Comanche Moon

by Virginia Brown

  “What’s going on?” Zack asked when Potter had loaded Sally’s purchases into the newly purchased copper kettle and a cloth bag. He gestured to the street. “Town’s crawling with folks.”

  “Most of them came to the wedding, I guess,” Potter said as he swung open the door, and the bell jangled loudly. “It’s a big to-do.”

  “Wedding, huh.” Zack frowned. “Must be someone pretty important to make all this fuss.”

  Potter was shoving the kettle into the buckboard, and he turned to Sally.

  “Ma’am, if you want to drive your wagon around back, I’ll load up that other stuff for you.”

  Zack broke in when Sally started to climb onto the seat. “I’ll do it. You go back in there and pick you out a new hat or a scarf, or something. You can’t come into town and not buy something pretty for yourself.”

  “I’d rather you have the money.” His mouth curved into a smile. “Spend the money you were going to pay me.” He chucked her under the chin as if she was Sunflower. “Get me some candy, if you just have to buy me something frivolous.” Zack climbed onto the seat, took up the reins, and released the brake.

  Then he clucked to the horse, and the buckboard jerked forward. He drove to the end of the street to go behind the stores, and was turning the corner when a burst of organ music caught his attention.

  Glancing up, Zack saw the flurry of motion as people streamed down the shallow steps of the church on the corner and formed a double line. The bride and groom emerged from the old stone church and started down the steps. Zack pulled the wagon to a halt and stared.

  Dexter Diamond, garbed in a dark suit and grinning ear to ear, had a possessive hand on the bride’s arm. She was dressed in a flowing yellow gown that billowed around her legs as she demurely descended the wide stairs.

  Zack’s hands tightened around the leather reins, and he felt as if someone had just plunged a knife into his belly.

  The bride looked up at her husband, her hair shimmering like dark fire in the press of sunlight, her pure, perfect face as pale and cool as a cameo. She turned gracefully, and with a gentle swing of her arm, she tossed a small bouquet of flowers into the air. There were squeals of surprise and delight, and then laughter when it was caught by a blond girl in the front.

  Zack burned, but shivered with the effort to restrain himself. When the bride turned back, smiling, Diamond took her hand again to escort her down the last few steps. She lifted her skirts in one hand, and glanced up when someone called out to her.

  Zack wasn’t surprised when she looked directly at him. The force of his gaze should have seared into her fickle, faithless soul. He met her gaze, saw her eyes widen with shock and her mouth open. It was the second time she’d had that reaction to seeing him, and he had the grim thought that it would be the last.

  He saw her lips move to form the word Zack, then she slumped into a faint.

  Chapter 23

  A clock ticked loudly. Soft breezes lifted the curtains from the open window in a billowing cloud that caught Deborah’s attention. She sat stiffly, her hands twisting in her lap. She could hear Dexter ranging behind her like an angry lion, pacing the floor of his ranch house parlor.

  He stopped behind her and put a hand on the back of her chair. “You married me,” he said flatly.

  “Yes.”

  “In a church before witnesses.” She looked up at him. “Before God. Yes, Dexter, I married you.” He spread his arms and gave her a baffled glare. “Then why? Why are you puttin’ me off?”

  Deborah inhaled, her hands knotting into small fists in her lap. She looked down, saw that she’d wadded up her skirt and relaxed her hands.

  “You agreed before we married that you would not rush me. You know what—what I’ve been through lately.”

  “Is it Banning? Is he the reason?” Her gaze was clear and direct, her voice only slightly unsteady. “I did not know he was alive until after we were married. You know that.” Diamond’s hand gripped her shoulder. “And if you had? Would you still have married me?”

  She stood up, and his hand fell away. “Did you marry me for love, Dexter? Because you cannot live without me?” He flushed, and his mouth tightened. “No,” he said roughly. “I was honest with you about that.”

  “To a point. You said you wanted to marry me to gain part of the Velazquez lands, yes. But you also said you wanted me.”

  “I do.” The look he gave her was unmistakable, and her eyes widened.

