Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Praise for the Romances of New York Times Bestselling Author Catherine Anderson
‘‘Anderson comes up with another winner by deftly blending sweetness and sensuality in a poignantly written story." —Booklist
"Catherine Anderson has a gift for imbuing her characters with dignity, compassion, courage, and strength that inspire readers.’’ —Romantic Times
‘‘A major voice in the romance genre.’’
—Publishers Weekly
‘‘Another winner from Anderson’s compassionate pen.’’ —Library Journal
Morning Light
‘‘Heart-tugger extraordinaire Anderson adds a touch of the paranormal to this poignant and richly rewarding chapter in her Harrigan family series. A subtext to this race-against-time tale is how faith and accepting extraordinary gifts are not mutually exclusive.’’
—Romantic Times
‘‘A terrific read, with all the depth and emotions that readers of romance love . . . not to be missed.’’
—The Romance Readers Connection
Sun Kissed
‘‘This smart, wholesome tale should appeal to any fan of traditional romance.’’ —Publishers Weekly
‘‘Vivid descriptions, realistic family relationships (especially the lively sibling banter), and a dash of suspense make this heartwarming, gently sensual romance a satisfying read.’’ —Library Journal
‘‘Another heartwarming chapter in the Coulter family saga is on tap in the always wonderful Anderson’s newest release. . . . Anderson is at her best when it comes to telling stories that are deeply emotional and heartfelt.’’ —Romantic Times (41⁄2 stars)
Summer Breeze
‘‘Anderson understands the inner workings of the human soul so deeply that she’s able to put intense emotion within a stunning romance in such a way that you’ll believe in miracles. Add to this her beautiful writing style, memorable characters, and a timeless story and you have an unmatched reading adventure.’’
—Romantic Times (41⁄2 stars)
‘‘The kind of book that will snare you so completely, you’ll not want to put it down. It engages the intellect and emotions; it’ll make you care. It will also make you smile . . . a lot. And that’s a guarantee.’’
—Romance Reviews Today
My Sunshine
‘‘Sweet and sensual.’’ —Publishers Weekly
‘‘With the author’s signature nurturing warmth and emotional depth, this beautifully written romance is a richly rewarding experience for any reader."
—Booklist
Blue Skies
‘‘Readers may need to wipe away tears . . . since few will be able to resist the power of this beautifully emotional, wonderfully romantic love story.’’ —Booklist
‘‘A keeper and a very strong contender for Best Contemporary Romance of the Year.’’
—Romance Reviews Today
Bright Eyes
‘‘Offbeat family members and genuine familial love give a special lift to this marvelous story. An Anderson book is a guaranteed great read!’’
—Romantic Times (top pick; 41⁄2 stars)
Only By Your Touch
‘‘Ben Longtree is a marvelous hero whose extraordinary gifts bring a unique and special magic to this warm-hearted novel. No one can tug your heartstrings better than Catherine Anderson.’’
—Romantic Times (top pick; 41⁄2 stars)
Always in My Heart
‘‘Emotionally involving, family centered, and relationship oriented, this story is a rewarding read.’’
—Library Journal
‘‘[A] superbly written contemporary romance, which features just the kind of emotionally nourishing, comfortably compassionate type of love story this author is known for creating.’’ —Booklist
Sweet Nothings
‘‘Pure reading magic.’’ —Booklist
Phantom Waltz
‘‘Anderson departs from traditional romantic stereotypes in this poignant, contemporary tale of a love that transcends all boundaries . . . romantic through and through.’’ —Publishers Weekly
Harrigan Family Novels
Morning Light
Coulter Family Novels
Phantom Waltz
Sweet Nothings
Blue Skies
Bright Eyes
My Sunshine
Summer Breeze
Sun Kissed
Other Signet Books
Always in My Heart
Only By Your Touch
SIGNET
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
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Published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Pen-
guin Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a HarperPaperbacks edition.
First Signet Printing, May 2008
Copyright © Catherine Anderson, 1991
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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eISBN : 978-1-4406-3064-4
Dear readers,
For many years now, I have received letters from you about my out-of-print historical romances. Where might you find them? Why do they cost so much? When will my publisher reprint them? I kept promising you that someday it would happen, but as time wore on, even I began to wonder if it ever would.
