by F. M. Parker
In a stand of low-growing, barely waist-high, shinnery oak, the only hiding place the men hid been able to find on the flat plain, he lowered the girl to the ground. She immediately scooted away from him on her rump, her black eyes full of fear and horror.
"I know I'm not a handsome knight carrying you off," Ben said in English and with a sardonic smile. "And my horse isn't white. But I'm not going to do anything to you that you wouldn't naturally do."
The girl cringed back even more at his words, and her white teeth chewed at the bandana wedged between her teeth. He saw the revulsion in her eyes and felt her hatred. Ben knew that even if she had understood his English, the reaction to him would have been the same.
He stepped to his two horses, which lay on their sides in the shinnery oak. He and Black Moon had thrown their horses to the ground to hide them from view of any enemy on the flat plain. The animals' legs had been tied to prevent them from standing. Now he jerked the tie ropes loose and brought the horses to their feet.
He untied the girl and lifted her astride. He tied her hands to the pommel of the saddle.
"Don't fall off or you'll get dragged," he told her in Spanish. By her expression, he knew she understood.
Ben swung up on Brutus. He looked at Black Moon and saw him mounting, his girl already astride the horse Ben had lent him to carry away what he captured.
The girl spoke to Black Moon in a scornful way. He snapped back, and an angry conversation began between the two. Ben didn't understand the rapid Comanche. It seemed odd the man would be arguing with the girl.
"What's wrong?" Ben called out, interrupting the heated debate.
"Nothing of importance," Black Moon replied.
Shrill shouts from the village below came to the men. Both men fell silent and turned toward the sound to listen.
"They'll be after us in a few minutes," Ben said.
He looked west at the chain of towering black thunderheads on the horizon. He and Black Moon had observed the storm building as they arrived, and had decided to use the rain to hide their tracks. He estimated the distance to the edge of the storm to be eight or nine miles. He wished it was shorter.
"Best we get riding," Ben said.
"They can't catch us for our mustangs are fresh," Black Moon said.
"Something can always go wrong," Ben said.
He kicked Brutus into a run. The girl's mount followed behind on a tow rope.
Black Moon and his captive took station on Ben's right.
EIGHT
The threatening black thunderhead hung, spilling rain. Lightning flared within the boiling cloud mass, lighting it with an infernal purplish glow. Thunder crashed, shaking the Llano Estacado. Frigid wind poured down from the miles-high center of the storm. The wind was deflected outward upon striking the ground, and rushed over the plain to violently pummel the four riders racing to meet it.
Ben and Black Moon and the two women plunged into the thunderstorm, a twilight world drained of all color. Thunder boomed and jarred the ground beneath them. The cold, wind-driven raindrops slapped them stinging blows, and wet them instantly. The horses staggered under the onslaught and tried to veer away, but the men held them to the course and straight toward the center of the storm.
Ben looked to the side for Black Moon and the woman. They were there in the wind and rain, a shadowy mixture of man, woman, and horses.
Ben signaled to Black Moon and they slowed their horses. They were safe now, and would be for the breadth of the storm that extended for miles across the land. They would leave no trail for the pursuing warriors to follow. Nor could their enemies guess where Ben and the others would emerge from the protective cloak of the heavy rain.
As they rode nearer the center of the storm, the rain became an icy waterfall deluging them, Ben looked at the girl. She seemed to have grown smaller, almost childlike, with her clothing plastered to her slender body. He reined Brutus in close to the girl and started to put his hat on her to protect her head. She gave him a hard look and swung her head, dislodging the hat. It would have fallen to the ground had Ben not caught it.
Have it your way; Ben thought. He put the hat back on his head.
