Guardian Bride (15 page)

their father rolled in Snake's stomach close to how it had ten

years ago, but this time it was mingled with hatred toward

the man responsible. Seething, he vowed, "We'll get to the

bottom of it, Kid. We'll find out why July Austin had that

watch in his pocket."

Kid nodded but didn't speak. He walked to the door and

held it open for Snake to hobble through.

Summer spun about as Snake exited his bedroom.

Nervousness quelled. It wasn't a stomach pitch, or a shiver,

but something odd stewing inside her. Perhaps due to the

uneven pattern the crutch caused to echo off the floor, but

Kid hovered nearby incase Snake stumbled. Furthermore,

Snake seemed comfortable and in control of the walking aid.

She pulled out a chair as they grew near.

Kid walked around the table, ruffling August's hair along

the way. "Thanks again for your help today, August. You did a

great job." He smiled across the table. "You, too, September."

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Then he hugged his mother. "I'm heading home now. You

best batten down the hatches. I've a feeling we're in for some

nasty weather."

"You, too, and kiss those grandbabies for me," Stephanie

said as they separated.

"Thanks again, Kid." Snake laid the crutch on the floor.

"Any time, little brother." He nodded toward her. "Take

care of him, Summer." Winking he added, "But, don't let him

fool you into pampering him too much."

Her hand fell to Snake's shoulder. "I won't. Thank you for

all you've done."

"No problem. We'll see you all in a few days."

The door shut behind him, and Summer let her gaze roam

the table. August had said good-bye of course, but

September had remained silent, just as she'd done while

Summer tried talking to her.

September had never been overly friendly, but the past

few days she'd been downright rude, especially to Snake.

Perhaps if she didn't look so much like mother, being angry at

her would be easier. With eyes the color of a winter sky and

hair the same shade as the petals of a sunflower, September

was the spitting image of June Austin. Sometimes Summer

did a double take when she came up behind her sister, for a

split second she'd believe it was their mother, especially now

that September had grown taller.

September hadn't offered any excuses, nor had she denied

her behavior of late, and she certainly hadn't provided an

apology or a promise to cease her actions. As if she knew

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Summer contemplated what to do, September turned and

met her gaze with a cold, almost insufferable stare.

A warm hand fell atop hers, and Summer glanced down to

where her fingers rested on Snake's shoulder. His palm

cupped the back of her hand. He glanced to September, who

quickly averted her eyes, and then back to her.

"Sit down," he suggested, "it's time to eat."

"Where's Bug?" August asked as he passed the plate of

bread.

"Eating over at Willamina's and Eva's I suspect," Stephanie

supplied. "He took them home earlier."

"Do you think he'll kiss her?"

The bite she'd just taken caught in her throat. Summer

dislodged it, and after several coughs into her napkin, she

admonished, "August! That is none of your business. And

don't you be asking Bug about it either."

August grimaced, but his smirk readily returned. Summer

caught the way Snake winked at him and had to contain the

grin it ensued. The meal passed without much ado, the

conversations mainly came from August, who had questions

about everything from driving a wagon to how Stephanie's

stitching machine worked. Snake and Stephanie answered

affably and quizzed him a little in return. Summer piped in

when needed, but September didn't. She pushed her food

around on her plate, remaining seated only because she knew

Summer wouldn't allow her to leave the table until everyone

was finished.

September's behavior grated on Summer. As if there

wasn't enough to worry about with Snake's injuries and

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Wainwright on the loose. Why couldn't September be more

like August? Summer laid her fork down and sat back in her

chair. It wasn't fair of her to ask that. September was her

own person, just as August was, and she shouldn't expect

them to be alike. Moreover, she shouldn't want it. Everyone

had the right to be who they were. She stared across the

table. However, that still didn't give September the right to

behave poorly.

"I cleaned my plate, Summer. Can I have a piece of cake

now?" August held his plate up for all to see.

"That's about the cleanest plate I ever did see," Stephanie

proclaimed. "September, why don't you help me get cake for

everyone?"

"I'll help," August offered, jumping from his chair.

"You can pick up the dirty plates and set them in the sink."

Stephanie pointed to the pot of stew in the center of the

table, but her eyes were on September. "Summer worked all

day cooking us this fine meal, the least we can do is clean up

and serve her some cake."

September mumbled something, and Summer turned,

trying to catch what it was.

"We didn't work, we rode around in wagons all day,"

August justified. "I call that fun, not work." He gathered

Snake's plate on top of his. "What do you think, Snake?"

"I think you've all worked very hard lately, and you each

deserve a cut of the harvest. As soon as I'm able, we'll ride to

town and get the money out of the bank."

"Can we take the wagon? I'll drive!" August juggled the

plates as he skipped with glee.

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"Sure, we can take the wagon." Snake chuckled good-

naturedly.

"Can I drive?" August asked.

"Well, I don't know." Snake glanced to September as she

set a plate with a large piece of cake on the table. "Maybe

September wants to drive."

September twirled around without commenting, August on

the other hand had his answer ready. "No, she doesn't. She

hates to drive. Ask Summer, she'll tell ya. September hates to

drive, doesn't she Summer?"

Summer smiled at August, she couldn't help it, but she felt

inclined to explain, "September does a fine job driving,

August. She's driven the wagon many times."

"But she didn't like it, and that was only Maisy. Not horses.

