Comanche Heart

by Catherine Anderson

“So help me, Swift!”

  He laughed again and gave another jerk on her foot. Her leg came loose. As it did, her upper body pitched in the opposite direction. Swift snaked an arm around her waist to catch her, plucked her off the sill into his arms, and stepped off the chair.

  “Butt,” he finished with a grunt, making a half turn with her still cradled in his arms before setting her on her feet.

  Amy staggered away, straightening her bodice and smoothing her skirts, cheeks aflame. “I didn’t hear you kick in my door.”

  “Didn’t. I came in your sitting room window.”

  “It was locked.”

  “I unlocked it.”

  “But if you could—” She broke off, staring up at him. “Why’d you make all that fuss about the door, then?”

  His mouth slanted into a grin, flashing white teeth. “Because I was mad. Unlocking a window wouldn’t be very satisfying. Busting it, maybe. But then you’d have been without glass until we could get a new piece ordered and delivered.”

  Her eyes widened. “This is all nothing but a game to you!”

  “And you’re losing.”

  There was no denying that. Amy averted her face. “Well, you’re in. N-now what?”

  “I’ve a mind to give you a kick on that cute little hind portion of yours.”

  Amy glared at him. “Do it. And leave a bruise, damn you. One mark on me, and Hunter’ll kill you.”

  Swift met her fiery gaze and grinned again. “You’d bare your fanny to show him? I bet I could paddle you black and blue, and you’d never do it. That’d be a sight I wouldn’t want to miss, Miss Amy with her skirts hiked up and her bare ass shining.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “And you’re infuriating. Jail, Amy? When Marshal Hilton showed up, I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  She leaned toward him, body shaking. “If it hadn’t been for Hunter, I’d have let you rot in there.”

  “Now we get to the truth. I thought you said you never meant for me to be locked up?”

  She advanced a step, hands knotted into fists. “I lied. Anyone dumb enough not to back down when the marshal comes calling deserves to be in jail.”

  Swift stood his ground, watching her. She looked furious enough to hit him, and he was willing to let her, if only she had the courage to dare. She stopped a pace away from him, her blue eyes blazing, each cheek dotted with crimson, her lips drawn back over her teeth.

  “I didn’t realize breakfast and roses would make you so mad.” He jutted his chin at her. Tapping a finger on his jaw, he taunted, “You want to hit me? Come on, Amy. Now’s your chance. Or are you too yellow? I’ll give you one free shot!”

  “It wasn’t the breakfast and roses. You broke into my house. I’m tired of being stalked and tormented and threatened.”

  “Our house.”

  “My house, you arrogant, addle-brained Mexican.”

  With that, she swung. Swift saw her fist coming at him one second and went blind the next, pain exploding up the bridge of his nose. He grabbed for his face. “Jesus Christ!”

  “And don’t curse in my house.”

  Her shoe glanced off his knee. He lost his balance and staggered backward against the stove. Something warm dripped through his fingers where they were cupped over his nose. He blinked, trying to see. He half expected her to strike again, now that she was getting into the swing of it, so he kept his shoulders hunched. Silence fell around him.

  “Swift?” She said his name in a shaky little voice.

  He blinked again. The room spun into focus.

  “Swift, are you all right?”

  “Hell, no, I’m not all right. You broke my goddamn nose.”

  He heard her quick intake of breath. Her skirts swished closer. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God, you’re bleeding all over my floor.”

  Swift cupped his other hand over his nose. “I can’t help bleeding, Amy,” he told her in a muffled voice. “Get me a rag.”

  He heard water slosh. A moment later a cold cloth touched the back of his hands. He pressed it over his nostrils.

  “Oh, Swift, I’m sorry. Come sit down and let me look.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he protested, allowing her to pull him by the arm toward a chair.

  She pressed him down and leaned over him, her small face taut with concern as she gently drew the cloth back. Looking up at her, Swift decided then and there that a broken nose was worth having seen her lose her temper. Though tears streamed from his eyes, a smile tugged at his mouth. She touched the knot along his bridge, wincing as if it were she in pain.

