Comanche Sunset

by Rosanne Bittner

  “He at least promised that if I lose, you’ll go free,” he said, panting from his struggles. “If I win, we are both to be allowed to leave unharmed.”

  “If you lose, I would want to die anyway, Wade.”

  “No, Jenny. I wouldn’t want that.” His eyes studied her, love and passion flaring in them, quickly replaced by renewed anger and fierce possessiveness. “What happened to you! Did Two Hawks or Wild Horse put that bruise on your face? Why were you at a stage station instead of the fort?”

  She put a hand to the bruise. “No Indian gave me this. It was Tony’s friend, Corporal Deaver.”

  “My God, Jenny, your hands! What happened to your hands?”

  She touched his hair. “None of it matters, as long as you’re alive and I’ve gotten to see you one more time.” Her eyes teared more.

  Two Comanche men came inside then. One walked over and cut the bindings on Wade’s wrists. Wincing with pain, Wade sat up.

  “Wild Horse said to free you so you can touch your woman,” the man told him. “But if you try to escape, it is she who will suffer, not you. He says to touch her all you want and enjoy what he will be enjoying tonight when he comes for her.” The man stepped back, a victorious grin on his face. “There will be many braves sitting outside this tipi through the night. They will know if you try to escape.”

  Wade looked up at the man with angry eyes. “You tell Wild Horse his brother is not a coward who runs from a fight. You tell him I’m braver than he is, because I would never use a woman to get what I want! No matter how much I might come to hate him, I would not abuse his woman! You tell him that!”

  The man nodded and left. Wade looked at Jenny, then embraced her. How wonderful it felt to see her again, hold her again. He had no choice now. He would die before he would let this woman he loved so much be treated like a common Comanche captive. He could only pray that his last words about it being cowardly to use a woman would have some effect on Wild Horse. The thought of the man touching Jennifer brought an unbearable rage to his soul.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Wade leaned against a backrest made of a piece of deer hide stretched over cottonwood poles. Jennifer leaned into his shoulder, relishing the feel of his strong arm around her.

  “There must be something I can do about your wounds, Wade,” she said, pain in her voice.

  “Not with those hands. I’m all right. The Comanche women are very good at inflicting pain without any dangerous injuries.” He spoke the words bitterly. “I’ll tell you one thing. There are a couple of other men I’d like to kill besides Wild Horse, including Captain Howell.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you win that fight tomorrow.” She straightened. “It isn’t fair. Look at you. Every time Wild Horse strikes you it’s going to bring you terrible pain. That gives him an advantage.”

  He put a hand to her bruised face. “My own advantage will be you. He said he’ll let you go if I lose. That may be so, but if I don’t fight him at all, I have no doubt he’ll keep his word tomorrow about turning you over to the others. One thing I’ve learned about the man is you can’t argue with him, and he always does exactly what he says he’s going to do. My biggest worry is tonight.” He was so full of rage and a need to protect her that his eyes were bloodshot. “He wants me to hate him, Jenny.”

  Their eyes held, both knowing what Wild Horse intended to do. Wade moved a hand behind her neck. She could feel his own power, in spite of what he had been through; and she knew what was going through his mind.

  “Maybe what you told him about it being cowardly to use a woman will make him think twice,” she told him, trying to keep her voice steady. “He and the others seem to consider me quite brave for fighting the man who attacked me at the fort. Maybe I’ll be able to somehow make an impression on him, if I act brave and defiant.”

  A faint grin passed over his lips, but his eyes were watery. “You’re some woman, Jennifer Andrews. Look at what you’ve been through. You should be sniveling and cowering and begging.” He touched her hair. “My God, I’m so sorry, Jenny. I never dreamed you would get dragged into this. I never should have come back here.”

  She held her chin stiffly, refusing to make this all worse for him by weeping and showing her terror. “You did what you thought was the right thing, Wade. I know you love me. My being here isn’t your fault. It’s Captain Howell’s and James Deaver’s fault.”

