121
" Please, Hunter, please, I wouldn’t ask if I had anyone else to turn to. I thought you were my friend.”
Hunter studied her blond hair, braided and coiled like a snake around her crown, long curls escaping the combs to trail halfway down her back. He had walked to meet her believing she had returned to him. Now he realized she had come only to ask his aid, that she had no intention of remaining beside him. He felt like a foolish young boy, humiliated and angry. But not so angry that he wanted her on her knees.
It was the first time he had seen her surrender her pride. By that alone he knew how deeply she loved the child that had been lost to her. I thought you were my friend. The words cut deep. Perhaps he should feel honored. She had traveled a great distance into his land, trusting him with her life and with the life of the child she loved.
“Stand, Blue Eyes,” he told her gently.
She tipped her head back. Tears shimmered on her cheeks. “I’ll do anything, Hunter. I’ll serve you on my knees. I’ll be your loyal slave forever. I’ll kiss the ground you walk on, anything.”
He disengaged his hand from hers and grasped her shoulders, hauling her to her feet. “I want you in my buffalo robes, not making kisses in the dirt.”
Her eyes darkened. “I’ll do anything.”
Hunter was about to tell her he would find Amy, that she need not beg, but her last words stopped him. He was not a stupid man. He searched her pale face.
“I’ll be your woman. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I’ll stay with you. Freely. If you’ll find Amy and bring her back to me. I promise, Hunter.”
Her desperation made him feel ashamed. She had come to him for help; he couldn’t turn her away. He needed no reward for finding her sister. Yet he wanted this woman. And she was here, offering herself to him. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
123
" I will go wherever the Great Ones lead me,” Hunter whispered. “You know I will. It’s just that I can’t see the path they want me to follow. There is no one to lead me.”
“The path will be there. When you turn your face westward you will know, deep within, where to place your feet.” Warrior’s voice rang with certainty. “I would ask one thing of you, tah-mah. Ride beside me one last time into battle. It will be our final memory of each other, yes?”
Once again Hunter remembered looking into that white man’s blue eyes. The battles shall stretch before him with no horizon. When would it ever end? But his brother had made this request of him. “I will ride with you,” Hunter whispered. “One last time.”
Straightening his pallet, Warrior stretched out on his back, so close his arm brushed Hunter’s. After a long while he said, “You will tell your sons and daughters about me, yes?”
Hunter wished he could weep, but the tears were dammed behind his lids, aching and burning. “Yes. And you will tell yours of me?”
“I will tell them.” Warrior’s voice cracked. “Of you and your golden one and the song that led you west. Love her well, tah-mah. The days together are brief.”
“Yes.” Hunter knew Warrior was thinking of Maiden of the Tall Grass. In a husky voice, he added, “Far too brief. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
125
" Stand, Blue Eyes,” he told her gently.
She tipped her head back. Tears shimmered on her cheeks. “I’ll do anything, Hunter. I’ll serve you on my knees. I’ll be your loyal slave forever. I’ll kiss the ground you walk on, anything.”
He disengaged his hand from hers and grasped her shoulders, hauling her to her feet. “I want you in my buffalo robes, not making kisses in the dirt.”
Her eyes darkened. “I’ll do anything.”
Hunter was about to tell her he would find Amy, that she need not beg, but her last words stopped him. He was not a stupid man. He searched her pale face.
“I’ll be your woman. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I’ll stay with you. Freely. If you’ll find Amy and bring her back to me. I promise, Hunter.”
Her desperation made him feel ashamed. She had come to him for help; he couldn’t turn her away. He needed no reward for finding her sister. Yet he wanted this woman. And she was here, offering herself to him. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
127
" You got no choice, girl. Don’t think ya do. He’s not treatin’ ya too bad right now, but as God is my witness, he will. Just pray you go before they start in on ya.” He swallowed again. “I don’t know why he’s held off. Maybe he’s takin’ you back to his village for some kinda ceremony or somethin’--to his squaws. Or maybe he just fancies a wife with golden hair. Either way, believe me when I say dyin’ of thirst will be kinder.”
