This Loving Land - Dorothy Garlock [39]
“No, you don’t know me at all, Summer. But you’re going to.” He touched the brim of his hat obligingly. “I’ll be back.” He looked over his shoulder and gave a short whistle. The sorrel pricked up its ears and moved slowly in behind the big black. Slater turned his horse toward the creek and the sorrel followed. John Austin feet flapping against the mare’s sides and holding tightly to the pommel, gave Summer a huge smile as he passed her.
She stood wiping the tears from her cheeks with her fingers, wondering vaguely why she wept, why he affected her emotions in a way that she couldn’t control. She was losing her hold on the person she had always tried to be: composed, competent, wellmannered.
Sadie walked over to her quietly. “Let’s rest a while.”
“Suits me.”
The strong sunlight had caused the freckles to pop out in surprising numbers on Sadie’s pert nose, and her bronze hair, damp with sweat, was kinking into tight curls. She looked searchingly at Summer, trying to decide if the dampness on her cheeks was caused by tears or sweat.
“Who was that man?” she asked, after they had refreshed themselves with a cool drink.
“Slater McLean.”
“I remember seeing him in town. He came to the dance hall and watched. You’d not forget a face like that. Not ‘cause it’s cut up some, but ‘cause he didn’t smile a’tall. I never saw him till the last couple nights I was there.” Sadie’s green eyes watched Summer through red-gold lashes. In all her young life, Sadie had known little love, and much loneliness, longing and hardship. There had been years of impossible struggle. And from that struggle, she had learned to judge men. “I’d say he’s a man who wastes no time once he gets his mind set. I’ve seen his kind afore. He don’t go swaggerin’ around huntin’ trouble, ‘cause he’s had it a plenty. He’s been up the creek and over the mountain, as my pa used to say, and takes to fightin’ and standin’ up for hisself like you and me take to makin’ a batch of cornbread. It’s everyday work to him. Now, he’s the kind of man I’d tie to . . . if’n I ever got the chance!”
Summer avoided her eyes. “I knew him when I was a little girl,” she said. After that, it was easy to talk to Sadie, to tell her about her mother, Sam McLean and Slater. She didn’t say anything about Ellen or Travis or Slater’s hatred. “My mother was so sure Sam McLean would take care of us that she made me promise to come here. Slater is just carrying out his father’s wishes and I’m grateful, but . . . I don’t like feeling so . . . obligated!”
“Don’t ya like him?” Sadie asked shyly. Then, before Summer could answer, she blurted out, “He’s ten times the man that varmit of a Travis is, I tell you! I ain’t never even talked to the man, but I can tell that by lookin’.”
Summer had to laugh at Sadie’s vehemence. Then she said seriously, “We must do everything we can for ourselves before we ask for help, Sadie. And if there is anything that we can do for them. . . .” She left the words hanging and drew her brows together in thought.
Sadie’s green eyes twinkled. “I know what we can do! Cowhands like nothin’ better than doughnuts. Well, I’m here to tell ya that I’m the best doughnutmaker in all of Texas! We’ll make up a dishpan full, that’s what we’ll do. Those cowhands will wonder how they ever lived without us!” She got up. “I’ll do it right now, Summer. That is, after I see what that Mary is up to. She’s mad ‘cause she didn’t get to go with John Austin—had herself a regular spell-thinks he’s the grandest thing ever hatched.”
“I must have felt that way about Slater when I was young.” The words were an echo of what was in her mind. Wanting to change the subject, she asked, “Why do you dislike Travis, Sadie? Was he unkind to you at the dance hall?”
“Unkind!” The word exploded from Sadie. “That polecat passed right over ‘unkind’ and went over to downright horrible. Take my word for it, Summer, that man ain’t