They had moved only a few paces off when Travis spat: “Now ain’t he being all godawful polite to a whore!”
“Travis, be nice,” Ellen admonished.
Travis doffed his hat in mock salute. He swaggered to his horse and mounted, pulling the reins up tight so the animal danced nervously among the drovers that waited to escort the buggy.
“That red-headed mare’s been rode so much she’s got saddle sore, Jesse. Can’t you do no better than that?” He said something out of the side of his mouth to the drovers, and one of them laughed nervously. “Hey, Jesse . . .” Travis had the attention he wanted and was making the most of it. “That filly of hers won’t be ready for bustin’ for a few years. You stakin’ your claim now?”
Ellen took hold of Jesse’s arm. “Jesse, no! He’s just funnin’.”
Jesse shook her arm loose and in a few quick strides reached Travis, who was crowded in tight among the drovers. Before the younger man could draw a breath, he snatched him from the saddle.
Travis hit the ground and bounced to his feet, his face twisted in anger.
“Goddam you,” he snarled. “I ought to have killed you when you first came smellin’ around my mama!”
“How about now?”
The words were calmly spoken and barely out of his mouth when Travis charged him. Jesse’s fist flashed out and slammed him in the face. Travis’s head snapped back and he stretched out full length on his back. He came up clawing for his gun. The drover, who had dismounted to hold the nervous horse, stepped on his arm and jerked the gun from its holster.
Travis got slowly to his feet, his face a mask of hatred, blood from his busted lips running down his chin.
“You bastard! You son-of-a-whore!” He stood swaying, his hands hanging at his sides, his eyes darting from Jesse to his mother who stood with gloved hands pressed to her mouth.
“Jesse! Please!” Ellen pleaded.
The big man moved deliberately, and with his open hand slapped Travis across the face on one side and with the back of his hand on the other.
“Get on that horse, and count yourself lucky I don’t stomp you to death.”
Travis staggered back against the horse. His hand reached for the pommel and his foot for the stirrup.
“Jesse, how could you?” Ellen twisted her hands anxiously. “How could you hurt him over a . . .”
Jesse’s look silenced her. Gently, he took her elbow and guided her to the buggy. Summer came to stand beside the step.
Smiling bravely, Ellen held out her hand. “I’m truly sorry our visit had to end so crudely. Please forgive them. You’ll find men of the west are quick-tempered and brutal at times. Travis is a tease and Jesse takes everything to heart. In a few days, this will all be forgotten.” She laughed nervously. “You’ll come for a visit?” Summer nodded. “I’ll be back to see you. I’ll be back real soon.”
Jesse climbed into the buggy and took up the reins. Ellen waved her handkerchief. Travis spurred his horse and disappeared in a cloud of dust. The drovers fell in behind the buggy.
Summer and Sadie silently watched Ellen’s departure. They were stunned by the scene they had just witnessed. The insulting remarks hurled by Travis and the cold violence displayed by Jesse were so shocking to Summer that they seemed something from a bad dream.
John Austin broke the silence.
“What did he mean, Summer? Why did he call Mr. Thurston a son-of-a-whore? Why was Mr. Thurston so mad?”
Summer whirled on him. “Don’t you ever say that word again, John Austin Kuykendall! Do you hear me? Don’t you dare say that word again!”
“I just wanted to know.”
“If you want to know something,” his sister retorted angrily, “the woodbox is empty.”
“Why are you so mad?” The boy looked puzzled. “You don’t hardly ever get mad.”
Suddenly, Summer was ashamed. She was also confused. Her emotions had run the gamut in the last twenty-four hours. She had been suspicious of the visitors because of Slater’s attitude, been reassured because of Ellen’s, and was now disillusioned because of Jesse and Travis.
“I’m sorry, John Austin.” She hugged him to her. “I’m sorry.”
The boy grinned up at her. “It’s all right, Summer. I think I know what it means, anyway.”
Summer looked horrified. “Get in there and eat your breakfast.” She followed him into the house and sat down at the oil-cloth–covered table and rested her chin in her hands.
“You won’t be lonely out here, will you, Sadie?” Summer was suddenly depressed.