Loretta hugged herself. She understood. She understood all too well.
Moments later Hunter came back and jerked the furs out from under Tom’s legs. With his usual arrogance, he motioned for Loretta to follow him and walked away into the shadows at the far side of the fire. A flush stole up her neck as she rose to go with him. Tom was watching. That made her sleeping with the Comanche seem all the more shameful. She didn’t dare balk, though. Tom might pay with his life.
Hunter spread the pallet and motioned for her to lie next to him. Keeping her back to him, she stretched out on the fur, putting as much distance between them as the pallet allowed. She felt him wrapping a length of her hair around his wrist and intertwining it in his fingers. She prayed he wouldn’t touch her--not in front of Tom.
There was no God in heaven. A heartbeat later, Hunter’s steely arm encircled her waist, and his large hand splayed beneath her breasts. The fur abraded her sunburned thigh as he slid her toward him, but that sting was nothing compared to the degradation. What would Tom think? Loretta knew well what he’d think, and she couldn’t blame him. But what choice did she have? "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
128
" We walk backward in our footsteps, eh? Maybe you will walk forward a new way when we reach your wooden walls. You could be a little bit happy as my woman, no?”
Loretta fixed her eyes on the horizon ahead of them. They were only a day and a half’s ride from her home. A day and a half from real clothes, a chance to wash her hair, to eat her own kind of food. Yes, he had been kind to her. As reluctant as she was to admit it, she’d even come to like him a little. But not enough to belong to him. Never that.
“To be happy, I must be at my wooden walls,” she said shakily. “That’s my home and where my people are.”
There was only tonight and tomorrow night to get through, and then she’d be home. Suvate. It was almost finished. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
129
" Come here, little one.”
“I want to go back.”
He hoped she stood there arguing for a time. “Obey your husband.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s broad daylight.”
“Keemah, come.”
Growing tired of just looking when he could be touching, Hunter cocked his head and let her see him leering. He was awarded a fetching glimpse of slender, creamy thighs and honey gold. She gasped and dropped to her knees as if someone had dealt a blow to the backs of her legs.
Tucking her skirt under her knees, she cried, “Have you no shame?”
His answer was a slow grin. Seizing her wrist, he drew her toward him. “There is no shame. You are my woman.”
Pulled off balance, she fell across his chest. Squirming, but halfheartedly, she said, “There’s a time and a place for everything, and this isn’t it.”
“No?” He ran a hand under her blouse. “I say it is a very good time. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
131
" Someone must preserve the ways of the People,” Warrior rasped, “someone who will sing our songs and teach our ways. Unless you do that, all that we are will be lost. You must go get your woman and take her far away into the west lands where this war does not reach.” Warrior’s voice shook with emotion. “To a new place, Hunter. You know the words of the song.”
“Warrior, you make it sound so simple. You saw what happened near her home today. She will spit upon me when she sees me.” Hunter angled an arm over his eyes. “I left her and rode into battle against her people. How many have we killed since the attack on our village?”
“She won’t turn from you.”
“How can you know? You say I should fulfill the last part of the song? How? Where is the high place the Great Ones spoke of? Where is the canyon filled with blood? And how will I ever reach across so great a distance to take Loh-rhett-ah’s hand?”
“You must have faith. The high place will be there, as will the great canyon.” Leaning forward, Warrior clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Courage, tah-mah. Have courage. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
132
" The Prophecy
From the place where the sun rises, there will come to the People a great warrior who will stand tall above his brothers and see far into the great beyond with eyes like the midnight sky. This Comanche shall carry the sign of the wolf upon his shield, yet none shall call him chief. To his people shall come much sadness, and the rivers will run red with the blood of his nation. Mountains of white bones will mark where the mighty buffalo once grazed. In the sky, black smoke will carry away the death cries of helpless women and children. He will make big talk against the White-Eyes and fierce war, but the battles shall stretch before him with no horizon.
