Comanche Woman

by Joan Johnston

  “What did you say?” Luke’s eyes lit with challenge.

  “I said leave her alone.”

  “What right do you have to be telling me how to act with Bay Stewart?” Luke demanded.

  The truth was, now that he’d released his claim on Bay, Long Quiet had no rights at all. But the thought of Luke Summers—or any man—touching Bay Stewart tied his gut in knots. “I care a lot for Bay,” Long Quiet said carefully. “I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

  “Don’t worry,” Luke replied. “The last person I’d want to hurt is one of Rip Stewart’s daughters.”

  In the days when it had looked like he’d die in Mexico, Luke had wished he’d confided his secret to someone—the truth about his relationship to Sloan and Bay and Cricket. It was true he and Cricket had become good friends, but even she didn’t know they had the same father. No one did, not even Rip himself. Luke would never do anything to hurt Bay. She was his half-sister. At the same time, Long Quiet’s interest in Bay seemed to Luke to be more than merely the concern of the man who’d found Bay among the Comanches.

  “You spent a long time looking for Bay,” Luke said. “What was it like to finally find her?”

  “Why does it matter to you, Luke?” Long Quiet asked, his eyes meeting those of the younger man.

  “I wondered if maybe I should be protecting Bay from you.”

  Long Quiet felt the fury rising inside him and knew it came from the frustration of having to keep his relationship with Bay a secret. It could only hurt her for the truth to come out. But he could tell the other man enough to make his feelings for Bay plain, and to make it plain what he’d do if the other man hurt Bay.

  So he said, “I would have been proud to make Bay Stewart my wife. I’ve wanted her since the first time I saw her, when she was in school in Boston. But in those days I planned to return to Comanchería. I knew Bay wouldn’t be happy there, so I said nothing to her. Then she was stolen by Tall Bear. If I’d found her in those first days after her capture, I would have made her my wife and kept her with me in Comanchería. But it didn’t happen.

  “When I found her at last, I . . . I planned to marry her, to take her to the village of my grandfather and raise Comanche sons.”

  Creed pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Would Bay have agreed to that?”

  Long Quiet smiled bitterly. “I wouldn’t have given her a choice. But she would have been happy,” he added. “None of that could happen, because she was accused by the Comanches of being a sorceress. I was damn lucky to get her out of Comanchería alive.”

  “So,” Creed mused. “You love her. But she can’t live in Comanchería . . . and you won’t live in Texas.”

  Hearing the situation stated like that made it seem simpler than Long Quiet believed it was. “You know my feelings about living in Texas,” he said in a voice that was steel gloved in velvet. “Am I supposed to reject everything I believe in for the sake of a woman?”

  “I don’t know,” Creed said.

  “Sounds to me like you just don’t love Bay enough to want to be with her,” Luke said. “Otherwise, where the two of you live wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.”

  “Nobody asked you what you think,” Long Quiet retorted.

  Luke cocked his head and eyed Long Quiet. Maybe a little jealousy would nudge him into changing his mind. In his opinion, Long Quiet would make a fine brother-in-law. “If you don’t want her, I’ll take her.”

  “You lay one hand on her and I’ll—” Long Quiet clamped his jaws tight over the rest of his threat, chagrined that he’d allowed the young man to goad him into speaking.

  Luke grinned. “Guess you might have feelings for her after all. But all the feelings in the world aren’t going to do you any good if you’re in Comanchería and she’s in Texas. If I know Rip Stewart, he’ll find some wealthy planter and marry her off. Sounds to me like you’re going to have to make a choice. You can live in Comanchería alone or you can live in Texas with Bay.”

  Creed joined the conversation, plainly on Luke’s side. “You’ve been Walker Coburn before. Was it so terrible to be a white man?”

  “You’re suggesting I play a role for the rest of my life?” Long Quiet demanded.

  “It isn’t really a role, is it? It’s part of who you are. You’re half white—”

  “And half Comanche! I’m not sure I can stand to live like a white man—staying in one place, living in a wooden house, raising the food I eat, bound by manners I have no use for, being friends with people who hate the people I love and have lived with my whole life. Do you realize what you’re asking of me?”

