Dorothy Garlock

by This Loving Land

  “I trust your mother is well,” she said, stalling for time.

  “Yes, she’s fine. Planning this blow-out is keeping her busy.” He stood looking at her, smiling, waiting to see what she was going to do.

  Finally, she decided she was making a dilemma where there was none.

  “We’ll have a meal ready shortly, Travis. You’re welcome to stay and eat.”

  “I’d like nothing better, if you’re sure its no bother. Excuse me, and I’ll water my horse.”

  Summer nodded and slipped into the house.

  Sadie watched her leave with dread, realizing she was alone in the yard with Travis and would have to pass him to get to the house. Fighting her terror, she punched and probed at the boiling clothes with the stick, desperately wanting to break and run as she watched him approach. He wouldn’t do anything here in plain sight of the house, she reasoned, but even those thoughts didn’t stop the lump of fear that came up in her throat. He stopped scarcely two feet from her. With his hat under his arm, he bowed his head as if in respectful greeting.

  “Hello, split-tail.” He smiled with his lips, but his eyes remained steely cold. “You didn’t think I’d forget what happened that morning and whose fault it was, did you?”

  Sadie moved around to the other side of the boiling pot, her eyes never leaving his face. He stood with his back to the house.

  “Stay away from me.” Her brain hummed. She would wrap the boiling shirt around the stick and hit him with it if he came any closer.

  “What makes you think I want to touch you?” His tone was conversational, but behind each nostril showed white, and his eyes shone a brilliant blue. “Touch you? I could have you begging for it in no time a’tall; that is, if I’d put myself out to please a whore.”

  She managed a breathless laugh. “I’d die first.”

  “I can arrange that, too. Better yet, I can arrange it for that little bastard of yours.” He smiled pleasantly.

  “You touch a hair on her head and I’ll spill your rotten guts all over creation,” she hissed. Fresh alarm shot through her. She had been too frightened for herself to give a thought that he might harm Mary. Horrified and trembling like a leaf, Sadie grabbed the stick with both hands. “You’re crazy!” she gasped.

  “Might be, but I sure do have me a time.” He laughed and ran his hand through his hair, and to Summer, looking out the doorway, the two by the boiling pot were having a pleasant conversation.

  "One of my reasons for making this long, hot, dusty ride was to see you. I’ve been a thinking about you since that morning. You thought you had a little something going with Jesse.” He laughed, this time nastily. “You’ll not get him away from my mama. He might crawl on you if it comes handy, but I’m thinkin’ he’s already got a place to go.” His voice lowered menacingly. “I don’t want you here with Summer! If you as much as breathe a word to her about me, you’ll not leave this place alive.”

  A tight hand seemed to be squeezing the breath out of her body. Through a daze, she heard him talking again, his voice taut with restrained anger.

  “It won’t be like the last time. There won’t be no Jesse a chargin’ to the rescue.”

  “I ain’t said nothin’ to Summer about you or what you . . . did!”

  “Goddammit! Do you think I’d believe a slut? Go! I don’t aim to be looking at you every time I come here to see Summer.” His face had grown dark with anger, and she thought his eyes almost shot sparks of blue flame. Suddenly, he laughed in a boastful way that made her despise him all the more. “From that hill yonder, a man with a good rifle could pick off a chicken in this yard.” He cocked his head to one side. “That kid of yours is quite a bit bigger than a chicken.”

  “I’ll tell Mr. McLean. . . .” she blurted out in desperation.

  He lifted his shoulders in resignation, glancing over his shoulder toward the house; then his eyes played over her, bringing a helpless, humiliating flush upward to the roots of her hair.

  “I’d get you. If I didn’t get your kid first, so you’d know what to expect. I got friends up in the hills and they owe me plenty.” His lips curled in a sneer. “You didn’t think I was dumb enough to ride in here alone?”

  “Sadie!” The call came from Summer. “Can that batch of wash wait till after the nooning?”

  Sadie tore her eyes away from the man’s leering face and thought with lucid remoteness that she could call out to Summer, tell her to get the gun from the top shelf and kill this rattlesnake. Her eyes flicked back to him. His face was tense, waiting. She made a helpless gesture and his face relaxed.