  She looked down at the soiled skirt of her dress, thinking how prim and proper she looked when she first left the fort. Her hat was gone. Her hair hung in a tangle. Her face was dirty and tear-stained and her dress was wrinkled and grass-stained. “Strangely enough,” she said quietly, meeting his eyes again, “I feel kind of hardened, a little numb. I’m not afraid any more, Wade. I guess anger has taken over. And it isn’t even Wild Horse with whom I’m most angry. It’s men like Tony, and the Captain; and ones like that man at the stage station, people who have shown me in no uncertain terms that a person is really on his own in this life. I feel so lucky to have found you, and I can’t believe God will take you away from me. You’re going to win tomorrow, Wade—for me. We’ll both survive this.”

  He sighed deeply, taking hold of her wrist and bringing a burned hand to his lips to kiss it. “I’d love to see Deaver right now. I’ll bet he’s a sight. The bastard deserves every bit of pain he suffers.” His grip tightened on her wrist at the thought of another man daring to touch her. Then he gently began rubbing the raw skin where Two Hawks’s bindings had hurt her. “I never should have let myself love you in the first place. I should have been stronger.” He met her eyes. “And once it went so far, I should never have come here to Wild Horse. I was just so sure I could find a way to get through to him.”

  Her own eyes teared. “Don’t be sorry, not for wanting to know your own brother, and certainly not for loving me. Never be sorry for that. I’m not. We’re going to be together, Wade. We’ll go to California, like we planned. There is only one thing that can stop us now, and that’s Wild Horse. You can’t let him stop us, Wade.”

  He turned away, putting a hand to his own sore ribs. “He’s my brother, Jenny. I know what I have to do now. But it’s the one thing I wanted to avoid.” He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “With my real mother dead, Wild Horse is all that is left, besides Aguila. I thought I could learn to understand him, bring him around to my way of thinking. I’ve had a lot of experience with Indians. I could even have found a closeness with the Comanche, maybe even lived among them for a while, learned a lot more. They would have accepted me, and Wild Horse would have welcomed me, if he had been anything but a twin.”

  He slowly got to his feet, flexing his arms, rubbing at his ribs. He put his head back as though in agony, and Jennifer knew it was emotional agony. “I understand them, Jenny—their frustration, their vengeance, their sorrows. In my own way I have suffered much of the same. But this one thing Wild Horse just won’t give on.”

  He looked at her, kneeling back down beside her. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I was hoping you would be able to wait at the fort for my brothers. If you get out of this, I still want you to contact my family.” He touched her hair adoringly. “Jenny, there’s a little white girl here—a captive. I saw her once, but she was afraid and ran away from me.”

  Jennifer’s eyes widened. “Oh, the poor child!”

  “I managed to make Wild Horse agree that when this is over and he lets you go, you are to be allowed to take the little girl with you. See if she has any relatives around. If not, promise me you’ll take her to my folks when you go to them. They’ll take care of her. I know my mother. She’ll treat the girl like she was her own daughter.”

  “Of course I’ll take her! I just hope Wild Horse keeps his promise to let us go.”

  He studied her lovingly, but with great sorrow. “He’ll keep it. I only wish I could have convinced him not to…” He closed his eyes and turned his face away. “Jenny, if Wild Horse…” He trembled slightly at
the thought of it. “I just hope you can forgive me for getting you into all of this,” he said in a near whisper. “We both know what Wild Horse intends to do. I tried to talk him into fighting me right now and getting it over with, but he refused.”

  He met her eyes again, wondering if after tonight, they would still hold the love for him he saw in them now. “Once Wild Horse lets you and the little girl go, promise me you’ll go to my parents, at least for a while, Jenny. My mother is a wonderful woman. She can help you.” He pulled her close. “I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am for all of this. I love you so much.”

  She touched his hair. “I love you, too; and I told you not to be sorry. You did what you thought was right. You didn’t know Howell would send me away.”

  He pulled back, running a thumb over the dirt on her face. “You look so tired, Jenny, and I know you’re in pain. Come and lie down with me. I can hold you for what little time is left.” He moved over to a blanket spread out on straw and put up an arm, moving it round her as she stretched out beside him.

