“But I need your help in finding my sister.”
“Get somebody else.”
“I have no one else to ask.”
“Sure you do, princess. I’ll bet any one of your countless beaux would be glad to help.”
She smiled sadly. “I think you overestimate my appeal. I don’t have that many beaux any longer. As you said, a lot of men died in the war.”
“It’s not my problem.”
“I know, but I thought perhaps…I have no one else to ask,” she repeated quietly. “There’s no army to call on. The Confederate troops have been disbanded.... All the frontier forts are nearly deserted.”
His grim silence didn’t hearten her. Summer took a deep breath and continued doggedly. “Able-bodied men are scarce, and ones who could go—You heard what they were saying. They don’t want to leave their homes after just returning. They don’t want to leave their families unprotected, either, with all the lawlessness in Texas just now. In any case, no one is eager to help Reed because he fought for the Union. Some consider him a traitor. He did what he thought was right, but he’s paying for it now.”
“I have my own life to live, too,” Lance said grimly. “Or maybe you hadn’t thought of that. I’m trying to make a fresh start, get my business on firm footing. I’m no different from anybody else, even if I’m not white.”
She bit her lip, not answering. Lance tilted his hat back restlessly, avoiding her gaze.
She tried again, as he feared she would. “We can’t do it alone, Lance. Reed is crippled. He couldn’t make such a long journey easily. I’m not sure he could find Amelia, even if he were whole again.”
“I might not be able to find her, either. Indian territory covers a lot of ground.”
“You would stand a better chance than anyone else.”
His mouth tightened rebelliously. “You’re asking me to risk my life for a woman who wouldn’t give me spit.”
“I…I’m asking you to do it for me.”
He glanced down at her upturned face then, and wished he hadn’t. The pleading look on her beautiful face was almost more than he could stand. But he’d seen that look before when she wanted something from a man. He’d seen her turn those luminous green eyes on some poor helpless fool and near lure his soul from his body.
“What about her husband?” he asked finally. “Wasn’t your sister married?” He saw the eager hope that sprang to Summer’s eyes at his question and wished he had kept his mouth shut. He shouldn’t encourage her. He didn’t want to get tangled up with her and her problems, devil take her.
“She was, to a farmer, but Amelia is a widow now. Her husband died two years ago of the grippe. She wanted to return home to Sky Valley, but she stayed on with his family because they needed her. She could have come home…where it was safe.”
Hearing the quaver in her voice, Lance set his jaw, grimly fighting the sympathy for her that was trying to build inside him. He shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t make one bit of difference to him if Summer Weston was in trouble way over her beautiful head. He ought to be able to steel himself against the fierce longing she still had the power to arouse in him. If he was smart, he would get the hell out of there, right now, before she could say another word.
He didn’t move.
“She’s my sister, Lance. She practically raised me after my mother died. Perhaps you don’t understand since you don’t have a sister of your own, but—”
“I have a sister.” At her quizzical frown, his mouth curled at the corner. “Nobody you would acknowledge, princess. She’s a full-blood Comanche.”
“Oh.”
Summer lowered her gaze, feeling singed by the look of scorn in his eyes. Fumbling in the pocket of her skirt, she drew out a folded letter, dog-eared and worn by countless readings. “This came yesterday by stage.... The attack happened last week, north of Fort Belknap. Amelia was visiting neighbors. A raiding party struck the farm.”
She offered him the letter, but he wouldn’t take it. Disappointed, she put it back in her pocket while she went on. “They killed two men and one of the women before burning the place. One of the children hid and saw what happened. They took Amelia and a child and went north; that’s all anyone knows. But the longer we delay, the less likely she’ll be found. And I can’t help thinking…about what she must be going through…the horrible things the Comanche do to their captives.”
He knew about those things. He’d seen firsthand what his father’s people did to white captives. He knew what they’d done to his mother.
But he also knew what he’d let Summer Weston do to him five years ago. Tie him up in knots and hang him out to dry. He sure as hell wasn’t going to fall for her practiced charms again. No way was he going to let her play her seductive little games with him.
Deliberately he forced himself to meet her pleading gaze, making himself remember all the times he had seen the shallow charmer persuade some worshiping male to do her bidding. From the cradle she’d effortlessly ruled those around her, never giving a thought to anything save her own comfort and enjoyment. She wasn’t going to rule him like that again. She wasn’t going to use him and then cast him aside with his heart sliced to ribbons.
“Like I said, princess. Find somebody else.”
He nudged his horse forward, planning to ride away, but her soft little cry brought him up short. When he turned, he saw that she had raised one hand to her brow and was standing in the road, swaying like she was about to swoon.