Comanche Moon by Virginia Brown Page B

enjoying the freedom. Though her freedom was restricted by being captive, she’d found surprising respite in the unusual state of leisure. She sat idly most of the time.
    Accustomed to being constantly busy, whether with sewing or mending or the supervision of household tasks, Deborah had first welcomed the cessation of activity. Now, however, it was beginning to pall. She was left with too much time to think, too much time to dread what she felt must be the inevitable.
    He would come again, would seek her out, and she would be helpless to refuse whatever he wished from her. His first actions remained indelibly etched in her memory, and when she caught glances of him from a distance, she flushed. He had not approached her again, but obviously chose to stay in another lodge. Tipis, they were called. There was another name for the dwellings, too, something like kahni, but it had been too hard for her to recall and so they’d settled on tipi. Sunflower had conveyed that to her, as well as several other terms she could understand. Being able to interpret her captors’ words would be a blessing, but most of their language still eluded her.
    Even more elusive was the man Sunflower had referred to as Tosa Nakaai. Deborah had no idea what it meant, or indeed, if it meant anything.
    Sunflower had endeavored to act it out for her, and she knew it had something to do with the sky and a bird, but she wasn’t certain what. Several choices had occurred to her, none of them particularly flattering.
    The arrogant blue-eyed Comanche had invaded more than her body that night, with his brief touch. He had invaded her mind, and was constantly intruding when she tried to concentrate on the more important hope of escape for her and Judith.
    She’d seen Judith once, from afar, and had not noticed any sign of abuse.
    Hopefully, her cousin was faring well. She prayed she would get to speak with her soon, so that she could find out for herself how she was doing.
    Deborah glanced at the opening of the tipi again, and saw—as she’d become accustomed to seeing—the passing of others outside. Children shrieked with laughter; dogs barked and growled, and she could hear the muffled laughter of women at work. Comanche women seemed to work constantly, scraping hides, cooking, gathering firewood, and tending children. She was certain there were many other duties as well. The men, she’d noticed, seemed to spend their time fashioning new weapons, telling stories, and probably planning new raids. They hunted, of course; plenty of meat drying on wooden racks attested to that. Comanche society seemed structured and well ordered to those born to it. To a frightened captive, that structure was menacing.
    Slaves were for the menial tasks and worked hard. The glimpse of her cousin bent low under huge bundles of firewood, her face dirty, her hair loose and tangled, had hurt. Judith did not look otherwise mistreated, but Deborah had no doubt that every person in the camp must have a function.
    Which meant that Tosa Nakaai would have a duty in mind for her, too.
    She shuddered. She could imagine what that duty would be. There had been a fierce hunger in his eyes that night, a hot fire that had burned her wherever his gaze touched. In the long night hours, she remembered it, remembered how he’d sparked an answering fire in her. The memories were as disturbing as the reality. And her body had burned and ached with an unfamiliar restlessness that made her wonder if the recent events had not deranged her in some way.
    When she closed her eyes at night, she kept remembering him as she’d last seen him, that magnificent body so overwhelmingly male and powerful and frightening, his eyes beneath the thick brush of his lashes taking her breath away. The contradiction of her thoughts bewildered her, and she knew that she was in danger of losing sight of her goal.
    Daylight still brightened the tree-studded valley when Deborah saw a shadow darken the opened flap of the