The Savage

It might be beyond his power to control now. If Summer had to face that kind of humiliation and degradation day after day, she would come to hate him—if she didn’t hate him already. He didn’t want that. Jesus, he didn’t want that.

That was the second part of the trouble. He wanted too much. He wanted Summer body and soul, every way there was to want a woman. He wanted her writhing in pleasure at his touch. He wanted her eyes soft and liquid with need. Her mouth—ah hell, he’d give his right arm for another taste of her mouth. He couldn’t stop remembering how it had felt under his last night, warm and soft, quivering just a little. He’d wanted so bad to stop her trembling, to take her inside him and ease his craving, to keep her safe.

Trouble was, as long as she was married to him, she would never be safe. And as long as she had to suffer because of him, his conscience would continue to flay him with guilt.

Burkett had given good directions to the Truesdale farm, as well as a timely warning. Summer and Lance hadn’t gotten within a hundred yards of the stone house before two fiercely barking dogs raced out to greet them, scattering the chickens pecking in the yard. A second later a male voice shouted out, telling the newcomers to “Hold up right there!”

Squinting against the glare of the sun, Summer could see a young man half-concealed by the corner of the barn, aiming the barrel of a shotgun in their direction. Hurriedly she introduced herself as Amelia’s sister.

He told the dogs to shut up and called them off.

“You’re Billy, aren’t you?” Summer asked. “Amelia wrote me about you.”

Before he could answer, an elderly woman with graying hair came out on the porch. She was dressed in black-dyed calico, and also held a long gun. Summer hoped it was Amelia’s mother-in-law.

“Mrs. Truesdale?”

“Yes? What do you want?”

“I’m Summer Weston, Amelia’s sister.”

Rather than offer a welcome, however, the woman gestured with her weapon. “Who’s that with you?”

“This is Lance Calder. He’s…He brought me here, and he means to go after Amelia, to try and rescue her.”

Mrs. Truesdale’s thin mouth twisted with bitterness. “That won’t bring my Mary back. Those dirty, stinking killers butchered her.”

Summer nodded sorrowfully as she urged her horse closer. “I know, your letter said so. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Those stinking Comanches have Amelia,” she added dully as Summer and Lance rode into the yard. “God pity her soul. She was like a daughter to me—” Her eyes narrowing suddenly, she broke off in midsentence and gasped. “You’re an Injun!”

Lance abruptly halted his horse, but Martha Truesdale’s face twisted in an expression that was part terror, part horror.

Her eyes grew wild as she raised the gun in her hands. “You dirty Injun with your Injun ways. Get out! Get outa here, before I put a bullet through your godforsaken guts.”

Billy hurriedly left his place beside the barn and ran toward the house. “No, ma! Stop! He didn’t do nothing. Nan, get out here! Ma!”

But his mother was beyond reasoning. “Murderer! You killed her, you bloody murderer!”

“He isn’t…” Summer began helplessly.

A young woman came rushing through the door while Billy made a grab for the waving shotgun. Finding herself thwarted, Mrs. Truesdale burst into tears and bent over, clutching her stomach. “Merciful God…” Her anguished wail pierced the bright afternoon. “Why’d you come back to torment me? Haven’t you done enough?”

“Ma, go inside! Nan, take her, for Crissakes. I’ll handle it.”

Nan hesitated, sending a worried glance at Lance.

“Go on! I’ll take care of it.”

Making soothing noises, she shepherded her sobbing mother inside the house.

Billy turned back to the visitors. “It’s only her grief talking. Our sister was killed by a Comanche lance in the same attack that Amelia was taken in.” The words were apologetic, but the tone held a hostile chill.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said quietly.

He shook his head. “We don’t want your sympathy, mister. I think you’d better get off our land. You’re only upsetting Ma.”

“Billy,” Summer said sharply, unable to help herself, “Lance isn’t here to harm anyone. He’s my husband.”