“Lonely? Me? It’s grand here!” The smile left her face. “Why did you ask? Don’t you like it here?” Her voice held a worried edge.
“Of course I like it. It’s my home.” Summer considered the worried look on Sadie’s face. “And you and Mary are welcome to stay for as long as you like.”
Big tears came to the green eyes and Sadie swallowed with difficulty. “I’ll be a help to you. I promise.”
“You already have been, Sadie. You’re a much better cook than I am.” Summer pushed back from the table and got to her feet.
Sadie was pleased and showed it. She smoothed her apron with nervous hands. “I like doin’ homey things.”
She went to the window. Keeping an eye on John Austin was an ingrown habit with Summer. He was squatting in the dirt with a sharp stick in his hand. He looked so lonely sitting there. She frowned and turned to Sadie.
“Mrs. McLean didn’t take much notice of John Austin,” she said, as if to herself. “Did you think she was pretty?”
Sadie turned her head away when she answered. “Yes, she’s pretty all right.”
“Mary took a shine to Mr. Thurston. “ Summer gave the other girl a teasing scrutiny.
Sadie tossed her head. “Nobody’s likely to get him away from her. “ She emphasized the last word.
Summer smiled at her defiance. Sadie was pretty, with her bronze curls and green eyes, but it was her quick wit and spirit that Summer liked.
“Did you like Mr. Thurston?”
“Heap more’n I liked Travis McLean.” Sadie’s face was turned away, but Summer knew from the sound of her voice her mouth was taut with anger at Travis. This puzzled Summer. Before she could say anything, Sadie was speaking again. “It ain’t for me to be sayin’ nothin’ ’bout the McLeans. That Mrs. McLean can’t see me for dirt.”
“You didn’t get to know her, Sadie. Every time we came near you, you scampered away. She was nice, real nice.”
Mary squirmed out of Sadie’s arms and made for the door.
“Not without your dress, you!” She dived for the child and carried her back to the bunk. “I’ll swear to goodness, I don’t know what I’m goin’ to do with you. Ain’t you got no shame?” To Summer, she said, “I’m thinkin’ we should get started on that garden, Summer. It’s the right time of the moon. My mama always planted ground roots, taters, turnips and the like, when the moon was gettin’ bigger.” Sadie didn’t want to think about the McLeans or their tall, flint-eyed foreman. She had had foolish dreams, in the dark of the night, but this was morning and he was gone. The planting would crowd him out of her mind.
Ellen made her displeasure known to Jesse by her silence. She had the feeling she had been firmly put down in front of Summer, and she didn’t like it at all. The humiliation, she reasoned, was hers for letting the scene between her son and Jesse erupt. She had always been a little thrilled by the wild, violent streak in Jesse, especially when it surfaced on her behalf. The cold, ruthless, calculating way he went about disposing of an adversary had, up to now, made her proud of his devotion to her; but when he turned that quick, hard, dangerous strength against Travis, it was another thing.
Silence was Ellen’s only safety while she plotted what tactics she would use to deal with Jesse. Up until that last disgusting scene, Summer had been impressed with Travis. He could charm the skin off a snake when he set his mind to it. His desire to taunt Jesse about the dance-hall girl had ju
st carried him away, that’s all. And Jesse, damn him, had just about ruined everything!
The northwest road meandered along the dry creek bed before turning toward the foothills. The countryside around them lay utterly still. Beneath the June sun the buggy was like an oven, causing Ellen almost as much distress as her impatience with Jesse. She sat tense and silent in her corner, all too aware of her companion’s scowling brow silhouetted in bold profile against the horizon. He had not moved, except to flick the reins, since he took his place beside her and propped one booted foot upon the guard rail.
“I don’t understand you, Jesse. Really, I don’t. That was a terrible thing you did to Travis. You’ve humiliated him so he’ll never want to see Summer again. And all because of that girl.”
He turned to look at her. “You heard what he said. He’s lucky I didn’t break his neck.” The calm voice seemed somehow not to go with the tight lips.
Ellen wondered, at that moment, if she had ever really known this big, silent, relentless man.
