‘‘We’re runnin’ off, ain’t we?’’ Amy cried. ‘‘All because of that nasty Red Buffalo. Swift Antelope told me what happened. You can’t go blamin’ Hunter for what his no-account cousin did!’’
Loretta, her nerves strung as taut as a fiddle string, whirled and cried, ‘‘Not just because of Red Buffalo. My God, Amy, don’t you realize what all this means? Men from this village killed my ma and pa! There must have been thirty warriors there that day! And we’re living amongst them, making friends with them. Merciful heaven, I can’t stand to stay here another minute.’’
Amy clamped her arms around her waist and jutted her chin. ‘‘I ain’t leavin’ without I talk to Swift Antelope first.’’
‘‘You’ll do no such thing.’’
‘‘I got no choice. Me and him made promises. I can’t leave without I tell him why and where I’m goin’. When he finds me gone, he’ll be mad as hops.’’
‘‘You’ll do what I say, when I say, young lady. What kind of promises?’’
‘‘Marryin’ promises, and I ain’t budgin’ ’til I talk to him.’’
Loretta’s stomach flipped and felt as if it dropped to her knees. ‘‘Amy, have you lost your mind? You’re only twelve!’’
‘‘Old enough!’’ The moonlight shone on Amy’s face, revealing her anguish. ‘‘What’s waiting for me at home, Loretta? Shame, that’s what, for somethin’ that ain’t even my fault. I’m ruint! Here with Swift Antelope’s people, things like that don’t matter. Hunter reclaimed my honor, and it’s over. Swift Antelope loves me, and I love him. He’s the best friend I ever had!’’
‘‘He’s a Comanche, that’s what he is. And you’ll marry him over my dead body!’’ Fear clutched Loretta. Amy had already suffered so much. Loving Swift Antelope would just bring her more heartache. She was too young to realize that now, but one day she’d thank her lucky stars Loretta had taken her away from here. ‘‘One disastrous marriage in this family is aplenty. As for you being ruined, that’s plumb silly. Do you feel ruined?’’
‘‘No! But only because the people here don’t make me feel ruint! It’s different at home. Ladies’ll whisper behind my back. They won’t wanna sit by me at prayer meetin’! I’ll be shunned, and you know it.’’
‘‘Then we’ll move, just you and me, to Galveston, maybe, where no one knows us. Nothing’s to say we have to stay here.’’
With that, Loretta shoved the satchel at Amy and grabbed her arm, jerking her along behind her as she made a beeline for the horse meadow.
‘‘You’re plumb addled, stealin’ off like this from a Comanche husband. Don’t you got an inklin’ of what he’ll do when he catches you?’’
‘‘Beat me senseless, I reckon, which is why I’m not planning to get caught.’’
‘‘He’ll beat you all right, in front of the whole village. Your leavin’ is a dishonor to him. Why, he’s liable to be so mad he’ll hack your nose off! It ain’t like he’s white folk, Loretta Jane. You don’t go leavin’ a Comanche! Hunter’ll be so mad, he’ll chew rawhide clean in two.’’
‘‘Shut up, Amelia Rose, before I paddle your hiney good.’’
‘‘You ain’t big enough by half!’’
‘‘Wanna bet?’’ Loretta challenged in a shaky voice.
Amy gasped. ‘‘You’re scared, ain’t you?’’
‘‘Spitless.’’
‘‘Then why leave him?’’
‘‘Because I have to. I have to. Now get walkin’. I’m the oldest. I know better than you what’s best.’’
Amy did as she was told, albeit reluctantly, describing with every step the dire fate that was in store for Loretta when Hunter caught her.
‘‘He won’t cut off my nose!’’
‘‘Will so!’’
‘‘Will not!’’ Loretta leaped across the wash and turned to help her cousin. ‘‘Now stop with trying to scare me.’’
‘‘You’d best be scared. He’s a Comanche, Loretta! When a Comanche woman shames her man, there’s certain things he’s expected to do. He has to, to save face.’’
‘‘Praise the Lord I’m not a Comanche woman, then, hm?’’ Loretta nudged Amy into a walk, falling in behind her.
‘‘Loretta Jane, we ain’t fixin’ to steal their horses, are we?’’
‘‘You wanna walk?’’
