Katie was still sleeping. Her face felt warmer than his hand and her cheeks showed some color.
The fire caught and Luke slowly fed it kindling until the end of the broken tie was burning merrily. He kept it in the middle of the room, not wanting to take a chance of burning the hut down about them.
After a while he took the bucket of water out to the animals. When she returned, Katie's eyes were open.
"Where are we?" she said. She sounded only half awake.
"I don't know. A water tank. We followed the tracks for maybe five miles." He dropped the last of the portable soup into the steaming coffeepot and stirred. "How do you feel?"
Katie rubbed her hands over her face. "Like I could sleep for another week." A yawn overcame her. "Luke, I'm sorry. I just couldn't stay awake."
"It doesn't matter. Sometimes a body just can't keep going any longer. It happened to me more than once in the War. I got to where I could march for hours and wake up when we stopped. That's part of being a soldier. Or a cattleman." He remembered how he'd quickly learned to sleep on the back of a horse when he'd gone to Texas after mustering out. It was that or stay awake all the time.
Katie looked around. "Where are the animals?"
"They're out of the wind and mostly out of the snow. They'll be all right." The soup was simmering now and its meaty aroma filled the tiny room. Katie's stomach gave a hungry growl and she bit her lip in embarrassment.
"Me too. It's been a long time since breakfast. But I'm afraid we haven't anything but the soup," he apologized, "and about half the whiskey."
"What about the lemon drops?" Katie pulled the provisions sack toward her and dug inside. Sure enough, down under everything else, was the little paper bag of lemon drops. She held it up. "Dessert!"
Luke's grin was wide and infectious.
They ate their soup slowly, savoring each sip. Afterward they each took two lemon drops, knowing that the rest were all they would have for breakfast.
"Maybe a train will come in the morning," Katie said after the last, lingering essence of lemon was gone from her mouth. She was rooting around in her fiddle case, trying to decide how prepared she should be when they reached civilization. If there was a chance Whitney might be in town, she might need more than the two little derringers.
"Could be, if we don't get too much snow."
"When it gets light, maybe we'll discover we're right in the middle of a town."
"Not very likely." He rose to his knees and leaned over so he could see past the raised lid of her fiddle case. "What the devil!"
Katie twitched a scarf across the dark, well-oiled stock, but it was too late. He'd seen it. She pulled it out of the case, then unwound the double barrel from its swathing of silk and wool. "It's only my shotgun," she said, holding up the two pieces.
With the ease of hours of practice, she checked the barrels for rust, then assembled the shotgun. Snapping it closed, she handed it to Luke. "Careful. It's a little touchy."
"You've had this in there all along." His tone was accusatory.
"Well, of course. It didn't just materialize out of thin air."
"And you didn't tell me."
Shrugging, she said, "I saw no need. Pa told me not to use it unless I had to, and so far I haven't."
Luke's fingers stroked along the short, silver-chased barrels, traced the rich carving on the stock. "Pretty fancy gun," he said. He turned it and stroked it, his fingers touching the gun with the same gentleness as they'd touched her. Katie was unable to take her eyes off his hands.
"You've got ammunition?" He laid it aside. And answered his own question. "Of course you do. That's why the fiddle case was so heavy." There was a note in his voice that sent a tiny frisson of apprehension through Katie. He sounded like he had that night he'd faced down Hamilton Steens Whitney III.
He looked her up and down, his eyes hot and angry. "You didn't need anybody to help you get where you were goin', did you, Katie Lachlan? You could have took care of your own self just fine, couldn't you?"
"Luke, I can explain--"
"Be quiet. I'm goin' to bed." He wrapped his blanket around himself and lay down, his back to her and to the fire.
Chapter Eighteen
Luke had felt lower than a rattler's belly before, but not for years. Now he just couldn't stop seeing the hurt look in Katie's eyes when he'd snarled at her like a hydrophobic dog.
There'd been no call for him to get his back up like that. Whether or not she carried enough firepower to stop a small army wasn't his concern. He didn't reckon she'd ever use that sawed-off shotgun on Whitney, no matter how much the fancy swell deserved it.
