Comanche Woman (54 page)

Jonas trudged down the hill, his Colt revolver in his hand. When he stood directly across from Long Quiet, he said, “I’m going to shoot you dead—and probably get thanked for it by your neighbors when they find out who you were.”

“What about Bay?” Long Quiet asked.

“It’s too bad about her,” Jonas said. “She would have been a good wife. But you ruined her, breed. She’s not good for much of anything now, except laying herself down under a man who needs a fine-looking woman.”

One moment Jonas was smirking at Long Quiet, the next he was staring at the knife hilt sticking out of his belly.

Jonas laughed incredulously, blood spilling from the corner of his open mouth onto his white shirt. “That’s a pretty good trick. I didn’t even see you throw that knife, breed.”

Jonas dropped to his knees. “. . . didn’t even see . . . that knife . . . coming.”

Long Quiet didn’t wait to see Jonas die. He headed up over the hill and found Jonas’s horse, then rode like he’d never ridden before.

Bay had managed to pull the gag from her mouth, but she hadn’t made much progress with the cloth that bound her hands. Her struggles had only pulled the ties tighter and cut off the circulation to her hands. She realized now that the backache she’d had all night long must have been labor, because the pains she was having now felt too strong to be only the beginning of labor.

When the urge to push came, Bay knew she hadn’t been wrong. This baby was coming whether she was able to help it into the world or not.

“Bay? Are you all right, Bay?”

“I’m . . . fine . . .” Bay panted. “Baby’s . . . coming.”

Long Quiet tried to untie Bay’s hands, but the cloth was cutting into her flesh. “I’m going to get a knife. I’ll be right back.”

While he was in the other room, Bay muttered a blistering round of colorful expressions as she began the painful struggle to push a new life into the world.

Long Quiet came back on the run and cut the ties binding her hands. “What was that I heard in here? I didn’t know you even knew all those words.”

“It hurts . . . you blunderheaded . . . clinch-poop!”

Long Quiet laughed with joy as he chafed her fingers to bring the feeling back into them.

Bay groaned and said, “You’ll have to help the baby out . . . and cut . . . the cord that binds us . . . together. I can’t do it.”

Long Quiet wasn’t sure he could do it, either. This was something entirely outside the realm of a Comanche male. “Tell me what to do,” he said.

“When you see . . . the head . . . support it until the shoulders come owwwwwwwwt!” Bay clawed the linens with fingers that felt on fire and pushed with all her strength to expel the child.

Long Quiet was amazed at the sight of a head full of black hair and did what he was told. The shoulders appeared and then the baby slid out into his hands. He scooped out the film inside the baby’s mouth, and when he was sure it was breathing, laid the child on Bay’s belly.

“Eh-haitsma,”
Bay said, giving the ritual words a Comanche woman would call from within her tipi if she’d borne a son. “It is your close friend.”

“He’s a fine son,” Long Quiet replied. “I thank you for him.” He leaned over to gently kiss Bay’s lips.

Between the explusion of the afterbirth and cutting the umbilical cord, it was a while before they had another moment of peace. Bay knew Comanche customs required the umbilical cord to be hung in a hackberry tree. If the cord remained undisturbed before it rotted, the child would have a long and fortunate life. The afterbirth would be thrown in a running stream, to nullify its power. But Long Quiet said nothing about observing Comanche customs—until he picked up his son again.

“I want you to name him,” he said.

“I’d like to call him Whipp, if that’s all right.”

Long Quiet lifted the child up in the air four times, a little higher each time, and said solemnly, “His name will be Whipp Coburn.” Then he grinned. “That’s only half the naming ceremony, but he’s only a quarter Comanche, so I guess it’ll have to do.”

Bay grinned back at him. “I don’t know what brought you home, but you certainly came at the right time. I was worried about you. Jonas was—”

“You don’t have to worry about Jonas anymore, Bay.”

Bay read Jonas’s fate in Long Quiet’s eyes. “I’m sorry for him. He was quite mad, you know.”

“He was shooting straight enough. Are you up to cutting a bullet out of my leg?”

“What?”

Bay hadn’t even noticed his wound.

“I tied my neck scarf around it to stop the bleeding, but it needs some attention.”

“Is anyone home?” a voice questioned from the front of the house.

“Is that you, Paco?” Long Quiet called. He limped into the front room.

“Sí.”
The Mexican stood with his sombrero in his hands. “That Hombre, he came back for his mares without you. The blood she is on his neck. I came looking for you and found the dead señor. I came here as quickly as I could. Do you need Paco’s help?”

“What we need is a doctor.”

“We?”

Long Quiet grinned proudly. “I have a son.”

Paco reached out to shake Long Quiet’s hand. “Congratulations, señor. And your wife, she is well?”

“Fine. More than fine. She’s great!”

Bay listened to Long Quiet’s effusive praise from the other room. Then she looked down at her son. “Your father is very much in love with your mother. Did you know that?”

