Regretfully, curtly, Summer answered, “Yes.”
“We came to offer our apologies. My we see him?”
Summer hesitated. She still couldn’t face her sister with anything approaching equanimity, but one glance made Summer reconsider slamming the door in her face. Amelia looked terrible, almost as devastated as when Lance had rescued her from her Comanche captors, although without the ugly cuts and bruises. There were puffy dark circles under her eyes, which were red from weeping, and her complexion was splotchy with tears. Her head drooped in shame, and she wouldn’t meet Summer’s eyes as she twisted a handkerchief nervously between her fingers.
Silently Summer stepped back to allow them entrance. She couldn’t deny Amelia this moment of healing—or Lance either.
“I don’t know if Lance will want to see you,” she warned. Shutting the front door behind them, she preceded them into the bedchamber.
In order to gather his crutches, Reed had to release Amelia, but she remained close beside him, like a child afraid to stray from her parent.
They stopped just inside the door, as far away as possible from the man on the bed.
Lance had put aside his six-shooter and had drawn the blanket up far enough to cover most of his bare chest. “Excuse me if I don’t get up in the presence of a lady. I’m not quite up to such exertions.” His tone was cool, uninflected, but amazingly, lacked the hostile edge Summer had expected.
Reed took off his hat and met Lance’s eyes directly, his own blue ones somber and sincere. “I owe you one heck of an apology, Lance,” he began without preliminaries. “It was wrong of me to suspect you, especially after all you’ve done for us. My only excuse is that I was worried for Summer’s sake. I couldn’t take the chance…well…if you were guilty, you might drag her down with you.”
Lance’s black gaze flickered over her. “I understand.”
Reed looked cautiously relieved. “I want you to know…I was the one who doubted you. Summer didn’t want to believe you had anything to do with those cattle thefts. I spent a damn hour trying to convince her while she defended you at every turn.” He hesitated as if to give Lance a chance to respond, but Lance remained silent. “You have every right to kick my butt—and you’re welcome to, as soon as you’re able. But if you’ll forgive me, we’ll go on as before.”
For a long moment, Lance didn’t reply—and when he did, Summer didn’t know what to make of it. “As soon as I’m able…I’ll think about it.”
Reed eyed him quizzically, as if not knowing whether his apology had been accepted or not. Apparently deciding not to press the issue, though, he edged aside so that Amelia could step forward.
She did so, her head lowered, her lower lip trembling, her fingers clenching and unclenching her handkerchief. She took a deep, shuddering breath as if she were about to speak, and for a brief instant, she even risked a glance at Lance. But then suddenly she turned away, sobbing, and covered her face with her hands.
Summer took an involuntary step toward her, feeling the need to offer her sister comfort despite Amelia’s treachery, but Reed raised a hand, making her halt. And he was right, Summer knew. This was something Amelia had to do on her own.
“I’m…I’m s-sorry…” she finally managed to get out between deep, gulping sobs, “…for what I did to you…For lying. I’m so sorry…I would…I would…understand…if you never forgave me…but I never meant for…them to h-hurt you…I never…I didn’t w-want you to d-die…”
She stopped explaining then, and wept for a long while, while everyone else in the room remained silent. Reed, looking grim but determined, rubbed her shoulder in solace, but he evidently didn’t yet consider her apology adequate. When Amelia’s sobs had quieted to shuddering breaths, he turned her back to face Lance, saying gently, “All of it, Melly. Tell Lance everything you told me. You asked Prewitt to get rid of Lance for you, but then you changed your mind because things went way too far.”
“Y-Yes. I never wanted him to be 1-lynched. I just didn’t want…him to stay…”
“Why didn’t you want him to stay?”
She raised her head slowly then, daring to look at Lance. “I thought you might…h-hurt me. I was…I was…afraid of you.”
“Am I really such a scary fellow, Miss Amelia?” Lance’s tone was quiet, softer than Summer had ever heard it, the gentleness incongruous coming from so hard a man.
“N-No…I don’t r-really s-suppose so. It’s just that…”
“That I look like the Comanches who hurt you.”
“Y-Yes…”
“I may look like them, but I’m half-white, too. And I’m human, just like you.” He patted the bandage covering his wounded right arm. “I bleed just like everybody else.”
She gulped, wiping absently at a tearstained cheek. “I know…but you…you saw my shame. I wanted to die…”
“It wasn’t your shame I saw, Miss Amelia. It was your courage.” The light in Lance’s eyes was almost tender. “It takes a strong, brave woman to survive what you did. I always thought my ma the bravest person I knew, but you Weston women are right up there with her.”
“Some people would say…I should have…I should have killed myself.”
Summer drew a sharp breath, but Lance shook his head. “Some people would be wrong, Miss Amelia. As long as you have family behind you, you can get through anything. That’s what my ma would have said.
“I’m sorry about what the Comanches did to you,” he added quietly. “If I could have prevented it, I would have. But—I know you find it hard to believe just now—but not all of them are bad. My brother’s not. He helped me find you, Miss Amelia, at no little risk to himself. He wouldn’t have hurt you. Just like I wouldn’t. I want you to believe that, Miss Amelia. I would never, ever hurt you. Not in a million years.”