Now it finally has! New American Library/Signet recently purchased the rights to the first three of those out-of-print books, and Comanche Moon, originally published in 1991, is the first to be reissued. I am so excited! To all who have waited so patiently for this day to arrive, thank you. To those who are confirmed contemporary fans, please consider taking this journey with me into the past. A great love story transcends time, and I’m confident that Comanche Moon will touch your emotions and linger in your memory.
Comanche Moon was a true labor of love, a book that came straight from my heart. When it was first offered to publishers in the late ’80s, editor after editor rejected it because the story broke so many established rules of the romance genre. I was asked to change the book if I wanted to sell it, but I refused. In many ways, Comanche Moon is a tribute to a wonderful people, the Comanche nation, and after doing four years of research, I couldn’t bring myself to betray them or their culture by altering the story to fit a mold. I believed that readers were more sophisticated than some editors thought, and I was confident they would love the book just as it was, if only they could get an opportunity to read it.
I was right! When Comanche Moon finally made it into print its honesty and uniqueness were eagerly embraced by readers, and I will always feel that this story set the tone for my entire writing career. My readers came to expect books from me that didn’t always follow the conventions, emotionally powerful stories that depict the miracle of true love in trying, real-life situations.
I regret that this book has been so difficult to find for so long. The first print runs were small, and many readers kept their copies because the novel was so well liked, making it even harder for other readers to find. Now, at long last, you will be able to purchase as many copies as you wish.
I hope you enjoy reading Comanche Moon as much as I enjoyed writing it, and that it finds a prominent place on your keeper shelf as one of your all-time favorites.
All the very best,
Catherine Anderson
This book is in memory of the Comanche Nation, a proud, noble, and often misunderstood people whose population was nearly annihilated by the white men who invaded Comanche territories. As I wrote this book, I felt sad that such a wonderful way of life had to end, and I hope that someday humankind will begin to learn from its mistakes—namely that we are all brothers and sisters. With ancestral ties to the Shoshone, the parent tribe of the Comanche, I felt such a great affinity for the ‘‘True People’’ as I wrote this tale. I will never walk through the ponderosa forests of Central Oregon, their seasonal hunting grounds, without hearing their voices whispering to me on the wind, saying, ‘‘Suvate’’; it is finished.
Acknowledgments
Looking back over the years, every writer realizes that certain people played key roles in his or her success. I will be forever grateful to my mother, Eleanora Clark La May Son, who was a writer, gave me my love of words and story, and always believed in me. Following in her footsteps, my husband, Sid, supported me with unflagging enthusiasm as I struggled to become published and then build my career. During that time, my sons, Sidney and John, selflessly endured deadline crunches, never berating me when my work took center stage. To this day, they cheer me on and celebrate my successes with me. Also crucial to my career is my longtime editor, Ellen Edwards, whose support, respect for my writing style, and deft editing have enabled me to consistently produce good books with unique and memorable plots. I also want to thank my agent, Steven Axelrod, who has been my cornerstone. Last, but never least, my wonderful readers have my eternal gratitude, for without them my writing journey never would have begun.
The Prophecy
FROM THE PLACE WHERE THE SUN RISES, there will come to the People a great warrior who will stand tall above his brothers and see far into the great beyond with eyes like the midnight sky. This Comanche shall carry the sign of the wolf upon his shield, yet none shall call him chief. To his people shall come much sadness, and the rivers will run red with the blood of his nation. Mountains of white bones will mark where the mighty buffalo once grazed. In the sky, black smoke will carry away the death cries of helpless women and children. He will make big talk against the White-Eyes and fierce war, but the battles shall stretch before him with no horizon.
When his hatred for the White-Eyes is hot like the summer sun and cold like the winter snow, there will come to him a gentle maiden from tosi tivo land. Though her voice will have been silenced by great sorrow, her eyes shall speak into his of a morning with new beginnings. She will be golden like the new day, with skin as white as the night moon, hair like rippling honey, and eyes like the summer sky. The People will call her the Little Wise One.
