This Loving Land - Dorothy Garlock [25]
Jesse nodded. He had noticed the girl’s fright the moment he stepped into the room, and now that he had a closer look at her, he understood why. She was the dance-hall girl he had rescued from Travis several weeks ago. He allowed no recognition to show in his face as he mumbled a polite greeting and looked down at the impish little face peeking up at him. His stern face relaxed, and memories of his own childhood came flooding back; every kind word, every pat on the head was to be remembered and cherished. He fished into his pocket, came out with a peppermint stick, and held it out to the child. She hid her face in Sadie’s skirt and refused to look at him. He chuckled, and handed the candy to Sadie.
“She scares easy,” Sadie murmured as she accepted the offering.
“It’s natural.” The piercing eyes rested once again on Sadie’s face, and remained so long that it seemed he was counting every freckle on her slightly upturned nose, before going to the shelf for the water bucket.
Sadie’s eyes followed him out the door. “I’ll get the meal ready, Summer, so don’t you be frettin’ how you’re gonna feed ’em.”
“That’s a relief. I never dreamed we’d have visitors so soon. Where’s John Austin?”
“He’s all right. Jack said to tell you not to worry, he’d keep a tight rein on him.”
“I hope to heaven he does.” Summer’s voice took on the serious, worried tone it always did when she spoke of her brother.
“You go on out,” Sadie urged. “I’ll call when the meal’s ready.”
It was later in the afternoon, as she and Ellen were sitting in the shade of the oak tree, that Summer thought about the tall ranch foreman and Travis. They were not openly hostile toward each other, but they were certainly not friendly either. She had not been able to observe them more closely because Ellen kept her occupied with woman-talk. Up to now, the talk had been about dress patterns, new novels and hairstyles.
“How is Slater?” Ellen asked suddenly.
“I only met him this morning.”
The friendly blue eyes searched hers, then saddened as she shook her head.
“It’s a shame the way that man has withdrawn since Sam was killed.” She paused, and her face turned toward the footbridge and the ranch house beyond. “He blames us, you know. I could never understand how he could think that Travis or I had anything to do with such a thing.” The sad eyes came back to Summer. “I loved Sam McLean like a brother. After all, he was my husband’s only living kin.” Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
Summer reached across and clasped her hand. “I’m sorry, Ellen. I didn’t know Sam McLean was dead until this morning.”
Ellen wiped her eyes. “That’s just like Slater, to bring you here without telling you.” Summer didn’t speak, so she continued. “It’s been about five years now. Or maybe four, time goes by so fast. Sam and Slater were camped in the hills, and men rode into the camp shooting. I suppose they thought Sam had money on him. They killed him. Slater was badly injured. One of them rode his horse over him time and again . . . so he said. It’s a wonder he lived. Some of Sam’s men were bringing in fresh horses and heard the shots. They rode in and killed the men on the spot. They said one man got away by riding through a nearby pass, but they found no trace of him. The dead men worked for us at one time, so Slater believes the orders came from us. It’s beyond me how he can think such a thing.” Ellen turned her face away to dab her eyes.
Summer didn’t know what to say. The woman’s sincere distress made her half-angry at Slater. It was logical for him to be hurt and angry, but why carry on that hate, without proof, for five years?
“Slater was a strange little boy,” Ellen said fondly. “He was so lonely. His mother was . . . well, there’s no other way to put it, not quite right. It happens sometimes to women out here in this desolate country. They can’t cope with the day-after-day loneliness of never seeing another woman.