The Darkest Heart by Brenda Joyce

With three adoring brothers and a doting father and a territory full of women-hungry suitors, she had about all she could handle in the way of company. And finally, Elizabeth was very quiet. They had never had a chance to get to know each other.
    So the visit was a surprise.
    In a way.
    As soon as the two women were settled with lemonade, Candice saw Millie Henderson staring at her hands. And she flushed because she obviously lacked a wedding ring.
    “We came to offer our regrets,” Millie said. “We hear poor Virgil Kincaid was killed.”
    “Yes.”
    “Such a tragedy, and right after your wedding,” Millie continued.
    Candice wished she wasn’t so red. “Yes.”
    “You’re not wearing a ring.”
    Her color went crimson. “I know you’ve probably already heard the story, Millie. It fell off, when I almost died in the desert.”
    “Eloping like that,” Millie said. “If Elizabeth ever did that my husband would tan her good.”
    Candice squirmed. Both women had been staring incessantly. Now Elizabeth spoke. “Is he still here?” Her eyes were wide. Her voice was wispy soft.
    Candice’s heart started a slow thud. “Who?”
    Millie interjected. “Why, the
Indian
, of course.”
    A silence fell. Candice broke it with a breath. “Oh, you mean the man who saved my life—Jack Savage is the name he goes by. Yes, he is.”
    Another silence.
    “So it’s true,” Millie said. “You left here with Kincaid and came back with a half-breed Apache.”
    Candice gripped the arms of her chair. “Not quite—”
    “Kincaid not a week in his grave, and you snowed up here on the breed’s horse.”
    Candice stood. “If you’re here to accuse me of something, then you can just leave.”
    “Why, Candice Carter,” Millie cried, standing also. “Excuse me—Candice Kincaid. It is
Kincaid
, isn’t it?”
    Candice flushed.
    “Dear girl, we didn’t come to accuse you, we came to offer our sincere sympathies. My God, to think of what you had to endure, alone with that … that …” She shuddered.
    Candice stood very still.
    Elizabeth turned wide, fascinated eyes on her. “Did he … did he … hurt you?”
    “He saved my life,” Candice said stiffly. “Now, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have a terrible headache.”
    “Of course,” Millie said graciously. “But, Candice, you can tell us. I mean, you look remarkably well. But—you must need to share such a horrible experience with other women. Other
white
women.”
    “There’s nothing to share.”
    Millie put her arm around her. “I don’t know how you can be so stoic. If it were me, I’d kill myself.”
    Candice wrenched free. “You have a sick mind. Sick. He never touched me.”
    Millie and Elizabeth both turned pitying, disbelieving glances on her.
    “If he had touched me, do you think he’d still be alive?” Candice said too shrilly. “Still alive and on this ranch?”
    “We thought about that. But John probably doesn’t want to make too much over it, for your sake, of course, and we understand. On the other hand, he’s probably got the Indian under guard. He’ll hang for what he did to you. Has he sent for the major?”
    “Nothing happened,” Candice said stiffly, striding ahead of them and to the foyer, where she opened the door. And if you’ll excuse me, I have to lie down.
    Millie and Elizabeth exchanged knowing glances. “Of course,” Millie said. “We certainly understand, don’t we, Elizabeth?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    Every time Candice thought about Millie’s and Elizabeth’s insinuations, she felt sick.
    It was bad enough eloping and returning without the man she had supposedly married, but to return with a half-breed Apache …
    She took a breath. The talk would die down. Nothing
had
happened. Not like they meant, anyway. But she was ashamed when she thought of what had happened—and what the reaction would be if anyone knew the whole truth. How had her life come down to this?
    She managed to sneak in to see Jack after the