Read Comanche Heart for Free Online Page B

Swift, his stance still threatening, his gaze darting from Swift’s hands to his face. “If you’re lying, my father will kill you for touching her.”
    Swift nodded. “I know your father’s temper well. If I were you, I’d sheathe that knife before he gets here, or his anger may be directed at you.”
    Footsteps sounded on the porch just as Indigo returned to Swift’s side with a cup of water. Lifting Amy in the bend of his arm, Swift loosened and removed the black kerchief he wore around his neck. Dipping one corner of the cloth into the cup, he gently bathed her lips. Her nose wrinkled with distaste, and her lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks.
    “Amy,” Swift whispered.
    “What is happening here?” a deep voice boomed from the doorway.
    All the children began to explain at once. Chase drowned them out, crying, “This man came bustin’ in! Scared Aunt Amy into a dead faint! Started undoin’ her dress! He claims he’s Swift Antelope.”
    Swift glanced over his shoulder at the tall, well-muscled man silhouetted in the doorway. Even without the long hair and Comanche leathers, Hunter would have been recognizable by the set of his shoulders. Lifting his gaze, Swift tried to see Hunter’s face, but the sun blinded him. “ Hi, hites, hello, my friend.”
    “Swift.” Hunter stepped slowly across the room, his moccasins touching lightly on the floor, his blue-black gaze filled with disbelief. “Swift, it’s really you.”
    Swift nodded and returned his attention to Amy, watching as her beautiful eyes fluttered open, confused and unfocused. “Can you take her, Hunter? Seeing me—that’s what made her faint.”
    Hunter knelt on the other side of Amy and crooked an arm under her shoulders. “Amy,” he whispered. “Ah, Amy.”
    Swift rocked back on his boot heels, a lump of tenderness rising in his throat as he watched Amy turn toward Hunter to grasp his leather shirt. “Hunter, a comanchero!”
    “No, no, not a comanchero. It is only Swift, eh? Our old friend, come to visit us.”
    As if she sensed his presence behind her, Amy stiffened and threw a horrified look over her shoulder. The impact of her wide, frightened eyes hit Swift like a boulder in the chest. He searched those blue depths for any trace of fondness, of gladness, but found none. She was clearly shocked to see him and more than a little frightened.
    Pain lashed Swift. That Amy, his Amy, should be afraid of him . . . The realization, coupled with the shock of finding her alive, left him feeling unbalanced.
    Hunter turned toward the children, who stood frozen at their desks, attention riveted on the three adults before them. Swift noticed that the little redheaded boy named Peter was shaking. “School is finished, eh?” Hunter told them. “You go home to your mothers. Come back at the regular time in the morning.”
    “Is Miss Amy gonna be all right?” a boy of about twelve asked.
    “Yes,” Hunter assured him. “I am here now. Go on home, Jeremiah.”
    Like compressed springs, all released simultaneously, the students converged on the coatrack, grabbing lunch baskets and coats as they headed out the door. Swift watched them in bemused silence. Indigo paused at the threshold, and flashed him a shy smile, her blue eyes dancing.
    “I’m glad you’ve come, Uncle Swift.” With that, she bounced out the door after Chase.
    Swift gazed after her, reassured because she had addressed him as “Uncle.” Though not related by blood, Swift and Hunter had been brothers in spirit. It warmed Swift’s heart to know that Hunter had spoken frequently of him to his children and raised them to think of him as a family member.
    “The schoolchildren are wary.” Hunter inclined his head at the gun on Swift’s hip. “It’s not often we see gunmen here.”
    “Men here don’t wear guns?”
    Hunter’s firm mouth drew down at the corners. “Guns, yes, but not—” Amy stirred again, and he broke off to help her sit erect. When she passed a