Shuddering, Summer buried her face in her hands. Seeing this destruction made it harder to believe she would ever see Amelia alive.
She didn’t know how much time passed before Lance returned, didn’t hear his footsteps at all. She only became aware of his presence when he reached up and touched her arm.
Summer started, her gasp of alarm loud in the silence as she stared at the broken shaft of an arrow which he’d found during his search. Raising a hand to her pounding heart, she met his fierce gaze—and wished she hadn’t. His black eyes glittered as he looked up at her. His harshness frightened her, and yet not as much as the reflection that suddenly occurred to her. Lance had lived with the Comanches. Had he participated in such raids as this? Had he killed innocent settlers and their families? Had he butchered women and children and carried them off into captivity?
The thought made Summer recoil in horror, even though she instantly rejected the possibility. Of course he hadn’t partaken in such savagery. Surely not.
Lance noticed her reaction, the uncertain fear in her eyes, and his jaw clenched. He’d seen that look enough countless times before to recognize it—that combination of doubt and apprehension and accusation that whites often showed toward half-breeds.
His gut knotted with renewed wrath. Summer’s fear was probably only natural, instinctive for a lady of her class and upbringing. For sure her suspicion was no worse than most he’d been subjected to. But it galled him more than acid.
He expected such mistrust from well-bred women who didn’t know him. He’d just never thought to see it in his own wife.
“Where are we going?” Summer asked some time later, interrupting the grim silence of their ride.
“Back to town. I’m sending you home on the stage.”
“No,” she said quietly.
His eyes flashed briefly as he turned his head to give her a narrow look. “I’m not giving you a choice.”
“No,” she said again with unwavering determination. “I won’t go home. Not without Amelia. I won’t abandon her.”
His mouth tightened. “You heard Truesdale. You aren’t welcome to stay with them. And I can’t leave you here alone, not with those two jail-buzzards still running loose. I may be gone for weeks.”
Summer shuddered in remembrance. She didn’t want Lance to leave her here alone, either. His own civilized conduct might be questionable, but she would feel far safer with him than remaining here for Yarby and his brother to prey on. “Then take me with you.”
He gave her a look of scorn. “Like hell.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. The answer’s no.”
She hesitated, regarding him with a troubled expression. “Why not?”
“That’s a fool question if I ever heard one. Because I couldn’t guarantee you’d come out alive, that’s why. I might not be able to protect you if we ran into trouble. You might even wind up in worse shape than your sister.”
“I don’t think so. You would protect me. And even so, I’m willing to chance it.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“I would be safer with you than staying here alone.”
He didn’t try to argue the point—which gave Summer reason to hope.
“You said you would visit your family first, to ask them for help. Couldn’t I stay with them?”
The notion that she would consider living with his Comanche relatives frankly startled Lance. For a full minute he didn’t even answer.
“Lance…please…”
“No, dammit! It’d be too dangerous for you.”
“It will be dangerous for you, too.”
“Yeah, but I’m used to it.”
“I’m not as helpless as I look.”
He shook his head. No, Summer wasn’t helpless by a long shot. She’d developed a quiet, resilient strength in the years he’d been away, the same kind of strength his mother had been forced to learn. And he had to admire her devotion to her sister, her courage in wanting to help. But that was entirely beside the point. He couldn’t risk Summer’s life; it would kill him if something happened to her because of him. “You’d only slow me down,” he said, hedging.
“I’ll try not to. Please…you promised to help me find my sister.”
“I never promised to take you into Indian Territory.”
She bowed her head, biting her lip. “I’m not going home,” she said in a low voice. “I can’t leave Amelia. I can’t turn my back on her. If it were your sister who’d been taken, you would understand.” Her voice quavered as she turned tear-filled eyes to him. “I married you, Lance…I kept my part of the bargain.”
And now it’s your turn, Lance knew she meant.
He cursed, low and fluently. The hell of it was, she was right. She would be safer with him than with her own kind. He’d give his life before he’d let any harm come to her. And it was entirely possible they could make it to his brother’s camp without encountering any trouble. If he was careful, if they hugged the hills as long as possible, if he kept a sharp lookout, he should be able to keep her out of danger.
In fact, once they reached Indian Territory, the risk would lessen. He planned to turn into a Comanche warrior as soon as he crossed the border, and Comanches didn’t attack their own kin.
And as she’d suggested, he could leave Summer with his family. He could trust them to look after her while he was searching for her sister. Summer would probably be shocked to the roots of her gleaming chignon to find herself in the midst of such a brutal society, but it might do her good to see the culture he came from.
Then again, it might give her a disgust of him forever.
Still, he didn’t have many good choices.
“I’ll think about it,” he said gruffly, reluctantly, before urging his horse into a lope, leaving her to follow as best she could.
She kept up with him. With grim determination, Summer spurred her horse after Lance and refused to eat his dust. By the time they reached the stage station at Belknap, she could tell he was wavering. And when Jeb Burkett told them it would be two more days before the stage for Austin came through, Summer glanced at Lance and released a long breath of relief.
She could tell by the grim set of his mouth that, for better or worse, she had won.