When his hatred for the White-Eyes is hot like the summer sun and cold like the winter snow, there will come to him a gentle maiden from tosi tivo land. Though her voice will have been silenced by great sorrow, her eyes shall speak into his of a morning with new beginnings. She will be golden like the new day, with skin as white as the night moon, hair like rippling honey, and eyes like the summer sky. The People will call her the Little Wise One.
The Comanche will raise his blade to slay her, but honor will stay his hand. She will divide his Comanche heart, so his hate that burns hot like the sun will make war with his hate that is cold like the winter snow, and the hate shall melt and flow out of him to some faraway place he cannot find. Just as the dawn streaks the night sky, he will chase the shadows form her heart and return her voice to her.
When this is done, the warrior and his maiden shall walk together to a high place on the night of the Comanche moon. He will stand on the land of the Comanche, she on the land of the tosi tivo. Between them will be a great canyon that runs high with blood. The warrior will reach across the canyon to his maiden, and she will take his hand. Together they will travel a great distance into the west lands, where they will give birth to a new tomorrow and a new nation where the Comanche and the tosi tivo will live as one forever. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
133
" I want to go home very badly.”
Loretta fixed her gaze on her captor’s medallion. All around her, the smell of his world permeated her senses, leather, dust, smoke, and unidentifiable foods. She was probably out of her mind to trust him. But, oh, how she wanted to. Home. To Aunt Rachel and Amy. It was a fact that he hadn’t lied to her--except for the time he had promised to cut out her tongue and hadn’t. She couldn’t very well hold that against him.
She scooped up a handful of nuts and berries, taking a small amount into her mouth. The sweet taste of honey washed over her tongue, activating her salivary glands. Her stomach growled in response. He heard the sound and cocked an eyebrow.
“It is good?”
“Mm,” she said, taking another bite and brushing her palm clean on her bloomers. “Delicious.”
“Dee-lish-us?”
For the space of a heartbeat she forgot to be afraid of him, and a smile spread across her lips before she realized it was coming. When he smiled back at her, the strangest feeling swept over her, an inexplicable warmth. He had smiled at her before, of course, but never like this.
“Delicious,” she repeated. “That means very good, much better than just good.”
His smile didn’t fade, and she found herself fascinated. On a civilized man, that lopsided grin of his could have been heart-stopping. His sharply defined lips lifted lazily at one corner to reveal gleaming white teeth, deep creases bracketing his mouth. Not the face of a killer, surely.
The mood shattered when he reached out to touch her cheek. The sudden movement made her recoil, reminding her of who he was and what he was. That he considered her his property. Because she jerked away, he settled for capturing a lock of her hair, twining it through his fingers.
“You are dee-lish-us. Like sunshine, eh?”
Unnerved by the gleam that had stolen into his eyes, Loretta caught hold of his hand to disentangle it from her hair. Just because there were no scalps in his lodge didn’t mean he was above taking one if the mood struck. “Only things you can taste are delicious.”
The moment the words passed her lips, she recalled how he had nibbled at her neck. Heat crept up her nape. As if he guessed her thoughts, his gaze dropped to her throat. She found herself longing for her homespun dress with its mutton sleeves and high neckline.
Mischief danced in his eyes. Or was it a trick of the light? “This Comanche is not a Tonkowa, a People Eater. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
135
" Brushing her hands clean on her skirt, Loretta stared dismally at the fire. Light. Merciful heaven, why had she asked for a fire? He’d be able to see her, which somehow made the thought of undressing in front of him all the more horrid.
Her skin prickled. He was staring at her, waiting, like a man expecting his supper to be served. And what was even more awful, she felt like his supper. A hundred thoughts raced through her mind, running away from him foremost, but her sense of honor forestalled her. She had promised him, and a promise was a promise. She wouldn’t break her word. She’d see this through, with her head held high. She would.
