Mackenzie watched as Hap and Sheriff Roosevelt placed Luke in her bed. The two men managed far better than she and the homesteader had when they had struggled to put Luke in the buggy out at Hap’s cabin. She would not leave Luke in the tumbledown hut with rain leaking through the roof. Doc Langhorne must check those bruises on his head.
Horace pulled off Luke’s boots. Reaching past him, Mackenzie loosened Luke’s collar. She drew it off and was ready to toss it aside when she saw blood on it. Swallowing a moan of despair, she bit her lip.
Horace asked softly, “Why don’t you sit down? Your face is as green as Luke’s is going to be.”
“I’ll be fine. Remember how I helped you tend the fools injured during the big fight at the saloon last year?”
“It’s different when it’s someone you care about.”
As she drew off her soaked bonnet, water dripped off her hair. She brushed it away from Luke’s face. He gave a heart-wrenching moan, and her heart cramped. “Douglas, get Doc Langhorne. Now!”
“Yes, Ma.” He put his arms around her waist. “Ma, I’m sorry.”
She patted his shoulder. There was nothing she could add to what she had told her son while they had searched for Luke. She doubted if he would ever forget today. “I know. Go for the doctor. Hurry!”
The door slammed, but Luke did not react to the noise. Picking up his wrist, she felt his thready pulse. After he recovered, they must make a new start. Words must be unsaid and actions undone.
“Horace, there’s coffee on the stove,” she whispered. “Why don’t you pour us some? It’s going to be a long night, I’m afraid.”
“’Course, Mackenzie. Want some, LaBounty?”
“Sounds good,” the little man answered.
She looked over her shoulder as Hap lit another candle and put it on the windowsill. Its glare etched across Luke’s face to reveal how gray his cheeks were beneath the ebony stubble of a day’s growth of beard. The sight shocked her. His thick brows were clogged with dried blood. She tilted his head to see other wounds.
When Horace held out a cup of coffee to her, he said, “Here’s to his quick recovery, Mackenzie.”
“I hope so.” She drank deeply. “You needn’t stay, Hap. I know you’ve got lots to do out at your ranch.”
He shook his head as he dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor. “I’ll stay. Want to see how he does. The way he was tossing about and mumbling, I thought he was preparing to fight someone.”
“He was talking?”
“Mumbling. Nothing made sense. Of course, if I got knocked so hard across the noggin, I’d make no sense either.”
Horace chuckled. “Only in your case, LaBounty, no one would notice.”
Hap grinned and bounced to his feet. “Look, Mackenzie, I ain’t much of a cook, but how about I scramble some eggs?”
“Go ahead,” she said, although food was the last thing she wanted to think about. “Douglas will want something to eat. You’ll find the eggs in the larder out—”
He patted her arm. “I know where to look. You take care of him, and don’t be worrying about the boy. I’ll tend to him.”
Mackenzie’s smile trembled. Blinking rapidly, she fought to keep the tears in her eyes. Later, she would cry. Later, when the doctor had checked Luke and the others had left for home. Later, when Luke was all right and Douglas was asleep.
As a flash of lightning cut through the room, she shivered. Another storm! She hoped Douglas would hurry with Doc Langhorne.
“Horace?” she asked in a low voice.
“What is it?”
“There are more lumps on Luke than Douglas’s prank could have caused.”
“I thought so, too.”
She smiled. “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to find an excuse for what Douglas did.”
“You wouldn’t excuse him if you thought he was guilty.” He stroked his mustache. “My guess is that some folks took advantage of Luke’s groggy condition to rough him up.”
“Why?” Clasping her hands so they did not shake, she said, “Luke hasn’t been in Bentonville long enough to make any enemies.”
“You have been. Pick one of three men who have reasons to want to teach you and the Bugle a lesson.”
“One of the Terrible Trio?”
“Are you still calling them that?” He put one foot on the footboard and took a thoughtful drink. “It would make my job easier if Luke had been beaten up by some renegade I could throw in jail.”
