Luke grabbed her. “Did he hurt you?”
“No!” she cried, twisting away, furious with him, furious with everyone.
“Candice,” her father said, “I absolutely forbid you to go near that man again. Do you understand?”
She stared. “Pop—he’s not some rabid dog, he’s—”
“You are forbidden to go near him. Is that clear?”
She ducked her head. “Yes.”
Shortly after that, the Carters left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“How could you dance with him?”
It was accusing, and it wasn’t even Mark—who wasn’t looking at her—it was John-John. Before she could explain he turned his back on her. Her father gave her a short lecture on her reputation. Luke said nothing, merely looked at her intently a few times.
One day after that, when she was saddling her mare, she overheard the hands talking—about her. Red Barton called her a “breed lover.” Candice went scarlet—with indignation, anger, and guilt.
She wasn’t a “breed lover.” She had only felt sorry for him. What harm was there in dancing? It wasn’t like they’d kissed. Oh—but they had—could she ever forget? She thanked God that Luke hadn’t caught them. Her shame was intense and burning.
Candice resolved to stay away from Jack Savage if she ever saw him again. And hopefully, she wouldn’t. After all, she was a lady, no matter if her reputation was now in shreds, and ladies did not dance with savages—even ones who were as handsome as Jack.
They certainly didn’t enjoy kissing them.
It was worse in town. The stares, the whispers. Two matrons actually crossed the street rather than walk on the same side with her. In the general store, Frank Smith propositioned her quite directly. He offered her anything she’d like if she went upstairs with him. God knew where his wife was. Candice was so stunned she didn’t even smack him. She couldn’t move. He grinned.
“Or is it only red-skinned men you got a taste for now?”
She gasped and fled. Out on the street she stood shaking, clinging to the hitching rail. When she had recovered a little, she looked up. It was to see Judge Reinhart staring at her, standing a few doors down. Her eyes went wide, and she waited, breathlessly.
He turned his back on her and walked away.
Candice raised her hand to her mouth to quell a sob. After Jack had ridden off at the barbecue, she and her family had left abruptly—and there had been no time for good-byes. No one had come over to them, however. Not even her beaux—not Judge, not Tim. And now she understood it had been a clear rejection of her. She felt sick.
Instinct made her lift her head again.
Jack Savage stood across the street staring at her.
She closed her eyes. Oh, no, she thought desperately. Please, don’t come over here. She couldn’t handle it.
But he did. He came slowly, deliberately. He was still wearing the white shirt and black Stetson, but with buckskin pants and moccasins, and he looked more like an Apache than a white man. Candice turned her back intentionally toward him, her heart starting to race. Go away, she thought, fighting imminent hysteria.
She was a vision in blue that had stopped Jack right in his tracks, just as now the sight of her drew him forward like a magnet. He felt it inside—the leaping of his heart in a primal joy. Then he saw her deliberately turn her back to him. In that instant, a hard, cold resolve flooded him. He was assailed with his memories of the barbecue, her whirling in his arms, face uplifted to his, lips curved broadly in a smile. The sound of her laughter, and then that of her horrified protest when her brother had come at him. How it had all ended so ignominiously with his abrupt, forced departure. And now it was like the dashing of ice water. She was purposefully avoiding him, succumbing to the pressure of her family and culture. Jack could not have stopped himself from approaching her if he’d wanted to—and he didn’t.
He wanted to be cool, yet there was only a question in his tone. “Candice?”
She didn’t turn to face him. “Don’t come near me,” she warned.
There was a moment of silence.
“Just go away,” Candice added on a choked sob.
She hadn’t heard him approach, and she didn’t hear him leave, but she felt the difference, the emptiness, behind her. She finally wiped her eyes and straightened her spine and turned around. He was disappearing down the block, his stride long and hard and furious.
She wanted to weep.