  “And marryin’ you is the only way I can get you. You made that clear when you said you wouldn’t live in my house without vows.” She looked away from him. “There has been enough trouble. I’m grateful to you for rescuing me from Don Francisco. He would have killed me eventually, I’m certain of it.”

  “Grateful.” Diamond said the word as if it soured his tongue. She looked back at him.

  “I never hinted there was more. You said it was enough.”

  “I thought it was.” His mouth tightened. “Ain’t no woman ever kept me at bay like you, Deborah. You may have married me, but I’m not the man you want.”

  She waited, expecting him to bring up Zack again. Since seeing Zack watching her with that look of stunned disbelief she had gone over everything again and again, and had come to the same conclusion: She’d thought him dead, and had done what was necessary to survive.

  “Just what was between you and Banning, anyway?” Diamond asked roughly.

  Deborah didn’t reply for a moment. She couldn’t tell him everything.

  No one knew that Zack and Hawk were the same man, that she’d lived with him in the mountains and been his woman. She might have told Dexter about it before marrying him if not for the fact that just mentioning his name was so painful for her. Now it was too late. Now, she would look as if she had done something wrong if she told the truth, and in spite of everything, she could not think that her love for the man the Comanche called Hawk was wrong.

  But how did she explain that to Dexter, who was owed some kind of explanation? After all, he’d rescued her, and even brought Judith to his home at Deborah’s request.

  And perhaps she could have found a certain peace and contentment with him if not for Zack. Deborah closed her eyes. Seeing Zack alive had freshened her pain, left it raw and agonizing. She wondered where he’d been, and if he had thought of her at all and what she must be going through.

  No promises.

  No, he’d never made promises, and she supposed that he’d thought it more important to keep out of Don Francisco’s way than to get word to her that he’d survived. He wouldn’t think of how she suffered over him, perhaps had not even thought she would. But neither had he come to rescue her, and she found that it was hard to forgive him that.

  “Well?” Diamond demanded. “What does Banning mean to you, Deborah?”

  She took a deep breath. “He’s a man from my past, Dexter. You are my present. And my future.”

  “Maybe you need to tell him that.” Deborah grew very still. She felt the color receded from her face, and an icy chill made her hands tremble.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Diamond drawled, “that he’s comin’ out to the ranch to get his horse and gear, and he sent word he wants to talk to you.” She stood up without realizing it. “I can’t talk to him.”

  “Does he mean that damned much to you?” Diamond grabbed her by 217

  Virginia Brown

  the shoulders, his grip harsh. “By God, I don’t share what’s mine!” Her eyes flew to his. “I have no intention of being shared.”

  “No shadows. I don’t want him comin’ between us even when he ain’t around. You tell him, you hear?” Deborah nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

  A week passed, and he hadn’t come. Every rider who approached the Double D immediately made Deborah’s heart lurch and her throat tighten, but none of them were Zack. Judith watched her, her face drawn and shuttered.

  “You still love him,” she said quietly, her voice noncommittal.
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  Deborah glanced at her. “Yes.”

  “It’s not fair to Dexter.”

  “No, but I never promised him love. He didn’t expect it.” Judith stared out the window of the parlor, her hands folded in her lap.

  She was quiet and reserved now, her blue eyes haunted. She’d wept and begged Deborah’s forgiveness for what she’d done at first, then retreated into a shell of silence that made Deborah think of the long days she’d spent locked in her own anguish.

  There had been no question of forgiving her; Judith had acted out of love, not spite, and had truly thought she was saving Deborah from a man who would harm her.

  “Why do you hate him so much?” Deborah asked after a moment, and felt Judith’s start of surprise.

  “It’s what he represents,” she said slowly. “He never did anything to me personally, but his kind did.”

  “His kind?”

  Judith’s face flushed. “Yes—Comanche. I hate them. I wish . . . I wish they’d all be rounded up and put on government reservations forever. Or killed like cattle. I don’t care.” Deborah was quiet, startled by Judith’s ferocity. She thought of gentle Sunflower, and White Eagle’s aristocratic features and innate dignity. She also recalled the brutal woman who’d tormented Judith, and thought she understood.

