Go into the house, Aunt Rachel," Loretta called. "Why? What is it?"
"I'm not sure. He comes in anger."
"You come with me, then!"
Loretta swallowed an upsurge of fear. One Indian was taller on horseback than all the rest, broader across the shoulders and chest. She kept her gaze on him. A month ago she would have fled in panic. She would never run from him again. "Go to the house, Aunt Rachel. Pull the shutters. Do as I say!"
Loretta began walking again, afraid yet not afraid. A war party of Comanches was an intimidating spectacle, even to her, but the man she loved rode with them. Before she reached the gate, the warriors urged their horses forward. Instead of attacking, though, as she had feared they might, they rode the perimeters of the property, driving lances into the earth every few feet. Once again Hunter had come to mark her home.
Loretta no sooner realized that than she also realized that Hunter wouldn't mark the property if he intended to take her with him. She bolted into a run.
"Hunter! Hunter, please…" She gained the gate and watched in helpless despair as the warriors sped past on their mounts, sending up such a cloud of dust that she couldn't tell which man was Hunter. "Hunter, at least talk to me!"
If Hunter heard her, he paid her no heed. Moments later the war party withdrew and rode over the rise. Loretta stood there, staring. Was Hunter divorcing her because of the attack?
As hurt as she was, Loretta could muster no anger. It was her own fault he was leaving her. The night before the attack, she had vowed to leave him if he wouldn't go away with her. She had insisted he choose between her and the People. He had done just that. His father and countless others had been killed. His honor demanded that he avenge them.
She pressed her hand to her chest, over the medallion that bore his mark. Throwing back her head, she screamed his name, praying he would hear her and return. She waited, and she prayed. But he didn't come.
"I'm not sure. He comes in anger."
"You come with me, then!"
Loretta swallowed an upsurge of fear. One Indian was taller on horseback than all the rest, broader across the shoulders and chest. She kept her gaze on him. A month ago she would have fled in panic. She would never run from him again. "Go to the house, Aunt Rachel. Pull the shutters. Do as I say!"
Loretta began walking again, afraid yet not afraid. A war party of Comanches was an intimidating spectacle, even to her, but the man she loved rode with them. Before she reached the gate, the warriors urged their horses forward. Instead of attacking, though, as she had feared they might, they rode the perimeters of the property, driving lances into the earth every few feet. Once again Hunter had come to mark her home.
Loretta no sooner realized that than she also realized that Hunter wouldn't mark the property if he intended to take her with him. She bolted into a run.
"Hunter! Hunter, please…" She gained the gate and watched in helpless despair as the warriors sped past on their mounts, sending up such a cloud of dust that she couldn't tell which man was Hunter. "Hunter, at least talk to me!"
If Hunter heard her, he paid her no heed. Moments later the war party withdrew and rode over the rise. Loretta stood there, staring. Was Hunter divorcing her because of the attack?
As hurt as she was, Loretta could muster no anger. It was her own fault he was leaving her. The night before the attack, she had vowed to leave him if he wouldn't go away with her. She had insisted he choose between her and the People. He had done just that. His father and countless others had been killed. His honor demanded that he avenge them.
She pressed her hand to her chest, over the medallion that bore his mark. Throwing back her head, she screamed his name, praying he would hear her and return. She waited, and she prayed. But he didn't come.
( Catherine Anderson )
[ Comanche Moon ]
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