““You think this Hunter of yours’ll like me?” Loretta set her trencher aside and gave her aunt a hard hug. “Oh, Aunt Rachel, I love you. It makes me so glad to have your blessing.” Suddenly Rachel stiffened. “Speak of the devil, there he comes.” Joy surged through Loretta. She leaped to her feet and ran toward the gate. Up on the rise she could see horses and riders outlined against the darkening sky. The Comanches reined in, forming a sparse front rank, a few others pulling in behind them. Loretta’s footsteps dragged to a stop. Even at this distance and with poor light, she could see the men wore war paint. Her heart plummeted. Surely Hunter didn’t believe she had willingly left with his people’s murderers? “Go into the house, Aunt Rachel,” Loretta called. “Why? What is it?” “I’m not sure. He comes in anger.” “You come with me, then!” Loretta swallowed an upsurge of fear. One Indian was taller on horseback than all the rest, broader across the shoulders and chest. Hunter. She kept her gaze on him. A month ago she would have fled in panic. She would never run from him again.””
