Comanche Heart

by Catherine Anderson

  “Go on!” she yelled at the others. “Get back!”

  She didn’t want to take her eyes off Brandon, but to be certain his friends were retreating, she knew she must. Tensing, she darted her gaze left, then right. She could see no one, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone standing beyond her line of vision, ready to jump on her. Still, she had no choice but to take a gamble. Lying there, giving them time to think of some way to disarm her, would be a grave mistake.

  “All right, Brandon, get up,” she instructed. “No sudden moves.”

  He inched back. She kept the knife pressed to his throat.

  “You’ll pay for this,” he whispered. “I swear to God you’ll pay. I’ll make you crawl. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll make you crawl.”

  Indigo rose to her knees, then to her feet. “I’ll never crawl for you or any man, Brandon Marshall. Go back to Boston and your white world if that’s what you want from a woman.”

  “Woman? You? You’re a squaw.” He touched his torn lip, then his ear, his hand quivering. “You’ve scarred me for life, you little bitch! You’ll pay for this. That’s a promise.”

  Indigo threw a glance at the others, then broke into a run. She was a long way from town, and she knew they would pursue her. Her moccasined feet touched lightly on the ground, the toned muscle in her legs lending her speed as she darted between the trees. Behind her she heard boots pounding the earth. Tears filled her eyes, blinding her. She dashed them away with her leather sleeve. Indian slut. The words tore at her.

  She had to get away before they caught up with her. She pictured her father’s face, her mother’s, Chase’s. All her life she had been surrounded by love. She had witnessed racial hatred, but only from a distance. Now she’d had a taste of it firsthand. She remembered Brandon’s touch. Shame rose in her throat. She was nothing to him! He had never loved her. He’d only wanted to use her.

  Their footsteps came closer, closer. Indigo increased her speed, leaping over bushes, running against low-hanging limbs, her lungs whining for breath. Their legs were longer than hers. Her hair fell across her eyes, a blinding veil of brown and gold. Her foot caught on something, and she hurtled to the ground, the impact stunning her. Gasping, clawing her way to her feet, she searched wildly for her knife.

  The crashing of their footsteps burst through the trees behind her. Abandoning her search for the weapon, she plunged ahead through the brush, panic making her forget everything her father had taught her. The thrumming of their footsteps came closer and closer, so close she could hear them breathing.

  Amy went over the addition on Swift’s paper, acutely aware of his shoulder brushing her bodice as she leaned over him to see. Thus far she had managed to keep his mind on academics, but she sensed he had other pursuits planned for when they completed today’s lesson. The thought made her nervous, and she found it difficult to concentrate. When he looked at her, she felt shy and awkward. She guessed that he was recalling last night, her nakedness and the shameless way she had responded to him. The lambent gleam in his eyes made her pulse skitter. He wanted her that way again, and he wasn’t making any secret of it.

  A hot flush crept up her neck. Last night it had taken all her courage to initiate their lovemaking. Now that the worst of her fears had been faced, Swift was playing by an entirely new set of rules. She no longer knew what to expect of him. He clearly didn’t feel it was necessary now to restrain himself. And he seemed to find her discomfiture amusing.

  It wasn’t amusing to Amy. If they were going to make love later, she didn’t want to think about it until it happened. Swift’s little hints and knowing grins completely unraveled her.

  As if he read her mind, he tipped his dark head back so it rested against her bosom. “I’m tired of adding,” he said huskily.

  A quivery sensation attacked her belly. She avoided his heated gaze. “We haven’t much more to do.”

  He turned his face toward her, grazing his teeth over the peak of one breast, setting her senses afire even through the layers of cloth. “I want you.”

  Her legs went weak. He lifted a hand to the buttons of her dress. “Either go into the bedroom with me or find yourself being undressed out here.” A button flicked from its hole. “I’ve waited as long as I’m going to wait.” Another button came undone beneath his expert fingers. “I’ll make love to you on the table. I swear I will.”

