Comanche Heart

  Loretta toyed with her fork. “Lands, I wish she’d send that young man packing. Why would a fellow twenty years old be interested in a girl her age? I can’t like him.”

  “She’ll send him packing,” Hunter replied. “Indigo has eyes that see into tomorrow. She has only to open them.”

  Swift finished his cobbler and carried his plate to the dish board. Glancing over his shoulder at Amy, he pulled his watch from his pocket. “It’s about time for my school lessons. You ready to head over?”

  His eyes danced with mischief, and it didn’t pass her notice that his gaze swept over her in a meaningful way. Amy rose and carried her plate across the room, careful not to look up at him. After ridding herself of the dish, she turned toward the door. “If I spy Indigo, I’ll send her along home, Loretta.”

  Loretta smiled. “No, don’t do that. Like Hunter says, she has only to open her eyes. I guess I’ve a bad habit of being overprotective.”

  Swift took his hat from the rack. After donning it at a jaunty angle, he pulled down Amy’s shawl and draped it around her shoulders, grazing her neck and then her breasts with his knuckles as he straightened the woolen folds. Breath snagging, Amy lifted startled blue eyes to his. Before another of her telltale blushes could give him away, Swift, chuckling low in his chest, ushered her out the door, fairly certain Hunter hadn’t missed her heightening color and had guessed its cause.

  Once on the porch, Amy gathered her shawl close. Swift took her elbow, looking forward to their upcoming lesson with lascivious eagerness. He’d be giving her something a little more scandalous to blush about, if he had his way.

  “Your cheeks are as red as an overripe apple,” he informed her as they went down the porch steps. “We have to walk the length of town. You want everybody we meet to know what we’ve been up to?”

  Her face turned a throbbing scarlet, which set Swift to chuckling again. Placing a hand on her nape, he fingered the silken curls there as he guided her onto the boardwalk.

  “How long do you plan to blush every time I look at you?”

  “It’s not my fault I have a fair complexion.”

  “Why are you so embarrassed?”

  Her blue eyes flashed at him. “It isn’t funny.”

  Swift threw back his head and barked with laughter.

  “Would you stop! People are staring.”

  He glanced across the way at Samuel Jones, who was busy sweeping the boardwalk in front of the general store. “Amy, no one’s staring. I’ll tell you right now, shyness is going to last around me about as long as a candle in a windstorm.”

  “Is that so?”

  “That’s a promise. You can wear those prim little collars buttoned up to your chin in public, but not at home.”

  “Just what shall I wear, then?”

  “Your apron, if you’re cooking. Otherwise nothing will suit me just fine.”

  She threw him a thoroughly horrified look.

  “My reading and arithmetic lessons fall into the category of otherwise.”

  She quickened her pace, glancing right and left as if she feared someone might have overheard him. Swift grinned, stepping smartly to keep up with her.

  “You are an eager little package, aren’t you?”

  She nearly tripped over her skirts coming to a halt. Blushing to the roots of her hair, she met his gaze. “You’re deliberately tormenting me. Can’t you be a gentleman, just once, Swift? It’s terribly rude of you to—to talk about it as if you’re commenting on the weather!”

  As she spun and once again started down the boardwalk at a busy pace, Swift sauntered along behind her, directing his gaze to the tantalizing sway of her hips. Then, as if a lasso had brought her up short, she froze. Swift glanced up to see what was wrong. Steve and Hank Lowdry had just stepped up onto the boardwalk, several feet ahead of her. Amy backed up, her body rigid. Swift quickened his pace to reach her. When he touched her arm, she pressed close to him.

  “It’s all right, honey.”

  A shudder coursed through her. “They look like—Who are they?”

  Swift looped an arm around her and drew her into a walk, not caring for the moment if the townspeople saw him. “Just a couple of prospectors. Do you want to cross the street?”

  “No. I’m not afraid when you’re with me.”

  She pressed closer, belying the words. Swift gazed ahead at the two men, finding little comfort in the realization that he wasn’t the only one who thought they looked like comancheros. Evil. The first instant he had seen them, he had sensed it. And now so did Amy.