  “Oh, Swift, I think it is broken.”

  “A horse kicked me once. It never set right, so it doesn’t take a lot.” He mopped at the blood on his lip, jerking when her fingers touched the broken spot. “Easy! It hurts like hell.”

  She drew her hand back, her expression agonized. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  Swift couldn’t bite back a grin. “You little liar. You damn near shoved my nose through my brain.”

  Her wide eyes met his, filled with incredulity. “You’re not mad?”

  “I dared you to do it. Why be mad?” Gingerly he clasped the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, trying to straighten it. “I have to say, though, that I was expecting to get it on the jaw. I should’ve known you’d go for blood if I once got your dander up.” Giving a sniff, he tested the airflow, then angled a look at her. “It’ll mend, Amy. It’s not the first time I’ve rebroke it, and it won’t be the last.”

  Dragging out another chair from the table, she sank onto it, as if her knees had given way. She heaved a weary sigh and cupped her hand over her eyes. “Oh, Swift.”

  He took another swipe at his lip with the rag, studying the top of her golden head.

  “I can’t take any more of this,” she admitted in a quavery voice. “I truly can’t. You have to stop.”

  “Marry me, and I will stop.”

  She lifted her head, fastening miserable eyes on him. “Don’t you see that I can’t?”

  “Amy, I could just settle the matter and ride off with you slung over my horse.”

  The color washed from her face.

  “Why do you think I haven’t? I’ll tell you why. I want to make you happy. Won’t you give me a chance? I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never regret marrying me, I swear it.”

  “I would abhor marriage to you.”

  “You won’t, I swear it.”

  “How could you make me happy, Swift?” she asked in a thin voice. “You planning on stealing and killing to make a living?”

  “You know better than that.”

  “Do I? It isn’t just your past that bothers me. But your refusal to change. Look at yourself. Still wearing those guns, still dressed all in black like walking death, still intimidating people. You’re not in Texas, living with the comancheros. You’re in Oregon in the tosi world now, and if you plan to stay, you can’t behave like a heathen.”

  Swift’s eyes held hers. “I went with Marshal Hilton today. Is that how a heathen behaves?”

  “And five seconds ago, you threatened to sling me over your horse and ride off with me.” Her eyes brightened with tears. “You were mad because he locked you up, because you hate being confined! How do you think you’re making me feel? Trapped!” She waved her hand at the house. “You’ve invaded my home, snuck up on me out of the darkness. You’ve turned my family against me, getting them on your side, so I can’t even ask the marshal for protection. There’s no place I’m safe from you.”

  “Amy, you’re safe from me right now. That’s what I’ve been trying to make you see.” He gripped the rag in his hand and leaned toward her. “What did you think I meant to do when I got in here?”

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth, the tears in her eyes welling over her lashes onto her cheeks. “You wouldn’t promise not to touch me.”

  “Because it’s my right. I love you. Do you think I’m going to promise away the one edge I’ve go
t? Just because I won’t relinquish that right doesn’t mean I’m going to exercise it.”

  “You were angry. I thought you might.”

  “And you were wrong. But say you hadn’t been. What if I decided, right here and now, to toss you over my shoulder and carry you to bed? Do you really believe I’d hurt you?” He pressed closer. “Look at me and tell me you think I’d harm you.”

  One corner of her right eyelid began to twitch. “Harm, Swift? People can bleed inside, where you can’t see.”

  His voice went low and husky. “I know you’re frightened. If you’ll only trust me, I can make that feeling go away.”

  “No. Nothing will ever take it away.”

  “You believed differently once.”

  “I was a child then. I’m older and wiser now.”

  After taking another swipe at his lip, Swift trailed a finger up a stripe on her gray satin skirt. “I know you don’t think much of me and the things I’ve done. But you do still trust my word, don’t you? For old times’ sake?”

  She looked wary. “I suppose if you swore to something, knowing as I do that you were once a Comanche and never lied, I’d lean heavily toward believing you.”