“He just got carried away, Jesse. He was funnin’, like he does sometimes.” She looked up at him and allowed a teasing grin to tilt her lips. “You know, Jesse, you’re making me think that maybe you have been slipping off to town, that Travis is right.” Her soft laugh was to accent the absurdity of her words. Jesse continued to look at her and she sobered. “I didn’t mean that, dear. I know you would never take up with a woman like that.”
“A woman like what?” he asked quietly.
“You know what I mean,” she said patiently. “That girl is a saloon woman. She is common and coarse. I can’t imagine why Summer allows her to stay there. I fully intend to have a talk with her about it. I could hardly believe it when Travis told me who she was. Travis said that . . .”
“Travis says too much, Ellen.”
“You just don’t like him, do you, Jesse? You’re jealous of him.” Ellen’s temper was rising. “You never tried to be a friend to him, to show him how to keep the respect of the men. You belittle him, and make all his boyish pranks seem much worse than they are. I sometimes wonder about you, Jesse. How many other beatings have you given him that I don’t know about?”
“Several.” Jesse stared straight over the horse’s back and Ellen gasped at his calm answer.
“He’s just a boy! He’s no match for you in a fight.”
The cool look he gave her caused Ellen to draw another quick breath.
“He’s no boy, Ellen. He’s a twenty-five-year-old man, who acts like a spoiled kid a grabbin’ any and everything he wants. Keep him away from McLean’s Keep, or Slater will kill him. He still thinks he had something to do with Sam’s death, and he wouldn’t think twice about killin’ him if he gets to messin’ around the women.”
Ellen’s face burned with anger “That’s ridiculous, and you know it. Travis may be a little wild, but that’s all. Scott was wild as a deer when 1 married him, and Travis takes after him. Sam was always the steady one, the dull one, just like Slater.” Contempt crept into her voice. “Travis will settle down when he has a wife.”
“And you have someone in mind.”
“Of course. Summer. It was a godsend for her to come back. She comes from good stock, and will make a perfect wife for Travis. And she’ll not come into the family empty-handed, either. That strip of land of hers will make the Rocking S one of the largest holdings in Texas.”
Jesse’s voice was quiet, deep and abrupt. “You can’t be foolish enough to think Slater improved on that claim and brought that girl out here to stand aside and let her marry Travis.”
“I don’t know what he can do about it.”
“He can marry her himself, Ellen. So you better not get your heart set on the match.”
“That’s the one thing I am sure of, Jesse. Slater will never marry Summer.” Ellen glanced at him, a strange, mysterious smile tilting her lips.
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“I’m sure,” she said confidently. “Slater may take up with the dance-hall trollop. Women are scarce, and she may appeal to his rude nature.” She let her hand slide down the inside of Jesse’s arm. “I know you were merely being chivalrous this morning, dear, but it wasn’t necessary. A woman like that is used to that sort of thing.” She smiled with disarming gentleness. “I’m sorry for my jealous little comments. It’s . . . it’s just that I depend on you so. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jesse.”
Ellen could not remember a time when Jesse had not responded to her coaxing. He sat as if made of stone. There was not even a flicker of an eyelid to betray what he was feeling at the moment. It was impossible to tell if he had even heard her words, or if he was feeling anger, surprise or resignation.
It wasn’t any of these things Jesse was feeling. It was something else altogether. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time. An emptiness flowed through him. Memory stirred, painfully, uncertainly, as the buggy traversed the lower slopes of the hill country. His childhood hovered, half-imagined, half-remembered. It was way back there, that childhood, but still familiar enough to imbue his stern face with a terrible loneliness. The inevitable waiting! The waiting was what he remembered the most. Waiting in that unloving, uncaring place.
It had taken a long time. And then Ellen had come, so pretty, so gentle and caring. His features relaxed for a moment, then tightened. The interval between the home and coming out here with Ellen had not been easy. The hardest, dirtiest jobs for scraps of food were freshest in his mind. “Kid do this . . . hurry up, kid . . . you goddam kid . . .” One day, he was no longer a kid, and the orders stopped.