  “Swift . . . it’s broad daylight! The table?” She braced a palm on the surface in question. “That’s—you can’t be—” Her breath caught. “After supper, maybe we can—”

  “After supper, hell. Now, and then again after supper.” The teasing tone in his voice was underscored with determination. He straightened so he could run his lips along her exposed collarbone. “God, you’re so delicious, I can’t get enough of you. Maybe I should make love to you in here.” His tongue dipped lower as another button came free. “Taste every sweet inch of you. Have seconds, and then thirds.” He slipped an arm around her hips and pulled her toward him, his mouth finding its way to the low neckline of her chemise. “Did you bolt the door?” he asked, his warm breath misting her skin.

  Amy couldn’t remember if she had bolted the door. With his mouth nibbling her flesh, she couldn’t remember much of anything. She ran her hands into his hair, horrified at the image of herself stretched out naked across the table. She wasn’t ready for such blatancy. “Swift, I—Please. It’s afternoon. Let’s wait.”

  “What difference does the time of day make?”

  “I—it’s daylight.”

  “I’ve waited all my life for you. I’m done with waiting, Amy. We’re married, remember. We can make love whenever we like. And right now, I’d like . . .”

  “But I—it’s—I’m not . . .” His mouth was doing crazy things to her thought processes. She groped for what it was she had meant to say. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “You let me worry about that,” he murmured, still nibbling, still bombarding her with sensations that took her breath away.

  He clearly didn’t plan to take no for an answer. Amy struggled to speak. “Then let’s at least go to the bedroom.”

  He loosened his hold on her and pushed to his feet. “Lead the way.” He caught her wrists. “Don’t button the damned dress. It’s coming off anyway.”

  Cheeks flaming, she turned away from him. As she crossed the kitchen, she heard something and hesitated. The sound repeated itself, so faint she almost missed it, a voice that she immediately recognized. “It’s Indigo.”

  He groaned and caught her around the waist to haul her back against him. “She has miserable timing.”

  With her heart skittering as it was, Amy welcomed the reprieve. “Swift, I have to go see what she wants.”

  Heaving a sigh, he released her and followed her to the sitting room window. Quickly buttoning her dress, Amy drew the curtains back to peer out. For a moment she couldn’t see Indigo. Then she caught a flash of movement at the edge of the woods. Focusing, she saw Brandon Marshall grab Indigo’s arm and drag her toward the brush. The girl knifed upward with her knee, catching him in the groin. Two other youths emerged from the trees. Between the three of them, they overpowered the girl and made fast work of dragging her out of sight.

  “Oh, my God!”

  Swift tensed beside her. The next instant he swore and ran for the door, Amy following closely on his heels. They burst from the house, then ran down the porch steps and across the yard. Indigo’s cries drifted to them from the woods, spurring them forward. Amy’s heart began to pound. She lifted her skirts to keep up with Swift as he leveled out into a full run.

  When Swift reached the woods, he paused a moment to home in on Indigo’s screams, affording Amy a chance to catch up with him. Together they zigzagged between the trees and burst into a small clearing. The sight that greeted them made Amy’s legs turn to water. Indigo had been thrown to the ground, and four young men were holding her spread-eagled. Brandon Marshall knelt between her legs and he was wastin
g no time in jerking up her skirt.

  Swift roared with anger and dived into the fray. Taken by surprise, the boys released Indigo and scattered. Swift hit the one closest to him. The next instant the other four converged on him.

  Her first thought to get Indigo to safety, Amy darted into the swarm, grabbed the girl’s arm, and dragged her away from the men. After helping Indigo to her feet, Amy hurried her to the edge of the clearing. The horrible sound of fists hitting flesh resounded. She whirled, looking for a weapon of some kind so she could go to Swift’s aid. She needn’t have. Swift had the advantage of surprise, and though the youths were full-grown, they lacked his ruthless precision and deadly speed.

  Amy stood frozen. Never had she seen a man fight as Swift did. He tied into the five like a wild man, incapacitating Brandon with a vicious blow to his throat, knocking another down with a well-placed boot directly above his knee and taking out another with his fists. The remaining two fled into the trees.

  Still running on rage, Swift collared Brandon Marshall and dragged him across the clearing to Indigo, forcing the younger man to his knees. Amy grabbed a tree limb and brandished it, silent warning to the two young men lying on the ground that she would brain them if they moved.

