This Loving Land (15 page)

Summer felt a tremendous amount of guilt. Her agony of regret was eased somewhat by Slater when he came. After hearing her tell the story over and over, he finally convinced her that she had no way of knowing the outcome of her effort to help the Indian.

“I blame myself, sweetheart, for not having a man down here. You’ll not be left alone again.”

Evening came before Pud finally opened his eyes. Jack was sitting beside him.

“Miss Summer . . . ?” he whispered.

“Jist fine. Everybody’s jist fine,” Jack answered, his voice soft, sure.

“Did he . . . hurt her?” he asked anxiously. “Did . . . he?”

“No, boy. She’s fine.

“I ort to of . . . had a gun.”

“Wouldn’t of helped, son. You did good. Real good. Saved Miss Summer.”

“What . . . where is . . . he?”

“Dead. Sadie killed him with that old six-gun they keep for firing a signal.”

“Sadie done . . . good.” “Yup. She shore did.”

Pud’s eyelids fell and the grip of his hands on the covers relaxed. Jack touched his head; it was slightly moist. He leaned back in his chair and breathed a sigh of relief. Now, barring a fever, he believed the kid would be all right.

John Austin was fascinated by the Indian. He had hardly left his side. The man was so weak from starvation and thirst that he hadn’t stirred from where he sat leaning against the house. At first, he drank sparingly and ate very little. The boy couldn’t understand his lack of appetite, and brought more and more food to tempt his new friend.

“His stomach is so shrunk up he can’t take up but a little bit at a time, boy,” Bulldog explained. “If’n he filled it up too fast, he’d throw it up.”

John Austin sat beside the Apache. He studied everything about him, from his moccasins and fringed leggings to the rag wrapped about his head. After a while, he tried to engage him in conversation, but the Indian ignored him. Finally, he got a stick and drew pictures in the dirt. The Indian was interested, and although the expression on his face didn’t change, he watched, and when the boy looked up and smiled, he nodded.

The afternoon passed. The Apache seemed to get his strength back. He stood up several times and flexed his muscles, walked a few steps, but always returned to the spot beside the house and sat down. His pony and the dead man’s horse had been turned into the corral. The dead man’s body was taken out behind the outbuildings and buried.

When evening came, Slater came and sat down, cross-legged, beside the Indian, and talked to him in the Apache tongue.

“I am the one your people call Tall Man.”

The Indian looked at him without a flicker of surprise. “I know of you, Tall Man. I am Bermaga.”

“You are welcome here. Stay until you are strong.” John Austin’s eyes went from one man to the other. Slater was talking Indian-talk! He had to know how to speak like that. His cunning little mind plotted a course. He wouldn’t bother Slater now, but later . . .

“I will stay, then go soon,” Bermaga said in his guttural tone. “My people are in the hills. The white man take our young men, our women. I look for my sister.” The flat black eyes made no change. His face might have been hewn from wood.

“Have many of your people been stolen?”

“Two warriors, one woman, since one moon pass.”

“These men are my enemies. I do not want them on my land. I watch. I guard our women.”

“I do not know how we come here.” He bent his head and spread his hair, showing a clot of blood. “I come on pony.” He touched his stomach with his hand.

Slater nodded his head thoughtfully. “I will tell my people to give you safe passage back into the hills. Stay, my brother, until you are strong, but when you go, I will send gifts of food to your people, and you must take the horse of the man who did this thing to you.”

The Apache’s eyes turned toward the corral and the handsome animal standing beside his pony, then swung back to Slater. He held his gaze and nodded.

“Your woman, the one with eyes like the mountain flowers. I owe her my life.”

“She only wants your friendship and that of your people,” Slater said gravely.

Again the Indian nodded, and looked off into the distant hills.

For over a week, Pud lay in Sadie’s bed. For the first few nights, someone sat beside him. Jack had come to stay in the shed until the bunkhouse could be built, and he and the two women took turns by the bedside. Summer insisted on Sadie and Mary taking her bed, and she took the extra bunk in the loft with John Austin. Both women spoiled and coddled Pud shamelessly. Sadie busied herself making puddings and chicken broth for him, and Summer read to him during her spare moments. The boy loved every minute of it, and Jack vowed he was playing possum, deliberately staying abed.

