Comanche Moon (41 page)

Though she had never spoken of her parents’ deaths, Hunter had been on enough raids to know what horrible things she must have witnessed. That alone would have been enough to make her hate Comanches with a virulence to last a lifetime. And it was certainly enough to make her fear men, no matter what their race. To make matters worse, the other males in her experience had been brutish as well— her incestuous uncle, Santos and his comrades, and, whether he liked to admit it or not, Hunter himself. When Hunter looked at the world as he imagined she must see it, his heart twisted. What was there in her experience to commend him?

The nights tormented Hunter the most. He wanted Loretta beside him with an intensity that made him ache, not only to slake his desires, but simply to hold her. For him it was a sweet pleasure to be close to her—a sentiment she clearly didn’t share. She went to amazing lengths to avoid sleeping with him, afraid, he was sure, that sleeping wasn’t what he had in mind. Each evening she puttered endlessly in the lodge, inventing needless chores until he took mercy on her and pretended to be asleep. When she deemed it safe, she took her rest next to Amy, with Hunter lying only a few feet away, wide awake and frustrated because he wanted her beside him.

By the sixth morning Hunter came to the disturbing realization that he had never been more miserable. While chewing on a piece of roasted venison, he studied the interior of his lodge, trying to imagine it as it had once been—with no yellow-hair to nettle him. The imagined loneliness that washed over him nearly took his breath. Hunter realized he preferred being miserable
with
Loretta than to live in emptiness without her. That realization sobered him and spurred him into action. He knew he must take steps to be sure she would never leave him.

Hunter found Warrior down by the river, teaching Pony Girl to swim. Sitting beneath a cottonwood, Hunter pressed his back to the trunk and rested his forearm on his upraised knee. ‘‘Warrior, I must make a short trip,’’ he began. ‘‘Will you watch my woman and her sister while I’m gone?’’

Distracted by the question, Warrior forgot to watch his niece and turned. ‘‘Another trip? You’ve only just returned.’’

Hunter’s gaze dropped to Pony Girl, and his eyes widened in alarm. Shooting to his feet, he yelled, ‘‘Warrior, she’s going under!’’

Warrior snatched a handful of the child’s dripping hair and pulled her up for air. Giving his head a shake, he moved toward shore. ‘‘I don’t know. Maybe she’s too young. Maiden insists she isn’t, but I don’t recall the other two being this hard to teach.’’

‘‘I taught Turtle, and Maiden taught Blackbird,’’ Hunter reminded him.

Warrior squatted in front of the whining, coughing child, trying to comfort her with body-shaking pats on her lower back. Hunter thanked the Great Ones that Pony Girl’s burns had healed. ‘‘Maybe that’s what the problem is, eh?’’ Warrior mused. ‘‘I’m a lousy teacher. Hunter, why don’t you teach her?’’

‘‘I’m leaving on a journey.’’

‘‘Ah, yes, a journey. Where are you going?’’

Hunter ignored the question. It was one thing to surrender to his woman, but quite another to admit it to his brother. ‘‘Maybe I’ll teach her when I return. A swap, yes?’’

Warrior looked relieved. ‘‘That sounds like a fair trade. I’ll gladly watch your woman if I can get out of this swimming chore Maiden has pressed upon me. At the rate I’m going, I’ll have to change this one’s name to Pebble. She sure enough sinks like one.’’

Hunter swung Pony Girl into the air above his head and grinned up at her. ‘‘Pebble? No, I like Pony Girl. Let’s teach you to swim, eh, weasel?’’

At such a lofty height, Pony Girl forgot why she was crying and burst into giggles. Hunter tucked her wet little body under one arm and strolled along beside his brother toward home. ‘‘I’ll be gone for a few days. Do you think you can keep Red Buffalo away from my woman that long?’’

‘‘After the tales he told when you were gone last time,
Maiden
will keep him away. She has developed quite a fondness for your Loh-rhett-ah. She’s even making her a blouse and skirt and moccasins.’’

‘‘She is?’’ The thought of Loretta in leathers pleased Hunter. ‘‘Tell her thank you for me, will you?’’

‘‘Tell her yourself. I’m not too happy about it.
That’s
why I’m teaching Pony Girl to swim! Maiden’s busy sewing.’’

‘‘I can’t tell her. I’m leaving.’’

‘‘Right away?’’

As they drew to the outskirts of the village, Hunter set Pony Girl on her feet and gave her a farewell pat on the back. ‘‘Yes, right away. I have to find a few men to go with me. I’ll bring Loh-rhett-ah and Aye-mee to your lodge before I leave.’’

