Apache Tomorrow's

Apache Tomorrows

Time-Travel Romance

By Janet Quinn

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Janet Cornelow

All other reserved by author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law.

www.janet-quinn.com

To my biggest fan, my sister Kathy. To my sons, Tom, Michael, and Robby for all their confidence, support and love. To my daughter-in-laws Jessi and Loki for their support. To Debra, my critique partner, for all her help and encouragement.

(Previously published as Arrow of the Heart by Amber Quill)

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Chapter 1

Arizona, 1884

You're blooming crazy, Jake. Blooming crazy. Cassidy Howard shifted in the leather chair and placed her dusty, booted feet on the polished surface of Jake Stinson's antique maple desk. She let her hands flop on the overstuffed arms of the chair.

I'm desperate, not crazy. Jake twisted a cigar between his fingers. Get your feet off my desk before you scratch the wood. He stood and shoved her feet away and wiped the dust from the polished surface.

Cassidy shifted slightly and positioned her feet back on the desk. A grimace crossed Jake's face and she laughed. Then you must think I'm crazy.

Cassandra, you're the only one who can do this for me. I'll pay you well. Jake looked at her feet, shrugged and sat behind the massive desk. Lighting his cigar, he blew a puff of gray smoke that hung in a cloud above the kerosene lamp.

Cassidy looked at Jake for a long moment. She'd known him for nigh on fourteen years, since he'd found her alone on the streets of Glendale, Arizona. He'd offered her a job cleaning house for him. She'd refused. You can't pay me enough to ride through Apache territory. No amount of money is going to pay me for my hide or my scalp.

Jake leaned forward. Cassandra, please.

You know you're pushing your luck here, Jake. I hate it when anyone calls me that and you know it. She stared into his slate gray eyes and read the panic. Why can't you just wire the money to Sonora?

I told you, Señor Rodriguez won't take anything but gold for his cattle. The gold has to be there in three days. He stood and walked to the window, pulled back the heavy velvet drapes and stared out across his land.

You've got a bit of a problem, don't you, Jake? She smiled at him. Her response had been quick when his wire asking for her help had arrived. She'd helped Jake many times over the years after building herself a reputation with her sharp-shooting and fast riding. She'd often transported money for him in his dealings. She'd even been known to stand up in a land feud a time or two.

A year or so back, she'd have done this job for him without even thinking about it, but somewhere along the way, her hide had become more important to her. He'd offered her two hundred dollars, which was a lot of money right at the moment seeing as she had a two-dollar gold piece and two bits in her pocket. Hardly enough to pay for a room and dinner at the hotel. She shrugged. Another night on the ground wouldn't hurt her any, though she'd been looking forward to a hot bath. The river got mighty cold.

Cassandra Howard, how can you be so cruel? You know I'd do anything to help you. Haven't I always been there for you? Helped you all I could?

Cassidy laughed. Lowering her feet to the floor, she leaned forward and took a cigar from the box on Jake's desk. She sniffed it slowly. Jake only had the best, but always at someone else's expense. If you hadn't tried to cheat Rodriguez the last time you dealt with him, you wouldn't be having these problems now. After she bit the end off the cigar, she put it in her mouth and reached for a match.

Jake grabbed the cigar. Ladies don't smoke.

She looked down at her buckskin pants covered in trail dust. If I was a lady, you wouldn't be asking me to ride into Mexico carrying twenty-five hundred dollars worth of gold. Standing, she walked over to a cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey. After pouring two glasses, she handed one to Jake.

What'll it take to get you to do this for me? Jake threw the golden liquid down his throat.

Cassidy sipped her drink. I'm not going, Jake. I've only seen twenty-six years and there are a mighty lot of things I want to do before I die. One of them isn't being chased across the Arizona territory by a bunch of Apaches on the warpath. I've seen enough of them to last me a life time.

Cassandra, you've done it before. Last year you rode down to Sonora for me. Jake rose and poured himself another drink.

Last year they hadn't just escaped the reservation. Last I heard they were headed for Sonora themselves. I don't cotton running into them on the way. The night the Apaches had swooped down on her parents' home still haunted her sleep.

The sound of her mother screaming would never die from her ears. Cassidy had barely escaped that day. If she hadn't made it out the back window and to the deserted wolf's den where she stayed for two days, she'd have ended her brief twelve-year-old life with her parents. Sometimes she wondered why she hadn't, though she'd never regretted surviving. Life might be hard, but she enjoyed every moment of it. She'd built herself a life of freedom, free from the societal constraints on women. She came and went as she pleased and refused to wear a dress or a corset.

