Cursing to himself, he looked at the side table and the note from Faith. He’d read it fifty times, knew it by heart. Still, he reached over and unwrinkled it to read one more time:
Dear Luke,
I know I said that I would wait until your return, but that just was not possible. Joe Brunn came the day you left and that was my chance to get to Priest’s Crossing.
Please believe me when I tell you that I really do want a new life. One where I am the provider for my children. You have a wonderful family and are very blessed, but to be a part of that is not my dream. Please respect my wishes and let me go. Don’t make this harder than it already is. I don’t want to have to tell you to your face that I don’t want you or any other man. I especially don’t want a half-breed for my husband. Or to be the father of my children.
Thank you for all your help with Dawn and everything.
—Faith
It wasn’t quite the homecoming he’d envisioned. In fact, the more he thought about it, the less he believed it. He felt sure his suspicions were right: Ward was blackmailing Faith. He had to concentrate on summoning the strength to get out of bed and back on his horse.
There was a rapping on his door. “Luke,” Charity called softly as she poked her head inside his room. “I’ve gathered all the things you asked for, and a fresh horse is saddled.” She entered with a tray. “I’ve also brought you something to eat.”
“Thanks.”
As he picked up a slice of beef, he winced. Charity’s eyes went wide. “You’re hurt?” she asked. Instantly she was trying to see inside his shirt, but he waved her off. He had a time of convincing her, but finally she sat back and held her hands in her lap.
“It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound,” he promised.
Charity’s brow twisted in a frown. Clearly, she was upset. “Have a sip of milk. It’ll help fortify you,” she said, handing him a full glass.
He cringed. “I will if you add a shot of whiskey.”
Her expression turned hard as nails. “You’re hurt, and you need something in that belly of yours. Just humor me, please, and drink it.”
He did. Then he asked, “Will you do something else for me?”
He knew full well she would, though her eyebrows rose in speculation. “Don’t tell Ma about my shoulder. I don’t want her to worry.”
“Worry? You’re just afraid she’ll stop you.”
“I’m going.” Cramming his meal into his mouth, he took the last drink of milk, just to get on Charity’s good side. He stood. “When the men get home from the barn raising, send them to…” He paused. Hell. He didn’t know where to send them. “Just tell them what happened and that I’m going to Priest’s Crossing to fetch Faith back.”
Charity’s eyes went dark and she hugged him, being careful not to hurt his shoulder. “Be careful, Luke. I love you.”
Her voice had a little catch, and he was afraid that she might start crying. He tipped her face up to his. “I love you, too.”
“I know you still think of me as a little girl,” Charity whispered.
“You are a little girl,” he interrupted with a growl. “A special little girl. My sister.”
She rolled her eyes and tried again. “I just wanted to tell you that I understand what you were trying to tell me the other day when we went riding, about a woman following where her husband goes. I was foolish meeting Ward in the barn. It was just that…”
He soothed the hair from her face, realizing that indeed she had grown up. “I know, Charity. We all get hankerings. But…your time will come. Just be sure that, when it does, it’s with the right man—and that you’re married first.”
“I know. I know.” Her eyes were instantly filled with tears.
“Shh, don’t cry.” Luke drew her closer, ignoring the discomfort in his shoulder.
“Was it true about Brandon and the schoolteacher’s niece?” she whispered.
He didn’t dare tell her she had Brandon wrapped around her little finger; it would surely send her running for more adventure. Instead he said, “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I reckon you’d best ask him yourself.”
She leaned back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I can’t,” she said, mortified. “What would he think?”
Luke hid a smile. “You’re right, that would be pretty revealing. Still, I’m sure you’ll figure out a way of attracting his attention. Subtly, of course—and definitely not alone in the loft.”
She caught his arm as he was going out the door. “There’s the old road to Priest’s Crossing. Don’t forget about that. If I was on the run, that’s exactly the route I’d take.”
He kissed her again. “Thanks. I can always count on you.”