  “Wait right here.” His voice was no more than a purring whisper. “I’ll water my horse and we’ll go in together.” He led his horse past her to the watering trough.

  “I’ll be there in no time a’tall, Summer.” Sadie called on all her inner resources to keep the fear that was eating her alive out of her voice. She had no chance against a man like Travis McLean. He was handsome, rich, spoke too fast. Summer would never believe the conversation that had just taken place. Never believe it fast enough to act.

  Sadie walked into the kitchen as if in a nightmare, numbly thinking that this couldn’t be real. This place had been a safe haven for her and Mary. She had been happier than she could ever remember. Now this piss-ant coming through the door behind her was making it a hell. The thoughts of what he threatened to do to Mary were too awful to think about. Jesse Thurston flashed through her mind. Oh, but he was a world away, and she and Mary were here with Travis McLean.

  Mary was sitting on the bunk playing with some paper dolls that John Austin had cut out for her. Sadie, weeping inside, picked her up, holding her tightly. Summer turned from the stove with a pan of cornbread.

  “I put her box on the chair, Sadie. She can sit here beside John Austin.”

  “Your daughter is almost as pretty as you are, Mrs. Bratcher.” Travis stood observing the two of them, a pleasant smile on his face. “Same green eyes, same beautiful red hair. It’s been a long while since I held such a pretty girl on my lap. Come to me, young miss. Let’s see how big you are.”

  “No!” The word burst from Sadie’s lips. “No. She’s . . . scared of strangers.”

  Summer’s head came up and a puzzled look crossed her face. Even John Austin got to his feet. With his back to the others, Travis looked at Sadie with narrowed eyes.

  “You’re not afraid of me, are you, young miss?” His voice was pleasant, wheedling. “Come to Uncle Travis. I’ll find a big, shiny penny for this pretty girl.” He reached for the child and she went willingly.

  Sadie’s heart almost burst with fright. She went to the shelf, fighting back waves of nausea, grabbed up the crock of butter, anything to give herself time to compose her face before going to the table.

  “This is her place, Travis,” Summer was saying. “You can sit next to her, if you like, and John Austin on the other side of you.”

  “I’d like that.” He lowered Mary to the box. “How are you, John Austin? What’s that you got there? A picture book?”

  “No, sir. It’s about the Revolutionary War. Slater lets me read his books. He’s got a lot of them. This one is about Nathan Hale, who was executed as a spy by the British. Next I’m going to read about the Marquis de Lafayette. He was a Frenchman and he. . . .”

  Summer interrupted. “Will you say grace, John Austin?”

  “Sure, Summer, then can I tell . . .?”

  “Mind your sister,” Travis broke in smoothly. “After we eat, we’ll have a good, long talk.”

  The meal progressed smoothly. Travis buttered cornbread for Mary, put vinegar on John Austin’s greens, chatted lightly with Summer. Sadie was quiet, but Summer put that down to shyness. Travis was fascinating company. The children listened raptly to his every word. Summer was sure he was making up stories to amuse them, especially the one about the pony that would rather eat apple pie than sweet clover, but John Austin loved it.

  “Slater gave me a horse, Travis. Her name is G
eorgianna. I think I’ll see if she likes pie. Maybe she’ll like doughnuts, ’cause if she does, she could have lots. Sadie makes good doughnuts.”

  “Georgianna? Did you say your horse’s name is Georgianna? Well, what do you know about that?”

  By the time the meal was over, the children were completely won over, and Summer had almost forgotten the unpleasant scene with Jesse. Ellen McLean’s son had a nice way about him, she had to admit.

  Travis sat on the veranda and talked with John Austin while Summer and Sadie cleared the table. Mary wanted to join them, but Sadie insisted she sit on the bed with her toys.

  “We have all afternoon to finish the wash, Sadie. You’ve been whirling around like the house was on fire.” Summer was teasing, but her face sobered when she saw the stricken look on her friend’s face. “Don’t you feel well?” She laid her hand against Sadie’s white cheek. “You’re so white. You’ve been out in that sun and standing over that boiling pot too long.”

  “I did get a mite hot. I’ll sit down and rest once we get caught up here.”