Placing her cup on the window next to the candle, Mackenzie sighed as she looked out at the rain sliding down the panes. “Mr. Rutherford’s offer for a reward hasn’t helped. Aaron’s outraged. He insists it will just cause more trouble.”
“O’Grady may have had his mind changed for him.”
“I know.” She grinned. “I went to the OG Star this afternoon to listen to his ranting. That’s when the missing cattle were discovered.”
Shaking his head, Horace ran a hand through his closely cropped hair. “Trouble’s coming, Mackenzie. My granny used to say she could feel trouble coming in her bones. I feel it in my gut. It’s like a cyclone. All through Johnson County, there’s talk about doing something about the rustlers.”
“I know. I—”
“Hey!” called Hap as he entered the room with three plates balanced on his arm.
Horace growled, “Be quiet, won’t you?”
Motioning toward the bed, he exclaimed, “He’s coming ’round!”
Mackenzie exchanged a guilty look with the sheriff before hurrying to the bed.
Confusion filled Luke’s unfocused eyes as they opened. “Get out of here. Now!”
Tears stung Mackenzie’s eyes. She had not expected his first words would be angry. “If you want me to go …”
His hand moved stiffly across the blanket to cover hers. “Danger. For you. They killed Hap. They’ll kill you.”
“Hap? Hap LaBounty?” She glanced at Hap. Surprise tilted his thick brows. “He’s not dead, Luke. Look.”
As Luke stared, wide-eyed, the short homesteader said, “Ain’t dead, Bradfield. I’m still alive and meaner than a rattlesnake.”
Luke moaned, “But I saw—”
“Hush,” Mackenzie whispered as she put a damp cloth on his forehead. “Whatever you saw was because of the lumps you have on your head. Just dreams.”
“Nightmares.”
“Whatever.” She smiled. “It doesn’t matter now. If—” She paused as she heard the door open.
With the grumbling all of them recognized, Doc Langhorne came in. Whether it was a greeting or a complaint that he had had to come out in the storm, Mackenzie did not care. He ordered her to leave.
“I’m staying!” she asserted.
“I have to examine this man.” Langhorne took off his coat which was as black as his bag and shoved the drenched garment at her. “I know you’re nosey, and you use your newspaper as an excuse to peek into everyone’s business, but give this man some privacy.”
She dropped the coat and brushed water from her hands. “Mr. Bradfield has an injured head. To examine that, you’ll need to do nothing unseemly. He’s my employee and, therefore, my responsibility. I shall stay.”
“Even if it’s against his wishes?”
“Luke?” she asked in a gentler tone.
“Stay.” Luke closed his eyes as if speaking the single word had been too much.
Mackenzie watched Doc Langhorne’s long fingers probe Luke’s head. When Luke grasped her hand, she bit her lower lip and did not complain about his viselike grip. It relaxed abruptly, and she saw he had lost consciousness.
“He’ll be fine,” announced the doctor as he dug something out of his satchel. She was not sure if he sounded pleased or disappointed. “Give him four drops of tincture of veratrum in sweetened water every few hours. Don’t use any more than you must to get his pulse slowed. It’s poisonous. I believe you possess enough intelligence to follow such simple instructions.”
She heard Ho
race’s muttered curse, but did not let her anger show. Her opinions of the doctor or his of her must not interfere with getting Luke better. “Will you want to see him again?”
A sly glitter came into his eyes. “Lacey is sure to want to see how her beau is doing.”
She had forgotten Luke had paid a call on the doctor’s daughter. She forced a tight smile. “Tell Lacey that she’s welcome to call in the morning.”
“She was right put out this evening when Bradfield never showed up as he’d promised to take her for a carriage ride.”
“He was planning to take her for a ride?” Seeing his amusement, she turned away. That, on more than one occasion, she had found fault with his daughter was, in his opinion, a crime. If he could make her pay for that at the same time he obtained his daughter a husband, he would be delighted.
“Why shouldn’t a man want the prettiest maiden in town?”
Again the temptation to retort heatedly was almost too much to ignore. “Someone will show you out.”
