Comanche Vow. Sheri WhiteFeather

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ thing, convince himself that Grant had been in shock and didn’t know what he was saying.

      But deep in his heart he knew that wasn’t true. Hadn’t they talked about it when they were kids? He could still hear their voices, two sixth-grade boys discussing their heritage, a year after their mother had left.

      “All that old Comanche stuff is weird,” Grant had said.

      “No, it’s not. I think it’s kinda cool that a man got to have more than one wife.”

      “You would, Nicky. You’re a pervert.”

      They both laughed. Nick had already kissed a girl. Not a wet kiss, but a lip lock just the same.

      “I wish we could have lived back then,” he said, picturing his ancestors riding across the plains. “We would have been awesome warriors.”

      Grant rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I can see it now. You’d die in battle, and I’d end up having to marry all your wives and raise all your goofy kids.”

      Nick frowned. “I’d do that for you.“

      “Really?“

      “Yeah.“

      “Okay, but my kids aren’t gonna be goofy,” Grant said, punching his twin’s shoulder. “My kids are gonna be cool.”

      Nick punched him back, and they laughed again, brothers who loved each other more than anything.

      The memory faded, and Nick swallowed the lump in his throat.

      He knocked on Lexie’s door, waited a beat and heard a muffled, groggy-sounding “It’s okay, Mom. I’m awake.”

      “I’m not your mom. It’s Uncle Nick. Can I come in?”

      “Yes.”

      She was sitting up in bed, the blanket bunched around her hips. Her sweats were a standard shade of gray, and her sleepy eyes were the shape of her mother’s and the color of her father’s. Lexie Bluestone was a youthful combination of Elaina and Grant. Her size was a bit puzzling, though, considering how tall her parents were.

      Maybe Elaina had been a late bloomer. Nick didn’t know much about his future wife.

      His possible future wife, he amended. She might not agree to marry him. Asking a white woman to adhere to an old Comanche practice was asking a lot.

      “Morning, Lexie,” Nick said, his heart hammering in his chest.

      “Hi.” She reached for a pillow and hugged it.

      She looked like a lost soul, a little girl with big, sad eyes. I’m sorry, he thought. So sorry I took your father away.

      Nick moved forward, then sat on the edge of the bed. “I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes.”

      “About what?“

      “Your dad.”

      Lexie’s eyes got bigger, and he realized he’d caught her off guard. Smooth move, Bluestone. Just sock her in the gut with it. “There’s just something I wanted to tell you.”

      She hugged the pillow a little tighter. “About my dad?”

      Nick nodded. “About the night he died.“

      “You were there,” she said, her hair falling across her face in a sleek black line. “You were with him.”

      “Your dad talked to me before he died.” Although Nick wanted to brush the hair from her cheek, he kept his hands clasped in his lap. “Some of his last words were about you.”

      Lexie didn’t respond. She just watched him with those luminous eyes.

      “He asked me to look after you. And to teach you about being Comanche.”

      She blinked, and he saw a shimmer of tears. “Is that what you’re going to do?” she asked.

      “Yes, I am. Is that okay with you?”

      When she nodded, her chin bumped the pillow. “I guess so. I mean, if that’s what my dad wanted.”

      They both fell silent. The room was still dim, vertical blinds shutting out the morning light. Nick remembered holding Lexie at her christening, a tiny babe draped in white lace. Grant had been so proud.

      “Uncle Nick?“

      “Yes?” He met her watery gaze, wishing he knew how to comfort her.

      “Did you like being a twin?

      He pictured his brother’s face. “Sure. I liked it a lot. Your dad was my best friend. Sometimes we could read each other’s minds. Or we’d say the same thing at the same time.”

      “You look so much like him. Even your voices sound alike. But your hair used to be longer than his, so I guess nobody ever mixed you up.”

      “We both had long hair when we were kids.” He smiled a little, enjoying the memory. “So you see, people confused us all the time. Especially our teachers. Of course, we drove them crazy on purpose. Twins get to play all kinds of games in school.”

      Lexie drew her knees up, a child keen with interest. “What about your mom? Could she tell you apart?”

      “Yeah, she knew who was who.” And she’d left both of them behind. “Did your dad mention her?”

      Lexie nodded. “He said that the man she was going to marry was a jerk, so you guys stayed with your grandma instead of going with your mom when she moved.”

      Nick glanced up at the ceiling. That wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was a hell of a lot better than saying their mom had abandoned them. “Our grandma was a great lady.”

      “Do you have any pictures of her?” she asked, scooting forward a little.

      “Sure. I’ve got a box of old photos. There’s some of your dad and me when we were kids, too.”

      Her eyes were still watery, but she smiled. “Can we look through them later?”

      “You bet.” Nick knew Grant had left home without any childhood mementos, so Nick had saved pictures and report cards and scraps of paper with adolescent notes scribbled on them. Just in case, he’d always told himself. Just in case Grant stopped being ashamed of who they were and where they’d come from.

      Lexie lowered her head. “I wish people didn’t have to die. I miss Daddy so much.”

      “I know, baby. Me, too.”

      She looked up, her voice quavering. “Do you ever think about the boys who killed him?”

      A blast of pain exploded in Nick’s chest. When the bullet had struck Grant, he’d fallen, too. He’d dropped to his knees to cradle his twin. “Sometimes.”

      “Do you still remember what they look like?”

СКАЧАТЬ