The fact that Slater assured them a tighter guard had been put around the house raised Sadie’s spirits. That and the fact that the men considered her somewhat of a heroine, applauding her bravery and teasing her about being afraid to get her riled. She went about almost as cheerful as she had before Travis’s visit, and it played on her mind to tell, now, about his threats, but for some reason she held back.

Slater worked hard during the day. His mind was easier about the women, now that Jack, Bulldog or old Raccoon spent their days at the “little place.” At night, no matter how tired he was, he rode over to spend an hour alone with Summer. They would walk down by the cottonwood tree, and as soon as they were out of sight of the house she would go into his arms.

“My God, you are sweet,” he murmured. “You are a thing of beauty, my summertime girl.”

She was filled with love for him, and passion, and when his lips touched hers she drew hungrily on them in return. Strength seemed to ebb from her limbs and her heart careened when he whispered passionately:

“I love you . . . I love you. I would say more convincing words if I knew them. You are my life . . . my soul. . . .”

She did not need to reply. She offered him herself, and although his strength was ten times hers, he handled her gently, stroking and kissing her until she felt half-unconscious.

In the weeks that followed, when they felt they would burst with the terrible pressure of wanting each other, they would hide away and come together in the final act of love. Each time, it was as if they died just a little and were reborn together. Summer was wildly excited about the love she shared with Slater, but yet, at the same time, a new peace was born within her. She had given Slater her love unashamedly from the depths of her heart, and now life without him would be intolerable.

It didn’t take long for the days to roll into weeks. The Fourth of July came and went without a celebration, due to Pud’s slow recovery and the men working sixteen hours a day.

It was the first part of August, a hot afternoon, when Jack rode in to tell the girls that a troop of soldiers had come into the valley and were on their way to the ranch.

Sadie and Summer were in the midst of grinding corn. It had been through the grinder once, but needed to go through once again to be right for bread. Corn-grinding was one of their hardest jobs, and they both wanted to get finished with it. The cornmill was fixed to a post under a shade tree and had two cranks on it. The mill would hold about a peck of corn, and during the grinding the air was full of chaff that stuck to their damp skin. They were not in the mood to greet visitors and told Jack so.

Summer looked down at her arms covered with the fine corn powder.

“They’re not coming here?” Her voice was almost a wail of despair.

“Not fer a spell anyhow.” Jack’s face broke into a grin at their sudden panic.

“Jack, you are the beatenest man I ever did see!” Sadie scolded. “Why in the world didn’t you come and let us know sooner?”

“ ’Cause I didn’t know sooner, that’s why.” He threw his leg over the saddlehorn and watched with amused eyes. “But don’t get in no twitch. They’ll bivouac down thar a ways, but I ’spect the captain and Jesse will come to supper if’n they have an invite.”

“Jesse?” The name came from Sadie unexpectedly.

Jack’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment he looked steadily down at the white face until her lips tightened and she tossed her head in irritation.

“Jesse Thurston is with the army.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so, ’stead of sittin’ there like a wart on a hog’s ass?” Her green eyes met his squarely without flinching.

During the past weeks, Sadie had become more withdrawn. She was increasingly irritable with Mary, and at times unreasonable. The child was not allowed to play in the yard unless Sadie herself was with her, and her eyes constantly roamed the hills. Summer put it down to reaction and fright after she shot the badman, but it had gone on for weeks now. In the evening, she sat on the porch in brooding silence, staring out over the hills. Once or twice, she had mentioned leaving the ranch when Summer and Slater went to town, but she still worked hard. She was up early in the morning and did her chores and most of Summer’s. Although she was pleasant company, Summer suspected she held back a large part of herself and didn’t share her secret thoughts with anyone. Sadie’s attitude was the one blight on Summer’s happiness.

“More’n likely Slater’ll have Teresa set up a feed,” Jack said. “Ya know, get out all them fancy do-dads. Its ’bout the only time they gets to be used. All you gals will hafta do is get all shined up and come to supper.”

“I ain’t goin’.”

In the silence that followed Sadie’s blunt words, Summer wondered once again at the change in her friend.

“Of course you’ll come, Sadie. Slater will insist on it, and so will I.”

“I ain’t goin’ and that’s that.”

