The Savage

It gave her reason to hope. As long as he felt something for her—even if he was fighting it—she still stood a chance of persuading him to help her.

“Reed…didn’t mean it the way it sounded. You have to understand…he’s out of his mind with worry for Amelia.”

“Oh, I understand just fine. Treat the savage redskin gentle-like as long as he can be of some use. Your pa felt the same way.”

Lance heard the hostility in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to try. He couldn’t hold Summer to blame for everything the white world had done to him. Still, there was a part of him that bitterly resented everything she stood for, that wanted revenge for every slur, every insult, every hateful word thrown at him and his mother over the years.

She bit her lip at his retort. “I tried to convince Papa to change his mind, but he…I’m sorry, Lance. I never meant to cause trouble for you. I wanted to apologize to you, but you left town so suddenly…When I looked for you, you were gone.”

Lance clenched his jaw. Had she really tried to find him? Had she defied her father for his sake? Her look of pain and regret was so real, he almost believed her.

“I’ve been back in town four months now. Plenty of time for you to look me up.”

She knew exactly when Lance had returned to town; Dusty had informed her, just as she?

?d asked him to. But she hadn’t known quite how to approach Lance after all this time. And she’d spent most of her energy nursing her brother, Reed, after his terrible injury. “I know.... It’s just that the war… Things have been difficult lately.”

“Have they now, princess? Well, isn’t that a damned shame.”

She shook her head in denial at his tone, at his scornful diminutive for her. She was a princess no longer. It had taken that terrible injustice to Lance to make her realize just how shallow and selfish she’d been, but she had changed. She’d been forced to. The safe, sheltered world she’d known was gone, collapsed in devastating ruin around her during the interminable war. She was older now, both in years and experience. She’d aged a decade since the war began. Facing hardship and loss had made her grow up. Out of necessity, she’d learned the meaning of hard work, of pain, of dashed hopes. Indeed, it made her ashamed to think what a spoiled, worthless darling she’d once been.

“Please…I said I was sorry.”

He clenched his jaw so hard, a muscle jumped. Wishing she could make him think better of her, Summer gazed up at him, searching his harsh, strong-boned face for any sign of softness. “I heard that after you left, you drove a stagecoach for a time. The Overland Route. It must have been dangerous.”

He shrugged. “It was a living. Better than getting shot on a battlefield.”

“You didn’t join the Army?”

“The Confederacy? Nope. Couldn’t agree with their politics. Something your brother, Reed, and I have in common. I went back to breaking horses again. Sold them to the Union Army.”

“I’m glad you came home.”

His dark eyes narrowed in suspicion at her soft tone. “I only came back here because Peace left me his livery.”

She nodded as if she understood. “I was sorry about Mr. Peace. He was a good man.”

“A lot of good men died in the war.”

“I know. My brothers…”

Her green eyes suddenly shimmered with tears, and Lance felt his gut tighten. There was nothing feigned about her anguish, the way her lower lip trembled. He could have kicked himself; he had no call to be so cruel, reminding her of her loss—even if cruelty was his best defense against her.

“I was sorry to hear about your brothers,” he said gruffly, grudgingly.

“Thank you.” She swallowed with effort and forced a tremulous little smile that pierced his heart like an arrow. “I’m glad Mr. Peace left you his livery stable.”

“You’re the only one, then.” His mouth twisted in that bitter way of his—half-sardonic, half-defiant. “Came as a shock to the good citizens of Round Rock to have to consider me one of their own. A savage and a Union sympathizer.”

She wished he wouldn’t be so hard on himself, or on the people around him. Hurting for him, she raised her hand to touch his denim-covered thigh in mute appeal. He flinched visibly, and made his horse sidle away from her, out of reach.

“Lance…I…I wanted to ask you—”

“The answer is no.”

“Please, won’t you just listen to what I have to say?”

He averted his gaze, looking down the road, impatient to leave. He’d be a damned fool to get involved with her again, to leave himself open to the kind of hurt he’d suffered five years ago. He’d lied to himself about why he’d come here today. He’d told himself he was simply curious to see Summer after all this time, that he only wanted to hear her ask him for a favor, to have her admit that she needed him. But he was wrong. Dead wrong. He still wanted her as much as ever, damn her. If he could just keep away from her, though, he’d manage all right. “I know what you’re going to say. I’m not interested.”