Comanche Woman (7 page)

Bay was in shock. She turned her head slowly to confront the man to whom she’d been temporarily given. His lips were pressed in a tight line, and he looked uncomfortable, and perhaps even a little angry. If she’d learned nothing else among the Comanches, she’d learned a man’s honor was everything. It was clear Long Quiet recognized his dilemma: He could not refuse Many Horses’ gift without causing the warrior to lose face. Bay’s stomach knotted in agitation. Many Horses could not intend that she be used for
any
purpose. Yet she feared he did.

Bay allowed herself to examine more closely the stranger who’d saved Many Horses’ life. Where Many Horses had the high, wide cheekbones and straight, prominent nose of a Comanche, this man’s angled cheekbones and aquiline nose were more refined. His skin was more bronze than copper, his muscular chest slick and smooth, with only a provocative line of dark hair arrowing from his navel downward. Instead of being barrel-chested like Many Horses, his broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and hips.

She looked closer and realized his sin-black hair escaped from his braids in tiny curls at his temples and at his nape, much as her own did. She almost jumped when their eyes met. Intense gray eyes stared back at her. No Comanche warrior she’d ever seen had curly black hair and slate-gray eyes. It dawned on her suddenly that this was no Indian, constrained to obey Indian customs.

“This man is white!”

Long Quiet’s face became forbidding. He stared straight ahead but said nothing.

“Truly, some white blood runs in his veins. But he is of The People,” Many Horses replied firmly.

Bay watched surprise flicker in the stranger’s gray eyes, which immediately became blank again. “I do not wish to belong to this man.”

“It is done.”

Bay didn’t mistake either the finality of Many Horses’ words or the tone in which they were delivered. She’d faced few calamities worse than this during her time among the Comanches, but from those experiences she’d learned not to give up. In order to survive, it was necessary to keep fighting, even when all hope seemed lost.

“May we speak of this alone?” she asked.

“There is nothing to discuss.”

The spark of anger in Many Horses’ eyes warned Bay that to question his will was to shame him before his friend. A lump rose in her throat. She belonged to Many Horses as surely as the Negro slaves who worked on her father’s cotton plantation belonged to him. It was clear Many Horses had made up his mind, and there was no one in the village who would dare to contradict any command he gave her. But she wasn’t done fighting yet.

“Have you told Long Quiet that for the past three years you have allowed no other man to touch me? Have you explained that I am the source of your strong medicine in battle? Does he know the
puhakut
warned you to guard my person against the day when one would come to take me away and thus destroy you?”

Bay could tell her words had shocked Long Quiet, but before the stranger could speak, Many Horses repeated more forcefully, “There is nothing to discuss.”

Many Horses was clearly enraged by her defiance. She folded her arms about her to try to still her trembling. There was no one who could save her now—unless the stranger . . .

She turned to survey Long Quiet’s features and found nothing to tell her what he thought of what she’d said, nothing to give her any encouragement that her words had made a difference. She’d learned that even among the Comanches there were kind men and cruel men, and she prayed he wasn’t one who believed in hurting women. Her eyes beseeched the silent man for some solution to her dilemma.

Bay might have been bound by Many Horses’ desires, but it was clear Long Quiet had a will of his own. “If you give me this gift, it is I who shall be in your debt,” he said. “Can a brother not save a brother’s life without the need for such a prize?”

“You speak from your heart,
haints
, which is generous,” Many Horses replied. “Let me be generous as well.”

Bay shifted uncomfortably as Long Quiet searched her face for her thoughts. He seemed dissatisfied with what he found, and she let herself hope again he would refuse Many Horses’ offer.

Those hopes were dashed when he sighed resignedly and replied to Many Horses, “You have been as stealthy as a wolf among the buffalo. I find I cannot refuse your offer. You well know I would welcome a soft pallet beneath me and a woman to wait upon me while I am here.”

A rush of air came from Many Horses’ chest, and it was only then Bay realized he hadn’t been at all sure Long Quiet would accept his offer. Bay wondered what kind of man would dare refuse such an incredible gift. She saw the unexpected spark of possessiveness in Many Horses’ eyes, quickly masked, and knew how generous his gift had been.

The three of them sat for a moment in silence, as though none of them could quite believe they’d actually agreed to this arrangement. Then Many Horses rose, and Bay and Long Quiet had no choice except to stand also.

“Show Long Quiet where he is to sleep. I will expect you to care for him as though we were one in body, as we truly are in spirit.”

Bay watched as Many Horses reached out a hand to the white man dressed as a Comanche, who clasped it elbow to wrist.

“I will not forget the giving of this gift,” Long Quiet said. “I am not at all sure that when I leave I will not be in your debt.”

Bay turned to Long Quiet, all pleasure at having met the stranger now fled, replaced with trepidation. “Come with me.” She stepped outside the tipi and held the tent flap open for him. When he stood outside the tipi, she became aware for the first time how tall he was. She stood out among the Comanche women because she was the same height as Many Horses. This man stretched almost a head taller than she did.

When they reached the tipi Many Horses kept ready for visitors, Long Quiet reached down to lift up the buffalo hide opening to hold it for her. She searched his face and was surprised when he spoke to her in English instead of the Comanche tongue.