‘‘Hunter’s gonna flay us alive.’’ When Loretta merely trudged along in grim silence, Amy stepped closer. ‘‘Ah, Loretta . . . it wasn’t Hunter who did it. Surely you can’t believe he was there.’’
Loretta pressed the back of her wrist to her clammy forehead. ‘‘I don’t know for sure that he wasn’t. Never will. I’m not sure even Hunter knows.’’ She met her younger cousin’s gaze. ‘‘Can you say for sure, Amy? Can you?’’
Amy turned slightly, gazing at the river. Loretta felt certain the girl was thinking of Swift Antelope and all the hours she had spent with him down there. A breeze picked up, whispering in the cottonwoods. ‘‘No, I can’t say for sure. He might’ve been. Red Buffalo is his cousin. Like you to me. They were bound to do stuff together. I reckon Hunter might’ve been there.’’
‘‘If it had been your ma and pa, and you found out Swift Antelope might’ve taken part in their murders, would you stay here? Answer me true.’’
Amy squeezed her eyes closed, trembling. ‘‘No, I couldn’t stay. I’m sorry, Loretta. I shouldn’t have been goin’ on at you like I was.’’
Loretta cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder. Hunter could wake up at any time, and when he did he’d head directly for the horses. ‘‘Let’s just get. There’ll be time for talking later.’’
Amy struck off, setting a faster pace now that she was convinced they were doing the right thing. When they reached the pasture, Loretta’s heart sank. The shadowy outlines of the horses were impossible to identify. Where was Friend?
She called his name. An answering whinny led her off to the left.
‘‘There’s a black one!’’ Amy cried.
Loretta stood on tiptoe to see. By the way the horse watched her, she knew it was Friend. She eased her way through the milling animals to seize his line. After taking a moment to greet him the way Hunter had taught her, she pulled his stake and led him to the outer edge of the herd. Turning back, she picked a sleek gray for Amy. His left ear was notched, which meant he was gentled.
After tying the food pouches to the drawstring at her waist, Loretta mounted up, instructing Amy to do the same. Then she sat back on Friend and contemplated the herd of horses.
‘‘We’ve got to scatter them,’’ Loretta said.
‘‘We gotta what? There’s hundreds of ’em!’’
‘‘If Hunter can just run out here and mount up, he’ll be on us like flies on honey before we’ve gone a mile.’’ An image of Hunter’s muscular body moving in harmony with his horse assailed her. ‘‘You know how he can ride!’’
‘‘But we could end up trampled!’’
Or caught red-handed. There was no telling how far their voices might travel if they started hollering. There was no help for it, though. Mustering her courage, Loretta shrieked and rode Friend into the herd, waving her arms and slapping horses on their rumps. It took a while, but the animals finally spooked, ripping up their stakes to charge in all directions into the darkness. Loretta and Amy chased after the braver ones who dared to linger. At last, nary a horse remained in sight. Loretta hoped they ran a goodly distance. It wasn’t much, but at least it might slow Hunter down.
Amy rode abreast of Loretta, looking back toward the village. ‘‘I sure hope they couldn’t hear us hollerin’. Every Injun in that village is gonna be hoppin’ mad when they find those horses scattered.’’
The words conjured a picture of Hunter in a rage. Loretta seized Friend’s mane. ‘‘Come on. Let’s ride. We have to get a head start.’’
The journey home proved a lot easier than Loretta’s first trip had been. This time she had a better idea of how to find water, so she wasn’t slow
ed down by scouting expeditions for water holes. The first day out, she and Amy kept one eye on the horizon behind them, terrified that Comanches would appear. The second day, both of them relaxed a little. By the third, Amy was convinced Hunter wasn’t going to follow them.
‘‘He must figger it’s good riddance,’’ Amy mused. ‘‘They can cover twice the distance we can in a day. What else could’ve took him so long?’’
Loretta had no illusions. Hunter would follow her— to the ends of the earth if he had to. ‘‘Maybe it’s Providence. Just thank God he hasn’t caught up to us.’’
‘‘If he said he’d kill anyone who helped you, where we gonna go?’’
Amy had asked this question a dozen times. ‘‘Fort Belknap. The border patrol is headquartered there. Even Hunter can’t take on a fort.’’
‘‘And what if there ain’t no border patrol there? What if they’re off ridin’ the ninety-eighth meridian?’’
‘‘Then we’re in trouble. We’ll have to go home, gather some supplies, and ride out.’’