Because Luke had been so tuckered last night, he'd gone to sleep as soon as he'd laid down. But this morning the memory had woke him up as sure as any bugle.
He'd tossed and turned for what seemed like a day or so when he became aware that the two small vents up near the roof were visible. After a while he saw that the light wasn't getting any better, and he figured that it was full day. Probably snowing, just like yesterday.
The small shed still held warmth from last night's fire. A little blowing and he had a big enough spark to kindle some shaved cedar--the last of the wood they'd carried with them.
But there were ties outside, and they'd burn well.
Lafayette and the asses were tucked in against the shed wall, snug as bugs, but their water bucket was empty. Luke filled it with snow and took it inside to thaw while the used coffee grounds were steeping.
Katie was awake and rooting through their provision sack.
"Find anything?" Maybe if he pretended all was right between them, she'd play along.
"A couple of stray coffee beans. Some cracker crumbs." She looked up at him, her half smile one of resignation. "I guess it's lemon drops for breakfast."
There was no feed for the livestock. "Keep 'em. I'm not hungry anyhow."
"I'm not either. Not really." As she folded the empty gunnysack, she chewed on her lower lip. For some reason the burlap seemed to resist her efforts.
At last she had it folded. "Luke, are you still mad?"
Not a rattlesnake's belly. Something even lower. An Ozark hellbender's, maybe? "Oh, he...heck, Katie, you ought to know I ain't. I blew up last night 'cause I don't like surprises. That shotgun...well, if I'd known you had it, I might have--"
"Pa told me not to show it to anyone unless I planned to use it." Clutching the folded sack to her chest, she stared up at him. "There wasn't any time it would have done me any good. Not when I could get to it."
He had to admit she was right. His rifle had been all the gun they'd needed since they'd taken up together. A shotgun was a poor choice for hunting, unless you were after ducks. Besides, lead shot from that sawed-off barrel would spread so quick it wouldn't kill a duck unless he stuck his head inside.
On the other hand, at close range the shotgun would stop a bigger man than Luke, and stop him right quick.
Her eyes were big and round, her mouth soft. All curled around the dirty gunnysack like she was, she looked little and dainty. Helpless and feminine. No wonder he'd yielded to her plea for help.
Luke just wished she'd let him help her, once in a while. So far she'd taken fine care of herself.
They spent little time getting packed. Without food and fuel, there was no longer the necessity to load the asses. When he'd checked the last knot on Lafayette's pack, he stepped back inside to see if they'd missed anything.
The sun had come out, a pale, watery sun that bounced off the snow like the glare of a carbide lamp. That was why, when he went inside, he could, for the first time, see the label on the crates stacked against the far wall.
Big black, stenciled letters. DYNAMITE.
Even bigger red letters. DANGER.
Sweat broke out on Luke's brow as he looked around the small space, less than ten feet across. And in the middle was their fire ring, with the last embers of their morning fire still glowing.
He'd read about Dynamite, called
by some the most useful invention in history. Far more powerful than gunpowder, easier to use when mixed with sawdust and pressed into cylinders. Hadn't he read it was sensitive to heat?
Walking carefully, Luke went outside and scooped up a double handful of snow with shaking hands. He laid it gently on the embers, went back for another. After the fourth load of snow, he went out and carefully pulled the door of the shed closed behind him. "Let's go," he told Katie, hoping she didn't hear the quaver in his voice.
She was busy making over Sheba and paid him no attention.
New snow had fallen during the night. Before she'd gone ten steps, Katie was wishing once more for her britches. With each step she had to raise her knees almost hip high, even though Luke and the animals were breaking trail for her. Finally she pulled her skirt up between her legs and tucked it into her waistband. She looked ridiculous, what with the bulk of two petticoats underneath, but at least she could walk.
They'd gone nearly a mile when she heard again the wail of a steam locomotive. Turning around, she saw black smoke billowing on the horizon, shredding in the light wind.