Mackenzie stored her unhappiness deep within her as the hours plodded past. She was two people, the one who spoke with her friends, and the other who writhed with jealousy. She did not want Luke to hold Lacey as he had her and share those body-melting kisses.
When the sheriff and Hap took their leave, she thanked them. Horace told her he would stop by in the morning. Promising to send news of Luke’s recovery to Hap, she was glad to close the door.
Glancing at the loft, she listened for Douglas’s snores. She blew out the candle and walked into the bedroom. Luke’s arm was flung across the covers, which were twisted around his legs. She tried to smooth them out, but could do little without waking him.
Going to the sofa, she scooped up the extra blanket and Luke’s pillow. She spread the blanket in the narrow space between the bed and the wall and pulled it around her like a bedroll. She hid her face in the thin pillow, wishing she could escape the trouble barreling down on Bentonville like a runaway train.
“Mackenzie?”
The soft call of her name came a second time before she lurched to her feet. Light flowed through the window. It was just past dawn. Luke’s face was a pattern of bruises. They stretched along one cheek and into his dark hair.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I know you wanted to be rid of me, but why didn’t you put me on the train instead of under it?”
His wry humor filled her with relief. “You came looking for the real West, remember? We do things differently out here.”
He put a hand to his head and plucked away the cloth. As it fell from his weak fingers, she caught it. “Where are we?”
“My bedroom. I thought you’d rest easier in here.”
“This isn’t how I imagined it would be in your bed.”
She flushed, but said, “Horace wants to speak to you later.”
“I’ll bet he does.” Luke turned to look at her, and she realized he could see through only one eye. The other was swollen shut. “Don’t just stand there gawking as if I were a sideshow attraction. Help me sit up.”
“Luke, I don’t think you should do that yet.”
“Help me, or leave so I don’t embarrass myself doing it by myself.”
Slipping her arms under his shoulders, she clenched her teeth. “You’re impossible!” When he groaned, she asked, “Are you happy? You’ve hurt yourself again.”
“I’d be happier if you hopped in here with me.”
Mackenzie chuckled at his attempt to leer at her. Plumping the pillow behind him, she said, “If the truth be told, I slept here with you last night.”
“You did?”
“Don’t fret, Luke. Your virtue—whatever of it’s left—is intact. I slept on the floor. I thought you should have someone nearby.”
He caught her hand in his. “I’d better be careful what I say in my sleep.”
“If you’re planning to dream about your sweetheart, you needn’t worry about me repeating her name.”
“Even if her name is Mackenzie Smith?”
Because she had expected a joke instead of an intense question, she could not answer. She drew her hand away and pretended to rearrange the blanket. “You should be thinking about resting that head instead of … other things.”
“Then you may be just a fantasy.”
“Possibly.”
“You’re a poor excuse for a fantasy when you just stand there and eye me.”
She took a deep breath and whispered, “Luke, both Douglas and I are sorry.”
“You weren’t the only pigheaded ones, sweetheart.”
Her heart contracted with joy at the simple endearment. “Do you want some breakfast?”
“Nothing I have to chew.” He touched his jaw and winced.
“I can bring you coffee and reheat some of the scrambled eggs Hap made.”
“Sounds perfect, as long as you keep me company.”
“It’s a deal.”
Mackenzie’s steps were lightened by her delight with Luke’s acceptance of the apology which a week ago would have been thrown back in her face. Enjoying breakfast with him, she told him about bringing him home. He grimaced when she spoke of how the storm added a touch of melodrama to the whole episode.
“At least, it’ll be a great column,” he said wryly.
“Luke—”
“Don’t worry, Mackenzie. I won’t name names. Not that anyone here reads The Albany Independent anyhow.”
“Just be careful.”
Douglas’s footsteps in the other room kept Luke from answering. The boy’s attempts at an apology were accepted as kindly as Mackenzie’s had been. Getting his own breakfast, he sat with them until he had to leave for school.
“Douglas?” Mackenzie said quietly as she placed the dirty dishes on the table.
