Since she was wearing a brown calico gown that had seen far better days, she wasn’t particularly worried about her clothes. And besides, the war had done a lot to change what she considered important in life. Pretty, smudgeless dresses were no longer very high on the list.
“Gracious, Lance. I grew up on this ranch—with three brothers, no less. I’m entirely accustomed to dirty men, including you. And you’re no longer a hired hand. You’re the boss, remember?”
He ignored her last remark. “Why’d you come, Summer?”
“I told you, I wanted to see you. Actually I wanted to see you ride. Dusty said it was fascinating watching you break a mustang, and it was. I’ve never seen anything so incredible. And I’m not trying to flatter you either, Lance Calder! You’re proud enough as it is. You don’t need your ego puffed up. However did you learn to handle horses that way?”
Her gentle teasing combined with her frank curiosity disarmed him, Summer thought. He still looked wary, as if he couldn’t quite accept her reasoning, but he gave her a half smile that was a bit rueful and self-consciously pleased. “The Comanches taught me, but I’ve always had a knack with horses.”
“Well, it certainly is impressive. And productive. Dusty says we wouldn’t be half as far along if it weren’t for you.”
“Maybe,” Lance replied modestly.
Summer flashed him an arch smile. “I’m glad it’s working out so well, your taking over here. I don’t suppose I need to say I told you so?”
“No, you don’t,” Lance retorted with a mock growl. He glanced over his shoulder. “I need to go. The boys will be waiting for me.”
“All right. I need to get back to my own work, anyway. I’ll have supper waiting for you when you get home. Pedro caught some bass in the creek, and I thought I might fry it, if that’s okay with you?”
Lance’s mouth curved dryly. “Are we having rocks or biscuits to go with it?”
Summer flushed. She’d forgotten to put any yeast in the biscuits she’d made for breakfast two days ago, and they’d turned out as hard as granite. “I thought I would heat up some stones from the creek and see if you could tell the difference.”
To her surprise, Lance threw back his head and laughed, a deep, rusty laugh that caught at her heart. It pleased her that he could laugh like that, that he could share the humor of her mistake. It gave her a comfortable, pleasant, warm feeling to know she had given him some pleasure in his hitherto cheerless life.
She said good-bye and, accepting one of the armed vaqueros as escort, rode back to the ranch, feeling content and satisfied with her progress. She had tried to carry through with her promise to make her marriage to Lance work, and her success buoyed her spirits.
Her return home, however, forcibly reminded Summer just how unfounded her optimism was. When she rode into the yard, having dismissed her escort to return to his work, she discovered, to her surprise and dismay, a visitor she’d never expected. Will Prewitt, one of the neighboring ranchers who’d been so offensive to Lance last month when they’d met to discuss Amelia’s rescue, was just mounting up.
The look he gave her as he addressed her held insolence and smug contempt. “I hear tell you went and married yourself to our resident Injun, Miss Summer.”
Summer stiffened at his rude tone. She had temporarily forgotten the world beyond Sky Valley and how unfavorably it would view her marriage to Lance. She wanted to tell Prewitt to mind his own business, but it would do no good to respond with ire. Grinding her teeth, she forced herself to smile sweetly. “I am now Mrs. Lance Calder, yes. Have you come to congratulate us on our marriage, Mr. Prewitt?”
He snorted. “Not hardly.” He moved his horse closer to hers, giving her a leer that made her skin crawl. “What’s a pretty lady like you want with a stinkin’ breed?” His voice lowered suggestively. “You like it rough, do you? If you were so hot for it, you should’ve come to a real man.”
She gasped at his crudity, while her chin snapped up. “You are disgusting, sir! I’ll thank you to go. And to keep off Sky Valley land in future.”
His grin made a mockery of her indignation. “All hoity-toity, ain’t you? Seems mighty odd for a squaw to be putting on airs.”
“Get out of here!” Summer said through gritted teeth. “Before I call someone to teach you some manners.”
“I reckon I got a right to visit here. Your sister sent for me.”
“Amelia?” The revelation shocked her. Two years ago Amelia wouldn’t have given a man like Prewitt the time of day, and that was before her ordeal. If her sister couldn’t bear to be near men now, why had she chosen to invite this trash to be her first caller? There had to be some mistake. “I don’t believe you,” Summer said flatly.
“Oh, yeah, Miss Amelia asked me to call,” Prewitt said with a secret glee. “You just go ask her.”
“I intend to!” Summer said tightly. “In the meantime, I suggest you leave
. I assure you, you don’t want to be here when Lance returns from the range.”
“I ain’t afraid o’ no half-breed Injun,” he retorted defiantly, but he glanced over his shoulder all the same. Not seeing anyone around, he tipped his hat to her, the epitome of mockery. “You tell your sister good day for me.” Turning his horse toward the road, he spurred it into a lope.
Summer stared after him a long moment before she forced herself to dismount. She wasn’t surprised to find herself shaking; she had known she would be subjected to scorn and contempt because she was Lance’s wife. Her only surprise was that Amelia had wanted to speak to someone like Prewitt. She couldn’t imagine what her sister had been thinking.
Knowing she had to talk to Amelia, Summer put up her horse and then went in search of her. She found her sister in the front parlor, rocking herself slowly in the wooden rocker while she hummed tunelessly to herself. How many countless hours had they spent here together when they were younger, working samplers and mending clothing while Amelia lectured her on manners and ladylike behavior?
“Melly,” Summer began uncertainly. “Are you all right?”