‘‘For where?’’
‘‘Anywhere—until we find someplace safe. Maybe Jacksboro. Maybe another fort. I need a map, that’s what.’’
Amy contemplated the endless expanse of flatland ahead of them. ‘‘A map? Loretta Jane, I got me this deep-down feelin’ that we’ve bit off a hunk too big to chew.’’
‘‘We’re fine. Trust me. I rode to Hunter’s village, didn’t I?’’
‘‘With directions from Hunter!’’
‘‘Well, from now on I have to follow my nose.’’
‘‘Enjoy it while you still have one.’’
Loretta rolled her eyes. ‘‘Could you try being a little optimistic? We’ll make it fine. I know we will.’’
Despite her words, a lump of dread rose in Loretta’s throat. She prayed she was right.
Hunter’s mother stood over him, wringing her hands, while he gathered his gear to ride out.
‘‘My tua, your anger burns too hot. I fear for your woman when you find her.’’
His body tense, Hunter strode past his mother to his horse. ‘‘She has dishonored me.’’
‘‘She does not know our ways. Is it a dishonor amongst her people to leave her husband?’’
Hunter slung his bags over his stallion’s back, securing them to the surcingle. ‘‘It is a dishonor here.’’
‘‘Hunter, won’t you stop and talk with me?’’
‘‘No. You talk woman-talk. Why is my father not here? I will tell you why. He knows she scattered the horses of every man in the village, leaving us defenseless against an attack. He knows she left without permission. He knows she has dishonored me! He sits in his lodge and says it is sure enough a good thing if I find her and beat her.’’
‘‘He sits in his lodge because he has old knees that ache. Go and talk with him.’’
‘‘I have no time. I must ride hard to catch my woman.’’ Hunter tried to walk inside his lodge, but his mother barred the way. He sighed and planted his hands on his hips. ‘‘Pia, you test my patience. I am weary, eh? And very angry.’’
‘‘The horses have all been found. No harm was done.’’
‘‘It took us two days to gather them! On foot! I will never hear the last of it! You call that no harm? Whatever punishment I choose, my woman deserves it, and more. Name me one woman you know who has run away from her husband. Just one, pia, and I will cool my anger.’’
Woman with Many Robes shook her head. ‘‘Comanche women are different. Your Loh-rhett-ah has cause to be upset. And cause to run. You understand that. While you’re riding to catch up with her, you think long on my words. If you learned that the man at her wooden walls had raped your pregnant wife, could you live with him?’’
Hunter shouldered his way into the lodge, making no reply.
‘‘Look into me, Hunter. I demand an answer! For love of Loh-rhett-ah, could you live with your dead wife’s killers?’’
‘‘Enough!’’ Hunter swept his mother out of his way, too confused by his own emotions to notice that she stumbled. ‘‘Go to your husband, old woman. Nettle him with your tongue!’’
Three days later Amy’s worst fears were realized: there were no troops at Fort Belknap. Loretta knew that the families there would be put in jeopardy if she and Amy sought shelter with them. Her conscience wouldn’t let her stay. She and Amy had no choice but to go home.
The Steinbachs, a couple who lived within the stockade, invited the two girls to share in a big Sunday lunch before they left. Despite ravenous hunger, Loretta declined. ‘‘We’d best move on. Just in case they’re coming up behind us. Please don’t worry. We’ll be all right,’’ she assured them as she and Amy mounted up. She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. Mr. Steinbach struck her as the heroic type. There were a good six hours of hard riding ahead of them, and Loretta was anxious to get started. She sensed Hunter was drawing closer, and the feeling panicked her. ‘‘Good-bye, Mr. Steinbach.’’
Loretta glanced toward the dusty yard, where the little Steinbach boys played kerchief tag. She couldn’t put their lives at risk.
The farm looked strangely deserted when Loretta and Amy crested the rise. The girls reined in their horses and stared at the house. Despite the dry spell, the corn field thrived. Loretta could see one of the pigs rutting in the pen. Things appeared normal, except that it was nigh onto dusk and cooking smoke should have been trailing from the catted chimney.
‘‘That’s right, it’s Sunday. Mrs. Steinbach said,’’ Amy cried. ‘‘Maybe Ma and Pa went over to the Bartletts’ for prayer service. I don’t see the buckboard.’’