  Jenny’s throat ached with a need to cry, both with joy that she had found him alive, and sorrow that tomorrow he could die. She refused to think about what could happen to her in just a little while. All that mattered was that she was here with Wade, and this could be their last moment together.

  She nestled into his shoulder, finding peace and comfort as his arms came around her. Both were too tired and in too much pain to think about doing anything more. It was simply understood that under different conditions, they would like nothing more than to again consummate their love, again share their bodies in the ecstasy they had known in that little cave, while outside the sand blew in a furious storm.

  How long they lay there, touching, petting, talking softly, neither was sure. They only knew the precious moment suddenly ended when Wild Horse threw back the robe at the tipi entrance and ducked inside. He grinned at the sight of them lying together before Wade had a chance to quickly sit up.

  “She comes with me now,” Wild Horse told him. “Aguila will bring you food and water. My woman will feed your woman.”

  Wade slowly rose, matching Wild Horse in size. “Just make sure the Comanche women don’t abuse her.” Two more warriors came inside then, wielding lances.

  Wild Horse cast Jennifer an arrogant look, then met Wade’s eyes. “I am the one you should worry about, my brother. She is fine looking and brave, something rare in white women. I find her appealing, and I have no patience with captives.”

  Wade grabbed at the man’s vest, but the other two warriors shoved lances flat-side against Wade, pushing him back. Wild Horse looked at Wade with smouldering eyes. “Tomorrow, my brother. I can see you are finally ready.”

  “You have no right touching my woman. My agreeing to fight should be enough for you!”

  “But not for you, my brother,” Wild Horse sneered.

  “My woman wishes me to tell you that she thinks using her to get your way makes you weak in her eyes! She will be ashamed to have to give herself to a coward!”

  Wild Horse turned his eyes back to Jennifer, raking them over her. He looked back at Wade. “I do not listen to women.” He motioned to the other two men, who immediately wrestled Wade to the ground to tie his wrists to the stake again.

  “Fight me now, Wild Horse,” Wade growled. “Right now!” He struggled against the other two men, and Jennifer screamed when he managed to break free. He leaped to his feet, charging into Wild Horse and pushing him out the tipi entrance with such force that it pulled the structure away from some of its supports.

  Wild Horse sprawled onto his back outside, but before Wade could do any damage, six more warriors were on him, wrestling him back to the ground.

  Jennifer stumbled out of the tipi and groaned Wade’s name as three Comanche men sat on him while he lay face down in the dirt and another warrior tied his wrists tightly behind his back. Jennifer knew the ordeal had to be painful for Wade’s already-battered body. She gasped when Wild Horse grabbed her then, yanking her close, her back to him. He held her in a strong grip while the other men helped Wade back to his feet. Wade glared at Wild Horse with as much fury in his eyes as Jennifer had ever seen in any warrior.

  Wild Horse grasped one of her breasts, and Jennifer turned her eyes from Wade. “I like the look in your eyes, my brother,” he told Wade, rubbing at her breast. “But we will not fight yet. It is as I told you. You will think about your woman this night, and by tomorrow, you will be the warrior I want you to be.”

  He turned and dragged Jennifer away with him. Wade screamed out Comanche words at Wild Horse, and Jennifer needed no interpretation to know he was calling the man every bad name he could think of in the Comanche tongue. Apparently it amused Wild Horse, who only laughed.

  Wade fought violently as the other warriors dragged him back into the tipi to again tie him to a stake, while women secured the supports that had been damaged. Wild Horse pushed Jennifer inside a nearby dwelling where a middle-aged Comanche woman and a boy of perhaps seven or eight looked up at her. Wild Horse shoved Jennifer down, and the woman pushed a plate of wild meat and some kind of boiled roots in front of her. It was then Jennifer noticed another man sitting inside the tipi. She looked down at the food, but had no appetite.

  “Wild Horse’s woman will consider it an insult if you do not eat,” the other man told her.

  Jennifer looked over at him in surprise. “You speak English?”

  “Yes. I am Aguila.”

  Her eyes turned to pleading. “Can’t you do something about this?”

  He shook his head. “It is the way. Eat so you will stay strong. No harm will come to you.”

