“I kn-know…”
Fiercely she gave herself a push in the rocker, but then
abruptly stopped the sway. “Just tell me one thing. Why did you tell those lies about Lance in front of everyone? Now the whole county believes him to be a monster.”
“I…I only…I didn’t want…people to accept him.” The tears were streaming down her cheeks by now. “I didn’t want him to fit in…b-because…then he would stay. At the barbecue…people were acting so friendly…”
“So you deliberately ruined his chances.”
“Y-Yes…”
Summer leaned toward her sister, pinning her with a fierce gaze. “Lance risked his life to save you, Amelia? If not for him, you would still be a Comanche captive, enduring the horrible things they did to you. You might even be dead by now! I think you owed Lance more than treachery.”
Her sister flinched, cringing in her seat.
“I begged you…begged you to think about what you were doing, to see how obsessed you were with hating him, but you wouldn’t listen.”
Amelia lowered her face into her hands and sobbed.
Summer clenched her fingers, refusing to relent, to offer comfort for this belated attack of conscience. She was glad Amelia felt a measure of remorse for what she’d done—Melly deserved to suffer—but Summer wasn’t certain she could ever forgive her. Perhaps if Lance returned, if he could somehow put all this behind him, then she might someday consider accepting her sister’s apology.
It was during that righteous reflection that Summer heard the distant shouts and then the sudden staccato of hoofbeats outside, as if someone had galloped up to the cabin. Rising quickly, she went to the door—this time to admit a grim-faced Dusty.
“You’ve got to come,” he said without preliminaries. “Lance is in big trouble. Gather up any guns you have and bring them. The boys are saddling up. I’m going to find Reed.”
He started to turn away, but Summer stopped him by clutching his arm. “What kind of trouble?” she asked hoarsely.
“He’s been shot, but he’s still alive. But they’re talking about hanging.”
“Who?” Summer cried.
“Prewitt and his gang. I was keeping an eye on Stapp like you said—followed him to the old Paxly place and waited. Lance showed up and then there was a gunfight. I was too far away to help, and alone, to boot. I figured I’d better fetch some backup.”
She was grateful to Dusty for his succinctness, but her pounding heart had lodged in her throat, and she could do nothing more than nod.
“Hurry up. If we don’t get there fast, there’s gonna be a lynching.”
With shaking hands, Summer turned blindly to lift the loaded rifle that was always kept hanging by the front door, and then started to fetch the one in the bedroom. Only then did she notice or even remember her sister. Amelia was standing, staring white-faced at Dusty, her tears arrested.
He gave a start when he saw her, and hesitated for an instant.
“No…” Amelia said in a breathless whisper. “They weren’t supposed to hurt him.”
Summer froze in the act of clutching the rifle. “What…?”
“He said…I thought…they would just make him leave. Not try to hurt him. He said they wouldn’t hurt him.”
“Who said?”
“S-Stapp.”
Summer felt panic like a knife in her stomach, but she tried to force it down. “Melly…tell me what happened.”
“I…I gave Lance the note…so he would go to the Paxly place…just like Prewitt wanted. They were going to catch him with the stolen cattle, but that was all, I swear it.”
Summer stared, reeling at the enormity of what Amelia had done. Slowly, as if sleepwalking, she moved to stand before her sister.
“Don’t look at me that way!” Amelia cried suddenly. “I didn’t mean…I never intended for him to be killed! I only wanted him to go away and leave us alone! I only wanted him out of our lives!”