CHAPTER 27

T
HE
R
EPUBLIC OF
T
EXAS
1844

B
Y THE
F
OURTH OF
J
ULY
, 1844, B
AY WAS READY FOR A
picnic. Nursing Whipp every three hours had become a ritual she enjoyed because at long last her breasts were no longer sore. The bleeding had finally stopped, and her stomach was flat again—except for a gentle curve that was a legacy of her pregnancy. The whole family had been invited to their ranch, which Long Quiet had named Golden Valley in honor of the palominos he hoped to foster there. Everyone was supposed to meet at the huge live oak where Bay and Long Quiet had spent so many pleasant afternoons with Cruz and Sloan.

Bay made sure she and Long Quiet arrived early with Whipp so she could greet everyone as they arrived. Sloan, Cricket and Creed came first with Rip, who was well enough to ride in a carriage and could even walk short distances with a cane.

“I want to see this new grandson of mine,” Rip blustered as he made his way the short distance to where Bay stood with Whipp in her arms.

“Hmmmph,” he said. “Curly black hair and violet eyes.” He lifted his gaze and met Long Quiet’s with a sardonic smile. “He’s a fine-looking boy, all right. Got his daddy’s hair and his mama’s eyes. Sure enough is going to make the ladies swoon.”

“That’s what I do best,” Luke said, riding up in time to hear the last of Rip’s comment.

“What are you doing here, Summers?” Rip asked. “Don’t you have any Ranger business to keep you busy?”

“Not anymore, unless I can talk someone into sending some Rangers down to Perote to free the prisoners of Mier.” Luke’s voice darkened with bitterness. “It’s Independence Day, but they’re still not free.”

“It won’t be long now till Texas is a state of the Union,” Rip prophesied. “Then Mexico will give up the Mier prisoners in a hurry or face the might of the entire United States.”

Bay and Cricket placed Whipp and Jesse on the blankets that had been laid out near one another and sat down to exchange gossip. Already tiring, Rip allowed Sloan to help him sit in a chair that had been brought along and placed at the edge of the blankets so he could survey his assembled family, like a king holding court. Once Rip was settled, Creed and Long Quiet lay down with their heads in their wives’ laps, and Sloan and Luke sprawled out nearby.

“I wonder how long this tree has been here,” Creed murmured to no one in particular.

“Probably more than a hundred years,” Long Quiet suggested.

“I wonder if someone planted it,” Bay said, “or whether a seed got carried here by a wild animal or a bird.”

“I wonder why it’s never been struck by lightning,” Sloan said.

Everyone laughed. The trilling notes had barely died on the air when Cruz and Cisco arrived.

Sloan whirled to face Bay. “I told you I wasn’t coming if you invited Cruz and Cisco.” She scrambled to her feet, but since she’d come in the carriage with Rip, there was no way she could escape.

The instant Cruz set Cisco down off his horse, the boy ran to Sloan. She scooped her son up in her arms and hugged him tight. Very tight. In a moment she became aware that Cruz had walked up beside her. She turned bleak eyes to him. She swallowed hard, but there was nothing she could say when everyone around could hear.

“How about introducing my grandson to me again?” Rip said, breaking the spell between Sloan and Cruz.

Sloan walked over to Rip and set Cisco down in front of Rip. Cruz formally introduced the little boy. “Francisco, this is your Grandfather Stewart. This is Cisco.”

Cisco reached out a chubby hand that was met by Rip’s huge paw. “It’s good to see you again, Cisco. I haven’t seen you since you were a tiny baby,” Rip said.

“Hello, Grandfather.”

“Call me Paw-Paw. Why don’t you climb up here and see what I have for you in my pocket.” Rip’s ears reddened at the astonished murmurs of his family. When Cruz nodded his approval, Cisco didn’t hesitate to take Rip up on his offer. When the little boy was seated on Rip’s lap, he dipped a hand into Rip’s pocket and came out with a short stick of cherry candy. He came off of Rip’s lap in a shot and ran as quickly as he could toward Cruz, holding the candy aloft.

“Papa! Look what Paw-Paw gave me! Can I eat it?”

Cruz ignored the start of surprise from Rip when Cisco called him Father and told the child, “A little now, then save the rest for later.” He turned and asked Bay, “Will you watch him for a while? I want to talk to Sloan.”

“Certainly,” Bay said.

Cruz took Sloan by the arm and said, “Will you take a walk with me?”

There was nothing Sloan could do without making a scene in front of Rip. She turned and walked toward the rise that would take them out of sight of the gathering.

That turn of events made Rip frown. “What the hell’s going on here that I don’t know about?”

Bay and Long Quiet exchanged glances.

“Nothing that I know of,” Bay said. “I suppose Cruz wants to talk to Sloan about Cisco.” That would probably come up, anyway, so she hadn’t told a lie.

“Hmph!” Rip snorted. “How about somebody fixing me up a plate of food. I’m getting hungry.”

Bay gave a smile of relief that he’d let the subject drop and said, “I’ll get it.”

Sloan walked ahead of Cruz until they were out of sight and then turned to face him. “I told you I didn’t want to see you again.”

“I want you for my wife.”

Determined to discourage him, Sloan demanded, “Why? I could never feel anything for you. Your brother was my lover. He touched me. Every part of me. And every part he touched is frozen now. Why would you want a woman who’s dead inside?”

Cruz touched her arm, and Sloan felt an immediate shiver of response. She jerked away, distressed and frightened by her body’s wayward reaction to this man. “Don’t touch me.”