I drove horses." He spun around to face September as she

carried another plate to the table. "You ever drive horses,

Sissy?"

September sidestepped and set the plate down, not in

front of Snake, but within reaching distance. He reached over

and slid the first one in front of Summer and then the second

one in front of him. "Have you ever driven a wagon with

horses, September?" he repeated August's question.

"No," September snapped.

"Would you like to?" he asked.

"No," she answered.

"No, thank you," Summer reminded.

"No, thank you," September stiffly repeated. She took her

place at the table along with Stephanie and August, who

carried a plate with an overly large piece of cake on it.

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Snake's grin was quite captivating as he glanced from

August's plate to Summer. "This cake looks mighty fine."

Her cheeks sizzled with heat. "Thank you."

"It sure does," August agreed. "Chocolate cake, yum,

yum." He forked a large piece in his mouth. "Chocolate's my

favorite. Is it your favorite, Snake?"

"August, don't talk with your mouth full," Summer

reminded.

"Sorry," he mumbled between chocolate crusted, but

closed lips.

Snake leaned over, and loudly whispered to August, "Yes,

chocolate's my favorite, too."

August giggled, and the happiness she'd chosen to make

this particular cake today made Summer smile. She lifted her

face to find September glaring across the table again. It was

like a shower of cold rain.

"What about you, September, what's your favorite?" Snake

asked.

September shrugged.

Summer took a breath, ready to remind her sister of her

manners, but under the table, Snake's knee bumped hers.

She pressed her heel onto the floor, the connection setting

her leg afire. He was trying so hard to be nice to September,

which fueled her ire at the girl even more.

Stephanie Quinter piped in. "I like spice cake. My son,

Hog, he makes the best spice cake. I bet I got the recipe

around here somewhere. There's a whole book of his recipes

that Jessie wrote down. Maybe you'd like to make one,

Summer."

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"Certainly," Summer agreed.

"Do I like spice cake?" August asked, frowning.

"I don't know," Summer answered. "I've never made one."

"Well, if it's anything like chocolate, you should bake one."

The adults laughed while August cleaned his plate and

September scowled. Bug opened the door just then, and

glancing around, asked, "What's so funny?" while shutting the

door.

Mouth full, August answered, "I dunno, a minute ago we

was talking about spice cake."

"Spice cake? It looks like you're eating chocolate cake to

me, kiddo." Bug ruffled August's hair as he walked toward the

counter. "I think I'll have a piece, too."

"Do you want some stew?" Stephanie asked.

"Nope, cake'll do just fine." He pulled out the chair beside

Summer. "I ate in town."

"In town?" Stephanie asked. "I thought you took Eva and

Willamina home."

"I did, and then I went into Nix—Scott. I'll never get used

to the name change." He ignored the frown covering his

mother's face and pointed his fork at Snake. "I ran into

Zimmerman. He said he'd been out here today."

"Yeah, he was," Snake answered.

"He tell you about the stampede?"

"Yes."

"What stampede? Can I go see it? Where's it at?" Excited,

August climbed onto his knees and practically leaped across

the table. The napkin tucked in his plaid flannel shirt caught

the top of his glass, tipping it.

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Summer caught the glass before the milk spilt. A toppled

glass was an often affair with August, and her reaction was

pure instinct. Her mind, on the other hand, was anywhere but

on the conversation. Stephanie's frown had increased, and

she'd stopped eating her cake. Summer doubted the other

woman's behavior was because of the stampede. It appeared

to be because of Bug—not that he'd gone to town, but that he

hadn't eaten supper with Eva and Willamina.

"Sit down there, bud, before you fall," Snake instructed

kindly, holding the back of August's chair as he followed

orders. "The stampede was a few days ago."

"Oh, rats. Can I see the next one?" August asked as he

lowered onto the chair.

Summer replaced his glass once he was properly seated.

"Stampedes are dangerous, stupid," September snapped.

"September," Snake said before Summer had a chance.

"That's no way to talk to your brother. He's not stupid. You

need to apologize."

Lips puckered, September glared at Snake. Summer held

her breath, along with everyone else. Silently, she begged her

little sister to mind. She didn't want to cause a scene, knew it

wouldn't help the situation, but at the same time,

September's behavior couldn't continue. The tick-tock of the

mantle clock over the fireplace made the silence thicker.

Snake didn't back down. "Apologize to him." His tone was

stern, but his eyes soft.

September bowed her head. "Sorry."

Summer let her breath out slowly, and believing she

needed to step in, she added, "Sorry, who?"

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Letting out a disgusted sigh, September pushed her plate

aside and repeated, "Sorry, August."

August, in his good-natured, nonchalant way, shrugged.

"It's okay, Sissy." His eyes landed on her half-eaten cake.

"Are you gonna eat that?"

"No," September groaned dramatically.

"Can I?"

"I don't care."

He grabbed the plate and scooped the frosting off with one

quick swipe of his fork. Chocolate oozed through the tines.

"Thanks," he managed to emit as the fork disappeared

between his lips.

Summer shook her head. Perhaps she needed to focus

more on August's table manners. The chuckles from Bug and

Snake made August's grin grow. September's head hung so

low her chin sat on the ruffles around her neckline. Sadness

welled inside Summer. There was more behind September's

behavior—much more, and Summer wished with all her heart

she could discover what it was.

The scrape of chair legs sounded. Bug carried his plate to

the counter. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I gotta