  He curled his fingers over her knee. “Then take this promise and hold it forever. No matter what happens, no matter how angry I might be, even if I take you, I’ll never hurt you or use you roughly. I won’t ask you to believe it’ll be good between us, because I don’t think you’re able to believe that. But I swear on my life that it won’t be bad.”

  For an instant she thought of Hunter and Loretta and all that they had, wishing with all her heart that she and Swift could weave the same magic, that a home and children of her own were a possibility. But that was the child in her, spinning dreams. Reality seldom turned out so magical. “Swift, why won’t you just let it go? Even if there wasn’t all the other standing between us, we’re worlds apart. We could never make a marriage work.”

  “And if I change? If I try, will you try, too?”

  Her small features tightened, and she averted her face, staring at the roses on her table. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “What have you got to lose? I think I’ve made my stand pretty clear. If we can’t work things out between us, I’ll settle it the only way that’s left. Why not try it the easy way? Will you at least try? I’m not asking for surrender, just for a declaration of peace. I’ll meet you more than halfway.”

  Her mind raced with all the possibilities that trying might pose, but foremost in her thoughts was the consequence that would undoubtedly occur if she refused. “I—I guess I can make an effort, though I don’t see how that will—”

  “You promise?”

  She sighed, feeling as if she had lost important ground. “I promise to try, nothing more.”

  “That’s good enough,” he whispered.

  A sense of purpose filled Swift as he left Amy’s house and strode down the main street of Wolf’s Landing toward Hunter’s home. Change. It had sounded simple enough when he had agreed to do it, but now that he had time to consider, he had no idea how to begin. Only one thing seemed certain: Amy wanted nothing to do with a gunslinger who dressed like a comanchero. If he wanted her, and he did, he had to acquire a new look.

  When Swift stepped into the Wolf home, he found Hunter sitting at the kitchen table, head bent over a large book, the pages lined with green columns and chicken-scratched with writing. Glancing up, Hunter riveted his gaze to Swift’s face.

  “What happened to you?”

  “The coon came out,” Swift muttered, stepping to the stove to pour a cup of coffee. “Where is everybody?”

  “Mrs. Hamstead’s sick, and Loretta went to check on her. She took Chase and Indigo to help chop wood and tidy the house.”

  “What’s she ailing with?”

  “Her mother-in-law’s sheep dung tea.” Hunter smiled when Swift turned from the stove. “What did your coon hit you with? That nose looks broke.”

  “It is. More fool me for sticking my chin out and telling her to slug me.”

  Hunter’s grin widened. He leaned back in the chair and laid down his pencil. “I haven’t seen Amy lose her temper in years. Congratulations.”

  Giving his nose a tentative probing, Swift tried to sniff, only to discover his nasal passages were already swollen closed. “Don’t get carried away celebrating. Just because she gave me a poke doesn’t mean I’ve accomplished anything.” Heaving a sigh, he pulled out a chair and sat down. Taking a sip of coffee, he said, “I don’t know what to do, Hunter. Is this game I’ve been playing helping, or am I just making things worse?”

  “Things must get worse for her to see she has to change.” Hunter reclaimed his pencil, toying with it idly. “I think you’ve done well. Unless she leaves Wolf’s Landing, she has no sanctuary. That leaves her no choice but to adjust.”

  “I’m tempted to do just what she expects and take her. It’d be easier and a sight quicker.”

  “Yes, but quick isn’t always good, especially considering what Amy has been through.” Hunter’s gaze softened with memories. “Gaining Loretta’s trust took time, but in the end it was worth the wait.”

  Swift fished in his shirt pocket for his tobacco pouch, then forgot what he was doing and dropped his hand. “I’m just talking, anyway. As if I could take her, even if I wanted to. I’d hate myself afterward worse than she would.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Swift narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever forced a woman?”

  “A little bit.”

  “How do you do it a little bit?”

