Free Steal Me Away by Cerise DeLand Page A

inspired all three of them to
exhaustion upon the banks. Fancy began to crave the bawdy sessions when the
water was too cold and her blood too hot to dally without Bull Elk’s body
inside her own—and White Hawk’s commentary. Welcoming her growing enchantment
for her husband’s lovemaking, she also admitted to herself that exhibiting her
naked body to her brother-in-law while in the throes of lust was a sensual
thrill. Her husband was persistent, insatiable and a devoted lover. As a
result, Fancy accepted her capture more each day. She did not count on—or hope
for—a posse of Texas Rangers and ranchers finding her and taking her from the
Antelope tribe.
    She knew all too well from tales of other women who had
lived among the Comanche and returned to their families that for her to go back
and live among the Anglos would not be easy. They would conclude that she had
been raped—and was soiled goods. Or that she had accepted the Comanche as her
mate and her equal and for this, her people would also shun her. Although their
actions would be unjust, she understood their views. Better to accept her lot
here with Bull Elk where she could count on his protection of her than to run
from him. Her existence here seemed safe as long as Bull Elk cared for her and
protected her. If that ever changed, she would find a way to escape the tribe.
But she doubted she would return home. She might be an Anglo here, but going
home meant she would live forever as an outcast.
    By the forth day of her life among the Indians, Fancy had
physically recovered from her long ride. Her ankle was stronger and she could
stand more steadily. Her ribs were no longer sore from the wild ride away from
Bravado. And as she grew stronger, her curious mind grew bored.
    Dressing in her new buckskin dress, Fancy walked out of
their tent that morning and found Willow Talks speaking with Bull Elk by a low
fire.
    “Good morning,” she said to them both and peered into a pot
hanging from a spit. “Is this breakfast?”
    Willow Talks nodded. “Deer and corn soup.”
    Fancy fought mightily to keep a straight face. In truth, the
concoction smelled terrible. “Is it good?”
    “We think it is,” her husband told her. “Give her a bowl,
Willow Talks.”
    Fancy took the earthenware bowl from her sister-in-law and
did not inhale the aroma as she ate. The meat was tough. The corn savory. The
broth greasy. “Can I help you cook?”
    “If you wish,” Bull Elk said, “and if Willow Talks will
permit it.”
    “Why? Is it forbidden for a wife to cook?”
    Willow Talks shook her head. “No. But it is my duty to you
and my brother. Would you like to help me?”
    “I would.” Please let me, or I may die of starvation. I can no longer eat this steady diet of roasted deer and buffalo. I hunger
for potatoes and carrots, corn or nuts. “I am a good cook and did it for my
family often. I would like to gather berries and nuts too. May I?” she asked
her husband. “Please?”
    “You need your own food, do you?”
    The Comanche were hunters and gatherers and she had grown up
on wheat and rice and beans. Fancy had seen none of that in the past few days
and she had begun to feel ill, eating such a steady ration of meat. “I do.”
    “Then I will get these things. You must eat to be healthy
and bear my son.” He grinned at her, hugged her close and brought his sister
into the circle of his embrace.
    That day, Fancy and Willow Talks took baskets and searched
the woods for berries. But the live oaks and cedar trees north of Bravado did
not offer enough cover for the blackberry bushes to grow tall or the fruit to
grow ripe. Disappointed, Fancy returned to camp. Instead, she took heart in
showing Willow Talks how to skim fat from her deer stew and mix in wild
rosemary needles to give the broth a less gamey flavor.
    The next morning when Bull Elk rose from their cot, she
caught him back with a hand to his nape and a smoldering kiss on his lips. He
had loved her well and