This Loving Land - Dorothy Garlock [43]
John Austin recognized Slater’s authority and bowed to it. When he was harsh with the boy it shook Summer, for she had brought her brother up with dedicated tenderness and care for his young feelings. However, Slater was just, and while he reprimanded John Austin, he also made every effort to give the boy his heart’s desire—books from the ranch house.
One evening, more than a week after he had taken John Austin in hand, he returned at dusk; bathed, shaved, his dark hair wet and slicked back from the small white strip near his hairline where the suntan stopped, his strong brown throat protruding from a freshly-washed, open-necked shirt. He had come to “walk out” with Summer. He made his intentions clear the first evening.
“Evening, Summer, Sadie.” He lowered himself down onto the bench and leaned back against the rough logs of the house.
While Summer was struggling to bring some semblance of order to her thoughts, Mary slipped off Sadie’s lap and went straight to Slater. She stood between his knees and looked curiously into his face. Summer held her breath for fear the child would mention the scar on his face.
In the gathering darkness it was hard to see Slater’s expression, but his voice was gentle, and opened up whole avenues of conjecture as to his real nature.
“Isn’t it about your bedtime?” He lifted the child and set her on his lap, one large hand cupping her bare feet. “You could get into a cockleburr out here in the dark.”
On hearing Slater’s voice, John Austin came out the door.
“Slater!”
“Hello, John.” Slater turned his attention back to the little girl. She cuddled up against him and he chuckled softly, a sound that caused an inexplicable emotion to rise in Summer. “You’re a little scalliwag, that’s what you are!” He hugged her tighter in his arms.
While Summer and Sadie watched, fascinated, Mary’s small hand came out and reached for his face. Summer sucked in a long breath as Mary’s little fingers moved up and down over his scarred cheek. Slater stayed very still, his eyes looking down on the child’s face. It seemed like an hour before she rested her curly head against him, wrapped her arm about his neck, and closed her eyes.
“Slater . . . .” John Austin said impatiently.
“In a minute, John.”
In the silence that followed, Summer wondered exactly what his visit meant. She thought of his telling her he was staking his claim, and it brought an unexpected flush to her cheeks. If only she didn’t feet this terrible constriction in her heart when he was near
Slater got to his feet and held the child out to Sadie.
“She’s sound asleep.”
“Slater. . . .” John Austin hovered beside the door.
Slater waited until Sadie went inside the house before he spoke. “What is it, John?”
“You promised to teach me to play chess.”
“And I will, but not tonight. It’s time you were in bed.”
“But—”
“It’s time you were in bed,” he said again. “The evening hour is for me and your sister. It’s going to be our private time together. You may join us when you’re invited, and only when you’re invited.”
Summer stirred and Slater put out his hand and caught her elbow, commanding silence.
“Say goodnight to your sister, John,” he continued “Be careful not to disturb Sadie and Mary. Goodnight.”
“Dear. . . .” Summer started forward.
Slater, holding her elbow, held her back.
“But Summer always comes with me and. . . .”
“No. You put yourself to bed, tonight and from now on.”
“Please, John Austin. Do as he says.”
“Goodnight, John,” Slater