She jumped up and down, clapping her hands. "Luke! Oh, Luke, look!"
He swept her into his arms and swung her around. "I see it sweetheart! I see it!"
While he had her there, she kissed him. Not the slow, deep kiss he wanted, but a resounding smack on the cheek.
It was safer that way.
The train sat for a while taking on water, darkening the sky with its smoke. Finally they heard another drawn-out wail and saw the smoke change from lazy, slow billows to short, fat puffs. In less than a minute, the locomotive nosed around the long curve behind them.
Katie had never seen a more welcome sight. She waved, and after a moment, so did Luke.
With a squeal of brakes, the train stopped beside them. "Need a ride?" the engineer said, leaning out of his cab. "Talk to the Brakeman." He jerked a thumb toward the back of the train, a line of freight and flatcars reaching out of sight.
"How far's the nearest town?" Luke called back.
"Couple of miles, maybe. You can't see it because that there hill's in the way, but it's right ahead."
"Where are we?" Katie said. "Is it Hilliard?"
"That where you was headin'?" Shaking his head, the engineer again indicated the rear of the car. "You missed it. Next stop's Bear River City." He scratched his chin. "You folks might be better off headin' back to Hilliard, all things considered."
"Couple of miles, you say?" Luke asked.
"'Bout that, I reckon. You wantin' a ride?"
"We'll walk it," Katie said, not waiting for Luke to make the decision. "It'd take less time than loading the livestock."
"Suit yourselves," the engineer said. He scratched his chin again as he stared down at Katie. "Beggin' your pardon, miss, but it ain't what you'd call a decent sort of place for a lady."
"Does it have a store where we can buy food?"
"It does, and a hotel and a restaurant too. Even got a newspaper." Once more his fingernails rasped across his chin. "Only thing is, there's more desperadoes and shootists and what-have-you in Bear River City than in any Hell I've seen along the line."
Turning to Luke, Katie said under her breath, "Then it's not the sort of place to expect Mr. Whitney, is it?" She ignored his worried frown. "How far can a person ride on the railroad?"
"Wal, we ain't takin' passengers any farther than Evanston, another twelve, fifteen miles along. There ain't no more towns beyond."
"We'll head there, then," Luke said. "I'm obliged to you for the information."
"Sure you don't want to take passage?"
Katie shook her head slightly at Luke's questioning look. "We're sure," he told the engineer. "But thanks."
"Any time." Punctuating his wave with a blast of the whistle, the engineer put the train into motion.
As it pulled away, Luke turned to Katie. "Now what the he...heck was that all about? We could have ridden to Evanston in comfort."
"And what were we going to eat in the meantime? All of us?"
"Aw, shoot, I never even thought about there not being any feed on the train."
Smiling up at him, she said, "That's all right. I wouldn't have either, if Sheba hadn't been trying to eat my coat for the last half mile."
Bear River City wasn't much to look at, but it was a bustling little place. Not much of the bustle seemed to do with the railroad, though.
Luke counted a couple of restaurants, three saloons, a bakery and a laundry in the first hundred feet of the town's only street. Most of the buildings were log, but some were of sawn timber, with high false fronts and real glass windows. All looked as if they'd been put up in a hurry, without much regard for fancy.
There was a forest of signs, each set perpendicular to the front of the building. They extended six or eight feet out into the wide, dirt street, giving the impression of a sidewalk along either side. Some of the signs were ornately lettered, others simply stated what was being sold inside. Liquors. Hardware. Food. Saloon. Baths.
"It's bigger than I expected," Katie said.
He glanced down at her. "Yeah. But they'll have feed at the livery stable, wherever it is. I don't see the hotel, though." A place that advertised Beds was not for a lady.
"Let's ask." She tugged on Sheba's lead line and took off up the street before Luke could stop her.
He loped after her and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "Hold on there, now. Let's think about this."
"There's nothing to think about. We need a place to stay. So we'll ask. After we stable the animals."
