The Savage

He thought at first she was taking him to the site of what would be their new home, but she guided their mount up into the hills, toward the same high point he had once shown her, the day he’d talked about them building a future together. She halted the horse just before the promontory, though, where they could look out over the rugged, rolling land of Sky Valley.

“I’m glad you decided we should stay here,” Summer murmured, drinking in the magnificent view. “This land is worth holding on to.”

“I know,” Lance said quietly. “I always wanted this land for my own.”

The look she turned on him was teasing yet faintly hesitant. “I always suspected that was the real reason you married me.”

“Dammit, princess, you know that’s not true.”

“Do I?”

“You should.”

Keeping his arms tightly around her, Lance took her hands, interlacing his fingers with hers, while his voice wrapped her in a velvet cloak. “Have you ever really yearned for something you couldn’t have? Ever wanted something so bad, you ached for it? That was how I wanted you. But you were beyond my reach, untouchable, like a precious dream.”

Summer smiled softly. Some untamed part of her heart had always wanted Lance, too. Even when she’d thought him a dangerous, forbidden savage.

She’d conquered her prejudices since then. Lance was half-Indian, true, but she wouldn’t change him for all the civilized, purebred gentlemen in the vast state of Texas. Except maybe his stubborn pride. That could stand softening. She only hoped—fervently—that Lance had learned not to let his difficult past destroy his future. That having a child to consider would make him temper his hostility toward the whites he would have to live among.

Deciding it was time to put her hopes to the test, Summer nudged the sorrel forward, bringing them to the crest of the ridge. From that vantage, they could look down and see the site where Lance had planned to build their home.

She watched him anxiously, and so knew the instant he realized there was something different about the place, that there was activity in progress down below. From this distance the people and animals looked like scurrying ants.

Lance’s eyes narrowed grimly. “What’s going on?” he demanded, his tone hard, his reaction not at all what she’d hoped it would be.

“Those are our neighbors, Lance. They’re building our house for us.”

“Our…neighbors?” He turned his harsh look on her.

“Yes.” Summer hastened to explain, so that the terrible light in his eyes would fade. “It was Amelia’s idea, really—a wedding present for us. And an apology from her and everyone else for the terrible mistake they made last week. Melly asked them all to pitch in, and Harlan Fisk organized it all. It’s like a barn raising, only this is for our house. They mean to set the frame and the roof today, and the outside walls tomorrow, so we can work on the interior during the winter. Most of the supplies you ordered came last week, and Reed finished the drawings…” Her voice trailed off at the last. “I hoped you would be pleased.”

“I don’t take charity,” he replied stiffly, but she thought his tone might have softened just a bit.

Summer shook her head. “It isn’t charity. It’s their way of saying welcome. This is what neighbors do for one another, for members of a community. And you’re part of this one now—we are.”

Without a word, he took the reins from her and backed the sorrel away from the ledge, turning the way they’d come.

The ride to the valley below was silent. Summer could feel the tension in Lance’s body, but she was afraid anything she said would only make the situation worse. Lance would have to decide on his own whether he wanted to make peace with their neighbors. They were willing to meet him halfway, but he would have to rein in his stubborn pride and accept their offer of friendship.

There must have been over a hundred people present, they saw as they rode up, and every one of them, man, woman, and child, was hard at work hammering and sawing, lifting and toting. Teams of oxen and horses shifted wagonloads of lumber and bricks and moved beams into place, while to one side stood tables loaded with food and drink brought by the women. Whole families had driven dozens of miles to be here, Summer knew, giving up their Saturday workday and their Sunday day of rest to help the newlywed couple set up home. She wondered if Lance realized the significance of their generous gesture.

It seemed as if he did, for he pulled up and sat staring at all the industry, his expression wary, as if not quite believing his eyes, or knowing quite how to react.

The choice was taken from him.

Amelia must have been on the lookout for them, for she immediately came out to greet them, offering Lance a shy smile of welcome, although her eyes were a bit anxious. “I hope you don’t mind, having to work on your honeymoon, but it seemed best to get started.”

Dusty was right behind her, a big grin on his usually calm face. “Howdy, Lance…Miss Summer. Good to see you made it through the wedding night. Lord, I thought you were gonna come out of your skin yesterday, Lance, waiting for the ceremony to start.”

Lance’s bronzed features relaxed slightly at his good-natured ribbing, Summer saw with relief. She also noticed the way Dusty had placed a proprietary hand at Amelia’s waist, and that her sister didn’t seem to mind the contact.

Summer gave him a grateful smile. Perhaps Amelia’s recovery wasn’t so doubtful after all.

Dusty stepped forward then and reached up to help her dismount, but Summer held back. She wouldn’t get down unless Lance chose to.

He had stiffened again, his eyes fixed on the large, older man striding toward them.

Harlan Fisk stopped beside their horse and looked up at them with a smile. “Hello, folks.” While his greeting was jovial, his expression remained entirely serious. Nor did he mince words. “I’d take it most kindly if you’d accept my apology, son. I always thought myself a fair man, but what happened last week…Well, I’m downright ashamed. There’s no excuse for nearly killing a man, but, well…I’m damned sorry.”