  “There are brutal, uncaring people in every race,” she said after a moment. “Color doesn’t make a person nice or bad.”

  “You can say that because you fell in love with your captor,” Judith shot back. “I didn’t!” She took a deep breath and asked, “Does Dexter know about Hawk and Zack?”

  “No. I see no reason to tell him now. It would only make things more difficult for me. He’s already angry because Zack said he wanted to speak with me when he came for his gear.”

  “You should refuse.”

  Deborah looked at her. “I can’t. I want to know why he never came back for me, why he stayed away so long. He could have sent word that he was alive somehow. But no one knew. I died inside, and he could have eased it.”

  “You wouldn’t have married Dexter if you’d known.”

  “I don’t know.” Deborah shook her head. “I don’t think I would have, but none of us will ever know now.” Judith rose from her chair and wandered around the parlor, running her fingers over the smooth surfaces of the scattered tables. Since their occupation of it, the Double D’s main house had taken on a softer appearance with the addition of a few stuffed pillows and lace doilies. It was mostly Judith’s idea. Deborah hadn’t cared.

  “I always wanted a house like this,” Judith murmured as she fingered the soft drape of a curtain. “Once, I thought I would have it.”

  “You still will.” Deborah came to stand beside her. “If you want, you can have your pick of men out here. Many have tried to court you.” Judith shrugged. “They’re weaklings. None of them have accomplished what Dexter has. He’s strong and ambitious, and has the intelligence to succeed.” She looked at Deborah with accusing eyes. “He deserves a loving wife. You know he said he didn’t care . . . didn’t care what happened with the Comanche. Not many men would feel that way. Dexter’s special, and I hate to think he’s not appreciated as he should be.” Deborah didn’t say anything for a moment. This wasn’t the first time Judith had praised Dexter. It was obvious she admired him very much.

  “You’re right, Judith. I should appreciate his good qualities, I suppose, and not dwell on those that disturb me. It’s just that it’s so hard at times, when he says things or does things.” Judith stared down at a lace doily. “He’s better than any other man I’ve met.” “Are you happy here, Judith?”

  “Very.” A smile curved her mouth, and the sad blue eyes lightened some. “I don’t feel afraid here. There are so many men to protect us, and Dexter is not the kind of man who will let his guard down. He’s shown that by the number of gunmen he’s hired.”

  “That’s true.” Deborah leaned against the windowsill and pulled back the curtain to look out. Bunkhouses dotted the grounds, filled with men who could and would shoot. There was a small army of them, as well as men who worked the cattle. The Double D was like a small town, with most of its needs provided for.

  That was, perhaps, the main reason Don Francisco had not retaliated when Dexter blew up his dam. He’d simply rebuilt it, along with others, slowly drying up the water sources that fed the Double D’s streams. The only water now was from wells or the occasional stream that did not cross Velazquez land first.

  Cattle rustling in the area was growing rampant, and the sheriff had been forced to call in Texas Rangers as well as the Federal Marshal for help.

  Tempers were taut, the tensions strained to the breaking point. Sirocco was being divided, with some adhering to Diamond, and some to the Velazquez faction. Men from both sides turned up dead on occasion, always with the opposite side taking the blame.

  Dexter Diamond had filed another claim, this one on part of the Velazquez land, citing his new wife’s inheritance from her dead husband, and the battle raged in court as well as in the hills and flat plains. Even John Hamilton had become involved, firing off a letter to his daughter condemning her for taking sides with the enemy. Of course, Hamilton had a personal interest, as Velazquez money backed his thriving shipping firm.

  “It’s all so sordid and confusing,” Deborah murmured, and Judith turned to look at her.

  “Don Francisco deserves whatever Dexter does. He lied and cheated and killed.”

  Deborah’s smile was wry. “Dexter hasn’t exactly been a saint.”

  “No. But he’ll win.”

  “You seem awfully certain of that.” Deborah leaned back against the wall, idly watching the curtains flutter out with the breeze.

