Comanche Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

miserable coward, Henry. You send that girl out there, and you’ll never sleep a whole night through the rest of your life.’’
    Loretta touched the door planks and froze. Through the cracks she heard bells tinkling, a merry sound, as out of place as cheerful music at a funeral. She made the sign of the cross and squeezed her eyes closed, trying to remember how to make an act of contrition, but the words jumbled in her head.
    ‘‘Henry, no,’’ Rachel pleaded. ‘‘Loretta, don’t open that door. If they want a woman, I’ll go.’’
    ‘‘It’s not you they’re wantin’,’’ Henry snapped. ‘‘One of ’em spotted Loretta down by the river the other day, and he’s come back for her. They’ll shoot ya down where ya stand.’’
    Rachel whirled on her husband. ‘‘That girl’s my sister’s daughter. I’ll never forgive you if you let her go out there!’’
    ‘‘Ya don’t have to do it, Loretta,’’ Tom argued. ‘‘There’s some things worse than dyin’, and this is one of ’em.’’
    Loretta hesitated. Then the door squeaked on its leather hinges, swinging open a crack. A shaft of light fell across her face. She stepped across the threshold. Better just me than everyone. Another step. Better the Comanches take me than Amy. It wasn’t so hard, now that she was doing it. She took a deep breath and walked out onto the porch. The door slammed shut behind her, and the bar thudded home with an echo of finality.
    Staring at her with impenetrable blue-black eyes, the warrior on the black nudged the animal a pace forward. With that relentless eye-to-eye contact, he held her pinioned where she stood. For what seemed a lifetime, he studied her, not moving, not speaking, his lance still held aloft.
    Loretta’s courage disintegrated, and a violent tremor swept the length of her. He noted the shudder, and his observant gaze trailed up her body in its wake. His attention fell to her hips, lingered there with an insulting contempt, then traveled upward to her breasts. Humiliation scorched her cheeks.
    ‘‘Keemah.’’ He hissed the word at her, but it seemed sharp as a rifle shot rending the air. Loretta jumped, confusion and mindless terror contorting her features. She understood no Comanche and hadn’t any perception of what he wanted. She only knew he would kill her if she angered him. Her shaking knees beat a tremulous tattoo against each other. His lips twisted in a sneer. ‘‘Come forward, so this Comanche can see you.’’
    Too frightened to feel her feet, Loretta stumbled on the steps, nearly falling before she regained her balance. Her skin prickled from the two hundred eyes that watched her. As she drew near the Comanche, he wheeled his mount to one side. Cone-shaped brass bells sparkled against the stripped leather of his moccasin. His stare was a tangible thing, reaching to touch her.
    ‘‘Lift your face, woman.’’
    She tilted her head back, keeping her expression carefully blank. He seemed to tower atop the stallion, his bare shoulders broad, his arms well muscled. The breeze swept his dark hair from his cheek, revealing a thin scar that angled from his right eyebrow to his chin. Brilliant white teeth flashed as he spoke.
    ‘‘What do you call yourself?’’
    Loretta parted her lips, and the prolonged silence pulsated.
    ‘‘Answer, woman, or die.’’ Lifting his lance tip, he caught her braid, tugging it loose from its coronet. Slowly uncoiling, it snaked to her shoulder.
    ‘‘Loretta!’’ Rachel screamed from a front window. ‘‘Her name is Loretta. Oh, please, don’t hurt her, please.’’ A horrible, gut-wrenching sob punctuated the plea.
    The Indian pressed the tip of his lance against Loretta’s throat. ‘‘Have you no tongue, herbi ?’’
    ‘‘No-oo-o,’’ Rachel wailed. ‘‘She can’t talk! It’s the truth! Oh, please. She’s a good, sweet girl. Don’t hurt her.’’
    To Loretta’s left, an Indian on a pinto began to babble in excitement and