He chuckled, the bleak sound a travesty. “You might have trusted me.”
He left quietly then. Turned and walked through the main room, shutting the door softly behind him.
Her knees weak, her heart hollow, Summer sank into the rocking chair. She could still hear the echo of Lance’s boot-heels on the floorboard, still remember his raw gaze when he said she might have trusted him, his face drawn as though in pain.
A sharp ache rose in her throat as she realized the full scope of what she’d done. She had turned her back on Lance. She had acted as whites usually did, banding with their kind against him. She had taken their side, refusing to believe in his innocence. She had let him down, disappointed him cruelly—at the very moment she’d come to realize how very much he meant to her.
Summer pressed a hand over her mouth to hold back a cry of despair. For some time now she had known she was in danger of losing her heart. But until this moment she hadn’t realized it had already happened. She had fallen in love with her husband. With a hard, hostile, defiant half-breed who had opened himself up to her, only to find himself betrayed.
She loved Lance. She didn’t know when it had happened, or how, yet she knew why. Lance was a good man. With an honor and integrity that most men couldn’t hold a candle to. With a grit, a heart-deep courage, that most whites couldn’t even understand, let alone emulate. He deserved better than a wife who lost faith at the first trial.
Shame crawled through Summer’s belly, gnawing at her. If she had truly loved him, she never would have doubted him.
But then, she had been wrong about Lance frequently. She had prided herself on her magnanimity, on her self-sacrifice in agreeing to marry him. She had condescended—stooped—to become his wife, telling herself it was the only way to gain what she wanted from him. She had braved the censure of their neighbors, even daring them to snub her and him, all the while feeling a self-righteous anger at being forced to renounce her future because of Lance. She had been afraid for herself, her future, her needs, her consequence. She hadn’t been concerned for Lance at all. She had thought Lance lucky to have won her hand—but she was the lucky one.
Fool! Arrogant fool.
She hadn’t trusted him enough—no, that wasn’t quite true. There was no one she trusted more than Lance to keep her safe, to protect her physically from harm. But she hadn’t believed in him. She hadn’t taken his side when all the evidence pointed against him. She hadn’t given him a wife’s loyalty.
And now her lack of faith might have destroyed whatever softer feelings he had begun to feel for her. She deserved it if he couldn’t forgive her, if he hated her.
Shaking, Summer wrapped her arms around herself to hold back the tremors. Dear God, she couldn’t bear it if he hated her. She wanted him to love her. She wanted to own his heart, as he owned hers. She wanted to become the center of his universe, his hopes, his dreams. She wanted him filling the emptiness inside her, just as she wanted to fill it for him. She wanted him standing beside her, against the rest of the world if need be. Just as she should have stood beside him when he’d needed her.
She closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could deny her betrayal. Lance had been right to condemn her. She had done nothing this past week to help him clear his name. She had sat at home waiting, while he had tried to prove his innocence, while he had faced his enemies alone.
But he wouldn’t be alone any longer.
With determination and a bleak hopefulness, Summer raised her head. Lance needed help. She needed to find him help. She would do everything in her power to provide it for him. She would show him that she was on his side, totally, irrevocably.
And this time when he asked for her trust, she wouldn’t let him down.
Chapter 23
A half hour later, Summer spoke to Reed, telling him exactly what Lance had been up to during the past week. She believed totally in his innocence, she declared, and never should have doubted him. She also demanded that they do everything possible to help Lance in his search for the real cattle thieves, and that Reed put all resources of the Sky Valley ranch behind the effort. Reed, in the face of her adamancy, swallowed his skepticism and capitulated.
Summer confronted her sister abruptly afterward, demanding that Amelia retract her lies about Lance. Amelia, however, remained stubbornly silent, her hostility undiminished.
Frustrated, Summer went out to the corrals to look for Dusty. She had to wait until he returned from the range, though, to implement the main part of her plan. She wanted to enlist his help, as well as that of the vaqueros who could be counted on to be loyal to Lance.
When Dusty rode in, Summer followed him into the small office he used for record keeping and forced herself to sit in the wooden chair he offered, determined to remain calm and logical. The foreman seated himself behind the small desk, heard her out in silence, and agreed to her plan without hesitation.
“You don’t believe Lance is guilty?” Summer asked, relieved.
“Nope.” Dusty shook his head. “I never thought for a minute he’d do something stupid like stealing beeves. Lance might have the disposition of a grizzly bear, but he’s always had brains.”
“Lance told me he was hunting for Comanche tracks, but he never said whether or not he’d found any.”
Pushing back his hat, Dusty frowned in thought. “I doubt he did. Leastwise, not any that belonged to his kin. He’d be a damn fool to invite the Comanches into this territory—he knows he’d be blamed for anything any Indian did.”
“But if the Comanches aren’t stealing, then someone else is.”
“Yep. I’m inclined to think maybe Will Prewitt had a hand in it.”
Green eyes met blue in complete understanding. “So am I.”
“Well, then…” Dusty grinned, making Summer feel infinitely grateful to have someone on her side. “I guess we better figure out how to catch us some cattle thieves.”
They talked for a time about various options and what men they could put out riding the range. Dusty finished by expressing regret that Lance was trying to do it all alone.