Comanche Woman Read Online Free PDF

her safe from those who would take her away from her home here.”
    “Perhaps she does not wish to stay here,” She Touches First suggested. “Perhaps she does not care who is harmed, so long as she is free to leave.”
    “I do not wish harm to anyone.”
    The sound of Shadow’s voice brought a sly smile to the face of She Touches First and gaping horror to the faces of the two older women.
    “It is tabu!” Red Wing gasped.
    “Go! Go! Let us leave this place!” Singing Woman cried.
    Red Wing and Singing Woman were gone in an instant, leaving the two younger women alone.
    “It is you who should leave this place,” She Touches First said, keeping her eyes carefully averted from Shadow. “Many Horses does not need your medicine. He was a great warrior before he ever brought you here and he will be a great warrior when you are gone.”
    “Why did you frighten them? Why do you call me a threat to anyone here? Why do you say I will take Many Horses’
puha
from him? It was your own brother, the
puhakut
, who said I had powerful medicine. I tell you, I possess no special powers. How could I harm anyone?”
    “I did not say you could,” She Touches First snapped. “But so long as you are in this village, Many Horses remains bound to you by the strong medicine he believes you possess. I want you gone!”
    “So Many Horses will turn his eyes and his heart toward you?”
    The woman called Shadow had often seen She Touches First watching Many Horses, and she had seen Many Horses watching the beautiful young sister of the
puhakut
. Yet they never acknowledged their interest in one another and rarely spoke unless necessary. The only explanation Shadow could find for the other woman’s antagonism was jealousy. This was the first time she’d voiced that suspicion aloud. Before she could say anything more, She Touches First rose, and after casting a backward glance full of disdain, left Shadow alone.
    The woman called Shadow drew her knees up to her chest and circled them with her arms. She closed her eyes and laid her cheek upon the soft buckskin skirt that draped her knees.
    When she’d first been captured by the Comanches, Bayleigh Falkirk Stewart had prepared herself to face the horrors of rape and torture and slavery and endure whatever was necessary to survive. She was, after all, her father’s daughter. Having been taught by her father how to make difficult decisions, she’d conceded, after considerable thought, that it would be better to live, even though battered and scarred, than to die.
    The awful days after her capture when she’d been forced to flee with Tall Bear, and later when she’d ridden with Many Horses through the night, had been an agony of suffering. Thirst, hunger, humiliation, pain from an occasional blow; she’d suffered them all. But worst of all had been the overwhelming fear of what was to come. She tried not to think about it.
    Rape.
    She knew she was safe so long as the Comanches kept moving to escape anyone following them. It was when they finally stopped, when they made a campfire and settled down to relax, that she knew the time had come when she must endure or die. There would be no rescue.
    Rape.
    They’d untied her cramped legs from beneath her horse’s belly but left the too-tight bindings on her wrists. They’d dragged her over to a cypress tree near a river and dumped her on the grass. She’d been too weak to stand, too weak even to moan, and had lain there in the evening dampness willing it all to be over. They’d left her there while they ate. She could remember their laughter, and remembered wondering what could possibly be so funny.
    Rape.
    It was dark, so dark, and she was cold. But how could that be? It was warm. July. She shivered. She reached out for something warm. She found it, something soft and warm, and curled her body around it. Then something equally warm curved around her arched back. She was safe. Warm and safe. She would never allow herself to be violated.