Loretta nodded. Sunday. The word hung in the air, foreign after so long a stay in Comancheria. Saturday night baths. Wearing her Sunday best. Spending the afternoon reading from the Bible. All that seemed like a century ago. She straightened her shoulders, so weary she wanted to drop. She knew Amy was every bit as tired. ‘‘Maybe it’s just as well they’re gone.’’ She cast a derisive glance at Amy’s Indian garb. ‘‘If Aunt Rachel sees you dressed like that, she’s going to have fits.’’
Amy looked down at her moccasins, still wet from fording the river. ‘‘I like dressin’ like this. It’s a sight better than bein’ trussed up and stiflin’ in the heat.’’
Loretta kicked Friend forward, leaning back to equalize her weight as he went down the slight slope. It felt odd riding through the gate dressed like a Comanche. After rein-tying Friend to the porch post, Loretta climbed the sagging steps and crossed the porch to the door. Lifting the outer latch, she pushed inside. The smell of freshly baked cornbread wafted to her, further proof that today had been prayer meeting. Aunt Rachel didn’t bake on the Sabbath otherwise. Amy shouldered her way past Loretta and made a beeline for the pan on the hearth.
Scooping out a chunk of bread with her fingers, she took an unladylike bite and turned, grinning around the bulge in her cheek. ‘‘Lands, this tastes good! I’m so tired of jerked meat and nuts, I could urp. Want some?’’
‘‘Later. We can’t tarry. Let’s gather food and light out.’’
‘‘Without seein’ Ma?’’
‘‘There isn’t time.’’
‘‘I’m not leavin’ until I see my ma. It’s not me Hunter’s after!’’
‘‘He’ll snatch you back all the same! He has crazy ideas about family when he marries up with a body. The way he figures, you belong to him now. He doesn’t think Uncle Henry watches after you proper.’’
‘‘He reckons right. Pa don’t watch after nobody but Pa.’’
Loretta took a rifle down from the rack and fished in the nearby cupboard for cartridges. ‘‘Pack that bread to take along, Amy. Then go out to the cool-room and grab anything you see—jerked meat, corn meal, dried fruit. Hurry now! If we drag our heels, Hunter could show up.’’
Less than an hour later the girls were nearly ready to leave. Amy had just gone out to saddle her horse, and Loretta was about to join her, when Amy burst back insi
de the house, slamming the door behind her.
‘‘Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat, Hunter’s here!’’
Loretta’s heart leaped. ‘‘Oh, God, drop the bar, Amy!’’
Loretta grabbed the bed and slid it away from the trap. Amy came running to help, her small face pinched with terror.
‘‘Did they see you?’’ Loretta cried.
‘‘I don’t think so. But our horses are out front! They’ll know, Loretta Jane! What in blazes are we gonna do?’’
‘‘Hide!’’ Loretta threw the trap wide and shoved Amy down the steps. Grabbing the rifle, she cast a worried glance at the bed to be sure it was sitting straight and the covers weren’t mussed. If the least little thing looked odd, Hunter would notice and know the bed had been moved. Once he made that deduction, it wouldn’t take him long to think of a floor trap. She no longer believed Comanches were stupid, Hunter least of all.
Hurrying after Amy, Loretta reached back to draw the door closed behind her. A damp, musty darkness enveloped her. She groped her way down the remaining steps. Anemic stripes of light coming through the floor cracks fell across Amy’s pale face. The hiding space was tiny, a dugout four feet square, just deep enough for them to stand up. Loretta shoved Amy into one corner and stood in front of her, rifle ready.
The thundering approach of horses filled Loretta’s mind. She felt Amy trembling behind her. Hunter’s voice rang out, barking something in Comanche. The next instant he yelled, ‘‘White Eyes, send me my woman!’’
Loretta jumped. The fury in his voice strung her nerves taut. Silence fell—a long, deafening silence. She imagined Hunter staring at the doeskin coverings on the front windows, the expression on his face as he began to realize no one was there.
Wood creaked. Loretta snapped her head around. Someone had stepped onto the porch. Another board moaned, then another. Her eyeballs burned. Stiff with dread, she waited. A heartbeat later the door crashed open and moccasined feet touched softly on the cabin floor. She could feel Hunter’s nearness in every pore of her skin. Pressing against Amy, she stared at the trap. Please, God, don’t let him see the irregular planks.