Free This Loving Land by Dorothy Garlock

a public place, the way he looked at her. Her face must have reflected her feeling, for he lowered his lids and his face took on a friendly, boyish expression.
    “My mother will give you the wrong impression, Miss Kuykendall, but I’ll admit it didn’t take much persuading on my part.” A smile flashed rakishly across his handsome face. “It was well worth a half-day’s extra ride.”
    Innocently confused, Summer turned back to Ellen. “Is your ranch far from here?”
    “It’s really close by, as far as distances go in this vast country.” Ellen took her arm and they walked together toward the house. “It must be about fifteen miles as the crow flies, but slightly more than that by the time we wind around and get across those troublesome streams that are either dry or overflowing.”
    Summer found Travis once more scrutinizing her with a thoroughness that made her again feel undressed. His gaze moved unabashedly over her softly rounded breasts and trim waist, then moved leisurely along the full length of her. She struggled to keep the tide of color from her cheeks, and in looking away met Jesse’s steely eyes. He held her gaze for an instant, then raked his thumbnail over the head of a sulfur match and held the flame to the cigarette dangling from his lips.
    Summer’s mind groped like some small, drowning creature. She was at odds as to how best to proceed with her guests.
    “Mrs. McLean . . . ?” she began, in a questioning tone.
    “Ellen. I couldn’t possibly allow Nannie Kuykendall’s daughter to call me anything but Ellen.” The soft friendly voice continued, “If you don’t mind, Summer, I’ll sit here and catch what cool breeze there is and Jesse will fetch me a cool drink.”
    Travis squatted down on his heels and leaned his back against the heavy post supporting the veranda roof. Jesse moved away from the wall and toward the door.
    “Bucket in here?” he asked, the soft timbre of his voice seeming to go with the rest of him.
    “I’ll get it for you.” Summer escaped inside the house and Jesse followed.
    When they entered, Sadie backed from the stove, her large green eyes going from Summer to Jesse. She continued to back away, until her legs struck the edge of the bunk where her daughter was sitting. Her fright calmed Summer’s nerves.
    “This is Mr. Thurston, Sadie.” She placed her arm across Sadie’s shoulders. “My friend, Mrs. Bratcher.” She laughed down at the small face peeking from behind Sadie’s skirt. “And her daughter, Mary.”
    Jesse nodded. He had noticed the girl’s fright the moment he stepped into the room, and now that he had a closer look at her, he understood why. She was the dance-hall girl he had rescued from Travis several weeks ago. He allowed no recognition to show in his face as he mumbled a polite greeting and looked down at the impish little face peeking up at him. His stern face relaxed, and memories of his own childhood came flooding back; every kind word, every pat on the head was to be remembered and cherished. He fished into his pocket, came out with a peppermint stick, and held it out to the child. She hid her face in Sadie’s skirt and refused to look at him. He chuckled, and handed the candy to Sadie.
    “She scares easy,” Sadie murmured as she accepted the offering.
    “It’s natural.” The piercing eyes rested once again on Sadie’s face, and remained so long that it seemed he was counting every freckle on her slightly upturned nose, before going to the shelf for the water bucket.
    Sadie’s eyes followed him out the door. “I’ll get the meal ready, Summer, so don’t you be frettin’ how you’re gonna feed ’em.”
    “That’s a relief. I never dreamed we’d have visitors so soon. Where’s John Austin?”
    “He’s all right. Jack said to tell you not to worry, he’d keep a tight rein on him.”
    “I hope to heaven he does.” Summer’s voice took on the serious, worried tone it always did when she spoke of her