This Loving Land - Dorothy Garlock [109]
He talked with Summer briefly about his plans for the future. Slater, he explained, was now the owner of the Rocking S. He felt sure that was the way the judge would see it, as Slater was the only living kin as far as anyone knew. When things were settled, he and Sadie would be married and start building a spread somewhere else.
“Slater will want you to stay,” Summer had said.
“It’s time I start building something of my own,” was his simple reply.
Summer leaned her head against the window frame. She knew every inch of the street below, every knot-hole in the building across the street. She had had nothing else to do for five whole days but stare out the window. She had not been out of the room, had seen the hotel man only one time and that was when he left the tray by the door and she thought he had gone away, but he was standing down the hall waiting for her to come out so he could get a glimpse of her. Somehow, his leering look had made her feel guilty and unclean.
The shadow on the building across the street told her that it wouldn’t be long until the sun would be straight overhead. She began to feel anxious. Jesse said he would be here and he would be, she told herself. Nevertheless, the minutes dragged while she watched. Nervousness made her twist her handkerchief round and round her finger, and by the time she saw him turn the corner and head toward the hotel, the hankie was soaked. With a deep feeling of relief, she got up and put on her hat, pinning it carefully to her piled hair so the wind wouldn’t whip it from her head. Jesse didn’t come up right away and she figured he was settling with the hotel man. She got out the money Slater had given her and waited.
“Summer?” Jesse’s voice.
She unlocked the door. “Hello,Jesse.”
“The hotel man’s paid, put your money away. You’ll need it. I’ve got your fare bought to Austin, and Bill said he would look after you. Come on, he’s holding the stage.” When Summer protested about the money, he said, “We’ll settle it later. Sadie and I may come through Austin. Where could we find you?”
“I’ve decided to use my mother’s name. Wheeler. I’ll leave word at the post office.”
Summer tilted her chin a little higher and straightened her back when they walked out into the noon sunshine. Jesse lifted her trunk to his shoulder and put a hand beneath her elbow. As they walked to the station, she was conscious of the curious eyes that followed them, and her face burned. She forced herself to lift her eyes from the dusty street and looked straight ahead, her face calm, her feelings well bottled up inside her.
Bill, the driver who had brought her and John Austin to Hamilton, was waiting beside the stage. He took Summer’s trunk from Jesse and heaved it up to his helper to secure in the luggage rack.
Now that it was time to go, Summer wanted to cling to Jesse. Reading her thoughts, the torment on her face, he squeezed her arm and bent forward to murmur reassuringly:
“You’ll do fine, Summer. Remember, if things don’t work out, write to Captain Slane at the fort. He’ll get word to me. Now, you’ll do it?”
Fighting back the tears, she nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered through trembling lips.
Jesse turned and lifted her into the coach, his own face masked over to conceal his feelings. Summer sat down beside a Mexican woman with a squirming baby. The coach was full; three men and one woman beside the one holding the baby. The men looked irritable because of the delay, and stared at her resentfully. The whip cracked, the coach lurched and began to roll. Summer, sitting on the backward seat, kept her eyes on Jesse for as long as she could see him. The trail curved, a cloud of dust rolling