This Loving Land (21 page)

“Santi, are they expecting the outlaws to come here?”

“
Sí,
señorita.
We watch. We wait. Every man has a post. Bad man come—we kill!”

The viciousness in his voice caused her to look at his face. It was cold, set, determined.

The house was quiet when they reached it. Summer dismounted and Santi took the mare down to the corral. Several men were talking by the new bunkhouse. Most carried rifles, all had six-guns strapped about their waists.

When Summer went into the kitchen, she could hear Sadie and the children in the loft. She called out, and Sadie came down the ladder.

“I want to see Summer.” John Austin stuck his head down through the opening.

“Stay and watch Mary like a good boy, please, John Austin. If’n you do, we’ll play us a game after a while.” To Summer, Sadie said, “He’s been just as good as gold. I’ll swear to goodness, he’s a perfect angel when he puts his mind to it. He’s kept Mary up there and out of the way. Jack told us we got to stay in the house and I thought I’d just lose what few brains I got a tryin’ to keep her quiet.” She pressed her lips together and jerked her bead toward the bedroom. Then, “Jack says Slater’ll be all right.”

“Teresa thinks so. We haven’t taken the bandages off his hands yet, but she says there’s nothing we could have done that would be better than the cactus pulp Bermaga used. I can’t bear to think of the horrible things they did to him.”

“Don’t think about it, honey. You must be tired. Have you been a sittin’ up all night?”

“I’m too happy to be tired. I want to get clean clothes and go back if you can handle things here. Is Ellen sleeping?”

“I’m not sleeping, Summer.” Ellen stood in the doorway. “Did I hear you say that Slater will recover?”

“Oh, yes! I’m so relieved. You should have seen what had been done to him.” Her eyes went from Sadie to Ellen in a stricken way. “The Indian saved his life. It’s just so wonderful that he’s still alive!”

“Yes, wonderful,” Ellen said without enthusiasm.

“I want to go back to him, Ellen. I realize I’m not being very polite to you. I hope you understand. Did you sleep well? Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable?”

“Endurable you mean, don’t you?” she said dryly; then, briskly, “I want to talk to you, Summer. It’s quite important. I plan to leave as soon as I get word to Tom. I’ll swear, I think he’s taken leave of his senses. He’s off somewhere with that man . . . Jack. The whole idea of outlaws riding on this ranch is ridiculous. We never saw a single soul on our way here, except those fools of Slater’s who were guarding the trail like it led to a gold mine. I can’t understand why everyone got so worked up. Travis says the only outlaws around here are on the other side of Spider Mountain, and there aren’t nearly as many of them as people believe.”

“It would be foolish not to take precautions, Ellen. It could be a misunderstanding, but then again, it may be true.” Summer spoke calmly, pleasantly. She wasn’t going to let anything or anyone spoil her day.

“It isn’t about the outlaws that I wish to speak,” Ellen said coolly.

“I’ll go on back up to the loft and look after the kids,” Sadie said. “I’ll talk to you before you go?”

“Of course.”

Summer followed Ellen into the bedroom. She longed to have the room to herself so she could wash and change her limp dress for something cool and fresh.

Ellen sat down on the bed and patted the place beside her.

“Come sit beside me, dear.” Her voice held none of the sharpness of a moment ago. “You’re quite sure Slater will recover?”

“We can’t be certain, Ellen, but all the signs point to it. Slater is a strong man.” She tilted her chin proudly.

“Well in that case, I have no choice.” She shook her head sadly. “No matter how painful this is for me, it’s something I must do.” She stopped and searched Summer’s face. “I would never have told you this if . . . well, if Slater had . . . died. I would have spared you the hurt, but . . .” She sighed and reached into the pocket of her skirt and brought out a letter. It was folded, the edges of the envelope well worn.

Summer’s face paled. A premonition closed a cold hand of fear around her heart.