  “The choice is yours,” Creed said. “Nobody can make you do anything. You can go back to Comanchería—”

  “And lose Bay!” Long Quiet’s agonized cry reflected the extent of the mental torture that afflicted him.

  “You don’t have to decide right now,” Creed soothed. “Come to the christening. Try out being Walker Coburn for a couple of days and see how it feels. Bay will probably enjoy seeing you again, won’t she?”

  Long Quiet’s features softened at the mention of Bay, then became strained as he remembered their last moments together. “I told her to forget about me.”

  “Have you forgotten her?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think it’s been any easier for her?”

  Long Quiet sighed. “I suppose not.”

  “Come to Three Oaks for Jesse’s christening,” Creed urged. “Then if you still want to go back to Comanchería . . .” Creed shrugged.

  Long Quiet felt sick. How could he live in Texas as Walker Coburn? Bay would need things that could only be bartered with goods or bought with money. What would he do to make a living for the two of them? He’d be bound to the land, stuck in one place. How would he survive within those constraints?

  Long Quiet became conscious of Luke’s presence beside him and looked up from his musing.

  “If you love her,” Luke said, “there really isn’t any choice.”

  Long Quiet’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared in anger. His fists clenched and unclenched as he sought to control his frustration. He wouldn’t be pressured into making a decision by words like love. He gave Luke one last bone-chilling glance before he kneed his pony and headed north for Comanchería.

  “Do you think he’ll show up for the christening?” Luke asked as he watched Long Quiet ride away.

  “I don’t know,” Creed answered. “I’ve known Long Quiet for a long time. He understands what’s happening to the Comanche way of life, how it’s threatened by the arrival of the white man. How can he become part of a society that’s threatening people he loves? It can’t be an easy decision for him.”

  “It would be if he were really in love with Bay.”

  “A lot of things can blind a man to the fact he can’t live without a certain woman,” Creed said ruefully. “I ought to know. I was in love with Cricket long before I admitted it to myself. Long Quiet’s spent a lot of years trying not to see what’s right in front of his nose. He’s going to have to want to see the truth about some other important issues before he’ll be willing to admit to needing Bay. Because loving Bayleigh Stewart is going to turn his whole world upside down.

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait till the christening to find out what he decides.”

  Chapter 17

  THE REPUBLIC OF TEXAS

  1843

  “JONAS IS HERE TO SEE YOU, BAY.”

  Bay looked up from the ledger in which she was writing to find Rip waiting expectantly in the doorway. “Please tell Jonas I’ll meet him in the parlor in a few minutes. I have a few things to finish up here.”

  “There’s no reason to keep Jonas waiting. I can finish whatever you’re doing,” Rip countered.

  “I’ll finish it.”

  “You’ll meet him now.”

  Bay set the pen down gently, too gently for it to have been other than a very calculated effort. She rose regally from the large rawhide chair behind
Rip’s desk, her violet eyes a stormy purple when they met Rip’s. Her voice quavered slightly as she said, “Don’t forget to subtract the butchered hogs from the last column of figures.”

  With great dignity, Bay walked across the room toward Rip, who blocked her exit at the last moment.

  “What’s the matter with you?” he demanded brusquely.

  Bay jerked as though she’d been slapped. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he said in an intense voice still low enough not to carry to the parlor across the hall, “you’ve been as ornery the past two weeks as a mule stuck belly-deep in mud. No matter what I say, you’re bound to do the opposite. Ever since you got home you’ve been contrary. And I don’t like it!”

  “I can’t help the way I am,” Bay shot back in an equally suppressed voice. “If you don’t like it . . .” Bay closed her eyes and touched her fingertips to the bridge of her nose to ease the tension. She had been irritable and out of sorts. But she couldn’t explain to Rip that the more involved she became with Jonas, the more she felt she was somehow betraying Long Quiet—unless she also admitted the extent of her relationship with the half-breed Comanche.

  Bay dropped her hand and opened her eyes. “I’ll see Jonas now.”