With trembling hands, Loretta tackled the long line of tiny buttons on her bodice. With each flick of her fingers, her cheeks grew hotter. The firelight cast too few shadows, making the interior of the lodge seem as bright as day. She tried to draw comfort from the fact that he had seen her nude the night of her fever, but that was a century ago and did little to ease her embarrassment as she slid the sleeves of her dress down her arms.
If only he were a white man. He would at lease douse the fire. Or maybe have an attack of conscience and realize how barbaric it was to force a virtuous young woman into marriage. But he wasn’t a white man, and conscience wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. He owned her. Now they were married, even in the eyes of her people. For forever. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
137
" I’ll do anything.”
Hunter was about to tell her he would find Amy, that she need not beg, but her last words stopped him. He was not a stupid man. He searched her pale face.
“I’ll be your woman. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I’ll stay with you. Freely. If you’ll find Amy and bring her back to me. I promise, Hunter.”
Her desperation made him feel ashamed. She had come to him for help; he couldn’t turn her away. He needed no reward for finding her sister. Yet he wanted this woman. And she was here, offering herself to him.
His gaze riveted on the faded bruise along her cheek. If he sent her back to her adoptive father, how many more bruises would she receive? “You make lies of your promises, Blue Eyes.”
“Not this time. I swear it, Hunter. I swear it before God, I’ll be your woman. Anything for Amy.”
He caught her chin. “You make a God promise? You will lie with me in my buffalo robes?”
Loretta closed her eyes. The words stuck in her throat. She was sacrificing her self-respect. Her own people would forever scorn her if they knew. But what choice did she have?
“Yes, I’ll lie with you. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
138
" Your woman tries to flee,” Red Buffalo snarled. “She makes a lie of her promise to you, eh? It is just as I said. She can never be one with the People. Never! She is an easop, liar, and unworthy. She has made a fool of you, cousin!”
A hush fell over the crowd. Hunter tightened his legs around his stallion and picked up the reins. “Which direction did she go?”
“Toward the horses. Where else? Whose will she kill this time, eh?”
Hunter kicked his stallion’s flanks, biting down on a roar of sheer outrage. She had given him her God promise! Was nothing sacred to the White Eyes? As he rode out of the village, Hunter heard another horse pounding up behind him. He glanced back to see Swift Antelope coming up fast on his sorrel.
Seconds later Hunter spotted Loretta. She was carrying Amy, bent under the weight, scarcely able to lift her feet. He reined in his black, struggling to sort and make sense of his emotions. Anger, yes, but pain as well, a pain that ran so deep he could scarcely bear it. She had used him, and now she meant to flee, her many promises forgotten. From the very beginning she had planned to leave him as soon as he brought her the child. Hunter could tolerate many things, but being made to look the fool wasn’t one of them. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
139
" I stayed hidden, Hunter. She screamed and screamed and screamed for help! And I did nothing. Nothing!”
Tears burned in Hunter’s eyes. He hunched his shoulders around her. “You were a child.”
“A coward, I was a coward!” A horrible, tearing sob erupted from her. She slid her arms around his neck and buried her face against the side of his throat. “That’s what I can’t forget! Hiding down there, hearing her scream. Oh, why didn’t I do something?”
“You would be dead, Blue Eyes. The Comanches would have killed you--just as slowly, eh? One small girl against many braves? You could do nothing.”
“I could have died with some dignity!”
“Not with dignity--with great pain. You are no coward.”
“Oh, yes, I am! Look at me! I’m terrified to let you, my husband, touch me. You’ve been so kind to me and Amy. I should’ve overcome these feelings! And I haven’t! I don’t know why you even want me!”
A sad smile twisted his mouth as he recalled how she had walked out alone to face a hundred Comanches, one small woman against an army. “You make a smile inside me, that is why I want you. The way a man wants his wife. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
