come!”
She longed for the touch of another human being to celebrate her good fortune. But she’d learned hard lessons from the Comanches and dared not tread where she wasn’t clearly welcome. She hugged herself with her arms and rocked back and forth where she sat, a ridiculously happy grin on her face.
As if sensing her need and her indecision, Long Quiet held out his arms to her.
Bay launched herself into his embrace, crying and laughing at the same time. She had to swallow over the lump in her throat before she could speak. “Every night I prayed for this. I can’t believe it’s really happening.”
She felt Long Quiet’s muscles tense as though he sought to push her away, and she clenched her arms tighter around his waist. “Please. Don’t let go.”
“I will hold you as long as you like,” Long Quiet replied. He wanted to be happy for her, but it was hard when he knew that if he got his way, she would not be going home to Three Oaks once they left this place. She would be coming home with him to his village. Now that he’d found her, he had no intention of giving her up again. But there would be time enough when they were safely gone from Many Horses’ village to convince her that her place was with him. “Does this mean you want me to take you away from here?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
“I will make plans for us to leave before the sun rises.”
Bay’s mind raced to contemplate what she would be leaving behind. She wouldn’t miss the loneliness. Or the grueling work. Or the whispers. Or the Comanches who’d spurned her because of the
puhakut
’s decree. But she would miss Many Horses, because he’d been kind to her when she’d expected cruelty. And the taciturn old woman, Cries at Night, who’d been like a mother to her. And she would miss Little Deer.
As Bay thought of leaving Little Deer, the smile left her face. Her chest tightened and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t considered what it would mean to leave Little Deer, because she’d never really expected to have to make a choice. Now that the choice was hers to make, she realized there wasn’t any choice at all. She had a Comanche daughter. How could she abandon her child?
“Wait. I . . . I can’t leave this place. It’s too late. You’re too late,” Bay cried, struggling to be free of Long Quiet’s grasp. “Let me go!”
Long Quiet had expected Bay to have second thoughts. He just hadn’t expected them to come quite so soon, before the first blush of pleasure had even left her face. He held her tenderly in his arms. “Shhh. Don’t cry,” he soothed. “It is never too late. If you want to leave, you can. But have you perhaps found this life better than the one you left behind?”
“No, it’s not that . . . not exactly,” she amended. As awful as she’d first found life among the Comanches, at least they hadn’t asked more from her than she’d been able to give. Rip Stewart had expected his daughters to be equal to the tasks a son might be asked to perform. While Sloan and Cricket had found such accomplishments easy, Bay had found herself inept and inadequate at many of them. She felt certain that was why she was the least and the last among his daughters in Rip’s eyes.
Here, at least, she felt needed. She would be missed more by the child she left now than by the sisters and father she’d left behind three years ago.
Bay had no idea how long she’d been silent, but when she looked up at Long Quiet, she said, “I can’t leave this place.”
“Because you love Many Horses?”
Bay was taken aback by the question. She didn’t love Many Horses, but she did care for him, and there was the matter of the supposed powers she wielded on his behalf. While she didn’t believe anything she did protected Many Horses from evil spirits in battle, he did. “I won’t leave him.”
“If it were not for Many Horses, would you stay and live among the Comanches?”
Bay didn’t like the tone of Long Quiet’s voice
She longed for the touch of another human being to celebrate her good fortune. But she’d learned hard lessons from the Comanches and dared not tread where she wasn’t clearly welcome. She hugged herself with her arms and rocked back and forth where she sat, a ridiculously happy grin on her face.
As if sensing her need and her indecision, Long Quiet held out his arms to her.
Bay launched herself into his embrace, crying and laughing at the same time. She had to swallow over the lump in her throat before she could speak. “Every night I prayed for this. I can’t believe it’s really happening.”
She felt Long Quiet’s muscles tense as though he sought to push her away, and she clenched her arms tighter around his waist. “Please. Don’t let go.”
“I will hold you as long as you like,” Long Quiet replied. He wanted to be happy for her, but it was hard when he knew that if he got his way, she would not be going home to Three Oaks once they left this place. She would be coming home with him to his village. Now that he’d found her, he had no intention of giving her up again. But there would be time enough when they were safely gone from Many Horses’ village to convince her that her place was with him. “Does this mean you want me to take you away from here?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
“I will make plans for us to leave before the sun rises.”
Bay’s mind raced to contemplate what she would be leaving behind. She wouldn’t miss the loneliness. Or the grueling work. Or the whispers. Or the Comanches who’d spurned her because of the
puhakut
’s decree. But she would miss Many Horses, because he’d been kind to her when she’d expected cruelty. And the taciturn old woman, Cries at Night, who’d been like a mother to her. And she would miss Little Deer.
As Bay thought of leaving Little Deer, the smile left her face. Her chest tightened and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t considered what it would mean to leave Little Deer, because she’d never really expected to have to make a choice. Now that the choice was hers to make, she realized there wasn’t any choice at all. She had a Comanche daughter. How could she abandon her child?
“Wait. I . . . I can’t leave this place. It’s too late. You’re too late,” Bay cried, struggling to be free of Long Quiet’s grasp. “Let me go!”
Long Quiet had expected Bay to have second thoughts. He just hadn’t expected them to come quite so soon, before the first blush of pleasure had even left her face. He held her tenderly in his arms. “Shhh. Don’t cry,” he soothed. “It is never too late. If you want to leave, you can. But have you perhaps found this life better than the one you left behind?”
“No, it’s not that . . . not exactly,” she amended. As awful as she’d first found life among the Comanches, at least they hadn’t asked more from her than she’d been able to give. Rip Stewart had expected his daughters to be equal to the tasks a son might be asked to perform. While Sloan and Cricket had found such accomplishments easy, Bay had found herself inept and inadequate at many of them. She felt certain that was why she was the least and the last among his daughters in Rip’s eyes.
Here, at least, she felt needed. She would be missed more by the child she left now than by the sisters and father she’d left behind three years ago.
Bay had no idea how long she’d been silent, but when she looked up at Long Quiet, she said, “I can’t leave this place.”
“Because you love Many Horses?”
Bay was taken aback by the question. She didn’t love Many Horses, but she did care for him, and there was the matter of the supposed powers she wielded on his behalf. While she didn’t believe anything she did protected Many Horses from evil spirits in battle, he did. “I won’t leave him.”
“If it were not for Many Horses, would you stay and live among the Comanches?”
Bay didn’t like the tone of Long Quiet’s voice
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