Black Moon had pulled ahead while Ben had tried to help the girl. He let the Comanche lead. This was his land and he should be able to find his way through the storm to their camp. Should Black Moon not be able to, Ben could with ease. The camp was in the middle of the Llano Estacado, with no landmarks of significance, nothing that could be seen beyond a couple hundred yards. Yet unerringly, no matter how far he traveled from it, Ben could once again return. Without fail he could return to every distant spot he had known since he had been old enough to travel alone. Once Ben had tried to analyze the instinct that guided him. However, as he'd cast about through his mind searching for that unique sense, he'd felt it slipping away. The desire to understand the gift, indeed the mere quest for it, could mean destruction. He had immediately ceased his mental probing. It was enough to possess the knack.
* * *
Ben and Black Moon and the two women came out of the storm wet and cold and ten miles from where they had entered it.
Black Moon cast a measuring glance up at the sun, now low in the west, and then pointed out across the plain. "Our camp is there," he said to Ben.
Ben nodded in agreement. "About an hour's ride."
He turned to the two girls slumped in the saddle. Both had turned to face the sun. They were shivering, and he felt sorry for them. He saw them look at each other, and he wondered what signal had passed between them. Immediately he knew, for in unison they controlled their shivering bodies and straightened to sit erect, their faces proudly raised. They were Comanche women and proud. Their bound hands only added to their show of courage, and Ben's respect for them.
* * *
The men, with their captives, reached their destination in the dusk of the evening. The camp was in a meadow beside a small stream. Ben's two Mexican horses that had been left behind staked out on long lariats watched them ride up.
Ben dismounted from Brutus. He went quickly to the girl and untied her hands. He started to lift her down, but she ignored his outstretched hands and slid from the saddle to land on her feet on the ground.
Ben heard Black Moon curse in Spanish, and turned. Black Moon's girl had, upon his releasing her hands from the saddle horn, jumped off the opposite side of the horse she had ridden. She was running strongly off over the plain, her flapping skirt sounding like a bird's wings in flight.
Black Moon stretched his legs and gave chase. He swiftly overtook her, and reaching out, caught hold of her long hair streaming out behind and pulled her to a stop. He returned, shaking her roughly by the shoulder at each step.
Upon reaching the girl's horse, Black Moon took the rawhide thong from the saddle horn to retie her. When she saw what he intended, she whirled and struck at him.
Black Moon blocked the blow and captured her hands.
Holding both of hers in one of his, he slapped her harshly across the face, rocking her head to the side.
She screamed something at Black Moon that Ben didn't understand, but he knew she had to be cursing him. Black Moon struck her again, even more savagely. He drew back to hit her again.
Ben leapt forward, grabbed Black Moon's cocked hand, and prevented the blow. "Don't hit her again," he ordered.
Black Moon spun on Ben. He jerked his hand free, his eyes fierce. He snarled something in his own language and readied to strike Ben.
"Don't try that," Ben said roughly. "I'll make your face a hell of a lot uglier than it already is."
"She's mine and I can do anything I want to her," Black Moon said angrily, but the fire of his anger was dying.
"Don't ever hit her again."
Black Moon laughed cynically. "We steal them and now you want to protect them."
"Why be mean to her?"
"She's Swan Woman, my wife's youngest sister."
"So what? She's not responsible for what your wife di
d."
Black Moon smiled without humor. "What are you going to do if that one you have won't lie with you?" he asked.
Ben did not reply. The question bothered him. Would he force the girl to lie with him if she resisted? He moved away from Black Moon and the girl.
"Do you want to know her name?" Black Moon called after Ben.
"No."
Ben didn't want to put a name on the girl he had stolen.
"It's Morning Dew." Black Moon gave a knowing chuckle.
* * *
The fire had burned down to a bed of red coals when Black Moon rose to his feet and reached for Swan Woman, sitting beside Morning Dew. She drew back from him. He stepped and caught her by the arm with a firm grip. When he pulled on her, she came stiffly to her feet. He led her into the night.
Morning Dew's presence near Ben was a living force pulling at him in the darkness. She did not move, made no sound. What were her thoughts now that she had been carried away by a man with a monster's face?