  The food Sadie had forced down at the dinner table was churning in her stomach, and she kept swallowing the wetness in her mouth to keep from throwing up.

  What could she do? Suggestion after suggestion raced through her thoughts, only to be discarded. She could get the gun from the shelf, walk up behind the bastard, and blow out his brains! Then it would be sure death for her and Mary. His friends would seek revenge. She would never know when she and Mary went out the door if they were out there waiting for them. Oh, dear God! The thought made her knees almost collapse under her. Which was safer . . . to stay here or go away? If she went away, she would have no protection at all!

  Travis came into the house followed by John Austin, still talking.

  “I’m glad you came, Travis. Next time you come, I’ll tell you about the Battle of San Jacinto. My papa fought in that battle.”

  “I’d sure like to hear about it.” Travis took his hat from the peg. “I hate to eat and go, Miss Summer. But my men will be wondering where I got off to. We’re doing a little hunting in the hills. Slack time on the ranch, right now.”

  “We’re glad you came by. Thank your mother for her invitation.”

  “I’ll do that, Miss Summer.” He swung around to Sadie, who was standing beside Mary, her face white, her eyes huge. “There you are, Mrs. Bratcher.” He took several steps toward her and put his hand on Mary’s bead. “You take care of this pretty little girl. She’s just too pretty for words.” His eyes bored into hers and she felt a numbness in her breast. “If I get over this way, you can bet Uncle Travis will be back to see you, honey.” A scream was building up in Sadie’s throat, but she choked it off. Fear, like a thousand needles, rode down her spine, and her legs almost refused to support her. As if realizing he had pushed her almost to the breaking point, Travis turned and went to the door. “Goodbye for now, John Austin. Thanks again for the meal, Miss Summer.”

  “Goodbye, Travis.”

  Summer stood in the doorway and watched him leave. He swung lightly into the saddle and lifted his hat toward her. She smiled and waved. Watching him ride away, she had mixed emotions. She was glad he had come, but glad he was going before Slater came over. Of course she would tell him that Travis had been here. But she knew he would be angry, and knew it would be a frightening thing. She felt a flutter of apprehension and wished Travis hadn’t come, after all.

  Sadie lay down on the bed and gathered the drowsy little girl in her arms. She desperately wanted to cry, but there were no tears anywhere inside her. Only hate, fear and devastation.

  “I’m afraid you’re coming down with something, Sadie.” Summer looked down at her with worried eyes. “You stay here in bed. I’ll finish the wash.”

  “I’ll rest a minute and be out to help you.” Sadie managed a saucy grin. “You know I ain’t used to layin’ on my backside.”

  Grateful when Summer went out and left her alone, Sadie allowed her face to crumble, buried it in her daughter’s hair and let her misery flow over her.

  Summer’s pulses quickened as darkness fell. Sadie, who usually sat with her for a while after the children went to bed, had retired early. Summer had washed, put on a clean dress, brushed her hair and gathered it at the nape of her neck with a ribbon. Lastly, she took out the small pouch of dried rose leaves and rubbed it against her neck, face and arms.

  Sometimes, she felt unreal waiting for Slater. It was so wonderful to be in love. He filled every corner of her heart without her being able to stop it. Her realization that she loved him had given the world a new brightness, freeing her from many of her old, almost cherished inhibitions. She felt laughter bubbling inside her at the most unexpected times. Happiness seemed to flow in her blood, and little smiles of pure delight curved her mouth. The nagging worry about Sadie, the fear of Slater’s reaction to Travis’s visit were pushed to the back of her mind. There was no room for anything inside her now but her love for Slater.

  Summer’s ears were attuned to the night sounds, and she heard him coming seconds before she saw him. She left the bench by the wall and went to the edge of the veranda, waiting, her heart beating a happy tattoo. She heard the creak of saddle leather, then he was coming toward her. His light-colored shirt was a soft glow in the moonlight. He was hatless and his black hair framed his dark face. She ran out from the porch. He stopped and held his arms wide. She ran into them and he lifted her off her feet, swinging her around.