  As she moved past Rip, he grasped her arm. “Wait. I know something’s bothering you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Rip’s offer of help totally disarmed her. She almost reached out to him, almost blurted the truth. But at the last instant she held her tongue. There was nothing Rip could do to change Long Quiet’s mind. His decision had been final. She would just have to learn to live with it. But it was high time she stopped making her family pay for misery she was suffering through no fault of theirs.

  Bay forced a tentative smile to her lips. “There’s nothing wrong with me that time and patience won’t cure. And you’ve already helped,” she said, “simply by caring.” As she watched the flush rise in Rip’s cheeks, she added, “I’ll try not to be so ornery, all right?”

  “Sure,” he said gruffly. “I only want what’s best for you, Bay. I know you cared for Jonas a long time ago.”

  “How did you know that?” Bay asked, astounded that Rip had known her carefully guarded secret.

  He cleared his throat and admitted, “I have friends in Boston, Bay. I kept track of your comings and goings. It would have been hard not to know how you felt about Jonas.”

  Bay reached a hand up to Rip’s flushed cheek. It was something she wouldn’t have dared three years ago. “So when he came looking for me, you knew I’d already fallen in love with him once before.”

  “Well, there’s that. And after all, he is very rich—”

  Bay’s tinkling laugh cut off Rip’s blustering reply. “And therefore quite an acceptable husband,” she finished.

  Rip’s flush deepened. “Get on, girl. He’s waiting for you. I believe Jonas has it in mind to take you for a ride in his carriage. Be sure you wear a bonnet to protect your face from the sun.” Rip reached out a hand as though to touch the small freckles scattered across Bay’s nose but changed his mind and stuck his hand in his pocket.

  Bay slipped quickly past Rip and crossed the wide hall to the parlor. Jonas was looking out the front window and didn’t see her come into the room. She took advantage of the opportunity to observe him.

  The years had been kind to him. His body was strong, virile in a way that would be attractive to most women, and his face was undeniably handsome. The fiery warmth she’d always felt inside at the thought of Jonas Harper still burned, but with a friendly glow rather than the heat of passion. The spark that had once caused her to pledge her heart to this man was no longer there.

  Bay cleared her throat. “Hello, Jonas.”

  Jonas turned and walked slowly toward her with his hands outstretched. Bay reached out her hands in response, and he captured them, bringing first one and then the other up to his lips for a chaste kiss. Bay waited to see if she would feel some physical response to his touch, but it didn’t come.

  “You look lovely,” he said. “And you’ll look even lovelier when those freckles fade a little more,” he said as his finger tapped her nose. “Would you like to go for a ride this afternoon?”

  “That would be nice,” Bay said. “Let me get a bonnet.”

  “I’ll wait for you outside. You won’t dawdle, will you?” he said with a grin. “I hate to be kept waiting by a beautiful woman.”

  “No,” Bay replied with a wry smile. “I won’t dawdle.” Bay wondered if she’d ever dawdled in her entire life. If Jonas had known her as well as he thought he did, he’d have understood that dawdling wasn’t something Rip would ever have allowed his daughters to do. As Bay tied her straw bonnet under her chin, she considered whether she could marry a man whom she now saw only as a good friend. She had no doubt Jonas truly cared for her. He’d even labeled his feelings love. But would it be fair to either one of them if she married him?

  Jonas had a new team of high-steppers and the ride was fast enough that Bay was soon glad she’d come. The wind felt wonderful on her face, and the countryside went by in a green and gold blur. When the horses began to tire, Jonas slowed them to a walk.

  “That was wonderful,” Bay said. “Your team of chestnuts is magnificent.” But not as beautiful as the chestnut stallion Long Quiet had tamed, she thought.

  “Thank you. Coming from Rip’s daughter, that’s quite a compliment.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jonas laughed. “Only that Rip’s a fine judge of horseflesh, and he promised me his daughters knew easily as much as he did.”

  “He was speaking of Sloan and Cricket,” Bay corrected, “not about me.”