Chapter 7
They set out from Belknap that afternoon, heading due north through the Cross Timbers, and rode long past dark by the light of a half-moon. Lance wanted to make as many miles as possible that day so they could reach the trading post on the Red River by the next evening. He intended to buy presents for his family there, and led a packhorse for that purpose—which was all the communication or explanation he offered Summer.
Uncomplaining, she kept up with him, even though she was unaccustomed to riding astride, even though her stiffening muscles protested every grueling mile. She was too grateful for being allowed to accompany him.
They finally made camp in the shelter of a sandstone bluff, near a small spring. Feeling rather useless, Summer watched as Lance unsaddled the horses and fixed a meal of bacon and beans. She was too weary to have much of an appetite, though, and she fell asleep as soon as supper was finished. Lance cleaned up and lay back on his bedroll, cradling his rifle and wondering if he’d made a huge mistake bringing her with him. Wondering if he’d miscalculated the danger.
Not the physical peril. He could handle that, he was pretty sure. Summer was his responsibility now, and he would give his life before letting a single hair on her head come to harm.
But the risk to his own self-preservation was far more lethal. Day after day, having Summer so close by, and yet so far…
Lance squeezed his eyes shut. Dammit to hell, why’d he have to go and let himself get involved with her again? He’d been doing fine until then. Now he hurt, and seemed to be hurting all the time.
That look in her eyes today…like she didn’t know whether to trust him not to murder her own kin.
And even if she did someday realize he’d rather cut out
his own heart than cause her pain, he would never be good enough for her…a scum half-breed with the disposition of a mountain wildcat. No white woman would want to get near him, let alone take him to her breast and cherish him as her husband. Summer would never be able to overcome her instinctive fear of him, her disdain at his background, her revulsion at being forced into marrying a man like him. What a damn fool he’d been to think she could ever come to look at him with desire, with love in her eyes.
He had his emotions fiercely under control by morning—although Summer remained oblivious to the battle. When he woke her at dawn, she groaned and burrowed deeper beneath her blanket. Her body felt like one huge ache. The prospect of facing another day of hard riding made her quail, but when Lance calmly threatened to leave her behind, she forced her sore limbs to move.
By the time she had performed a quick toilet at the spring and pulled on her gloves, Lance had struck camp and was preparing to mount up. She flinched when he tried to help her into the saddle, more in pain than in startlement, but from the way his hard mouth curled, she realized he’d taken it as a rebuff.
He dropped his hands from her waist as if he’d touched hot coals, and said in a drawling voice, “Don’t worry, princess. I told you I’m not gonna rape you.”
“I didn’t think that....”
The apology she’d been about to make died on her lips when he turned on his heel and left her to struggle into the saddle on her own.
They ate breakfast on the move. Summer chewed awkwardly on the dried beef jerky and hardtack, which tasted a lot like sawdust. As the morning wore on, she eyed Lance with growing annoyance. She resented his masculine strength, resented his easy adaptation to such difficult conditions. He sat his roan like he was part horse. But then, that wasn’t much of an exaggeration. Comanches were the greatest horsemen alive, and Lance had obviously inherited the trait.
Irritated, Summer tore her gaze from him and faced forward in the saddle. There’d been a time when she might have tried to impress Lance with her own equestrian skill, or at least have tried to interrupt his brooding silence to make him notice her. But she couldn’t afford to indulge in such nonsense now. All she cared about was finding her sister. Still, she couldn’t help thinking what a spoiled little fool she had once been.
After a few more hours, though, she didn’t even have the energy to waste on unproductive thoughts. It was all she could do to keep her numb body in the saddle. Lance seemed driven, allowing only two brief stops to rest and water the horses.
They reached the Red River at sunset, just as the western sky turned a breathtaking crimson and gold. The shimmering rays glinted off the sinuously winding current, making it look like it stretched forever. A large log building stood by the river ford, fortified with stone walls and blazoned with a cedar sign proclaiming the place to be Deek’s Trading Post.
They were barely in sight, however, when a huge grizzly bear of a man came out to greet them. “Hot damn, if it ain’t Lance Calder!” the bearded giant exclaimed, tossing his rifle aside. “Where you been keeping yerself, boy?”
To Summer’s surprise, Lance’s hard mouth split into a grin of genuine pleasure. He slid down from his horse, straight into the waiting arms of the bear, and suddenly both men were on the ground, rolling over and over each other. Summer watched in alarm as they wrestled in the dirt. They sprang to their feet to warily circle each other…and then suddenly the game ended as abruptly as it had begun. Laughing, the two men embraced and pounded each other on the back, before Lance finally pulled away and slapped at the dust on his denims.
“I went back home and turned respectable,” he said in reply to the earlier question.
“You? Naw, you’re pullin’ my leg.”
“Well, believe it, it’s true. I have my own livery now. And…this is my wife, Summer.”
Deek turned to stare at her. “Wife? Goldamn, you don’t say.” Evidently recollecting his manners then, he whipped off his hat and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I’m right pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“This is Deek McTavish,” Lance said to Summer, in a cool tone. “I’ve known him since I was twelve.” His features had turned expressionless, as if he were waiting for her response.