Ben was shamed by his deeds this day. He was but a ghost of the man he had once been. Still, there was enough of him left that he wanted a woman. But there was no place on earth where a woman would accept him, and so he'd been led to this.
The girl, Morning Dew, was lovely and he wanted to touch her, to hold her in his arms, but only innocently. He took her hand from her lap and drew her upright. She stood silently beside him with her eyes still on the red coals of the fire and gave no sign that she was aware of what was happening.
"Come with me," Ben said gently. "I'll not hurt you."
They reached Ben's blanket, spread on the ground. At Ben's slight pull, she lay down alongside him. He drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. Just hold her innocently like you promised yourself you would. Enjoy the pleasure of the nearness of a woman.
His hands obeyed him for a moment and held the girl tenderly. But then they moved of their own accord, as if they had a mind of their own, and they explored her body, feeling the soft, rounded female form of her.
The needs of the man betrayed him, stripping away the thin veneer of civilization, and he felt himself enlarging, becoming hard. The urgent now of it prodded him powerfully. But he wouldn't do it if she fought him, or pleaded, or cried.
He rose to his hands and knees and moved over Morning Dew. She was facing him and her features looked frozen in the ice-pale glow of the moon. He tried to see her eyes, to read them, but they were hidden in the shadow-filled caverns of their sockets. He leaned more closely to see, and he felt the breath of the girl on his face. He breathed deeply of the sweet air the Indian girl breathed into the night.
Ben waited for Morning Dew to resist him in some manner, to utter a word, to make a movement to fend him off. However, she continued to lie quietly beneath him. The only detectable change was her breathing, which had become more rapid.
Ben inserted his knees in between Morning Dew's legs and spread them, and there was no resistance. He began to tremble at what that meant. He lowered himself onto her and merged their bodies together.
NINE
Ben awoke with Morning Dew sleeping close beside him. Not having wanted to tie her up during the night, he had slept lightly, always alert to her movements. He climbed quietly to his feet.
He glanced down at the girl. She had wakened from sleep and was watching him. Ben thought there was more than merely watching him in those intelligent black eyes; she seemed to be evaluating, measuring him in some manner. He would have liked to know what she was thinking. He felt he should say something to her, but what could he say to this stolen girl that would lessen his crime?
Taking his guns from under the blanket, he walked a short ways from camp and out into the tall, untrod grass of the prairie. The morning sky was a brilliant blue, swept clean by the passing storm. The air coming over the green land had a pleasing smell. The day was beautiful, but spoiled by his conscience gnawing at him.
The voices of Black Moon raised in anger and Morning Dew's sharp reply came to Ben from the camp. He hastened back for he didn't want Black Moon to hit the girl.
As soon as Ben reached the camp, Morning Dew pointed at him and spoke rapidly to Black Moon. The man shook his head.
"What did she say?" Ben questioned Black Moon in Spanish.
"She just wants to complain." Black Moon replied in the same language.
"Tell me exactly what she said." Ben was certain Black Moon was keeping something from him.
"I can settle this," Black Moon said firmly.
"Tres dias " Morning Dew said urgently. "Tres dias." She pointed at Swan Woman and herself and then at Ben and Black Moon and down at the ground. She then pointed at Swan Woman and herself and made a walking motion with her fingers off in the direction of her village.
"I understand that part of it," Ben said to Black. "Now tell me what else she said."
Black Moon reluctantly replied, "They say they will stay with us three days and not try to run away if we will then turn them loose to go home. They say they will give us much pleasure."
Ben saw the pleading, the hope for his approval of the proposal in Morning Dew's eyes. She was bargaining with him, trying to make a trade. The only coin she had was her body, and she was offering that to him.
The question of what he was going to do with the girl had been nagging him. A girl, Indian or white, wouldn't fit into the life he must lead. Why not agree? Three days of willing love from the pretty girl would be a grand gift. He nodded at Morning Dew. She gave him a quick smile and hurriedly looked away from his face.
Black Moon saw the exchange between Ben and the girl. "I don't agree," he said.