  Hunter’s eyes filled with amusement. “ ‘For a little while’ is probably more accurate. Until my woman forgot to struggle. That was Loretta, though. Amy’s story is much harsher.” He studied the tip of his pencil, as if the mysteries of the world might be answered there. “Loretta saw her mother brutalized, and that made her very much afraid. Amy didn’t just see, she was the victim of twenty-three cruel men. It has been many years, and living with fear every day is an unpleasant thing. She has journeyed beyond it, I think, into a place where she doesn’t feel. Until you came, that is.”

  Swift raked his hand through his hair. “She asked me to change.” Bluish oil ribboned the surface of his coffee. Tipping the cup, he gazed into the murky depths. “She doesn’t like my appearance or the fact that I wear my guns. I don’t think she believes I can provide for her without resorting to my old ways.”

  “Can you?”

  Swift felt heat rising up his neck. “I can work with you or get a farm. I’m not lazy, Hunter.”

  “I could use a partner in my mine. Chase has his eye on the timber, and one day I expect him to try logging. But is Amy’s concern truly your ability to earn money? Or is it that you are an acorn in a bowl of walnuts?”

  “Meaning that I don’t fit in? I can buy some new shirts. Take the conchae off my hat. I’m not so different from the people here.”

  Hunter shook his head. “You misunderstand. Your clothes are a small thing. The man who wears them is not.” He gestured at the book before him. “To be my partner, you must know your letters and numbers, and you don’t.”

  “You expect me to learn how to read?” Swift stared at him, scarcely able to believe Hunter, of all people, placed importance on book learning. “I can’t read, Hunter. I can’t even spell my name.”

  “I was one dumb Comanche, and I learned.” Hunter tapped his finger on the writing. “My books. They say how rich I am. And I put all the numbers here. If I can do this, you can. You talk of a new shirt? Anyone can buy a shirt, Swift. What will that prove to Amy?”

  “That I’m willing to try.”

  “But only a little bit. This is a white man’s world. Our world, as you say, no longer exists, except within our hearts. You claim a white woman as yours, and you plan to marry with her and live in her world. To do that, you must make yourself a little bit like a white man, so you can care for her.”

  Swift swallowed, his gaze dropping to the w
riting on the paper. Anger filled him. “I don’t need to know my letters to care for her. Damn it, Hunter, that’s asking too much. It’s enough to consider taking off my guns now and again. I never know when someone may discover I’m here and come looking for me.”

  Hunter lifted one shoulder in an eloquent shrug. Swift clenched his teeth. “It’d take me years to learn letters and numbers,” he argued.

  “A little time if you study hard. I learned quick.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you’re smarter than me.”

  Hunter shrugged again. “You are right. It is too high a price to pay for a woman.”

  “That isn’t it, and you know it.”

  “What is it, then? Are you afraid to try?”

  Swift bristled. “I’m not scared of anything, let alone a bunch of letters on a page.”

  “We will see.”

  “Are you daring me?”

  Hunter looked bewildered. “Me, Swift? You came to me, and I have said my thoughts. That is all. You don’t like my thoughts, and that is fine, but they are still my thoughts. Amy is a schoolteacher, and she makes much of letters and numbers. I think she would be pleased if you showed interest in what is important to her. You ask Amy to do all the compromising. This way, she will see you making a big effort.”

  “All right,” Swift said through clenched teeth. “I said I’d try, and I will. You teach me.”

  Hunter grinned. “I can’t teach you, Swift. I must work in my mine to feed my family. And Loretta is very busy with her work. You could study with Chase and Indigo at night, but that would take a very long time.”

  “Well, how in hell can I learn, then?”

  “Maybe you should go to school.”

  Swift stared at him, incredulity striking him speechless for a moment. “With the children, you mean?”

  Chapter 8

  MORNING SUNLIGHT SLANTED OVER THE ROOF of the schoolhouse into Swift’s eyes. He shuffled his boots, not quite able to force himself up the steps. The feelings sweeping through him reminded him of the first time he’d bedded a woman. He had been uncertain of himself then, afraid of failing. Making love had turned out to be something he had aptitude for, but he wasn’t sure he could master academics with the same flair.