Comanche Moon Read Online Free PDF

and disinterested. “My sister could use help with the cooking. Another woman would be of better help than the horses I have.” Spotted Pony narrowed his eyes as if considering the oblique offer. Both men were aware that the more reluctant the seller, the higher the price.
    Spotted Pony gave a doubtful shake of his head.
    “I don’t know if I need more horses,” he said slowly, and flicked a gaze toward the pale, quiet woman who stood as stiff as a young oak tree beside him. She must have sensed they were talking about her; her eyes grew even wider, the pupils dilated with gold light. Spotted Pony looked back at Hawk.
    “Maybe I need another wife to help with the cooking and scraping of hides.”
    “You need more horses to hunt buffalo to feed the wife you already have,” Hawk said. “Another empty belly to fill would crowd your lodge.” As the men conversed in their rough language, Deborah’s gaze jumped from one to the other. She didn’t know if she was more frightened by the man who had taken her from the Velazquez hacienda, or the hard-eyed man who was still wet from an apparent swim. She didn’t like the way he’d looked at her the night before, speculatively, as if she were his next meal. Yet she had no doubt that she would be treated in the same manner by the man who had abducted her; she’d seen his flat, cruel eyes, and he’d handled her roughly. If she had to choose—and she realized she had no choice—she would choose death over the horror that awaited her.
    Survival had seemed so important earlier, but now she thought that perhaps there were worse things than death. If the furtive, fearful look in the eyes of some of the Mexican women she’d seen slinking through the camp was any indication, she would prefer a quick ending. Deborah wished she understood Spanish, so she could ask some of the women who had been taken captive with her what was planned for them. They seemed to know; Judith had gasped with shock and fear when the warrior had approached and cut Deborah loose from the others. One of the Mexican women had moaned in a mixture of Spanish and English that, “It has begun.” What had begun? And dear God, what was about to happen to her now?
    The Comanche men had apparently finished their discussion, and with a gesture of hands, taken leave of one another. She didn’t know what to expect.
    The tall, blue-eyed Comanche turned on his bare heel and strode away without even glancing at her. Not once had he looked directly at her, nor indicated by any word or action that he was aware of her, yet she knew that he was. Deborah waited. Time passed, and the odors from nearby cooking pots tantalized her. She still stood with her hands tied in front of her, her back stiff and straight as the Comanche kept her beside him. He sat cross-legged in front of his hide-covered tent, smoking a pipe after he’d eaten from a bowl.
    No food or water had been offered to any of the white captives. Deborah’s stomach growled a protest, but she gave no other indication of her need.
    A pressing need to go into the bushes was her most urgent thought, and she held herself upright with a quiet desperation. A woman in a beaded buckskin dress served the man, offering a word now and then as she scurried about, bringing him a smoldering stick from the fire to light his pipe, or a water pouch, or following some growled command. Deborah had made up her mind to try and communicate the urgency of her need to the woman, when she saw from one corner of her eye that the blue-eyed Comanche had returned.
    He was leading five horses. They were splendid animals. Straight legs and thick necks gleamed in the sunlight, and they pranced with high spirits as he led them forward and tied them to the post beside the lodge. Turning, he pulled a bundle from the back of one of the horses and held it out.
    Her captor rose slowly as if still thinking, but a gleam of satisfaction shone in his black eyes. He flashed a glance at Deborah, then