This Loving Land - Dorothy Garlock [105]
“Summer! Goddammit, girl, if you’re that, open the door.”
At last, at long last, he went away, and the breath left her tortured lungs. Hardly daring to move, she sidled to the side of the window and peeked out. He was turning his horse and riding down the street.
Tears she could no longer hold back came to her eyes, tears of fear and bewilderment. She sat on the edge of the bed, her weary head in her hands, and let the tears ooze between her slender fingers.
John Austin Kuykendall had never spent a day of his young life away from his sister. The newness of it lasted until exactly noon of the second day, and then a lonely, scary feeling came over him. What if Summer had left him here and would never come back? She had always been there when he needed her, always encouraging him to try something new, always looked after him, fixed the things he liked to eat, sat with him when he wasn’t feeling well.
He sat with his back to the big cottonwood, the book about the Revolutionary War on his lap. Today, he couldn’t even get interested in Nathan Hale. He kept seeing his sister’s happy face when she came to tell them Slater would be all right and hearing her shouted words: “Shut up, shut up.” He couldn’t remember Summer ever saying words like that even when she was very mad. It had to be something to do with Mrs. McLean.
John Austin stared off into space, seeing nothing. He realized now that he hadn’t appreciated his sister. Sometimes, he hadn’t been very thoughtful of her. She had done most all the work, hadn’t nagged him as Sadie was doing now. That was something else he had noticed . . . Sadie. She was acting flighty, like something was bothering her. He suspected it was something to do with Summer’s going. He began to feel really scared when the thought entered his mind that maybe Summer would not come back, that she hadn’t been going to Mrs. McLean’s burying, after all. He tried to still his fears by thinking she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t go away and leave him . . . unless she was in terrible trouble.
He carefully marked his place and closed the book. On his way to the corral, he left it on the bench on the veranda. If Summer was in trouble, the one person to fix it would be Slater. Slater liked her, liked her a lot, almost as much as he did. Hadn’t he said he was going to take care of them from now on, that they would all live together in the big house? He saddled Georgianna, climbed up on the fence, and jumped onto her back.
“Where you goin’, John Austin?” Sadie came into the yard. “Don’t you leave this place! Hear me? Come on back, I’ll play a game with you and Mary. John Austin. . . .”
Paying her no attention, he rode on toward the creek-crossing leading to the Keep.
Jack’s horse stood beside the house, stamping and swishing his tail to rid himself of the pesky flies. John Austin hesitated. He had an intuitive feeling that Jack wouldn’t want him to bother Slater. He guided his horse around behind the bunkhouse, tied her, and squatted in the shade to wait until Jack left the house.
It seemed a long while to the waiting boy, but finally Jack came out, mounted, and rode off toward old Raccoon’s garden. John Austin walked quickly along the stone wall, then darted into the coolness of the house. He could hear Teresa in the kitchen as he sidled past the door and down the hall to Slater’s room. The door was open and he peeked in.
Slater lay on the bed in his drawers. He had bandages around his waist and up over his ribs. Another bandage was on his left shoulder, and both his hands were covered with strips of cloth. His right arm was raised, the forearm laying over his eyes. John Austin stared for a moment. Slater wasn’t in any shape to help himself, much less Summer.