Colton retreated to the back of the wagon and refused to come out. Now that he’d learned they were returning to their old home, he’d reverted to suspiciousness and hostility.
Ward picked up supplies and purchased some new horses from the livery. He made arrangements to board the McCutcheon team until they were picked up. Now they drove up to a little building on the far side of town.
The undertaker’s? Surprised, Faith kept quiet.
“Jackson Bennett, sheriff and undertaker,” Ward read aloud. “He’s agreed to marry us.”
Anger bubbled up inside Faith. She’d never expected this to happen so soon. Ward was robbing her of a future, throwing her back into the nightmare she’d so recently escaped. And what was in it for her? Her children would indeed suffer when they returned to Kearney, regardless that she’d be there to buffer them. What in heaven’s name was she doing?
She took a deep breath. “No! I’m not going.”
“Don’t start this, Faith. You don’t want to make a scene, do you?”
“Take the farm, Ward,” she pleaded. “It’s worth some money. Sell it. I don’t care. Just leave me here.” Her insides had seized up, but Faith was determined to talk some sense into him.
Several onlookers from the street stopped and watched with curiosity.
Ward leaned close, so that only she could hear. “Don’t make me tell you again. Get your butt off that seat and get inside. I’ve already made arrangements with the sheriff. He’s expecting us.”
“No!”
Ward hopped down from the wagon and circled around. With a jerk he pulled Faith out, leaving her sprawled in the dirt. Her breath was knocked from her lungs and her thighs stung. Ward’s eyes glittered dangerously. But though Faith’s limbs shook and pain radiated from her legs and up her back, she’d not marry him without a fight. She shook her head defiantly.
Ward grabbed the collar of her dress and pulled her to her feet. He shoved her back against the wagon with force. Dizziness enveloped her, and from far away she could hear Dawn crying. Also, something that sounded like the whimpering of a small animal. Colton?
She turned her head and stared at the building. Her resolution remained unchanged. She’d not step a foot inside. She’d make her stand here and now.
“Colton, bring me that baby,” Ward called.
Faith craned her neck to see the boy rocking Dawn in his arms, fervently trying to calm the screaming babe, fear etched on his face. And a hint of challenge.
When Colton didn’t move, Ward strode to where the boy stood and took the infant. “Now,” he chuckled, “we’ll go inside.”
Panic like she’d never known welled up in her throat as Dawn squirmed in Ward’s arms. What would he do if she refused to go inside? A toss could cripple or kill.
Faith reached out. “Let me take her, Ward. Please, she’s crying.”
Ward turned, bouncing the baby in his embrace. “Nope. I’ve hardly had a chance to get to know my little niece. I think I’ll just keep hold of her until she settles down.”
Within minutes it was over and they were back in the wagon, Mr. and Mrs. Ward Brown. Townspeople watched as the conveyance rolled off down the street. Faith willed away memories, telling herself now was not the time. Memories of dark, concerned eyes. Eyes that could make her
insides go soft with just a glance.
Luke’s strong arms, meant for comfort—not for causing pain.
Luke, the night Dawn was born, crooning in encouragement.
“Quiet now, little one.” She choked back tears and kissed her baby’s wet cheek. “Things will be fine.”
Chapter Fifty
Luke made it to Priest’s Crossing in record time. His horse was spent, and he felt guilty about using him so hard. At the livery, he rented a fresh one and asked around. The fast pace also took its toll on him. His shoulder wound had worsened, broken open and oozing, leaving him in an appallingly weak state.
Fear and anger coiled deep inside him as he learned about the scene Ward created outside the undertaker’s. It was clear that Faith desperately didn’t want to marry Ward. So, why hadn’t somebody stepped forward and helped her?
“Hang on, sweetheart. I’m coming,” he whispered as he gripped the saddle horn with his free hand and rode onward.
