuchana, Carter released her, telling her to follow McCoy.
Relief fled through Kuchana once they were away from the building and walking across the arid parade ground. The sun was hot overhead, but it felt good. She noticed a number of tents to the left with women inside them scrubbing clothes on corrugated tin washboards.
“What’s