“What is it, Ma?”
Dampening her lips, she said, “Just let the kids at school think Luke had an accident.”
“It wasn’t. I—”
She put her hands on his shoulders. “Douglas, knocking him off the horse wouldn’t cause all those injuries. Horace agrees me about this.”
“Then …” His eyes widened. “Who’d want to hurt Luke like that?”
“That’s what we must figure out before—”
“Luke dies like Pa?”
Terror strangled her. “How did you know about that?”
“Can I tell you after school?” he asked as a shout ricocheted up the stairs. “That’s Parker. I’m supposed to walk to school with him.”
“Go ahead. Just keep your mouth buttoned. This isn’t a game, Douglas.”
“I understand, Ma. I can keep a secret.”
“Obviously,” she whispered as he raced down the stairs. If what her son was suggesting was true, he knew more about his father’s death than she had guessed.
Luke winced at the thud of Douglas’s steps on the stairs. Leaning against the headboard, he tried to ride out each wave of pain. Although Mackenzie did not hover about him, he knew she was concerned by the number of times she came in and out on flimsy excuses.
He thought about lying down, but to move meant more agony. He stared at the uneven joints in the ceiling. Prying into his unreliable memory, he tried to remember what had happened. Shadowy forms flitted through his brain. He could remember rising from the ground to see Douglas riding off. The curses he had spoken then rang through his head clearly. After that, he had heard other footsteps.
He swore as the images became indistinct. Nobody had to tell him this was the important part. Although he could not identify the faceless bodies surrounding him as he lost consciousness, he could recall their cruel laughter as they left him for dead.
A soft voice swept away his impotent fury. Looking up, he managed to focus on Mackenzie. He started to say something which would guarantee her cheeks becoming as rosy as her soft lips. Only a groan emerged. She surged across the room.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, hating his weakness.
“Are you sure?”
“I said so, didn’t I?” He held up his hand when she began to apologize. “You’re right. I feel horrible.”
“Then I’ll send your guest away.”
“Guest?”
“Yes,” she said stiffly, “you have a guest, Luke.”
Her tone warned him who was calling. When a be-feathered gown decorated with too many green ruffles brushed through the door with the whisper of taffeta, he realized that the doctor’s daughter would not be kept waiting. He also realized how little he wanted to see Lacey.
“Oh, Luke, when Father told me you were hurt, I swear I was beside myself with grief.” She dabbed at her eyes with a gold handkerchief. “I cried all night long.”
“Did you?” He nearly laughed. What a performance! “May I say that you seem to be enduring the trauma quite well?”
Flouncing to the bed, she bent and kissed him on the mouth. He shoved her away and looked at Mackenzie, who was watching without expression. His smile tightened as Lacey flashed a furious glare at her.
“Will you join us, Mackenzie?” Luke asked.
“No, thank you. I have work to do. Lacey, there’s coffee on the stove. Help yourself.”
Mackenzie looked back to see the blonde sitting on the bed. Luke looked past Lacey to her. Her gaze was imprisoned in the warmth of his eyes once again. She was unsure what emotions played across his battered face.
Hurrying down the stairs, she stopped to lean against the wall. Luke had made it clear from the beginning that he was in town only temporarily. Only a fool would let her life become mixed up with his.
Only a fool like Lacey Langhorne.
Or Mackenzie Smith.
NINE
After a week, the worst of Luke’s pain had left, the purple bruises had lightened. Mackenzie was not surprised that he joined her in the print shop within days. He could do little other than talk, and she suspected he made the effort to put a stop to Lacey’s unwanted visits.
She had not known how much she had come to depend on Luke’s help. Although Horace suggested she put out only one issue of the Bugle until Luke was healed, she knew that was impossible. With impending statehood only weeks away, she had more announcements to put in than four pages could hold. When, on Saturday shortly before midday, she finished that morning’s edition, a sense of serenity surrounded her. Luke was healing. The paper was done. From outside, she could hear Douglas and his friends playing baseball.
Just Her Type Page 9