After a short distance he reined up and pulled his hat lower to shade his eyes from the probing rays of the setting sun. It was getting harder by the moment to keep his seat and he swayed in his saddle. Touching his throbbing shoulder, he drew back his fingers and gazed at thick red blood.
He should have found them by now. He had no trail to follow, since the comings and goings of the townspeople had wiped it away. Guessing at Ward’s destination and route was the best he’d been able to do. And now…
“You can’t do her any good if you bleed to death before you figure it out,” he mumbled.
The old road Charity had mentioned was a handful of miles south, and it was, as she’d mentioned, the best option for Ward if he wanted to stay out of sight. If Luke cut cross-country, he would meet up with it. But he wouldn’t know if he was behind or in front of them. He’d have to leave that to luck. Right now he had to concentrate on staying atop his horse. On finding Faith.
He rode on.
Something skittered across his cheek. With a swat, Luke sent it flying and opened his eyes. It was pitch-black, the clear night sky shining above with millions of bright stars. What the hell was he doing on his back in the middle of nowhere?
Slowly, everything came back to him. He must have passed out and fallen off his horse. Barely able to summon the energy to turn his head, Luke struggled until he did. His horse was several feet away, reins loose on the ground, grazing.
Luke extended his arm in the animal’s direction. He stretched, wiggling his fingers as if he might reach the reins from where he lay. “Come here, boy,” he croaked out, eyeing the canteen that hung from the saddle pommel. “Horse,” he called again, impatience with his own weakness curling inside him.
The horse didn’t budge. What the hell was it the man had said its name was? He’d be damned if he could remember.
“Sam?” His voice was raspy and weak. The horse ignored it completely. “Saint? Striker.”
Seemed as if he recalled the name started with an S. The effort was making Luke dizzy. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes.
He swallowed, and the dryness of his throat made him wince. Frustration swept through him like a tidal wave. If he didn’t make it to the horse, he could easily die out here. Not only would that be letting Faith and the children down, but Charity would nail his hide to the barn door. Not that he’d feel it, he thought humorlessly.
With enormous exertion, Luke rolled to his side and looked at the horse. “Stupid!” The horse stopped grazing and raised his head.
“Good boy. Now, come on over here.”
But, the horse wasn’t looking at him. It was listening to something far off to the west, and it snorted.
Alarm hummed through Luke’s body. If he didn’t get to that animal soon, it would run off.
Luke forced himself to roll to his stomach. He couldn’t stop the grunt, a result of pain that radiated out from his shoulder and coursed through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and for a brief moment pictured Faith’s pretty smile. The memory dulled the pain. He took a few hurried breaths. “Easy, boy. Easy now.”
Dragging himself with his elbows, he focused his mind’s eye on the way she’d said his name their first night as they walked to her wagon, and it buoyed him enough to keep going.
He was closer to the jittery flea-bitten gray. “Silver…? Is that your name? Keep eating that nice grass.” Luke kept talking. He didn’t know if it was to calm the horse or his own tremulous feelings. He actually smiled when Faith came to mind again as she tried to talk him into believing she had an aunt named Penelope. No doubt she’d been a distraction to him—in the very best of ways.
“Salty! That’s it. Here, Salty. Be a good old boy, Salty, and stay there until I can drag myself over to you.”
The horse’s head came up again, and this time Luke heard the distinct jingle of a harness and the crunching of wheels on dirt. The old road must just be over the rise. And who else could it be, if not Faith and Ward?
Necessity fueled Luke, giving him the strength to pull himself the last few feet to the horse. He gripped one rein, closed his eyes and groaned.
Salty, agitated with excitement generated by the approach of other horses, danced around and almost stepped on him.
Through sheer force of determination, Luke heaved himself up and caught hold the stirrup. He pulled himself into the saddle. Between huge gulps of air and bouts of nausea he rode toward the sound, wondering how he was going to keep Ward from seeing he was wounded. The cover of darkness could help. Possibly Ward wouldn’t see his weakened condition.