"Are you going to keep Swan Woman permanently? Someday she might catch you sleeping and cut your throat."
Black Moon considered that for a moment. "She would be much trouble. And besides, I can always steal another woman."
"Then tell them we both accept their offer. Also tell them I will give them a horse to ride at the end of the three days."
"Let them walk for it's not that far. Maybe one day if they hurry."
"Just tell them what I said. If they return with a good horse, they can say they stole it and escaped. Their people will accept them back more readily that way."
Black Moon spoke rapidly to the two young women. They cast a short, pleased look at Ben. Morning Dew said something to Black Moon.
Black Moon looked at Ben and grinned. "She wants to know if you want to take a walk with her." He gestured at the plain covered with the tall, concealing grass.
* * *
Black Moon held his musket and watched the five white men sitting their horses off a ways on the plain. They had been there for a short time silently evaluating his camp, and his and Ben's horses. They were enemies, as were all white men to the Comanche. All except for Ben, and that was only because he had a face even uglier than Black Moon's.
They were far out of range of his smoothbore musket, and he wished Ben was here with his long-range rifle. However, Ben was off hunting for meat. Black Moon would have to fight the men by himself.
One of the men dismounted and took something from one of the two packhorses the men had with them. He sat down on the ground with just his shoulders showing above the tall grass.
Black Moon recalled that once he had seen a white man who had been shooting buffalo sit in that same position. That man had erected a type of rest of forked sticks from which he could shoot his rifle very accurately for a long distance. Even as Black Moon recognized his danger, a puff of smoke blossomed from in front of the man. Instantly a mighty blow struck Black Moon in the chest, and a great pain erupted as he was slammed backward to the ground.
He attempted to rise. He must get up and fight the men. But he couldn't get control of his muscles, and lay on the ground sucking at the air, trying to breathe. He knew he had been shot with one of the large-caliber buffalo guns and was seriously wounded.
He felt hands upon him, tugging at him, and he slowly, laboriously turned his head. Swan
Woman and Morning Dew were kneeling beside him.
"Get up and fight!" Swan Woman cried. "They are coming."
"Set me up and give me my gun," Black Moon said.
The two girls propped Black Moon up in a sitting position. Morning Dew handed him his rifle. Black Moon brought the gun to his shoulder and shoved it out through the tops of the waving grass. The gun weaved about in his weakening hands. He fought it steady and brought the sights to bear on the white man in the lead. They were within range now. They thought him dead. They were correct. He was a dead man, but hadn't yet died.
Black Moon began to squeeze the trigger of his old, familiar musket. This would be the last enemy he would ever slay. The gun fired. At the strike of the bullet, the white man rolled onto the back of his horse, and then off onto the ground.
Black Moon saw the remaining white men jerk up their rifles and begin to shoot. He heard Swan Woman and Morning Dew screaming. Then they were silent.
A bullet struck Black Moon in the throat. Time stretched out for him, long enough to feel the sorrow of knowing the pretty women were dead and his own death was very near. He was greatly troubled that his enemies were still alive and there was absolutely nothing he could do to make them pay for the deaths of the women or for his death. Darkness closed upon Black Moon and engulfed him completely.
"Hello, the camp," Ben called.
He was some two hundred yards away from his camp and riding Brutus slowly closer. Four white men were standing near his stolen horses and Black Moon's mustang, alertly eyeing him as he approached. He saw nothing of the three Comanches. Something awful had happened to them, he knew it.
"Can I come in?" Ben called. The men looked dangerous and they were four to his one. But he must learn where Black Moon, Morning Dew, and Swan Woman were.
"Sure, come on in," one of the men shouted back, and made a motion with his hand to back up his words.
At fifty yards, Ben could look over the crotch-high grass and see the trod and matted-down grass of the camp. He saw what he had desperately hoped not to see. The slack, bloody bodies of Morning Dew, Black Moon, and Swan Woman lay close together on the ground, so close that they were touching each other.
