Summer didn’t follow him outside. She couldn’t watch him ride away, not when she might be sending him to his death.
Her throat tight with unshed tears, she buried her face in her hands, her thoughts on the man whose hard mouth she still tasted, whose rough hands she still felt on her body.
They rode fast, dismissing the hazards of the mountain
ous terrain, changing horses frequently to keep them fresh, sleeping little. For a full night and day Fights Bear’s warriors traveled. The rugged mountains eventually eased into dry rolling hills interspersed with flat valleys, which allowed them to increase their speed. It was morning of the following day when they arrived at the camp of the Kwahadi—the Antelope Eaters.
Fights Bear was received by the band leaders with pleasure and respect, for he was well-known as a mighty warrior. The visitors feasted and shared a pipe and were honored at a council meeting afterward. Lance sat beside his brother and, when the time came, allowed Fights Bear to conduct the negotiations. Amelia’s owner was present. His name was Tuhsinah, which meant Hanging from the Belt. Although a fairly young man, he had cruel features, even for a Comanche.
Fights Bear began by offering Tuhsinah thirty horses for Amelia, and then increased the number to fifty—an unheard-of price for a white captive—yet he had no more success than his emissary had. Tuhsinah refused to sell. The white captive could not have meant a great deal to him, but apparently he was intent on being stubborn. Still, no one could force him to give up a captive who had been earned honorably in a raid.
Fights Bear finally abandoned the attempt. His face showed no emotion, but Lance knew his brother was furious at being turned down. Grimly Lance forced back his own anger and bided his time. It would require more than wealth and prestige to win Amelia’s freedom. What was needed was cunning and careful planning.
The Antelope Eaters gave the visitors lodging for the night and allowed their horses to graze with their own herds. Lance placed his gear and bedroll beneath a brush arbor built by the Comanches in summer to avoid the heat of the tepees, and had a brief word with his brother.
“I mean to walk through the village and have a look around,” he said in a low voice.
“You will not attempt anything foolish, brother?”
Lance smiled grimly. “Not without discussing it with you first.”
“It would not do to attract attention to yourself.”
“Haa, I know.”
Heeding Fights Bear’s warning, Lance strolled casually through the camp, unobtrusively searching for any sign of Summer’s sister.
He didn’t expect to find her in very good shape, not after three weeks as a Comanche captive, especially the Antelope Eaters, who were known as the fiercest and most unsociable of all the Comanche bands. He knew the suffering she would have endured; his mother had experienced it firsthand.
Shortly after the raid, Amelia would have been tied to a horse or a mule and subjected to a grueling ride with no food or water, or if speed wasn’t a necessity, bound and forced to run countless miles behind a rapidly moving horse or risk being dragged to her death.
Somewhere along the trail, if pursuit was not imminent, the spoils of the raid would have been divided by the party leader, depending on the coups each warrior had earned. Amelia would have been given to one warrior, most likely the one who had abducted her.
When they finally arrived at camp, however, her real horrors would begin. The first night she would have been raped repeatedly by the warriors of the band and beaten viciously by the women, who often were more cruel than the men. Comanche women took great pleasure in burning their white victims with sticks from the fire and lashing them till the skin bled, doling out the same treatment they themselves expected to receive at the hands of an enemy. If the captive quickly learned obedience, then the punishment would lessen—unless her new master and his wives were the vindictive sort who enjoyed torture for sport.
A half hour later he spotted Amelia lugging water from the stream. His heart clenched at the pitiful sight she made. She was half-clothed, her calico shirt so shredded that her breasts were partially visible, her bare legs and feet lacking the protection of either skirt or leggings or moccasins. It was a typical Comanche method, to humiliate their captives by keeping them nearly naked. Her body was filthy, her dark brown hair lank and greasy, as she struggled with the heavy buffalo paunch. She wasn’t bound in any fashion, though. There was no need. This far from civilization, any attempt at escape would mean certain death.
Without appearing to notice her plight, Lance strode past her toward the stream, as if to drink. He didn’t dare approach her or show undue concern, yet even from a distance he could see the vivid bruises on her face and fresh burns on her thighs. She paid him no heed as they passed. She looked neither right nor left, but stared out from eyes that were dull and lifeless.
He had witnessed worse, but even though he’d never liked Amelia, it hurt him to see her suffer like this. Hold on, he urged silently, clenching his fists in helpless rage. It will be over soon, I swear.
He paid close attention to which tepee she entered, then made friends with an old warrior who sat nearby and initiated a conversation about the band’s plans for the fall buffalo hunt. Finally Lance returned to his temporary lodging to discuss the situation with his brother.
He found Fights Bear lounging beneath the brush arbor, combing his long black locks. “I cannot leave her here,” Lance said in a low voice when he had settled himself beside the Comanche war chief.
For a long moment Fights Bear remained silent. “What are your plans, Kanap-Cheetu?”
“I intend to take her back from Tuhsinah.”
His brother frowned. “It is not done to steal a possession from a member of the People.”
“The circumstances in this case are not clear. The white captive is not only a Comanche possession, but a member of my family. It is my obligation to protect my family.”
“Are you losing your manhood, brother? You do this for the white woman you call Summer.”
“I do it for myself as well as my wife. I could not live with myself if I took the coward’s way out.”
“I do not like this decision you are making.”