“You don’t know, dear, how sorry I am that I didn’t bring this letter to you sooner. But then, I didn’t have any idea . . . I couldn’t imagine you becoming fond of Slater. He is so scarred, so difficult. Well, I had better start at the beginning. About five years ago, I received this letter. It had come in care of the fort. One of the officers brought it out to me thinking it was for my dead husband, Scott. You can see that the name on the envelope is smeared. It was an easy mistake. I opened it at once. It was then I realized it was for Sam, and from your mother. Would you like for me to read it to you, dear? Would you rather I tell you what it says?”

Summer swallowed drily, feeling the frantic clamor of her frightened heart even as hidden strength prodded her to say:

“I’d rather read it for myself, please.” The color had drained from her face and her hand trembled as she took the paper.

There were two pages to the letter. Summer recognized the paper because paper had been scarce in their home, and her mother’s handwriting because it was neat and beautiful. She turned her back to Ellen and began to read.

May 14, 1847

My dearest Sam,

I take pen in hand to acquaint you with the news that J.R. met with an accident and is dead. I suffered an injury to my back and am confined to my bed. No, no, dear Sam, I do not want you to come or be concerned for me. J.R.’s pension cares for our needs. J.R. and I had a son. He is three years old now. A bright little boy, who reminds me so much of Slater. But this is not my reason for writing. I have wondered all these years if I did the right thing by not telling you the news that I feel I must tell you at this time. At the time Summer was born, I never knew what day or what hour J.R. would come for me. I had hoped our going would be easier for you if you didn’t know. You have a beautiful daughter, Sam. There is no way she cannot be yours. I was not with J.R. for more than a month before Ovalee and I came west. As you know, Ovalee was killed days later, and as you held me in your arms to comfort me, our love grew, and we couldn’t hold ourselves from each other. Nine months later, Summer was born. I see you in her every day, Sam. Her hair is black, like yours. She tosses her head, like you do. I think J.R. suspected, but he never showed it. He loved her and was a good father to her. She is a good girl, Sam. And beautiful. You would be proud of her. I am telling you now because I feel my time here is short. I will not tell Summer. I couldn’t bear for her to think her mother was sinful, a loose woman. The summer we spent together before she was born was the magic time of my life, and not a day passes that I don’t think of you. I pray Libby has recovered and you have been able to live a fruitful life. I fear my sins of that wonderful summer are catching up with me. Don’t mourn for me, dear Sam. Rejoice that a part of you and I lives on in our daughter.

God bless you,      

Nannie Kuykendall

Summer was stunned. Her eyes were no longer seeing the words on the page. The full import of the shocking news had not yet reached her dulled brain.

“It can’t be true,” she whispered.

“It is true, dear. You’ve got to face it.” Ellen’s voice came strangely to her ears. “You understand, now, why I was so shocked when I heard about you and Slater. I thought he knew you were his sister. I was sure he knew. I can’t, for the life of me, understand why Nannie didn’t tell you.”

Summer looked at her dully. Her face felt wooden, then a trembling set in. The letter dropped to the floor.

“You couldn’t have fallen in love with Slater, dear.” The now-hated voice droned on. “He’s your brother, just as John Austin is your brother.” She paused, then hurried on. “I was going to send the letter on to Sam, but before I could find someone to deliver it, he was killed. And Slater . . . well, Slater acted like a mad dog every time I came near. I’m glad I kept it, for your sake, dear. What if you had married Slater? What if you had a child by him?” The horrified note that crept into her voice was not lost on Summer. “Why, dear, children from such a union are deformed, idiots. . . . You know, the ones with the big heads. How glad I am that I came at this time! There’s no telling what horrors I’ve saved you from.”

“Shut up! Shut up!”

Summer leaped to her feet shouting, and then her hand went to her mouth and she bit hard at the knuckles on the back. Anger and grief were tearing her apart. Unable to look at Ellen’s beautifully composed face any longer, she let out a pathetic cry, dropped her hand, and threw herself face-down on the bed.

Her body convulsed as she began to sob hysterically. It couldn’t be true! It was a mistake! It couldn’t be true—but it was! Her mother’s words, her mother’s continual talk of Sam McLean. Her mother saying that all McLeans named their children names that started with the letter S. I gave you the name Summer, she had said, because it reminded me of something beautiful. Her heart ached with a physical pain almost too hard to bear. She continued to tremble violently, both inside and out. Please, please, her inner voice cried, let this be a nightmare. Let me wake up and everything will be all right. But she knew that everything would not be all right, that this was no nightmare, and she cried all the harder.