The Comanche will raise his blade to slay her, but honor will stay his hand. She will divide his Comanche heart, so his hate that burns hot like the sun will make war with his hate that is cold like the winter snow, and the hate shall melt and flow out of him to some faraway place he cannot find. Just as the dawn streaks the night sky, he will chase the shadows from her heart and return her voice to her.
When this is done, the warrior and his maiden shall walk together to a high place on the night of the Comanche moon. He will stand on the land of the Comanche, she on the land of the tosi tivo. Between them will be a great canyon that runs high with blood. The warrior will reach across the canyon to his maiden, and she will take his hand. Together they will travel a great distance into the west lands, where they will give birth to a new tomorrow and a new nation where the Comanche and the tosi tivo will live as one forever.
Prologue
Texas, August 1859
AS PALE AS FRESH CREAM, A FULL MOON shone against the midnight sky, casting a silver aura across the star-studded blackness. A killing moon, some called it, and tonight that seemed fitting. The screams of dying women and children rang no more, as if, like the wind, they had come to this place only briefly and now were gone.
In the distance a coyote howled, the sound rising in a mournful crescendo, then trailing off into a wail that made Hunter of the Wolf shiver. He knelt alone on the bluff, his indigo eyes fastened on the trampled ground below the promontory. Judging by the swath of hoof marks, the Blue Coats had fled southeast after their attack on his village earlier that day.
He clenched his hands into fists. His wife’s name rang like a litany inside his head, calling out to him for vengeance. Willow by the Stream had been heavy with his child. He wished he could gather his war gear and set out immediately after her killers, but he and the other young men were needed here to tend the injured and bury the dead. Soon, though, he would make war as he never had before. He would hunt down the Blue Coats like the animals they were and return the pain they had wrought a hundredfold.
Hunter was no stranger to grief, but never had he experienced this terrible feeling of emptiness. Even as children he and Willow had been a pair, their laughter ringing across windswept grasslands. No other’s hand had ever felt right in his. No other’s smile had made a glad song within him. He had thought to have her always at his side. And now she was gone, leaving behind a canyon within him as vast as the plains that stretched forever into the horizon. Despite everything he had done to save her, she had lost their child and slowly bled to death in his arms. Her injuries, the result of vicious and repeated rape, had been inside of her where they couldn’t be seen. Up to the last, he had kept hopin
g she would recover.
He could almost feel her spirit leaving him, see her running gracefully across the stepping-stones made of stars into the land of the dead. His gut tightened as he contemplated the path she might take. She had never been good at finding her way, depending always upon him to guide her. He prayed the Great Ones held her hand to show her which direction to go. If she was all alone, she would surely get lost. The thought made unwanted tears well in his eyes.
The night wind had dried her blood on his hands and buckskin breeches. Hunching his broad shoulders, he emitted a keening cry of sorrow that echoed in the air around him. Drawing his knife, he hacked off his mahogany hair close to the scalp. Then he lifted his razor-sharp blade and slashed himself from the outside tip of his right eyebrow to his chin, his sign to all the People that Willow by the Stream would live forever within his heart. His blood stained the blade crimson. He wished it were the blood of a tabeboh, any tabeboh.
A movement to his left caught his attention, and he turned to see his mother approaching, her moccasins touching softly upon the ground as if she trod upon his grief. He made a quick swipe at his cheek, ashamed for her to see his tears.
An apologetic look crossed her face. ‘‘My tua, I know I should not approach you now,’’ whispered Woman with Many Robes, ‘‘but I must talk with you.’’
She came to kneel with him. A tight, suffocating ache centered itself in his throat. Her smell was familiar and dear, reminiscent of his childhood when her gentle hands had soothed all his hurts. He yearned to bury his face in her ample breasts, to cry as only a child could. ‘‘She trusted me to protect her,’’ he whispered raggedly. ‘‘It was my promise to her in the song we sang together. I should never have left her.’’
Woman with Many Robes clucked her tongue, much as she had done years ago when he had come to her as a boy spouting foolish stories. ‘‘You wish to walk backward, tua, and it cannot be. I know it is hard to accept, but your wife has been taken because the song you sang with her was meant to be sung with another.’’