Summer summoned the charming smile that had never failed to win male hearts. “I’m pleased to meet you as well, Mr. McTavish.”
Almost imperceptibly, Lance relaxed, while his friend shook his head. “Just Deek. Everybody calls me Deek.”
“Deek, then. If you would help me down, Deek, I would be eternally grateful. I fear I’m stuck to the saddle.”
The bear threw back his head and roared, but he hastened to her rescue, swinging her down and supporting her elbow while she recovered her balance.
“I still cain’t believe yer hitched,” he said to Lance. “How’d somebody as ugly as you ever wind up with somebody so purty?”
To Summer’s surprise, Lance laughed, a slow, rusty sound that caught at her heart. “Who are you to be calling me ugly?” he retorted, avoiding an explanation as well as his wife’s gaze.
“Well, come on in and set. Topusana’s fixing some stew. You’ll stay the night, o’course,” he said to Lance.
Without waiting for a reply, Deek ushered them inside a room that was crowded with every imaginable kind of merchandise. A small Indian woman was bent over the fireplace, and when Deek made the introductions, Lance’s scrutiny of a moment ago was repeated, with him watching Summer closely to see how she would react. He expected her to shun his friends, she knew, and she was determined to prove otherwise. Her greeting to Deek’s wife, Topusana, held as much charm as she could muster, and she was pleased when the Comanche woman shyly returned a smile.
When Lance excused himself to see to the horses, Deek settled her at the wooden table and poured her a cup of coffee without asking if it was wanted, then kept her entertained by telling her his life history.
He had been trading here for twenty years, Summer learned, with the Comanches and Kiowas as well as white settlers. The Comanches pretty much left him alone, since he was married to one of them.
When Lance came in, he found Summer and Deek laughing together over one of Deek’s exploits against a bull buffalo. The spear of jealousy that shot through Lance was as sharp as the hatred he’d felt toward the Yarby brothers—which was inexplicable, considering that Deek was likely the dearest friend he had. But maybe it was because his wife was laughing with another man, sharing an easy moment with someone else when his own relationship with her was so strained. Maybe it was because her laughter faded as soon as she set eyes on him. Maybe because he remembered how she’d let Deek help her down from the saddle a while ago when she didn’t want her own husband touching her.
Clenching his teeth, Lance poured himself a cup of coffee and settled himself at the table.
“So what brings you here?” Deek finally got around to asking.
“I need to buy a few things from you, presents and such.”
“Always glad to take yer money, son. Just tell me what you need.”
Lance began by explaining why they intended to journey into Indian Territory. Deek shook his head sorrowfully when he heard about Amelia, and pronounced it wise to get help from Lance’s kin.
“Last I heard, Fights Bear was camped out on Otter Creek, but that was more’n a month ago. They’re likely getting ready to move for the fall hunt by now.”
“Probably. But Otter Creek’s a good enough place to start.”
Deek glanced skeptically at Summer. “You ain’t gonna take her with you?”
Lance shrugged. “It’s her sister. She wants to go.”
Flushing under the trader’s scrutiny, Summer said lamely, “Amelia might need me.”
“Well, you better rig her out in somethin’ besides that fancy dress. She’ll stand out like a red flag, otherwise.”
“I intend to. I thought Topusana might agree to loan her one of her deerskin dresses.”
Deek nodded. “Fights Bear know
you’re coming?”
“No.”
Summer looked from one to the other. “Who is Fights Bear?”
Deek frowned at Lance. “Didn’t you tell her nothin’ about yer kin?” Without waiting for a reply, he explained, “Fights Bear is Lance’s brother…half brother, actually. He’s a war chief of the Panataka Comanches. They’re Honey Eaters. Topusana comes from the same band.”
“Honey Eaters?” Summer asked blankly.
“Lord, don’t you even know that?” His scowl was for Lance, though. “You better let her know what she’s in for, ridin’ into a Comanche camp, or she’s gonna have one hell of a shock.”
Lance’s mouth hardened with the first defensiveness he’d shown Deek since arriving. “If she wants to know, all she has to do is ask.”
The uncomfortable subject was dropped then, while the trader questioned Lance about his search plans.
The two men discussed strategy over a meal of venison stew. Summer, surprised to find herself famished, ate every bite on her plate, and didn’t protest when Topusana piled on another helping. But she listened intently to everything Lance had to say—which was far more than he’d ever volunteered to her. She resented his forthrightness with his friend, especially when he’d been so surly and closemouthed with her, yet it was clear Lance valued the older man’s advice, while he probably thought explanations to her were only a nuisance and a waste of time.
Not wanting to be a burden, she offered to help wash the dishes after supper, but Deek wouldn’t hear of a guest being put out, and Lance wanted to turn in early, so they could get an early start.
First, though, he wanted Summer to try on one of Topusana’s dresses. From the conversation Summer gathered he meant to dress her as a Comanche woman and don his own Indian garments, so they would pass for natives. Hence, she wasn’t surprised when Deek’s wife approached her with a bundle of clothing. Carrying a lamp, Topusana led her into a small storage room that apparently doubled as a spare bedchamber for passing travelers.
The Savage Page 13