Granted, at times, like when she saw a woman holding a babe in her arms, she longed to find a man and settle down, but she'd make a lousy farmer's wife. Hell, she'd probably make a lousy wife. She didn't cater to anyone, especially not a man.

Cassandra, please. I'll give you three hundred dollars if you do this for me. It won't take you but three days to get there. Once you're in Sonora, you can have a fine time with that much money.

Jake, I'm not going. That ride's a hard three days. Insanity doesn't run in my family.

You have to go. I'll be ruined if you don't.

You should've thought of that earlier. Jake was one of the few men she could call friend, but she didn't trust him not to take advantage of that friendship.

I know you're broke. Where else are you going to make that kind of money for three days' work? He relit his cigar and puffed away on it. The sunlight from the window played against the smoke. Besides, if you'll go, I'll let you use the guest room tonight.

That's so sweet of you, Jake. If you were a gentleman, you'd let me use the guest room anyway.

All right, but I don't see why you won't go to Sonora for me. I'll give you four hundred dollars and you're robbing me at that.

No one has ever robbed you, Jake Stinson. Cassidy laughed.

If you want to see me in ruins, Cassandra, then just sit there and refuse to help me. And after all I've done for you over the years.

I've returned your favors tenfold, Jake. You know that. You're just trying to make me feel guilty and it won't work. I gave up feeling guilty about anything years ago. She sipped at the amber liquid in her glass. Looking across the desk at him, she smiled. I'll be going to Sonora for you when hell freezes over, Jake.

She let the whiskey slide down her throat, heating her body on the inside. It would help stop the cold when she made camp tonight. Staying at Jake's would only give him more of an opportunity to work at her. Stop calling me Cassandra. I hate that.

* * * *

The pouch of gold coins bounced against Cassidy's chest as she urged Storm forward. It had to be mighty cold in hell about now as she headed for Sonora with Jake's gold. She glanced behind her. Nothing stirred. The hair at the back of her neck prickled and she urged the horse on faster across the sparsely grown ground. Once she made the mountains, she'd feel safer. They offered protection, a place to hide if the need arose. She didn't like being out in the open.

She must have had too much whiskey. Otherwise she'd never have agreed to this foolhardiness. Everyone knew a renegade group of Apache had broken free from the reservation. No one knew exactly where they were, but most figured they were heading for Sonora, just like her.

Of course, if she made it, the five hundred dollars Jake had finally paid her would keep her in style in Mexico until the Apache calmed down and she could safely return home. Maybe she'd head out to California. She'd grown tired of Arizona. Or maybe she'd just keep going north until she got to Colorado. That was some mighty pretty country. She could hunt and trap this winter and spring and have a stake so she didn't have to sleep in the dirt most of the summer. Then maybe she'd buy herself some female trappings and set her cap for a man. The hankerin' to settle down had been growing in her. She never expected to have a big place like Jake did, but the idea to have a small spread of her own and some young 'uns to tend seemed better and better.

She glanced around again. The prickling at the back of her neck increased. Something niggling at her told her she wouldn't be seeing Colorado this winter or any winter. She should have listened to her first instinct and stayed home. The pouch slung around her neck and Jake's cattle weren't worth her life. Dying in the wilderness hadn't been in her plans.

Cassidy glanced around again. Her heart skipped several beats and sweat beaded on her forehead under her hatband. Riders were swooping down from the foothills. Their whooping told her she'd found the renegade Apache. She leaned forward, close to Storm's neck. She loosened her hold on the reins and clicked her tongue at him. Give it all you got, boy, or you're gonna end up an Indian pony.

The animal's shoulder muscles moved beneath her arms as he stretched out his legs. She gauged the distance to the first rock-covered hill that would offer her sanctuary and wondered if Storm could run full out that far. She slid her rifle from its scabbard. Cradling it in the bend of her arm, she held it ready. A small distance seemed to grow between her and her pursuers. She urged Storm on.

Out of nowhere, another group of riders appeared. They must have come from behind the slight rise to the west. They were close enough she could see the paint smeared across their faces. An arrow whizzed past her head. She fired her rifle and saw one of the riders sway on his mount. Dust swirled up around the Apache, obscuring her view. She fired again. Another arrow whizzed past her. Come on, Storm. You can outrun any Indian pony. You're the best.

As she fired again, she held her breath. The carving on the stock of the rifle dug into her fingers as she tried to reload. The screams of the Indians swirled around her and the picture of the last time she'd seen her mother flashed through her mind--an Apache with a knife at her mother's throat.