  To Swift’s relief, the two men stepped off the boardwalk onto the street to allow him and Amy to pass. Their spurs chinked in the damp, packed earth. Amy began to shiver. Swift glanced down. Her face, such a brilliant red only moments before, had gone deathly white.

  “Wh-why are they here?” She lifted frightened eyes to his. “What could they possibly want in Wolf’s Landing?”

  “They came for gold.”

  “Hog spittle!” She threw a look at them over her shoulder. “Men like that don’t work for a living.”

  “I guess they have as much right to dream as anyone.”

  “Don’t you think they look like—” She broke off, as if couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

  “Like what, Amy?” Swift helped her step off the end of the boardwalk. “Listen to me. They’ve been here a couple days now. If they were as bad as they look, they’d have already stirred trouble. Hunter visited with them. He said they seemed genuinely interested in finding gold.”

  As he finished speaking, the hair on Swift’s nape prickled. He glanced back to see that the two men had stopped in the street. With their hats pulled low, he couldn’t tell if they were looking at him, yet he couldn’t discount his wary reaction. He tightened his arm around Amy and picked up their pace.

  “If they aren’t here for gold,” he added, more to himself to her, “then they’re taking a long time to make a move.”

  “A move?” Her face drew tight. “You don’t think—Oh, Swift, no. . . . They aren’t gunslingers, are they?”

  “Not any I recognize.” The fear in her expression made him wish he hadn’t said anything. He flashed her a slow grin and jostled her with his arm. “Hey, don’t look so gloomy. I’m too suspicious by half. It comes with the territory. I came here for a new start, remember? Let’s not borrow trouble. The likelihood of anybody following me this far from Texas is mighty slim, don’t you think?”

  A little color returned to her face. “It is an awfully long way.” A smile curved her lips. “Maybe I’ve just got comancheros on the brain, from keeping company with one.”

  He narrowed one eye at her. “I am not a comanchero, never was. If you really thought so, you wouldn’t have made lo—”

  She pinched his ribs. “Be a gentleman.”

  “I’m no gentleman, either.” He bent his head and nipped her earlobe. “Here in about an hour, I’ll have you convinced of that,” he whispered huskily.

  From the corner of his eye, Swift saw movement at the edge of town. He turned in time to spot Indigo slipping off alone into the woods. Amy followed his gaze. “That girl. I’ll give you one guess where she’s headed. I wish she wouldn’t sneak off alone with him like that.”

  “Do you think that’s where she’s going, to meet him? She hunts, you know. And when she isn’t hunting, she enjoys walking. She’s got a lot of wildness in her.”

  “A little too much wildness for my peace of mind. She’s too sure of herself. She isn’t afraid of anything. That could be dangerous around a young man with no scruples.”

  Swift grinned, remembering the knife Indigo wore strapped to her thigh. “My sympathies are all with Brandon if he steps out of line. That girl’s as slick with a knife as any man I’ve ever seen. And I’ll bet she isn’t half bad at fistfighting, either. Having Chase to tussle with has given her spunk.”

  “She’s a little slip of a girl, Swift. Brandon’s twice her size.”

  “She co
uld handle three of him and never work up a sweat. Stop worrying. Any fellow who takes that girl on is going to bite off a whole lot more than he expected.”

  As they walked up the steps of the house, Amy couldn’t resist one last look toward the woods where Indigo had disappeared.

  Chapter 21

  INDIGO SENSED SHE WAS IN TROUBLE THE MOMENT she entered the clearing. Brandon hadn’t come alone. Three of his friends were with him, and she didn’t like the look in their eyes when they spotted her. She stopped in her tracks.

  “Hello, Indigo,” Brandon said, stepping toward her. He had removed his tweed jacket and sported a pale blue shirt, the sleeves rolled back to the elbow. She had never seen him so casually attired. As his gaze swept the length of her, he ran a hand over his ribs, much like a man who had just finished a satisfying meal. “I’m glad you decided to come.” His mouth tipped in a grin. “So we can make up.”

