Comanche Moon by Virginia Brown Page A

toward the ridge of the mountain peaks gnawing at the darkening sky. “This one is weary of having you growl like the bear these past two days.
    Take her, and ease my ears.” The small branch he was whittling into a flute broke between his fingers, and Hawk tossed it aside. “She has never known a man.”
    “Aiie.”
    There was a wealth of comments in that one exclamation, and Hawk almost smiled. White Eagle was not the most verbal of men. For him to offer this much advice was beyond his normal practice.
    “The woman is only a captive,” White Eagle said after a long moment of silence, and Hawk stiffened.
    That was true. For him to deny it would give her a more important status. For him to agree, would keep her such. He said nothing, and felt his father’s disapproval.
    Wind blew through the pines, and they swayed with a majestic dignity that only old trees exhibit, gently, as if caressed by the wind. Hawk closed his eyes and let the music of the pines seep inside him.
    “A long time ago,” his father began, “I took a white woman from her husband. It was not meant to be. I did not see what I was shown, or hear what was said. Many died. There was much trouble. Subetu.” Hawk opened his eyes. He knew what his father meant. It would cause trouble if he kept her and did not use her. There were others in the camp who watched her, young men who did not find her pale skin and hair of dark fire to be ugly. He saw them, and he knew what they would say if he did not make the woman his. Damn. His desire for Deborah grew more complicated everyday, and it was frustrating and irritating at the same time.
    He resisted an angry reaction, knowing White Eagle would be disappointed in him. It wasn’t the Comanche way to reveal that kind of emotion, especially not over a captive woman.
    His eyes shifted to his tipi, where Sunflower visited with Deborah. He should end that friendship before it went too far. There would be no good come of it, but he hated to deny his young sister anything that pleased her.
    And he saw the faint gratitude in Deborah’s eyes when she glanced at him, and knew that if anyone could ease her stay in the camp, it was Sunflower.
    But it was unfair. Things would not stay the same, and he knew that.
    And he must be the one to change them.
    Hawk rose to his feet in a smooth motion that gained his father’s attention, and their eyes briefly met. Then he strode in the direction of the tipi where Deborah waited.

Chapter 5

    Afternoon light spilled through the triangular opening onto the hard-packed dirt floor, and Deborah gazed idly at the tiny dust motes swimming in the trapped sunbeams. She’d smoothed blankets and furs, hung clothes that she assumed were his from the poles, examined baskets lined along the walls, and braided her hair. Time still dragged in a slow pull that seemed like eternity.
    Sunflower had gone, and Deborah had the feeling that she had been forbidden to linger. There was a sweet shyness about the girl that made her wish they could be friends, but it was obvious that had been forbidden.
    Her thoughts drifted frequently to her arrogant jailer, and she found herself wondering about him. He’d not come back since that first afternoon, and she wondered why. She was grateful to be left alone, but curious as to the reason. Why were her emotions so contradictory? There was a perversity in her nature, she thought wryly, that she should definitely not cultivate at this time in her life. It could be more dangerous than she’d ever dreamed.
    Deborah smoothed the folds of skirt she wore, and felt the soft material drift through her fingers. Sunflower had brought her new garments, shyly, as if expecting to be rebuked. The bright cotton skirt and loose blouse had been accepted gratefully, and she had done her best to convey her appreciation to the girl.
    It felt strange to wear nothing but a skirt and blouse; none of the familiar underclothing hindered her movements, and she felt slightly guilty for