Cassidy sucked in a long breath, steadying herself and clearing her mind. Clinging to Storm with her knees, she took careful aim at the Apache rider closest to her. After she fired, he tumbled backwards from his mount. The rest rode on, closing the gap between her and them as they cut in at an angle.

She pressed herself as flat to the horse as possible. Storm snorted at her, smelling her fear, and extended himself as though running from the devil. The distance to the rocky outcrop didn't appear to lessen. A coldness filled her. Would she die out here, alone? Would Jake think she'd stolen his gold?

Shifting slightly in the saddle, she fired at the Apache closest to her. Damn, she muttered under her breath as the man never wavered. One last bullet remained in the chamber. She wouldn't be able to reload without giving them too clear a target at which to shoot. If she could only make the rocks.

She looked at her goal. The rocks stood too far away. A devil wind appeared not far in front of her, swirling the dirt into an enormous cloud. If she rode through it, would the Indians follow her? If she got caught in the wind, neither she nor Storm would be able to breath and he would falter. This wind grew to a proportion which she'd never before seen. It became a giant wind sucking in everything around it. She had to swerve away from it, which put the rocks farther from her.

Drawing a deep breath, she tried to calm her heart and concentrate on Storm's movement, becoming one with the animal. Carefully she aimed her rifle and fired. This time she could hear the man's scream as he tumbled sideways from his mount.

A fiery pain shot through her back. An arrow. She couldn't draw in a breath. Her chest hurt. It had to have buried deep into her back. She started to sway and grabbed Storm's mane. Don't let them mistreat you, she said to the gray horse.

Sadness swept over her. Now she would never have a family. She'd never settle down. The regrets at all she'd miss in life welled up in her. She didn't want to die, but she knew she would. It hurt to breathe and when she did, pain, not air, filled her lungs.

Storm swerved back toward the wind. No, Storm, she whispered, unable to find enough strength to change his course. No. You can't go into the wind.

The wind and dirt whipped around her. She couldn't breathe. She started sliding from the saddle and couldn't hold on any longer. Damn you, Jake. May you rot in hell for this.

The ground knocked the rest of her breath away. The pain in her back raced through her as though someone had lit her afire. Her head hit a rock and she screamed--a scream lost in the wind and the pain.

Chapter 2

Arizona, present day

Jesse White Feather sat with one ankle resting on his knee and his hat propped on the other. He stared at the pale young woman in the hospital bed, wondering who she was and how she'd come to have an Apache arrow in her back. An Apache arrow, obviously hand-crafted, with his family mark on it.

He sighed, wishing she'd awaken and give him some answers. She'd laid there for three days now, barely showing signs of life. Even though the hospital monitors would sound should she stop breathing, he checked every few moments to make sure the sheet covering her still rose and fell.

Leaning back, he crossed his arms over his chest. The doctors had said they'd call him the moment she awakened, but he'd still spent most of the last three days by her bedside. She wasn't an average Jane Doe. He'd never seen clothes like hers, except in pictures. The rifle and side arm she carried had been crafted in the 1800s, yet they looked new, as did the gold pieces in the leather pouch found hanging around her neck. Yet not one of the coins had been minted after 1884.

On top of that, she had no wallet or any ID. She couldn't be a victim of a mugging. A robber would have taken the coins. They were worth a fortune and she'd had more money tucked into the pocket of her shirt. Five hundred dollars in paper money. All of it printed in the 1800s.

He had to unravel the puzzle. It would nag at him until he did. Especially the arrow. His mind kept coming back to it. He'd never seen one more finally crafted. His grandfather crafted arrows from time to time, but his arthritis-ridden hands no longer did the job they had when he was young.

When he'd shown the arrow to his grandfather, the old man had turned it over and over in his hands, examining it carefully. His only comment had been he hadn't seen any like it since his grandfather had made arrows.

Indian uprisings didn't happen anymore. Not in his territory. Not attacking a lone woman. From the back.

What a woman. Her long auburn hair spread out across her pillow like a wave. It had been tightly braided and wound about her head, hidden beneath a crushed Stetson, when they'd found her. He wanted to know what color eyes her closed lids would reveal. He wanted her to awaken and tell him what had happened.

Did she know how lucky she was? If the hikers hadn't stumbled across her body, the doctor said she would have died. The arrow had nicked her lung and with the internal bleeding, she wouldn't have lasted long. The doctor stated the attack couldn't have taken place more than ten to fifteen minutes before they found her.