He positioned himself behind a scrub oak but made sure he had a good view of the road. The moon shone softly on the lane, and he could make out a wagon, distant yet approaching at an even pace.
Luke didn’t have to check his weapon. It was loaded and ready, and he took it from its holster so he wouldn’t have to be doing any fast-drawing in his condition. But he wavered in the saddle. Gripping the horn and gritting his teeth, he swore softly at the effort just sitting there took. That wagon had best hurry.
“Brown,” Luke bellowed when the wagon was within fifteen feet. He could see Faith wrapped in a quilt next to Ward. Instantly, both figures straightened. Luke thought he saw Faith mouth his name, but his vision, blurry as it was, might be playing tricks. Ward dropped his hand to the edge of the wagon seat.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Luke warned.
Ward brought his hand back up and laid it on his lap with the other. “What do you want, McCutcheon?”
“I think that’s pretty obvious. I told you to stay away from Faith.”
“True enough. But, things have a way of changing. Faith is my wife now. You have no claim on her.”
A cold chill descended on Luke, frosting his insides. A few moments passed while he wavered and fought the weakness that was threatening to overtake him, threatening to topple him from his saddle.
“McCutcheon?” Ward called.
“Yeah?”
“McCutcheon, you just sit back and let us pass. I’m taking my family back where they belong. I don’t want any trouble.”
Again Luke had to catch his breath, and it was a moment before he could answer. “You’re not taking her anywhere. Now climb down off that wag…” Damn. He had to clench his eyes shut, and his gun barrel wavered. Lances of hot fire flashed through his shoulder and radiated up his neck. He stammered, “G-get off the wagon.”
Ward spotted his weakness. His hand darted under the wagon seat and pulled out a pistol. Seeing as Luke had cover behind the bush, he made a more sinister move. “Drop it, McCutcheon, or I kill her.” He pressed the gun to Faith’s side.
Luke squinted and tried to steady his gun. Would Ward actually kill Faith? A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead and stung his eye.
“Drop your gun. Now!” Ward shouted.
It was too risky. He couldn’t shoot and take the chance of hitting Faith. Not now, when there were four of the man on the wagon seat. Which was the real Ward Brown?
> Chapter Fifty-One
Things were looking bleak. But then something dark hovered in the wagon opening just behind Ward, and instantly Luke knew what to do.
“Haw!”
He spurred his horse forward, bolting out from behind his cover. As he did, Ward swung his gun around and fired at him. But not before a tremendous clang rung out in the night air. A moment later, Faith raised her foot and shoved Ward’s unconscious body from the wagon seat.
“Luke!” she screamed. Climbing down off the wagon, she ran to where he hung slumped in his saddle.
Ward’s shot had grazed his thigh, but Luke didn’t feel a thing. All he knew was Faith was alive and steadying him, helping him stay in the saddle as he struggled to speak. “Ward…?”
There suddenly came the sounds of a multitude of horses’ hooves, mixed with the clicking of pistol hammers being drawn back in a moment of serendipitous fortune.
“Don’t worry about Brown,” Roady called out. “I’m watching him real close.”
“Me, too, Miss Faith,” Chance called from the west side of the road.
“Senora, I’ll be very happy to shoot him between the eyes for you. Sí?”
Faith looked around, clearly astonished as the shadows came alive, and the cowboys from the Heart of the Mountains rode forward. They stopped and remained where they were, with the exception of Flood, Matt and Mark, who barreled up next to Luke and Faith and dismounted, lifting Luke down from his saddle and carrying him toward the wagon.
“Oh my God,” she whispered when she saw the blood covering his chest. “You’re hurt very badly.”
He looked down and saw his whole side drenched in blood. “It’s an old wound.” Still, he clutched it with his hand. His leg was nothing.
As they approached the wagon, Luke nodded. “Good work, Colton. I was praying I wasn’t seeing things when you held up that frying pan. You did well, boy. I’m proud of you.”
Closing his eyes, he gave himself up to the darkness.
Homespun Hearts Page 28