  “Are you all right, Indigo?” Swift asked with deadly calm.

  Sobbing and trembling, Indigo nodded, hugging herself as if against the cold.

  Swift grabbed a handful of Brandon’s hair and jerked his head back. “Beg her forgiveness, you worthless bastard!”

  “I won’t,” Brandon croaked, holding his bruised throat.

  Swift cuffed his bloody ear. “Do it, or so help me God, I’ll kill you!” There was no mistaking the murderous gleam in Swift’s eyes. “I mean it, boy. Don’t think I don’t.”

  Swallowing convulsively, Brandon struggled to get the words out. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. . . .”

  “That’s not good enough.” Swift gave the youth’s hair another jerk. “Beg her forgiveness!”

  “I beg your forgiveness,” Brandon cried. “I beg your forgiveness, Indigo!”

  Swift glanced up. “It’s up to you, Indigo. Shall I spare his life?”

  Indigo’s pale countenance tightened. She drew the moment out, studying Brandon’s bleeding face as if she had never seen him before.

  “For God’s sake, you can’t let him kill me!” Brandon sobbed. “Indigo, please. . . .”

  The girl’s mouth twisted with disgust. “Spare him, Uncle Swift. He isn’t worth killing.”

  With that, Indigo spun and left the clearing. Because Amy feared the two boys in the woods might reappear to press a second attack, she was reluctant to follow her niece and leave Swift alone.

  He tossed Brandon into the dirt. “Don’t ever come to Wolf’s Landing again, not if you value your life.”

  As he turned to leave, Swift’s gaze fell to the tree limb Amy held. His dark eyes warmed, and his mouth slanted into a grim smile. Pulling the weapon from her grasp, he took her arm and led her away. When they neared the edge of the clearing, Brandon staggered to his feet. His friends gathered around him.

  “They haven’t heard the last of this,” Brandon cried. “No one humiliates a Marshall and gets away with it! He’d better start wearing his guns if he knows what’s good for him.”

  Swift stiffened but kept walking. Indigo awaited them at the edge of the woods. She flew into Amy’s arms.

  “It’s over, love,” Amy whispered, smoothing the girl’s tangled hair. “It’s over.”

  “Oh, Aunt Amy! Why did they try to do that to me? Why?”

  Amy hugged the girl closer. She had no answers. Indigo was trembling so badly that Amy feared she might collapse. She glanced at Swift. As if he understood the unspoken message, he scooped Indigo into his arms to carry her home.

  “Oh, Uncle Swift!” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you came! So glad. I dropped my knife. And I couldn’t find it. Then they caught up with me.”

  “You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  “Yes. They didn’t—you came before they—” Indigo burst into hysterical tears. “Ma and Aunt Amy tried to tell me, and I wouldn’t listen.”

  Swift struck off at a brisk pace. “Let’s get you home to your mother, hm?”

  An hour later Indigo was safely tucked into bed in her loft bedroom, sound asleep, her scrapes and bruises tended. Loretta came downstairs to join Hunter, Swift, and Amy before the fire. Amy poured her cousin a mug of hot cocoa. As she handed it to Loretta, she placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “Is she okay?”

  Pale and shaky, Loretta gave a vague nod, her eyes unfocused. “As okay as a girl can be after something like this.” She glanced up and met Amy’s gaze. “I guess no one understands better than you how she must be feeling.”

  Amy’s stomach knotted. Memories assailed her. Stepping into that clearing and seeing Indigo being attacked had brought back the past to her. As if Swift sensed how shaken she was, he stepped close and looped an arm around her shoulders. Drawing her to him, he brushed silken lips across her temple.

  Grateful for the support, Amy leaned against him, needing the reassurance of his touch. “Oh, Swift, I’m so glad you were at the house. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

  His voice taut, he replied, “You looked pretty capable with that tree limb.” His eyes twinkled down at her. “I haven’t seen you with that look in your eye for years. You’d have done just fine without me.”

  Amy shivered. “I’m not too sure of that. What if—”

  “Let’s not think about what ifs. I was there, it’s over, and Indigo’s all right.”