“Go inside. We need to talk.”

Bay stood frozen for a moment before she ducked inside. When he followed her, she moved away from him to the center of the tipi, intent on starting a fire. She grabbed the flint and a handful of the kindling kept ever ready in the tipi and squatted down in the center of the spacious area near a circle of stones.

To her consternation, he sat down directly across from her. He made no move to relieve her of her task, for which she was grateful. She worked with the flint until a spark hit the moss and a thin line of white smoke rose from the tinder. She’d just taken a deep breath to coax the fire to life when he spoke.

“I’ve come to take you home.”

Chapter 4

O
H MY
.” I
T WAS AN EXPRESSION
B
AY HAD OFTEN USED AT
Three Oaks when she was stunned or pleased or dismayed. Right now she was all three. Yet the words felt strange on her lips and tongue. She wanted to say more, but it had been a long time since she’d turned her thoughts into English words and she was surprised by how much effort it took.

When she remained frozen, Long Quiet leaned over and provided the puff of air needed by the fire for life. “I promised Cricket I’d keep looking for you and that once I found you, if you wanted to go home, I’d take you back,” Long Quiet said.

Bay’s eyes hung on the man who professed to be her rescuer, who was suggesting that after all these years she could simply leave and go home. Then she realized what else he’d said. “You know my sister?”

“Your sister’s husband, Jarrett Creed, is my friend. Three years ago, several warriors of the Comanche band who burned your father’s home passed through my village and spoke of a beautiful woman with violet eyes and hair of flame who’d been captured by Tall Bear. I went looking for you and found Cricket and Creed instead. When it became apparent you were being taken too far north into
Comanchería
for them to follow safely, I promised Cricket I’d keep searching for you until I found you.

“I was sure it would be easy to find such a distinctive woman.” He smiled ruefully. “As you can see, I underestimated Many Horses.” His eyes roamed her face, from the huge violet eyes to the full, slightly parted lips and back again. “It’s hard to believe word of your beauty wasn’t carried on the wind to the farthest reaches of
Comanchería
.”

His words had been spoken in a low, husky voice that touched Bay almost like a hand. Then his hand did reach out, and his fingers tipped her chin up so their eyes met. Bay felt herself sinking into his gaze. He seemed to absorb her, engulf her. It was a frightful sensation, but tantalizing as well. Bay felt the heat at her throat that became a blush on her cheeks. It was a curse of her fair skin that her emotions were so easily revealed.

“I meant only to please you with my words,” he said, discerning her discomfort. He took both her hands in his. “I ask again. Would you like to go home?”

Bay freed herself from the disturbing caress of his fingertips before she answered, “It doesn’t matter what I want. Many Horses would never let me go.”

“Every woman has a price. I will buy you from him.”

“He won’t sell me to any man for any price,” she insisted.

Long Quiet’s gray eyes darkened dangerously. “Then I will steal you from him.” The voice that spoke was arrogant, fierce, and uncompromising, the voice of a Comanche warrior.

“You would steal from your brother?”

Bay could tell her words had stung when he asked in a voice hardened by the need to control his rage, “Do you want to leave or not, Bay?”

Bay started at the sound of her English name spoken aloud. Bay. Bayleigh Falkirk Stewart. He was offering her a chance to take up that other life again. And it was plain he would do whatever was necessary to take her home. All that mattered was whether or not she wanted to go.

“If you only knew how I dreamed of this moment,” Bay whispered. “How I hoped someday someone would come and take me home.” Bay laughed aloud. “And now you’ve come!”

She longed for the touch of another human being to celebrate her good fortune. But she’d learned hard lessons from the Comanches and dared not tread where she wasn’t clearly welcome. She hugged herself with her arms and rocked back and forth where she sat, a ridiculously happy grin on her face.

As if sensing her need and her indecision, Long Quiet held out his arms to her.

Bay launched herself into his embrace, crying and laughing at the same time. She had to swallow over the lump in her throat before she could speak. “Every night I prayed for this. I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

She felt Long Quiet’s muscles tense as though he sought to push her away, and she clenched her arms tighter around his waist. “Please. Don’t let go.”

“I will hold you as long as you like,” Long Quiet replied. He wanted to be happy for her, but it was hard when he knew that if he got his way, she would not be going home to Three Oaks once they left this place. She would be coming home with him to his village. Now that he’d found her, he had no intention of giving her up again. But there would be time enough when they were safely gone from Many Horses’ village to convince her that her place was with him. “Does this mean you want me to take you away from here?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

“I will make plans for us to leave before the sun rises.”

Bay’s mind raced to contemplate what she would be leaving behind. She wouldn’t miss the loneliness. Or the grueling work. Or the whispers. Or the Comanches who’d spurned her because of the
puhakut
’s decree. But she would miss Many Horses, because he’d been kind to her when she’d expected cruelty. And the taciturn old woman, Cries at Night, who’d been like a mother to her. And she would miss Little Deer.

As Bay thought of leaving Little Deer, the smile left her face. Her chest tightened and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t considered what it would mean to leave Little Deer, because she’d never really expected to have to make a choice. Now that the choice was hers to make, she realized there wasn’t any choice at all. She had a Comanche daughter. How could she abandon her child?