  She didn’t like the way he said “make up,” as if it were a big joke. Though she kept her gaze on Brandon, Indigo saw the others moving toward her. Their half smiles made her blood run cold. She had no idea what they had in mind, but whatever it was boded ill for her.

  “Brandon?” she said softly. “Why have you brought your friends with you?”

  His blue eyes filled with amusement. “They’re here to help me make up with you.”

  She shifted her gaze to the other young men. Last night, Brandon had tried to put his hand under her blouse, and she had slapped him. They had parted in anger. Today, during noon break at school, he had come to the edge of the playground to ask her to meet him here this afternoon. To make up, he had claimed.

  She licked her lips, her mouth dry and tacky. “You need help to apologize?”

  “Honey, you’re the one who’s going to apologize,” he said softly. “And you’re going to do it on your knees. No Indian slut slaps me and gets away with it.”

  Indigo finally pried her feet from the dirt. She retreated a step, shocked by the name he had called her. He made her sound like a dirty thing, something so beneath him she wasn’t even deserving of his contempt. Hurt cut through her. She had loved him so much. And she had believed all the pretty things he said. Now she realized all of it had been lies.

  Falling back on the fierce pride her father had instilled in her, Indigo swallowed the urge to cry and lifted her chin. “I’ll go on my knees to no man.”

  Brandon took another step closer. “Oh, you’ll get on your knees. When in the presence of your betters, that’s where you belong. You think too highly of yourself, Indigo. God created squaws for one thing, and you’re going to learn what it is. You didn’t really believe a white man would have any other interest in you, did you?”

  One of the other young men laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. She whirled to run and cannoned into a sturdy chest. The impact dazed her. Before she fell, strong arms cinched around her. Dimly she realized there had been someone coming up behind her. There must be five of them. His arms clamped hers to her sides, bruising her, cutting off her breath.

  “Who-ee! Isn’t she an armful of sweetness?” Lifting her feet off the ground, he swung her around, glancing toward Brandon. “No wonder you’ve been sniffing her trail. She doesn’t even look like a breed. And the way she’s put together, who’d guess she’s so young?”

  “A drop of Indian blood is all it takes,” Brandon replied.

  “Hey, I’m not complaining. I’ve always had a secret hankering to have me a white gal with a little fight in her. This is probably as close as I’ll ever get.”

  Blinking to see, Indigo focused on the face of the man who held her, a dark face, one she recognized. Heath Mallory from Jacksonville. She’d seen him attending mass there with his family, a nice, mannerly young man. Only now his face was harsh and menacing, his smile cruel. She tried to shove away from him, but he held her fast. To her horror, she felt him loosen one arm from around her to slide a hand under her leather blouse and chemise. Bile rose in her throat.

  “Don’t,” she cried. “Take your hand off me!”

  He groped for her breast. She worked one arm free and elbowed him in the mouth with all her strength. The sickening crunch made blood spurt. His blue eyes grew wild. With a curse he pushed her away, then backhanded her, his knuckles catching her along the cheek. Black spots bounced before her eyes.

  Before Indigo could regain her balance, Brandon grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground. In a flying leap he was upon her, his hands seizing her wrists. His weight crushed the breath from her. Even if she escaped him, there were five of them, and she knew she didn’t stand a chance against them.

  Though she tried to fight it off, panic engulfed her. She writhed and screamed, praying someone might, by some miracle, hear her. She kicked and bucked. Despite her struggles, Brandon managed to get a hand under her blouse. She felt his fingers close on her breast. In that horrible, endless moment, she knew they were going to rape her, not because she had done anything to deserve it, but because Comanche blood flowed in her veins. She didn’t know exactly what rape entailed, but she had heard enough whispers to guess it would be horrible. The panic within her grew, blinding her, blocking out all rational thought.

  Then, almost as if he were beside her, Indigo heard her father’s voice. Never count on strength of arm in a fight, Indigo. Use the skills I’ve taught you. Stay calm. Take measure of your enemy. Then attack his weak points. She closed her eyes and forced the panic back, making herself go limp.

  Brandon laughed, his fingers pinching hard, punishing her. “Now here’s a smart squaw. She knows what she’s good for. Don’t you, Indigo?”