He looked down at Ellen, and his steely-gray eyes lost the haunted look and stared with affection into hers. She began to smile, her flushed face and quivering mouth betraying only too well that she was aware she had been excluded from his thoughts, but that now his attention was back with her once again.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jesse,” she said again, and tears misted her eyes.
He covered her hand and squeezed it.
Far ahead of the buggy, two horsemen rode out of the gully. Travis was in the lead, Tom Treloar close behind. Tom was a thick-set man, with a thick bush of gray hair on his face as well as his head. It was he who had stepped on Travis’s arm and saved his life. He had no doubt at all that Jesse would have killed him had he drawn his gun. Jesse’s reaction would have been as natural as breathing. To Tom’s way of thinking, it was going to come sooner or later, anyway, as Jesse had about got his craw full of this brainless excuse for a man.
They were only a few miles from the Rocking S. The shadows stretched from the hills. Travis reined up and stared down at the buggy coming along the track, and mopped sweat from his face. His shirt was sticky and uncomfortable, and the throbbing of his split lips was a constant reminder of the humiliation he had suffered that morning. He edged his mount closer to Tom’s and spoke for the first time.
“Don’t interfere in my fight again, Tom, if you want to live.”
The drover’s face showed no emotion as Travis voiced his threat.
“He’d a killed ya slicker than snot, Travis. Ya was in no position to fight.”
Irritation mounted in Travis, stifling his own doubt. “He’s not so all-fired fast!”
“Fast enough,” Tom said quietly, “with you on the ground.”
Travis was shrewd enough to know Tom was right. He had hated Jesse since the day his mother had brought him to the ranch, an eighteen-year-old who was almost as much of a man then as he was now. At first, he hadn’t understood the relationship between his mother and the man who gradually took over the running of the ranch, but he was almost certain now. Well, if Mama needed a stud, it made no difference to him. Mama could open her legs for anyone she wanted to. It was other things that bothered him. Such as Mama having joint control of the ranch until he turned twenty-six. His face darkened with anger, his lips twisted in a sneer of contempt. It wouldn’t be long now, and he would settle with Jesse. He stewed in selfsat
isfaction. They would all find out, soon enough, who was the best man. Irritation mounted within him. The frustrating truth rang in his head and pounded in the sour pit of his stomach, feeding his hatred.
“No!” he muttered fiercely.
The sun was still above the hilltops when the buggy turned up the lane toward the house. Rising out of the prairie, the two-story, white-frame house was a splendid example of eighteenth-century architecture. Built square and high off the ground to catch the breeze, it had wide, railed verandas, with roofs supported by graceful columns decorated with elaborately carved cornices. Long windows opened up onto the verandas on both the lower and upper floors. Stained-glass panes adorned the upper part of the windows as well as the doors. A drive curved through carefully tended grounds to reach the broad steps leading to the veranda. The elegant house looked as if it belonged on a shaded street in exclusive New Orleans rather than on the Texas prairie.
Realizing he was home, the horse pulling the buggy stepped briskly up the circled drive and stopped beside the gate. Jesse handed Ellen down from the buggy as a black man in a white shirt and loose black trousers came out onto the porch and down the steps to take Ellen’s boxes from the boot.
“Hello, Jacob.”
“It’s good you is back, Miz Ellen.” The dark face beamed as he leaped to hold open the door. “Y’all got the army men a camped back yonder. Ah ‘spects da cap’n done come ter see Mastah Jesse.”
“Company? You said company, Jacob?”
“Yes’m. Cap’n Slane.”
“Go down and invite the captain to dinner, Jacob.” Her face wreathed in smiles, Ellen started up the stairs, then stopped. “Jacob . . .”
“Pears ta me ah can smell me a big ol’ turkey a roastin’, ’n if’n ah smell real good, dem pecan pies is coolin’ by da door.” Jacob rolled his eyes and chuckled.
Ellen laughed with velvety softness and watched him bask beneath her fond gaze.
“I should have known. You’re just a wonder, Jacob, that’s what you are, a wonder!” Halfway up the stairs she turned again, “Jacob . . .”
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