This Loving Land - Dorothy Garlock [12]
“Ah . . . hello.” Summer was ashamed of the stammer in her voice, and moved to pass on.
The woman reached out a gloved hand and placed it on her arm.
“Have you just arrived in town?” She smiled so sweetly and her voice was so friendly that Summer couldn’t help being flattered by her inquiry.
“Since yesterday.”
“I thought so.” She smiled up at the stern-faced man. “I was right, Jesse. I thought I knew all the lovely young ladies for miles around.” Summer felt a flash of pleasure on hearing the compliment. “I’m Ellen McLean, dear. And this is my son, Travis.” Reaching around, she placed her hand on the arm of another man standing slightly behind her. He had blond hair and dancing blue eyes and winked openly at Summer when she glanced at him. She could feel the color come up her neck. She held out her hand to the woman.
“I’m Summer Kuykendall.” She made the announcement and waited.
The name brought no hint of recognition from the woman, and it occurred to Summer that perhaps Sam McLean hadn’t told his family about her and John Austin.
“I’m happy to meet you, Summer.” Mrs. McLean placed both hands around the forearm of the stern-faced man. “This is my good friend and manager of our ranch, Jesse Thurston.”
Summer looked into the coldest eyes she had ever seen. They were light gray, almost the color of the woman’s dress, and absolutely expressionless. He raised his hand to the brim of his hat, his eyes holding her as if he could pin her to the wall. Summer inclined her head and her eyes shifted to Travis McLean, who was grinning at her in open admiration. He was somewhat younger than the other man, but still looked too old to be the son of the fairylike creature dressed in gray.
“Are you, by any chance, related to the Kuykendalls that homesteaded here some years back?” Mrs. McLean smiled up at the big man again. “I don’t like to think of how many years back, Jesse, really I don’t!” Her smiling eyes came back to Summer. “You can’t be Nannie Kuykendall’s daughter!”
“But I am. Did you know my mother?”
“Yes indeed, my dear. Your mother lived near Sam McLean’s ranch. My late husband, Sam’s brother, took up land a bit further west.”
A flicker of regret crossed Summer’s mind, and at the same time relief that this wasn’t Sam McLean’s family. She felt she was not yet equal to the task of meeting the McLeans.
“You’ll be living out on the homestead? I haven’t been there for years. May I call on you?” Not waiting for her question to be answered, she rushed on. “I didn’t visit your mother as often as I liked, but I’ll visit her daughter.” Her eyes sought the stern face. “Won’t it be nice for me to have a lovely young woman to visit, Jesse?” The man looked down into her wide-eyed face and his hand came up and patted the gloved hand on his arm.
During this pause, Summer had moved to the steps.
“I’ll look forward to your visit, Mrs. McLean.”
“I’ll call on you soon. Goodbye, my dear.”
Travis McLean swept his hat and clasped Summer’s elbow to assist her down the steps.
“I’ll bring my mother to call.” His voice was low and he emphasized the first word. His hand gently squeezed her arm.
Trying not to notice the intimacy, and vastly relieved that this man was not Sam McLean’s son, Summer walked quickly to the wagon. She took Bulldog’s hand and climbed up over the wheel and sat beside Sadie. Then she noticed how quiet the street was. All activity, it seemed, had stopped while she conversed with Mrs. McLean. Even the store clerk stood in the doorway, his hands folded across his apron. Suddenly, Summer wanted to get away from this place, away from the watching eyes. Now Bulldog and Sadie seemed full of quiet, unspoken disapproval, and Summer felt uneasy.
Bulldog slapped the ends of the reins against the rumps of the horses, and