Comanche Woman

by Joan Johnston

“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

  “OH MY.” IT WAS AN EXPRESSION BAY 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.
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  “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?

  “Wait. I . . . I can’t leave this place. It’s too late. You’re too late,” Bay cried, struggling to be free of Long Quiet’s grasp. “Let me go!”

  Long Quiet had expected Bay to have second thoughts. He just hadn’t expected them to come quite so soon, before the first blush of pleasure had even left her face. He held her tenderly in his arms. “Shhh. Don’t cry,” he soothed. “It is never too late. If you want to leave, you can. But have you perhaps found this life better than the one you left behind?”

  “No, it’s not that . . . not exactly,” she amended. As awful as she’d first found life among the Comanches, at least they hadn’t asked more from her than she’d been able to give. Rip Stewart had expected his daughters to be equal to the tasks a son might be asked to perform. While Sloan and Cricket had found such accomplishments easy, Bay had found herself inept and inadequate at many of them. She felt certain that was why she was the least and the last among his daughters in Rip’s eyes.

  Here, at least, she felt needed. She would be missed more by the child she left now than by the sisters and father she’d left behind three years ago.

  Bay had no idea how long she’d been silent, but when she looked up at Long Quiet, she said, “I can’t leave this place.”

  “Because you love Many Horses?”

  Bay was taken aback by the question. She didn’t love Many Horses, but she did care for him, and there was the matter of the supposed powers she wielded on his behalf. While she didn’t believe anything she did protected Many Horses from evil spirits in battle, he did. “I won’t leave him.”

  “If it were not for Many Horses, would you stay and live among the Comanches?”

  Bay didn’t like the tone of Long Quiet’s voice or the frown on his face. Both seemed to threaten. Surely he’d never consider harming Many Horses. After all, they were brothers. It was best he understood the reason why she wouldn’t leave this village before he let his thoughts take the dangerous turn that appeared to be coming.

  “I have a daughter, Little Deer,” she said. “I could never leave her.”

  Bay thought she’d misunderstood the look in Long Quiet’s eyes because for a moment he appeared bitterly disappointed. When he finally spoke, his voice was hard and flat as he confirmed, “You have a child.”

  “Yes. A beautiful daughter whom I love more than I thought it possible to love anyone.”

  “Many Horses’ child?”

  “Yes.”

  Bay knew he thought she’d borne the child, and it was on the tip of her tongue to correct him. But she thought he might be less willing to let her stay if she spoke the truth. So she kept silent.

  Long Quiet hadn’t thought it would hurt to discover that Bay had in fact met the fate he’d suspected at the hands of the Comanches. It was just that for a little while he’d allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have this woman for his wife, to imagine children that blended her features and his, and to imagine growing old together. He’d wondered for the better part of three years whether he could take her from her child, to have her for himself. Now he had his answer. He could not do it. And he found that knowledge as bitter as winter wind on his flesh, and equally chilling to his soul.

  “Of course you would not wish to leave your child,” he said. “I promised your sister I would abide by your wishes. I will leave here tomorrow alone.”

  “No!”

  Long Quiet’s brow furrowed at her outburst.

  “I mean . . . do you have to leave so soon?” Bay hadn’t had nearly enough opportunity to speak with this stranger, and if he left tomorrow it could be months, years perhaps, before she was given another chance like this.

  If Long Quiet hadn’t been so frustrated at the turn of events, perhaps he wouldn’t have spoken quiet so frankly. But he was frustrated, and thus brutally frank. “It would not please me to stay here and know I cannot touch you.”

  “But Many Horses said you could—”

  “I have never taken an unwilling woman to my pallet.”

  What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t guarantee she’d be a willing partner. She wasn’t sure she could find pleasure lying with any man. She’d once hoped to save herself for Jonas Harper, but those dreams had been dashed when she’d been taken captive by the Comanches. But was what he asked so much to give if it would keep him here a little longer? Besides, the thought of being with him in the way of husbands and wives left her oddly breathless.

  “And if it pleased me to have you stay . . . and touch me?” she asked at last.

  His smile flashed quickly, white against his deeply tanned face. “Then of course I would be willing to do whatever pleased you.”

  Bay returned his smile with one equally brilliant. “Then stay. Talk to me for a little while.”

  “It shall be as you ask. What would you like to talk about?”

  “Anything—as long as we can speak in English.”

  “Agreed,” Long Quiet said.

  Bay laughed, almost drunk on contemplation of the pleasure of an entire conversation in English. “When did you last see Cricket and Creed? How are they? And the rest of my family? Is everyone all right?”

  Long Quiet smiled indulgently. “Which question shall I answer first?”

  “Please don’t tease me.” Bay placed her hand on his arm, and felt the muscles bunch beneath her fingertips. “Sloan was expecting a child when I last saw her. Did she have a boy or a girl?”

  Long Quiet covered her hand with his as he replied, “I wish I could tell you something, but I haven’t heard anything about Sloan’s baby.”

  “What about Cricket and Creed?”

  “The last time I saw them, they both looked very happy. Cricket’s belly is swollen wi
th Creed’s child.”

  “Cricket? A mother?” Bay laughed aloud at the thought of her hell-raising sister chasing after a rambunctious son or daughter. “When will the baby be born?”

  “In the new moon.”

  “I hope she finds as much happiness in having a child to love as I have.”

  Long Quiet’s hand tightened painfully on Bay’s until she said, “You’re hurting me.”

  He immediately released her.

  Bay had grown up with a father whose terrible rages, though mostly bluff and bluster, had frightened her. Over the past few years, she’d learned to give the appearance of courage even when she was quaking inside. But she found the sight of this angry man, who had her life completely in his control, terrifying. She grabbed at the only excuse she could think of to leave him.

  “I’ll get you some food.”

  “I’m not hungry. Stay.” His voice was sharp, commanding.

  “Surely you must—”

  “Stay. Right now I need sleep. Can you prepare a bed for us?”

  Bay was shocked at his request. Somehow she hadn’t expected him to take advantage of her offer so quickly. It was one thing to make the promise she’d made. It was an entirely different matter to keep it.

  “I can’t.”

  The words came out in a whisper, and she put her fingertips to her lips after she’d spoken, her eyes rounding as she admitted to herself the utter futility of her resistance. There was no way she could physically resist the strength of this tall, broad-shouldered man if he chose to take her as Many Horses had given him permission to do—as she herself had given him permission to do.

  “You can’t make us a bed?”

  She saw him look around the tipi, finding the buffalo robes rolled and stacked to one side and the nearby moss-stuffed rabbit fur pillows.

  “No. Yes. I meant I can’t . . .”

  “Can’t what?”

  His voice seemed cold, unyielding, or maybe that was her imagination at work. Bay swallowed, but her throat was so tight it hurt. She looked at Long Quiet, her heart pounding in her chest. He was a white man. Surely he understood her position, why she’d made her offer, what she was feeling now. She decided to take the chance of speaking as frankly with him as he’d spoken to her.