  Slowly Indigo opened her eyes. She met Brandon’s gaze, blocking out the touch of his hand. Mistaking her limpness for surrender, he lowered his head and ground his mouth against hers. She suffered the kiss for a moment, waiting, and when he angled his head just right, she sank her teeth into his bottom lip, clenching her jaws together with all her strength.

  Brandon snapped taut, unable to pull away without ripping his lip. A low whine erupted from him. She bit down harder. He roared, releasing her wrists to grab her head. The moment he did, Indigo parted her jaws so he could back off, then stiffened her thumbs and jabbed at his eyes. He yelped and reared back, clasping his palms over his face. She slithered out from under him, the taste of his blood in her mouth as she scrambled to her knees.

  The other four formed a circle and converged on her. She whipped her knife from under her skirt, aware that Heath Mallory was behind her. “Come on, you tosi scum,” she hissed, brandishing the gleaming blade. “Which of you wants me first? Let me show you what a squaw is good for.”

  “Oh, Jesus, my eyes! My eyes!” Brandon knelt nearby, holding his face, rocking wildly.

  Indigo knew she hadn’t jabbed him hard enough to blind him. Not that her father hadn’t taught her how. She quickly took stock of her opponents, struggling against her fear. There had been one constant in all her father’s teachings: panic had no place in battle.

  Take measure of your enemy. All four of the remaining men outweighed her, and though none had the musculature of her father or Uncle Swift, her only hope of fighting them off was to use her head. She swayed lightly on her feet, side to side, keeping Heath in sight as best she could, the knife poised on her palm.

  Heath lunged. Indigo whipped sideways and slashed. The tip of the knife caught his upper arm. He squeaked and leaped back, clasping the wound, blood oozing through his white shirt and between his fingers. “The little bitch cut me!”

  “Come closer, tosi tivo, and I’ll slit your throat,” she warned.

  One of the others, a lanky redhead, crouched and ran toward her. Indigo scooped dirt and threw it in his eyes, rolling out of his path and leaping to her feet as he dived and hit the ground, his target gone. She whirled, ready for the others. Pride rose in her throat, hot and scalding, making her nape prickle. As she leaned slightly forward at the waist, hands working the air, her feet in constant motion, she wished for a fleeti
ng instant that her father could see her. From the time she was little, he had assured her that size gave a man no edge, and now she was proving it.

  Renewed confidence filled her as the remaining three moved in on her, their eyes glittering, their faces shiny with sweat. Let them come. Though she was frightened, the knife rested in her hand, as familiar and as easy to wield as part of her body. Though she hated to take a life, she wouldn’t hesitate if they leaped on her. Not even her mother’s God would condemn her for defending herself.

  “Come and get me,” she whispered, beckoning a black-haired youth forward. “Come on! Where has your courage gone? Step closer. . . .”

  His face drew taut and drained of color. His gaze shifted to the knife. “You haven’t got the guts to kill me.”

  Indigo swallowed. “We will see.”

  Just as she spoke, something hit her from behind. She glimpsed a blue shirt and realized it was Brandon. She staggered and fell under his weight, nearly losing her grip on the knife. They rolled. He came out on top, pinning her beneath him. Not taking time to think it through, Indigo slashed with the blade, nicking his ear. He roared and jerked to one side. She made a fist in the front of his shirt and shoved the knife against his throat. The instant he felt the cold metal, he froze, his bloodshot eyes widening on hers.

  “Don’t move,” she said. “Don’t even breathe, Brandon.” She saw the others circling. “Tell them to get back if you value your life.”

  Brandon’s larynx bobbed against the sharp edge of the blade. Blood streamed from his torn bottom lip. “You heard her,” he whimpered. “Get back! She really means it!”

  “Of course I mean it,” she whispered. “I’m a savage, remember? A squaw!”

  His body began shaking, a horrible, uncontrollable shaking. Indigo knew the feeling. Only moments ago she had been as terrified. She felt no compassion for him. If he had succeeded in his plan, she would be spread-eagled by now and suffering their abuse.