The Savage

Lance grinned back. “A lot of fellas have tried.”

“Get back. I don’t need your damned help.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Lance returned smugly. “Use the stirrup leather.”

As ordered, Reed sat up and half slid, half crawled to where he could grab the stirrup leather and pull himself up to stand beside the horse. When he finally made it, he stood panting for a moment, then said in a voice so low, Summer could barely make out the words, “Lance…I’m grateful to you. More than you’ll ever know. I’ve felt so blasted trapped, being unable to get around.”

“Oh, I know, all right,” Lance retorted gruffly. “But there’s no call for you to feel beholden. Fact is, I’d say we’re even. You just better do a damned good job drawing my new house.” They grinned at each other in complete accord. “Now, get moving. I’ve got work to do out on the range. Can’t spend all my valuable time mollycoddling you.”

As Reed tried again, Lance caught his wife’s approving eye. Summer gave him a smile of such brilliance that it dazed him for a full minute.

She had just picked up her basket of laundry from the ground where she’d set it, and turned toward the big house, when the distant sound of galloping hooves disturbed the calm, cool morning. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lance quietly check the action of the six-shooter he wore strapped to his hip. Reed, who had managed to mount, turned the sorrel toward the approaching riders.

A group of a half dozen men came pounding up in a cloud of dust. Summer felt her heartbeat falter when she recognized Will Prewitt as the leader.

Prewitt raised his hand and brought the group to a halt near the corral, then sat staring with undisguised animosity at Lance.

Reed broke the silence with a cautious greeting. “Will, what brings you boys out our way?”

“Somebody stole two hundred head of prime stock off my north range yesterday.”

Reed adopted an expression of polite concern, while Lance’s features remained totally closed. Summer felt the knot of tension in her stomach tighten.

Prewitt held up an object—an Indian arrow, by the looks of it. “This was found in place of my beeves. Looks like a Comanche arrow to me,” he added, addressing Lance directly.

Lance’s black gaze swept the arrow casually as he hooked his thumbs on his gun belt. “Could be. What of it?”

“That’s a right good question. How do you figure them stinkin’ Comanche knew to raid my place?”

Reed shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a fair conclusion, Prewitt. With all the vagrants on the loose nowadays, it could just as well be whites who stole your stock.”

That was possible, Summer knew, but not as likely. During the war, with the frontier crumbling, cattle raids by Indians had occurred frequently, even as far south as Williamson County. The Comanche and Kiowa especially had made off with thousands of head from Texas ranches and exchanged them for blankets and weapons with the ruthless Mexican traders known as Comancheros, who in turn traded the livestock to Federal Army contractors in the New Mexico Territory. After the war, the Federal market had dried up, but there was still a big demand for Texas longhorns by ranchers in New Mexico. Summer had heard of huge Comanche camps to the northwest serving as trading stations for the illicit enterprise.

“It was Injuns, all right,” Prewitt countered. “Where this arrow was found, there was a mess o’ horse tracks—all goin’ barefoot. Them Injun ponies ain’t shod. Looked like maybe two dozen of ‘em. It was Injuns; I think maybe they had good reason to come visitin’ here.”

Reed’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”

Prewitt spat a stream of tobacco juice on the ground, a scarce foot from Lance’s boots. “I ain’t implyin’ nothing. I’m statin’ facts. Them Comanche stole my cattle. And I think maybe you know more about this than you’re lettin’ on.”

“What’s your point, Prewitt?” Lance demanded.

“I think maybe you drove off my beeves to give to your red nigger kin.”

Summer didn’t know whether to be more incensed by the ugly slur or the ridiculous accusation. “Why, that’s absurd!” she exclaimed indignantly, stepping forward. “Lance would never be part of such a raid.”

“Oh, yeah?” Prewitt gave her a narrow look before shifting his attention back to Lance. “Where were you all day yesterday, Calder?”

Lance tipped his hat back, eyeing Prewitt steadily. “I rode down to Austin to order some supplies.”

“Time enough to swing by my place to lift my beeves and meet up with them red devils.”

“That’s enough,” Reed broke in. “You’ve no call to come around accusing innocent men.”

“How can you be so damned sure he’s innocent?”

“Think about it. It doesn’t make sense, Lance stealing from our neighbors.” Reed made a sweeping gesture with his arm, encompassing the Sky Valley ranch. “Why would he jeopardize everything he has here?”

“How the hell should I know? Maybe he wanted to pay somebody back for what happened to his livery t’other day.”