  Jonas laughed again. “Don’t be upset. I’m glad you’re not like Sloan and Cricket. I wouldn’t like you nearly so much if you were.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “You need a man to take care of you. They don’t.”

  Bay felt a rush of indignation at the assumption she couldn’t take care of herself, but she realized that until she’d been captured by the Comanches, she’d have agreed with Jonas’s assessment of her character. “I think I might surprise you.”

  Jonas switched the reins over so he could free a hand, which he then settled possessively on Bay’s knee. “I want to take care of you, Bay. I’m a very wealthy man, in case you didn’t know. I sold a portion of my father’s business and invested the money in land on the Texas side of the Louisiana border. My holdings in Shelby County are so profitable I’m ready to buy property in the more settled areas of Texas along the Brazos River. I’ve already found a place where I’d like to build a house for us, a place where we can raise our children.

  “For as long as I can remember, whenever I’ve thought of myself settled and with a family, you’ve been a part of that picture. If I can’t have you for my wife, I don’t think I’ll ever marry.”

  “Jonas, I—”

  “Don’t say you haven’t thought about becoming my wife, Bay, about having my children—little brown-eyed boys and redheaded girls.”

  “Jonas, I—”

  “Marry me, Bay. I want you to come live with me and be the mother of my children. Ever since the first time I saw you in Boston, I’ve been smitten by you.”

  “No! Don’t say any more, please. Jonas, I’m not sure I—” Bay stopped abruptly when she saw a cloud of dust in the distance. “Jonas . . . there’s someone coming. Look. Over there.”

  Jonas turned to look where Bay was pointing and saw the red cloud that finally parted to reveal a man on horseback. In a frontier like Texas, it wasn’t wise to take the chance that strangers would be friendly. Jonas had already gathered the reins to turn the buggy when Bay grabbed his wrist to stop him.

  “It’s Creed! And there’s someone with him.” Bay’s heart was in her throat. She couldn’t see the rider who followed Creed, but she wanted it to be Long Quiet. What would he think when he saw her with another man? He’d surely understand. At least he’d come
back. He’d come back!

  At Bay’s insistence, Jonas waited for the two riders to join them. As they neared, however, Bay realized the man with Creed wasn’t Long Quiet. It took all her willpower to keep her face free of the tremendous disappointment she felt.

  However, once she looked into the face of the man with Creed, she found herself wondering who he was. She had the feeling she knew him, or that she ought to know him.

  “Hello, Creed,” she said when the two men had drawn their horses to a stop beside the carriage.

  “Is that you, Bay? You’re so grown-up! And so beautiful!”

  Bay blushed with pleasure. “I . . . I want you to meet Jonas Harper,” she said breathlessly.

  “We’ve met. Hello, Jonas,” Creed said, tipping his hat in greeting.

  Bay’s eyes strayed to the other man as she waited for him to introduce himself. His eyes were shuttered by some inexplicable emotion Bay finally identified as sadness. Tremendous empathy for the stranger’s suffering washed over her, leaving her feeling his pain as her own. She looked away to break the spell that bound her to him.

  “I’m Luke Summers,” the young man said. He touched the flat brim of his hat with his finger and added, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am, Mr. Harper.”

  “Oh, please call me Bay.”

  Bay blushed again when Luke smiled at her and said, “Creed’s right. You’re a very beautiful woman.”

  Jonas hadn’t missed the instant powerful attraction between Bay and the handsome young man who called himself Luke Summers. His voice was taut with jealousy when he announced, “I’m glad you admire my fiancée, Mr. Summers.”

  Luke turned to Jonas Harper and gave him a look that would have crushed stone. “Creed didn’t mention his sister-in-law was engaged to you, Mr. Harper.”

  No one could have been more surprised by Jonas’s announcement than Bay, whose mouth still hung slack from disbelief.

  “That’s because it hasn’t been announced yet,” Jonas replied as he slipped his arm around Bay’s shoulders.

  “I suppose congratulations are in order,” Creed said. But he didn’t offer any. He was too busy wondering whether Long Quiet knew about Bay’s relationship with Jonas Harper.