““Six days later, two full days after her food supplies had run out, Loretta rode onto the plateau that overlooked Hunter’s village. She reined Friend to a halt and stared down at the river valley. She had come so far and been through so much, spending all her time praying she would get here in time to save Amy, that she hadn’t spared a thought for the danger she would face upon arrival. Comanches. Hundreds of them. A white woman who rode down there would have to be insane. This time she didn’t have Hunter to protect her. Friend nickered and sniffed her foot. Loretta knew he sensed her fear. “What if one of them kills me?” she whispered. The horse snorted and nudged her. “It’s easy for you! They won’t hurt you!” The horse sidestepped and blew. “Oh, Friend, you don’t understand. You can’t.” Three Hail Mary’s later, Loretta and Friend were still on the plateau, silhouetted against the sky. She began a fourth prayer, scarcely hearing the words, her eyes scanning the cluster of lodges below. Please, God. Perhaps Hunter would see her and come out to meet her.””