“Why not, may I ask?”

“Course you can ask, Summer. It just ain’t fer the likes of me to be sittin’ down at no fancy supper with no army captain.”

“Well, I never! Sadie Irene Bratcher, you make me so mad! The likes of you, indeed! If that high-up captain doesn’t wish to sit with our friends, he can eat with his men.”

“Ah . . . it’s sweet of you to say such, Summer. But I ain’t got no good dress, and what if’n he’d seen me in the dance hall?” She said the word and tilted her chin to look defiantly at Jack.

“Well, you ladies sort things out. I gotta go find Slater.” Jack touched his hand to the brim of his hat and wheeled his horse around.

Sadie stuck with her decision not to go to dinner at the Keep, although she pressed Summer’s dress and insisted on helping her with her hair.

“Me and the kids will do just fine, Summer. There ain’t no need for old Raccoon to come down. Jack said he wasn’t a goin’ if’n somebody didn’t come to stay, so I says all right, me and old Raccoon will have us a good visit. I know Jack wants to hear all the talk.” She cocked her head, the saucy grin that Summer had seen so seldom lately on her face appeared. “You’re just goin’ to be so pretty, Summer, they ain’t goin’ to be doin’ no talkin’. I reckon Slater’s gonna be proud as punch.”

Basking in her new-found happiness, Summer radiated a beauty that caused Slater, when he came for her, to pause and stare. His hungry eyes devoured her, drinking in her beauty. His laugh was all pride and tenderness.

“I’m not sure I want Captain Slane and Jesse Thurston to see you. They’ll want to steal you away.”

“I’d come right back,” she said simply, and reached to caress his face with her fingertips. The joy of being in love had smoothed the stern lines from his face, and he looked years younger. The men on the Keep were amazed at his even temper and easy camaraderie.

Slater lifted her carefully and set her sideways in the saddle, then sprang up behind her.

“Wait until we get away from those watching eyes on the porch,” he said, with a hint of menace in his voice. “I’m going to kiss you and kiss you.”

“You’ll muss my hair. It took Sadie ever so long to fix it.”

Being careful not to wrinkle her dress or muss her hair, he put his arms around her and turned the horse toward the Keep.

“I don’t understand why Sadie was so obstinate about not coming over.” Slater had become fond of the spunky girl, but her moodiness was getting to be irritating.

“I’m worried about her,” Summer confessed. “Something has happened to make her want to go back to town. She was so happy here, at first. Now, she’s worried and I almost think . . . frightened.”

“Jack admires her.”

Summer’s dark head swung around so she could face him. “You mean he’s in love with her?” Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. “How do you know?”

“I didn’t say, ‘in love with her.’ I said ‘admires her.’ ”

The smile flickered off her face. “Oh, I thought . . .”

“Sweetheart, it’s not for us to worry about. It’s for them to know if they want to be together.” He kissed the side of her neck. “I don’t like having to be so careful not to muss you. You know what I’d really rather be doing.”

She laughed softly and turned to kiss him on the lips.

“Later,” she whispered.

Captain Kenneth Slane and Jesse Thurston were waiting on the porch with Jack and Bulldog. Slater led Summer forward with a possessive arm about her narrow waist.

“This is Miss Summer Kuykendall, soon to be my wife,” he announced. “Captain Slane from Fort Croghan, and you’ve met Jesse.”

The captain’s eyes brightened in appreciation and he clicked his heels together and gave her his most formal bow over the hand she extended.

“I must congratulate you, Slater.” His eyes drank in the perfect features; the nose, straight and finely boned, the dark brows arched away from eyes that were clear and violet against the thick fringe of jet-black lashes. They stared back at him, vaguely smiling. Under his warm gaze, the creamy skin flushed slightly.

Summer held her hand out to Jesse. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Thurston.”

“Nice to see you, ma’am.” The steely-gray eyes looked from her to Slater as he grasped her hand firmly.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll help Teresa with the supper.”

She escaped into the coolness of the house and stood for a moment trying to still her racing pulses. She wasn’t accustomed to being the center of so much male attention. She headed for the kitchen and Teresa. She was fond of the Mexican woman who had lived so many years on the ranch, who had known Slater’s mother and cared for her.