Hunter gave Loretta no explanation for his sudden departure. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. For the next several days, Loretta and Amy stayed with Maiden of the Tall Grass. Amy, taught by a patient Swift Antelope, was acquiring quite a vocabulary in Comanche, which proved helpful, and before Loretta knew it she was learning words herself. Maiden delighted in teaching Loretta, not just the language but customs as well: never to let her shadow fall across the cooking fire, never to speak the names of the dead, never to turn right when making a formal entrance into someone’s lodge. Loretta soaked up the knowledge, eager to learn all she could.

Late the fourth evening, Many Horses visited Maiden’s lodge. At first Loretta sensed that Hunter’s father was taking measure of her, and she was suspicious of his motives for coming, but soon Many Horses’ dry humor had her smiling and then laughing. To Amy’s delight, Many Horses regaled them with stories of Hunter’s boyhood. By the evening’s end Loretta had to admit she actually
liked
him. What was even more unsettling was that he seemed to like her, and she felt absurdly pleased that he approved.

When he departed he placed a gnarled hand on Loretta’s forehead, much like a holy man bestowing a blessing, and bade her good night, addressing her as ‘‘my daughter.’’ The title took Loretta completely by surprise. When she looked up, Many Horses gifted her with an understanding smile and left before she could gather her composure.

On the eighth day of Hunter’s absence, along toward dusk, Loretta heard a distant yodeling sound and glanced up from Maiden’s cooking fire to see men riding in. It wasn’t difficult to spot Hunter, several horse lengths ahead of the others, leading what looked like a mule carrying a priest. Loretta rose on her tiptoe, frowning. Surely she couldn’t be seeing what she
thought
she was seeing. What priest in his right mind would visit a Comanche village?

Glancing around at Maiden’s neighbors, Loretta saw her bewilderment mirrored on every face. Then she looked at Warrior, who had been reclining nearby, guarding her. He had leaped to his feet upon hearing the men ride in. He slid a wary glance toward her and cocked an eyebrow. ‘‘My brother brings a Black Robe?’’

It
was
a priest. Loretta craned her neck to see. Hunter rode directly to the central fire, which had already been lit in preparation for nightfall, and dragged the priest off the mule. After barking a command at the poor man, he spun on his heel and came directly toward Maiden’s lodge, his stride purposeful, his jaw clenched in determination. Loretta drew a deep breath. Suddenly, incredulously, she
knew
why Hunter had brought a priest into the village.

His footsteps slowed as he drew close, the muscles in his thighs bunching and drawing the leather of his pants taut. Loretta stiffened at the challenge his eyes issued. Lifting her chin, she waited for him to reach her, riveting her gaze on his broad shoulders, resisting the urge to run. Those long, powerful legs of his would easily outdistance her.

‘‘I have brought you a Black Robe,’’ he said tersely, and nodded toward the waiting priest. ‘‘He will pray your God words over us, yes?’’

With that, Hunter grasped her firmly by the arm and drew her toward the central fire, never breaking stride despite Loretta’s attempts to slow him down.

‘‘I won’t marry you!’’ she cried frantically.

He threw her a look charged with martial arrogance. ‘‘You will be my wife, little one. My way or yours, in the end, it will be so.’’

Hunter drew to a stop before the priest. Loretta focused on the poor man, who was trembling so badly that he was about to drop his Bible. At the moment she was too preoccupied with her own plight to concern herself with his.

‘‘Father,’’ she cried in the most reasonable, calm tone she could muster, ‘‘would you please explain to this heathen that a marriage cannot take place without a woman’s consent?’’

The priest’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He slid horrified eyes to Hunter, and his face blanched. ‘‘M-my good young woman, perhaps it would be best to proceed. This man seems uncommonly determined, and I, for one, do not relish the thought of angering him.’’

Hunter turned to regard her, one dark eyebrow tipped upward in a measuring look. Eyes narrowed in defiance, Loretta jutted her chin and leaned toward him. ‘‘What have you done to this poor man? He’s terrified! Have you no shame?’’

Hunter could have reminded her that there had been a time when she had been equally terrified, but he chose to stay on course. Marriage was his goal, not a contest of tongues. He cast a compelling glare at the Black Robe.

‘‘Pray your words, old man.’’

The priest licked his lips and glanced fearfully at the crowd of savages around them. Perhaps it was the stark contrast of black robes against pallid flesh, but Loretta thought he was losing color at an alarming rate. Indeed, he looked as if he might faint.