  Jennifer turned fiery eyes to Wild Horse. “That is not the impression he just gave me!”

  Aguila grinned and said something to Wild Horse. Wild Horse looked Jennifer over, replying to Aguila while he kept his eyes on her own.

  “Wild Horse says to tell you it is for your man’s own good. He must be angry. He must hate. He must think Wild Horse will abuse his woman tonight. He says to tell you that if you truly love Wade Morrow, you should not be angry with him. He was only putting on a show for Wade Morrow’s sake. His hatred will give him strength. This is the way Wild Horse wants it. He does not want an easy victory.”

  Jennifer watched Wild Horse, realizing he was only using psychology on Wade. The realization that he meant her no harm gave her at least a little better appetite. She did not remove her eyes from his. “Then tell him I am grateful,” she answered. “Because he has no idea the harm he has done to himself. Wade Morrow will kill him tomorrow.”

  Aguila grinned at her bold statement, and he interpreted it to Wild Horse. Wild Horse’s eyes sparkled, and he actually laughed. He said something to Aguila, then lay against a backrest.

  “He says you are brave for a white woman,” Aguila told her. “He says that if his brother had to pick a white woman, he picked a good one.”

  Jennifer gave Wild Horse a scathing look. “I don’t care what he thinks.” She bit into the meat, which tasted better than she thought it would. The young boy came over to Wild Horse, showing him a small spear. Wild Horse looked at it, unwinding some of the rawhide binding that held the tip to the pole and saying something to the boy. Jennifer was shocked at the sudden gentleness in his voice as he talked to the youngster and seemed to be teaching him something about the proper way to secure the weapon.

  “He is Gentle Winds’s son,” Aguila explained, indicating the Indian woman who had given Jennifer the food. “Gentle Winds gives comfort to Wild Horse, feeds him, takes him to her bed. Wild Horse has adopted her son, whose father was killed by soldiers. He cares very much for the child.”

  Jennifer looked at Wild Horse and the boy again, finding the contrast between Wild Horse’s vicious side and this loving side incredible. It seemed a waste and a shame that the man could not have seen his way to be friends with his own brother.

  “I will tell you something, white woman,” Aguila told her. “
My heart lies with Wild Horse, because I raised him like my own. But Wade Morrow is also my nephew. I will mourn Wild Horse if he should not win the fight, but I will honor Wade Morrow. I did not have the chance to teach him the Comanche way like Wild Horse, so I feel it is my duty to do one small thing to help him, even though I do not wish anything to happen to Wild Horse.”

  “And what can you do,” Jennifer asked, turning her eyes back to Aguila.

  “I can give you some advice. If Wade Morrow is to have any hope of winning tomorrow, he must be full of hate. He must erase any remaining feelings he might still have for Wild Horse. You can help. Tomorrow when Wild Horse takes you before Wade Morrow, you must make Wade Morrow think the worst. Do you know what I mean?”

  Jennifer’s cheeks flushed, but she realized the man was right. “Yes,” she answered. “I know what you mean.” Their eyes held. “Thank you, Aguila.”

  The man nodded, then rose and left. Jennifer ate more of the meat, not knowing or caring what it was. She simply had a feeling it would not be wise to insult Gentle Winds.

  She contemplated what she must do in the morning. Aguila was right. Wade had to think Wild Horse had abused her. When this was over, if Wade was the victor, she would tell him his uncle had tried to help him. Perhaps it would be a small consolation, but it was something.

  It was nearly dark when the train of ten huge freight wagons hauled into Fort Stockton, three men leading a small remuda of riding horses and extra mules behind it. Dust billowed as the lead wagon drew to a halt just outside fort grounds, and a handsome, tall, sandy-haired young man jumped down, followed by a somewhat shorter young man who closely resembled the first.

  Both men wore dusty, knee-high boots and denim pants, the taller one wearing a blue calico shirt, the other a red shirt with a leather vest. They sported pistols, slung low on their hips, and sweat ringed their wide-brimmed hats, their faces tanned dark by months of traveling under the hot, Southwest sun.