Thoughts crowded into her mind. The hands that had caressed her so intimately were those of her . . . brother! The lips that kissed her so passionately and had carried her to the brink of rapture and beyond were those of her . . . brother! The child . . . oh, God, the child was her brother’s child! Dear, merciful God, she prayed, please let me die! Don’t make me live to face this . . . hell!

She cried bitterly. Cried until her mind was drugged with grief and remorse. Covering her face with her hands, she shrank deeply into the pit of her misery, accepting the most crushing blow she had ever known.

Ellen would not allow her to escape into unconsciousness. She shook her shoulder. Gently at first, then harder.

“Summer, you must get hold of yourself, make plans. You’ll make yourself ill carrying on like this. Summer, listen to me. Have you been to bed with Slater? Have you?” Ellen shook her shoulder again. “Answer me.” When Summer didn’t answer, she said with finality, “You have. This is much worse than I thought. Do you know what that means, Summer? It means that you have committed incest! You and Slater . . . Good heavens, if the men should find this out! And, heaven forbid, if you are pregnant! They would hang Slater, sure as the world, Summer. Texas men can get pretty riled up over something like that. They wouldn’t stop to think that maybe Slater didn’t know you were his sister. Do you want to see Slater hanged?”

Summer rolled over and sat up. Ellen’s words had reached into the deep recesses of her dulled mind. She couldn’t let any harm come to Slater. He had not known, any more than she had, that he . . . that she . . . She couldn’t bring herself even to think the words. Ellen was right. She must leave before anyone suspected. She and John Austin would go back to the Piney Woods. Almost as soon as the thought came to mind, she rejected it. No! She had to go someplace where Slater couldn’t find her. Some place where he wouldn’t even think of looking.

“I’ve given this thought while you were coming to grips with the truth, Summer. I’ll help you get away from here. It’s essential that you go. You understand, don’t you, dear?” She peered into the tear-swollen eyes. “There’s a Mormon settlement about eight miles out from Hamilton. I know the leader quite well. He is a good man. I have bought a lot of furniture from them, and he owes me a favor. If I ask, he will take you with them when they leave to join a larger colony in Utah. For all their goodness, they are mercenary. You will need money.” She reached into her valise and pulled out a bag.

“No,” Summer said hoarsely. “No. . . .”

“Yes. Take it.” Ellen put the bag in her hands and closed her fingers over it. “You can repay me if it will make you feel better about taking it. I’m doing this for you, Summer, for your mother . . . and for Slater. The Mormons will take you to Utah and Slater will never know, will never have to suffer the disgrace of knowing that he impregnated his own sister.”

Summer let the bag of money fall to the floor. Ellen reached for it and the letter. The bag she placed on the bureau, the letter in her pocket.

“I’ll take the letter.” Summer’s voice was bitter. “It’s my mother’s letter. You opened it, read her secrets.” She held out her hand.

Ellen shrugged indifferently, and handed her the envelope.

“Is there anythin’ wrong, Summer?” Sadie stood hesitantly in the doorway.

“Sadie! Oh . . . Sadie!” Summer scrambled to her feet and ran to her friend. She threw her arms about the startled Sadie with a force that almost tumbled her over. She kept repeating over and over: “Oh, Sadie! Oh, Sadie!”

“What’s wrong? What’s she done to you?” Sadie held the wildly sobbing girl and tried to keep her balance.

“I haven’t done anything to her. She did it to herself.” Ellen’s voice was coldly aristocratic once again. “I’ve given her proof that she’s Slater McLean’s sister. If you’re a friend of hers, you’ll help her to pack her trunk so she can get away from here. If it’s discovered she’s slept with her own brother, she’ll be an outcast. No decent person will have a thing to do with her, and Slater will be hanged! I’ll leave you to convince her. I’m going to the porch to take some air.”