‘‘Say the God words, old man!’’ Hunter snarled again.

‘‘Don’t you dare bully him,’’ Loretta hissed. ‘‘He’s a man of God, Hunter! You don’t
roar
at a man of God.’’

‘‘It’s qu-quite all right, child, quite all right.’’ The priest, his face dripping sweat, made haste to open his Bible. ‘‘Merciful Father,’’ he muttered, clearly praying for deliverance. With a strangled cough, he began leafing through pages, turning slightly so the light from the fire was thrown across the small print. ‘‘I beg your forgiveness. I don’t usually need to use the book—’’ He coughed again and waved away smoke. ‘‘For some reason, the words have fled my mind. Ah, yes, here we are.’’

Infuriated, Loretta jerked her arm from Hunter’s grasp. ‘‘Father, there’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of, I assure you.’’

Hunter reclaimed her arm in a biting grip that made her swing around to face him. Bending his head, he whispered, ‘‘Blue Eyes, you test my temper. I will blow hard at you like the wind.’’

‘‘Blow, then!’’ She tried to twist her arm free. ‘‘You’re
hurting
me.’’

‘‘I will
beat
you. Then you will know a hurt. Now be silent!’’

Loretta’s eyes flared to a fiery blue. ‘‘I’m not going to marry you. Beat me senseless! Go ahead.’’

Hunter sent her a look that would have scared her to death a month ago. ‘‘Loh-rhett-ah, you will be silent and let him say the God words.’’

‘‘He can say the God words until snowballs melt in—’’ She broke off and blushed. ‘‘I’m the one who has to say the words, Hunter, and I
won’t.
Do you understand?’’

‘‘My dear child,’’ the priest inserted, ‘‘it’s not often one of these’’—he threw a meaningful glance at Hunter—‘‘
gentlemen
offers to make an honorable woman of a captive. Wouldn’t it be wise to accept?’’

‘‘I’m in no need of matrimony, Father. I still
have
my honor.’’

Hunter jerked her to his side and, in an ominously even voice, said, ‘‘Your honor will soon go the way of the wind, Blue Eyes. You made a God promise. You are my woman! Now I say you will be my wife!’’

Loretta wet her lips, trying to meet his gaze without wavering.

‘‘I brought you a Black Robe, yes? So this will be a marriage in your heart. If you do not say your God words to make it so, I will sure enough marry you my way.’’ He swept his hand in a wide arc. ‘‘Your honor will fly away on the wind.
Suvate,
it is finished. You choose.’’

Her voice hoarse with frustration, Loretta cried, ‘‘But I don’t
want
to marry you. If I do, it’s for
forever
! Don’t you understand?’’

‘‘For forever is very much good.’’

‘‘No, it’s very much bad. I’ll never be able to leave you!’’

Hunter threw up his hands. ‘‘No Black Robe, no marriage for your God. I am sure enough happy with a marriage my way.’’ With a determined glint in his eyes, he turned toward the crowd, raised his arms, and shouted something. Then he shrugged. ‘‘There.
Suvate,
it is finished. I have said
my
words. We are married.’’ Seizing her by the arm, he growled, ‘‘
Keemah,
come, wife.’’

Loretta dug in with her heels. ‘‘No! Wait!’’

He looked down at her, his vexation evident. ‘‘You will say the God words?’’

Loretta didn’t see as how she had any choice. At least this way her marriage would be blessed by a priest, and she wouldn’t be living with Hunter in sin. "Y-yes, I’ll say the words.’’ Casting him a sideways glance, she said, ‘‘Can I have just a moment with the priest?’’

‘‘For why?’’

‘‘Just to ask him something.’’

Hunter’s grip on her arm relaxed. ‘‘
Namiso,
hurry.’’

Loretta cupped a hand over the priest’s ear and quickly whispered her request, then stepped back to Hunter’s side. The priest considered what she had said, then nodded. A moment later he blessed the young couple before him, and the ceremony began. The words bounced off the walls of Loretta’s mind, making no sense. Numbly she made her responses when she was instructed to. Then it came Hunter’s turn. The priest asked the usual question, adding at the end, ‘‘Forsaking all others, taking one wife and only one wife, forever with no horizon?’’

Hunter, eyes narrowed suspiciously, shot Loretta a knowing look. For several long seconds he made no response, and she held her breath, her gaze locked with his. Then, with solemn sincerity, he inclined his head and replied, ‘‘I have spoken it.’’