  Setting aside her mug, Loretta passed a hand over her eyes. “Physically, anyway. I’m afraid she may never forget. Damn that Brandon Marshall! I’d like to hang him by his toenails and beat him within an inch of his life. I knew this would happen. I just knew it! Why didn’t I do something more to stop it?”

  Hunter stood in stony silence, gazing down at his wife. After a long while, he hunkered down and drew her into his arms. “Indigo is strong, little one. Her memories of Brandon Marshall will become dust in the wind. You can’t spare her everything. And you can’t choose her friends. She must learn to judge a man’s character herself.”

  Loretta clung to him. “Oh, Hunter, why did he do such a thing? She’s such a sweet girl. A little undisciplined, yes, but she did nothing to deserve this. What’s the matter with that young man?”

  Hunter closed his eyes. “Here in this town we’ve built, we forget the rest of the world and all the hatred. Indigo carries my blood. In the eyes of some, that makes her less than human.”

  Loretta sobbed. “That’s so wrong of them, though! I thought by coming here we had escaped the prejudice.”

  “Here, in this place, we have,” he whispered. “It is the world outside Wolf’s Landing—” He broke off and ran a hand up her slender back. “Don’t cry. Indigo will heal. And she will be more wise now, yes? All will be well. The words of the prophecy promise us that.”

  Amy recalled a few words of the prophecy and prayed Hunter was right. A new tomorrow and a new nation where the Comanche and tosi tivo will live as one forever. Was such an existence possible? Wolf’s Landing was steadily growing, as was Jacksonville. More strangers moved into the area every year, bringing with them their narrow-mindedness and irrational prejudices, not just against Indians, but against every other minority. A person could read one issue of the Democratic Times and figure that out. If the poor Chinese dared to so much as get the wrong expression on their faces, they found themselves arrested and heavily fined. Sometimes Amy wondered if Jacksonville’s citizens hadn’t passed a silent vote to use the Chinese people as a source of city revenue. Could Hunter and his offspring truly live here among the whites in peace? Brandon Marshall wouldn’t be the last man to lust after Indigo and consider her fair game because of her Indian blood.

  Swift cleared his throat. “I hate to say this, but I’m afraid Brandon may
be back looking for trouble. He’s a little too arrogant for his own good. I sure wish Marshal Hilton wasn’t over in Jacksonville, just in case.”

  Swift’s words intensified Amy’s foreboding. She slipped an arm around his waist, no longer frightened just for the Wolfs, but for Swift and for herself. Her premonition of last night, that reality might come between them, came back to haunt her. If Brandon Marshall carried through on his threats, Swift might be forced to strap on his guns. If he did that, the nightmare he had fled in Texas would start all over again here.

  She lifted her face to his. “If he challenges you, what will you do?” she asked shakily.

  His dark gaze met hers. “I won’t pick up my guns again, Amy. You have my word on that. He’ll have to shoot an unarmed man. Not even Brandon would be that stupid.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” he said softly. “I came here for a fresh start. I won’t let a hothead like Marshall push me around.”

  The promise in no way lessened Amy’s apprehension.

  Hunter glanced up. “Indigo is my daughter. If he comes back, he’s my problem.”

  Swift’s mouth quirked. “He may not see it that way. I’m the one who made him get on his knees. Let’s just hope we’ve seen the last of him.”

  Loretta interrupted with a stern, “You’re both forgetting Marshal Hilton. He’s the law here. I’m sure Brandon won’t return before tomorrow when Hilton gets back. He’ll handle any problems, no doubt.”

  A sound on the loft stairs caught everyone’s attention. Amy turned to see Indigo on the bottom step, her face streaked from crying, her arms filled with a bundle of white woman’s clothing. Clearly the girl hadn’t been sleeping as soundly as they had surmised. She raised her chin and squared her shoulders.

  “I’ve caused no end of trouble, haven’t I?” Before anyone could respond, she added, “Well, I won’t again. I promise you that.” She inclined her head at the bundle in her arms. “I’m burning them. Every last stitch. Don’t try to stop me.”