  Shrugging, Judith said, “I suppose so. He’s hired an attorney from Fort Worth, and what he can’t get done legally, he’ll resort to doing as Don Francisco does.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “Why should it? I haven’t noticed anyone else paying close attention to ethics when it comes to land and cattle and power. Out here, it seems as if only the strong survive.”

  “Yes.” Deborah pushed away from the wall and walked back to her chair, disturbed by both the conversation’s subject and Judith’s words. Her cousin had changed, but then again, so had she.

  “Deborah.”

  She looked up, and Judith turned away from the window. “Zack Banning is here.”

  Diamond stepped down off the front porch, his boot-heels stirring up puffs of dust as he walked toward Zack. Zack saw him coming, but continued his leisurely inspection of the gray, running his hand down the horse’s forelegs and over his chest, letting the stallion nudge him affectionately.

  “Banning.”

  Straightening, Zack turned and met Diamond’s hostile gaze. “Yeah?”

  “You owe me an explanation.”

  “For what?”

  Diamond’s jaw clenched, and he glared at him from beneath the brim of his tan hat. “For goin’ off and almost gettin’ yourself as well as Deborah killed, for one thing.”

  “I’m not responsible to you for that. I worked for you. You didn’t own me.” “Why’d you do it? Why’d you go after her?” Zack studied him for a moment. If Deborah hadn’t told him the truth, he had no intention of doing so. He shrugged.

  “She needed rescuing. I gave it a try.”

  “And where were you going to take her, dammit?” Zack threaded a hand through his gray’s mane, then began to bridle him.

  “Somewhere safe. It hardly matters now, does it? I didn’t make it.”

  “Why haven’t you filed charges against Velazquez for tryin’ to kill you?”

  “Haven’t decided yet if that’s the way I want to go with it,” Zack returned coolly. He buckled the throat latch with deft fingers, then let the reins drop to the ground as he reached for his saddle blanket. He could feel Diamond’s gaze hard on him, and ignored it as he slung the blanket over the gray’s back and smoothed it. “What do I owe you for
feeding my horse while I was gone?”

  “Nothing. A little feed ain’t gonna hurt me. Besides, I owe you some back wages.”

  “I’ll collect before I leave.” He hefted his saddle to the gray’s back and pulled the leather girth free, then reached under the belly and grabbed the dangling girth to pull it through the cinch ring and knot it. Finished, he turned and leaned back against the gray, meeting Diamond’s expectant gaze.

  “I’d like to see Deborah now.” Diamond’s jaw knotted. “She’s my wife.”

  “I know that. I only want to talk to her a few minutes, see how she’s doing.” Pride wouldn’t let him say more, and finally Diamond nodded.

  “She’s in the house.”

  Lifting up the gray’s reins, Zack walked to the house set under a grove of trees. Diamond remained by the corral, but he felt him watching as he flipped the reins over a hitching rail and stepped up onto the porch. His sharp eyes caught the flutter of movement inside, and he knew Deborah had seen him.

  The door swung open before he could knock, and Judith took a step back to let him in. “She’s in the front parlor. Try not to stay too long.” Zack’s mouth twisted. “You’re as congenial as usual. Nice to see you again, too.”

  When Judith didn’t reply, but gave him a murderous glare, Zack paused.

  He studied her for a moment, trying to see the resemblance between this golden-haired, icy-eyed woman and her cousin. Any resemblance faded when she opened her mouth.

  “You can dress in civilized clothes, but underneath you’re still a savage.

  A heathen. I can see through you.” His steady gaze made her blue eyes narrow. “I wasn’t the one who raped you, Judith.”

  “You’re part of them!” she shot back, her voice low and filled with venom. “You look like them—evil and all dark as sin. Maybe you didn’t hurt me, but you did Deborah. You did the same thing to her that—” She stopped suddenly, and her eyes grew big. With a soft cry of anguish, she turned and fled. Zack watched her, and heard a muffled sound. He turned to see Deborah standing in a doorway, her face pale with shock.