Why hadn't the hikers seen her attacker or heard something? Damn. Why didn't she wake up?

Sheriff White Feather, you really need to go home. A nurse handed him a cup of coffee, one of about a hundred he'd drunk in the last three days. The blonde nurse smiled at him before going to check on the patient's IVs. It won't do you any good to sit and wait. She'll wake up when she wakes up. Between the head injury and the internal injuries, she lucky she's still breathing. Her body's in shock.

She'll wake up, won't she? Jesse took a sip of his coffee.

The doctor thinks so. The nurse pressed her fingers against the woman's wrist and looked at her watch. Tucking the patient's arm back beneath the covers, she turned and looked at Jesse. He's not sure why she hasn't. So all any of us can do is wait. She walked toward the door. You look terrible and should go home, Sheriff.

Thanks for the coffee. Jesse raised his cup in salute.

* * * *

Cassidy floated somewhere between heaven and earth. She must be dead. The pain had dissipated. That could only mean she had died.

Warm fingers pressed against her wrist. A warm blanket covered her. Soft voices swirled around her, but she couldn't tell what they were saying. She was so very tired. All she wanted to do was sleep.

If she heard voices and felt a hand against her wrist, then she had to be alive, and if she was alive, why? The Apache should have dispatched her, unless... Unless they'd realized she was a woman. Did they have something worse than death in mind? Or were they going to heal her just to torture her.

She opened her eyes a slit and peeked at her surroundings. A woman dressed in a pink flowered shirt and matching trousers walked by the end of her bed, where a man sat in a chair. An Apache man with long black hair pulled back, but not dressed like any Indian she'd ever seen. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt. His Stetson rested on his knee and he wore black cowboy boots with silver tips on the toes. His hands looked powerful against his crossed arms.

He shifted his head from looking at the woman in pink back towards the bed. Cassidy shut her eyes. She didn't know who he was, but she didn't wish to draw his attention.

A bed. Through the fog that encased her brain dawned the thought she lay in a bed, not an Apache camp. A bed with a metal footboard. A bed with clean, white sheets and a soft, blue blanket. The wall behind the man was painted a muted blue and a picture of flowers hung on it. The room smelled clean. Cleaner than anything she remembered.

The fog grew thicker and she couldn't make her eyes open to take a peek at the man again. Maybe she had dreamed he was Apache. Hadn't the pink woman called him sheriff? An Apache couldn't be a sheriff. Maybe she was dead. Nothing she saw made sense. If she were still alive, she was too tired to figure on it. She let the fog fill her brain and floated back to the place between heaven and earth.

* * * *

Jesse stretched out his legs and flipped open the newspaper, folding it back to read the inside page. If the strange woman didn't awaken soon, he'd have to give up his vigil and return to Apache Creek. It might be small, with little work for the sheriff, but he still couldn't ignore his town much longer. The doctor couldn't give him a definitive answer as to when or if she'd awaken. He couldn't even tell Jesse why she remained comatose. The doctor saw no physical reason for her condition.

After folding the paper in half, Jesse perused the page. He glanced over the top of the pages at the still form lying in the bed. Her eyelashes appeared to flutter. Dropping the paper on the floor, he stood over her bed and examined her face. Deep blue eyes stared at him with a blank look.

Miss. He leaned close. Miss, you awake?

She blinked at him.

He pressed the button for the nurse. Miss, I'm Sheriff White Feather. I need to ask you some questions.

She blinked her eyes several times, then closed them.

Miss. Please. Look at me.

Her eyes fluttered open again. She opened her mouth then closed it. She ran her tongue across her bottom lip and swallowed. Where am I? came in a soft, hoarse voice that seemed to reach up and caress the side of his face.

In the hospital, miss. You were shot with an...

Apache arrow. She nodded. She glanced around the room and reminded Jesse of a caged animal looking for a way to escape. Hospital? Where?

Mesa.

She closed her eyes and raised her hand to her forehead.

You're going to be fine, miss. The doctor said you'd be as good as new with some rest. Please, open your eyes. The door behind him opened. She's awake. Sort of.

He wanted to reach out and brush the hair back from her face, but something told him she would react like a caged animal. She looked so small and defenseless in the big bed.

The nurse bent over the woman from the other side. Miss, can you open your eyes for me?

The woman opened one eye and peeked out from under her arm. I don't remember any hospital in Mesa. Her voice had a hostile tone to it.

You hit your head pretty hard. Can you tell me your name? the nurse asked.

