Free Comanche Heart by Catherine Anderson

walk back into her life and do that to her. It wouldn’t be fair.”
    “Wouldn’t it?” Hunter grew pensive. “If you truly love Amy, I’m not so sure a little force would be a bad thing.”
    “Force, Hunter? That’s never been your way.”
    “No.” Hunter listened to the sounds outside for a moment, as if he wanted to assure himself none of his family had drawn close to his lodge. “Swift, what I’m going to tell you is for you alone. Loretta will burn my dinner for a month if she learns of it.” A twinkle crept into his eyes. “She loves Amy very much, yes? And we don’t always agree on what is best for her. Loretta sees with her woman’s heart, and she shoos away shadows, trying to make Amy’s world one of sunshine.”
    “It seems everyone here loves Amy. I thought her students were going to attack me today.”
    “Yes, very much love, but not the right kind.” Hunter chewed one corner of his mouth, as if he weighed each word before he spoke. “Amy—she is like . . .” His eyes grew distant. “I once met a man in Jacksonville who caught beautiful butterflies. He kept them in cases, under glass. Amy’s like that, living under glass, where nothing can touch her. You understand? She loves her schoolchildren. She loves me and Loretta and our children. Yet she claims no one for herself, so she can make babies of her own.”
    Swift ran his palms over the black denim that skimmed his thighs, then clenched his fingers over his bent knees. “Maybe she doesn’t want babies, Hunter.”
    “Oh, but she does. I have seen the yearning in her eyes. But there is a great fear in her. She has . . .” His voice trailed off. “When she came to us from Texas, she had changed. She no longer has the courage she once had to fight for what she wants.”
    Swift circled that, remembering the dusty, barren farm and Henry Masters, swaying drunkenly in the doorway, a mescal jug dangling from his finger. “Did something more happen to her in Texas? Aside from the comancheros kidnapping her, I mean.”
    Hunter tossed the stick onto the fire. “I don’t think so. Amy has no secrets from us.” He shrugged. “What Santos and his men did to her—that has walked with her, always. Fear’s a strange thing. When we face it, as she did that summer when you befriended her, fear becomes small. But when we run from it, it grows and grows. For a very long time, Amy has been running.”
    Swift considered that, trying to read Hunter’s expressions.
    Hunter met his gaze. “When she first came to Wolf’s Landing, she made dreams about one day, when the Comanche fight for survival finally ended and you would come for her. They were very good dreams, and dreaming them was safe. You understand? You were her great love, but always for someday, never for today. She held herself away from others because she was promised to you. As the years went by and the dreams turned to dust, she filled her life with other things. My family. Her students.” Affection warmed his voice. “She’s a beautiful woman. There are many men who would marry with her and give her children, but she stays under the glass, where no one can touch her.”
    “More than twenty men raped her.” The words came hard, catching behind Swift’s larynx. “The hell they put her through would have destroyed most women. Amy was just a child. I guess if anyone has a right to live under glass, it’s her.”
    “Yes, she has that right if you grant it to her and ride out tomorrow.” Hunter arched a challenging eyebrow. “But is she happy? Being safe can also be very lonely.”
    Swift glanced away. “What are you saying, Hunter? I hate it when you talk around things. I remember when I was a kid, I always felt like I was on hot coals when you lectured me.”
    “The reason I talk around is so you will think through,” Hunter replied with a grin. “I learned it from a very wise man.”
    “Your father.” Swift laughed softly and then, on a sigh, whispered, “Many Horses . .