Free Comanche Dawn by Mike Blakely Page A

surprised the girls even more than Slope Child’s suggestion, and seemed to embarrass and please Teal all at once that Shadow should consider her worthy of ten horses.
    â€œForget about Teal,” Slope Child said. “You may mount me in your lodge for less than the price of the whole rabbit. I only want the fur.”
    The girls of the Burnt Meat People gasped in disbelief. Never had they heard a girl, or even a full-grown woman, speak so freely. All of them—boys and girls—knew of the sensual pleasures, for the nights were often quiet and the hide walls of the lodges were always thin. But among the Burnt Meat People there had always existed a certain reserve regarding intimate matters.
    â€œBesides,” Slope Child continued, “no warrior has ever owned ten horses.”
    â€œTeal’s father shall,” Shadow replied. “I shall own a hundred!”
    The children of the Corn People laughed at this reckless boast, but Whip and the three Burnt Meat People girls only smiled.
    â€œCome on, my friends,” Shadow said. “Whip’s elder sister is going to cook this rabbit for us.”
    â€œKeep the fur!” Slope Child said, as the boys broke away from the five girls.
    As he left, Shadow heard one of the Burnt Meat girls say, “Shadow is the one. First Horse circled his birth lodge.”
    Trotter came to his side as they ran. “Do you have your own lodge yet, Shadow?”
    â€œYes. My mother built it for me before last winter. She said I was getting too old and hairy to sleep in the same lodge with my younger sister.”
    â€œIt is good. Now Slope Child will come to your lodge in the dark. I will tell her where your lodge is if you will show me. She is a good teacher, my friend.”
    Shadow grinned. “I will leave the entrance uncovered for her. I know how it is done, but I have never done it. I will lie with Slope Child if she comes to my lodge, but it is Teal that I want as my wife.”
    Trotter laughed, but Whip said, “Shadow will have her! His words are like a circle and always come around!”
    When they reached the far edge of the village, where Whip’s elder sister had raised her lodge, Whip tossed the dead rabbit at her feet. “Shadow, tell my sister to roast this rabbit over the fire,” he said, as boldly as a war chief bringing home a scalp.
    She looked up from the rack she was building of willow limbs and rawhide to stretch and dry a beaver skin. Her face revealed her lack of enthusiasm for serving her younger brother.
    â€œTell my brother to skin it,” she said to Shadow.
    â€œShe will skin it herself!” Whip insisted.
    His sister scowled. “My brother must build the fire while I skin it. I do not have time to do everything.”
    Whip threw his chest forward. “She will skin it and build the fire. We will catch and ride some horses while she cooks our kill for us.”
    Whip’s sister jerked a knot into the rawhide and snatched the rabbit from the ground. “Is my brother too lazy to drive a stick into the ground to roast the rabbit over the fire?”
    Whip marched to the sticks piled near his sister’s lodge and rifled through them, testing each one for toughness and flexibility. “Here is a good one,” he announced, shaking the stick in the air.
    Suddenly, he ran at his sister, striking her across the shoulders and back with the stick, hitting her again and again until she dropped the rabbit and fell to her knees. “My sister will drive it into the ground herself!” he said, throwing the stick down beside her.
    The boys turned away to catch the horses they wanted to ride.
    â€œNow your sister will roast the rabbit well,” Trotter said. “You have prepared her to make a good wife for some warrior, and she is very pretty as well.”
    They walked several steps in silence.
    â€œYou could have struck her just once,” Shadow said, “and she would have