The woman laid her arm back on the bed and stared at the nurse for a long moment, then turned to stare at Jesse. You're an Apache. She spit the word at him, drawing out the A in a long sound and swallowing the E on the end.

Jesse stepped back. Pure hatred had flowed out with the word. Clutching his hands into fists, he forced himself not to reach for the knife in his boot as he had the first day of school in Mesa when he was ten and the other boys had used that tone. She was but a small bit of a woman and he a grown man, capable of containing his ire. No longer did he let his reaction to the prejudice boil over within him. I'm Jesse White Feather. I'm the sheriff of Apache Creek.

No. She shook her head and turned back to the nurse. Go away. She closed her eyes.

Now, miss, we need to find out who you are and who your insurance carrier is.

As the nurse reached out and touched the woman's arm, she slapped away the nurse's hand. Don't touch me. It came almost as a growl, each word emphasized.

The nurse huffed. I need to check on your bandages and I need some answers. The nurse reached for the woman again.

Jesse grabbed the nurse's hand. This can wait until later. Obviously she's still under the influence of the pain medication. Give her time to get her bearings. She has been asleep for nearly four days.

* * * *

Four days? Cassidy scrunched up the blanket beneath her fingers. Something wasn't right. If this was heaven, she didn't want to be here. It could be a hallucination caused by the pain from the arrow. Except she felt no pain. She should.

She looked at the hands clasped above her. The woman withdrew and stomped out of the room. The Apache who said he was the sheriff looked down at her. His black eyes bore into her soul. She felt no fear of him. She saw no hatred for her in his eyes.

Something tickled her nose and she reached up and pulled away a cord of some type. Air came from it and blew across her face as she tried to disentangle the cord from her head.

He reached out to her. You should really leave that on until the doctor comes in to see you. It'll help you breathe easier. The arrow nicked your lung.

Yanking the cord free, she pushed it to the side of the bed. Its faint hissing reminded her of a snake and made her skin crawl. Get it away from me.

The Apache pulled the cord and looped it over a strange machine behind her head. You're sure you can breathe okay?

Cassidy stared at him. Not understanding what the strange cord was, she knew she didn't want it on her, whether she could breathe or not. She pushed herself to a sitting position and grabbed the side of the bed as her head spun violently. For a moment she thought she would be sick.

Maybe you'd better lie back down. The Apache's hand hung from his sides, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists as though he couldn't decide what to do with them.

No. Where was she? Nothing she saw made sense.

Then let me adjust the bed so you can lean against the back. He reached for a box laying on the sheet and pushed a button. The back of the bed rose.

She yanked the cord away from him and scooted toward the foot of the bed. The world dipped and swayed and she curled into a ball. The humming noise had stopped when she grabbed the box from him and so had the bed. Beds didn't fold up like this one had started to do. It must be hallucinations. The Apache had caught her and given her some strange medicine which made her see things. They had plants that could make them see things that weren't there. She probably sat on a bed of animal furs and the rest she'd dreamed. Like the dreams in the place between heaven and earth.

A small ache started in her back from her movement and a pain shot up her arm. She feared to look up in case the world shifted again and she would vomit. Never would she give her captors the pleasure of seeing her sick.

Miss, are you okay?

Get away from me. She snarled at him. She wanted a drink of water. Her throat resembled the desert in the middle of summer, but she'd never give the damn Indian the pleasure of begging him for water.

She wanted her knife. Opening her eyes, she peeked around the room for a weapon to defend herself against him. He'd never have her. Never. If she couldn't fend him off, she'd kill herself before she allowed him to take her body.

The door banged and she jumped. Taking slow, deep breaths, she tried to calm herself. Indians didn't have doors that banged, so where had they taken her? Some ghost town. No one would look for her in an abandoned town. Oh, hell. No one would look for her at all. Jake would always wonder if he'd sent her to her death or if she'd taken the gold and disappeared--though he ought to know better. Cassidy had never been a thief.

Just stupid to let him talk her into this journey. Dying because of a bunch of cows. She couldn't think of anything more ridiculous.

She wasn't dead yet. She couldn't be. The pain in her arm told her differently. If she were still alive, she had a chance of getting away. She needed to clear her head and make the strange pictures disappear. Then she'd find Storm and her rifle. When nightfall came, she'd find a way to sneak out of wherever they held her.

The strange Apache dressed in white man's clothing had said they were in Mesa. She knew that to be untrue. No Apache would ride into Mesa. The town couldn't be too far away. She would light out for there. The town