  “My sweet! My sweet summertime girl! I’ll never get used to you waiting for me, running to me.” His voice was husky, teasing, tender, and his lips nuzzled her ear. “You smell like roses. Is your beau coming to call?”

  “He’s here!” Her arms tightened about his neck. “He’s right here!”

  The feel of her body warm against his and the scent of her filled his head. He swallowed hard because he wanted her so much. His hand moved up and down her back and over her rounded hips, pulling her closer.

  “This day has been a year long,” he whispered passionately against her lips, and kissed her long and hard.

  She returned his kiss, her mouth answering his hungrily, feeling the familiar longing in her loins, pressing against him, her breasts tingling as they waited for his caress. He began to stroke her, his hands gentle.

  “Sweetheart.” His breath was warm on her face. “I’ve waited all day for this. It’s getting harder and harder. . . to not do more than kiss you.”

  The knowledge that she could excite him so much, could cause his big, work-hard body to tremble and his breath to catch in his throat, made her brave. Her hands moved down and slipped inside his shirt. His chest was furry in the center and warm and smooth as her hand slid along muscles that quivered at her touch. Her exploration stopped abruptly. She turned her lips from his so she could speak.

  “You . . . you’ve been hurt here!”

  “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now but you.” He began kissing her again, his hand coming up under the hair at the nape of her neck to hold her head. She could feel the stirring in him and in her, and she wanted to melt into him, become one with him, so she could feel the pain he’d felt when these scars were made.

  Gently, still kissing her, he eased her arms from around him and, holding her by the shoulders, he peered down into her face.

  “Let me move you and John Austin to the house, sweetheart.” There was urgency in his voice. “I want you to be there. I’ll move to the bunkhouse until we are wed.” He pulled her back into his arms.

  Her heart hammered. The sincerity in his face, his voice, made her weak. Somewhere, she found the strength to whisper:

  “It won’t be long now.” She placed slow, nibbling kisses along his jawline. “Until we’re married, I’ll be waiting right here, anytime you can come to me.” She pulled away, laughing lightly. “Why are we standing here? Shall we sit on the veranda?”

  “Let’s take a walk down by the swing.” He untied a bundle from behind the saddle, and ar
m in arm they moved away from the house.

  Now is the time, she thought, to tell him about Travis’s visit. While she was trying to form the right words in her mind, they reached the cottonwood tree, and he flipped out the blanket and lowered himself down. The moment was lost.

  He leaned on his elbow and watched her. He was quite sure there was not another woman like her and never would be. How easily she had woven her web around him, yet she was like a fragile butterfly. The moon was up and skimmed the treetops. In its silvery light she was a vision of all that was wonderful. He had to have her close, and he reached up and tugged on her skirt. She knelt down beside him.

  “Are you real, Summer, or am I having a dream? A wonderful dream.” His fingers closed lightly around her wrist and brought it to his lips, kissing the soft skin, running his tongue along her inner arm.

  She ‘bent low to press her trembling mouth to his. “Oh, love,” she breathed against his lips. “Even dreams are not this wonderful!”

  With an arm across her shoulders, he rolled down onto his back and pulled her down beside him. A great peaceful sigh came from him.

  “You’re tired,” she said, with concern. Her eyes searched his face in the meager glow, and her fingertips stroked his scarred cheek.

  In the warm, wavering glow of the moon, her skin shone warm and pale, shadowed and highlighted, even more beautiful than he had seen before. There was a radiance about her that was different, but he couldn’t name it.

  “My beautiful Summer,” he breathed, almost in reverence. “I could not have believed it, but you have grown even more beautiful. Are you a fairy princess, my love?”

  “Yes.” She smiled down into his eyes. “And I may turn into a green toad if you don’t kiss me.”

  “Not that!” The words were a husky growl in his throat. He turned and bore her down to the blanket, leaning over her and gathering her close. His kisses came upon her mouth, warm, devouring, fierce with love and passion. Summer closed her eyes as the bliss of his greedy mouth swept her every nerve with intense excitement. She heard his harsh breathing in her ear, the hoarsely whispered words of love. His hand moved between them to the buttons on her dress, exposed her naked breast to his touch. He cupped, caressed, stroked, then pressed her nipples to his own bare chest, where his heart beat wildly.