Not releasing her, Luke said, "I had it in mind you'd stay outside of town whilst I did that. Then I'll reconnoiter some, see what the place has to offer."
"Of all the--" Her frown told him what she thought of his plan. "Luke there is nothing in this town I haven't seen before. I grew up on the frontier, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember you sayin' you'd never seen a town until you moved to Boise City. What were you then? Fifteen?"
"Fourteen," she admitted.
"And there was an Army fort there, wasn't there?"
"Well, yes..."
"So there was law and order. Of a sort, anyhow." Waving his hand toward the other end of the town, he said, "Didn't you hear what the engineer said? Desperadoes and shootists and God only knows what else. This ain't anything like the 'frontier' you grew up on. Trust me, Katie. I've seen places like this before."
She pulled free of his grasp. "Oh, fiddlesticks. You're always expecting the worst. I'm hungry."
Luke wasn't willing to sling her over his shoulder and carry her out of town so he did the next best thing. He followed her.
Behind him Lafayette made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a horselaugh.
They stabled the stock first. To Luke's relief, the hostler seemed a decent sort, and his hay had no smell of mildew. "We'll be here overnight," he told the man.
As they were leaving the stable, he turned back. "Where's the best place to put up?"
The hostler looked Katie up and down. "Don't reckon there is a 'best place' hereabouts. But Ma Jordan's boarding house is where I'd put my woman, if'n I had one. Last I heard, though, she was full up to the rafters."
"We'll give it a try. Thanks." He shouldered his bedroll and offered to carry the fiddle case. Katie refused, as always.
They saw the NO ROOM sign before they reached Ma Jordan's boarding house.
"I saw a hotel," Katie as they turned back toward the main street. "There!" She pointed.
The sign offered beds and baths and a dining room. It had a second story, but was still not much bigger than some of the saloons. As they drew closer, Luke's misgivings increased. None of the windows were intact, and only about half of them retained any glass at all. The front door had been kicked in at some time or another, and was held together by a board nailed diagonally across it. "I don't think this is a good idea."
Katie bristled. "Do you have any better suggestions?" But she
gnawed her lower lip as she gave the hotel a second look. Then she straightened and mounted the single step to the narrow front porch.
Luke followed.
The dining room and the lobby were one and the same, occupying what appeared to be about half the ground floor. Katie was already talking to a young man standing behind a waist-high counter.
Before Luke was across the room, he heard her say, "We'll take it." Not waiting for him, she trotted up the stairs, a big brass skeleton key in her hand.
Luke went along behind, more reluctant with each step.
There were two doors on either side of the narrow hall. Inside the second room on the left, Katie was standing in the narrow space between a scarred brass bed and an upended crate on which sat a chipped china washbowl and a tin pitcher. She smiled when Luke came in. "See. This will do just fine," she said, although her voice seemed a little unsteady.
At least the room boasted one of the windows with glass still in it. The cold wind whistled through three circular holes in the glass--small caliber, fortunately.
"Fine," he said, not wanting to argue any more. Not that it ever did him any good anyhow. "Give me my key."
"Um, well...Luke, I...This is your room too. They only had one vacancy."
"The hell you say!"
"Well, it's not as if we haven't slept together before," she snapped. "Good heavens, Luke, don't be so prissy!"
Once again he looked about. There was enough space between the bed and the window for him to spread the bedroll. And it would be warmer than outdoors.
The hotel served only suppers, so they went down the street to the New England Restaurant. Beans and beef were the only offerings. "It sure beats lemon drops," Katie said, digging into the big bowl that the waiter had slapped before her almost as soon as they were seated.
"Or portable soup," Luke agreed, between bites. He sipped the coffee. Not bad.
Luke could see out the narrow, dirty window from where he sat. Although the street wasn't anywhere near crowded, there were steady streams of people hurrying along it in each direction. Most were men, but occasionally a woman went by. Some were clearly sporting girls, but there were enough of the respectable sort that he started to relax. Surely a town with a number of family men couldn't be as bad as they'd heard.
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