Comanche Moon Read Online Free Page B

firelight in elusive glimmers.
    Desire hit him then, swift and hard, giving a name to the lure that had drawn him closer to her. This woman reminded him of the more pleasant things in life, before harsh reality had intruded, before he’d turned his back on that way of life.
    Hawk’s gaze caught hers again, and he saw the quick widening of her eyes, the lifting of her lashes as she recognized something in his face. It gave him an unsettling feeling.
    Pivoting on his heel, he walked away.

    “She belongs to Spotted Pony. He is the one who reached her first.” White Eagle peered closely at Hawk. “Do you want her, my tua?” Hawk did not answer his father. No answer was necessary. White Eagle knew that he wanted her, and that Spotted Pony would demand a huge ransom or a fight as payment. Neither one mattered to Hawk. He would just as soon do one as the other.
    Plenty of ponies wore his halter, and he would not miss any for a ransom. And if the truth be known, he was restless and in the mood for a good fight.
    He looked toward the center of the camp again. The fires had burned low. Deborah Hamilton had yielded to exhaustion and sat on the ground beside the blonde girl, her head tilted back and her eyes half-closed. She had to be bone-tired, yet she refused to relinquish her vigil. Hawk’s eyes narrowed slightly.
    When he looked at his father, White Eagle’s face was turned toward the captives. There was a stark elegance to the older man’s features, a purity of line and bone that would have been called aristocratic if he were white. A faint smile curved Hawk’s mouth. As a Comanche, White Eagle was called anything by the white man but aristocratic.
    Hawk hadn’t known what to expect from White Eagle ten years before, nor did he really expect anything from him now. There was an unspoken understanding between them that allowed Hawk to travel his own path without question, coming and going from the Comanche camp whenever he pleased.
    Nothing was asked about his life away from the camp in the mountains stretching from Texas into New Mexico; it was as if he didn’t exist once he left Numunuu behind. Numunuu, Comanche for The Comanche People, had given him a vague sense of belonging, after years of aimless wandering.
    Those lonely years made him appreciate the sense of family he had now.
    White Eagle made him welcome. Kwihne tosabitu, White Eagle, had been glad to see his son come home. He never said, but Hawk often wondered if his father disliked seeing him leave to go back to the white man’s world. This time, he’d decided to stay. He would do his best to fit in, to live, raid, even think as one of the People. There was nothing for him in the world he’d left behind, nothing but a sharp sense of failure.
    Each time he joined Numunuu, Hawk stayed longer and longer. That made his young half-sister, Ohayaa, happy. Sunflower was a lovely, shy girl of thirteen, almost old enough to marry, but still too young to have a household of her own. She stayed in her widowed father’s tipi with her maternal grandmother, caring for him and her half-brother.
    Hawk’s attention drifted back to the woman. She was still awake, still watchful, still hiding her fear. He felt a faint stirring of admiration and was surprised by it. He normally felt nothing for the captives brought in. This one was different, and he didn’t know why. It disturbed him. It left him feeling vulnerable, and he didn’t like that.
    Rising to his feet in a swift, lithe motion, Hawk felt White Eagle’s appraising gaze on him as he strode from the camp to the silence of the woods beyond.

Chapter 3

    Morning came in chilly streaks of rose and blue, barely rimming the sky at first, making the tall pines around the village look like dark lace against the growing light: Deborah watched; her back was stiff and aching, her legs numb. She’d slept fitfully. Each small noise had jerked her awake, certain that doom was at hand. No one had bothered with the women,