She turned to look back across the tangle of thorns and rocks and saw Elvira being carried by Zeke. Elvira looked as white as he was black.
"Zeke won't harm her," Luke said. "But it would help if she didn't look so petrified."
"She's no more used to being picked up and carried by strange men than I am."
"But her fear is caused by prejudice. I saw how she looked at Hawk. He'll stay away from her, but Zeke will torment her. He was a slave. He hates all white women except Isabelle."
"Isabelle?"
"The woman who adopted us."
"All three of you?"
"There were ten of us."
"Poor woman."
"Nobody would cross Isabelle. She could be mighty tough when she wanted."
Valeria couldn't imagine a woman tough enough to handle these three men, even as boys. She watched, hardly daring to breathe, until Zeke set Elvira down.
"I'll be back for you in a little while," Zeke said, a big grin exposing white teeth.
Valeria thought Elvira would faint.
"I've got to check the wagons," Luke said.
Hans and Otto arrived as Luke left, Otto wiping his forehead with his handkerchief.
"I've never though I'd be thankful to sit in the woods," he said. He tottered over to a fallen tree and settled on the trunk. "You'd better sit while you can. We'll be back in that infernal oven soon enough."
But Valeria didn't want to sit. She made her way through the sparse undergrowth toward the water. She hated the West, but the creek beckoned to her. She knew it was supposed to be a river-Luke had said it was the San Pedro River-but the water didn't seem more than a few inches deep. If she hadn't seen a leaf float by, she wouldn't have been able to tell there was any current.
Maybe it was the profound stillness, but she didn't think she'd ever felt more at peace in her life. It was odd that such a feeling should settle over her in the heart of an alien and fiercely dangerous land. Even the birds seemed to have fallen quiet.
Moments later the mules crashed through the undergrowth about a hundred feet downstream, shattering the quiet. They waded into the water to drink.
"I told the men to water them downstream," Luke said.
Valeria nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. "I appreciate that, but I don't want a drink."
He waded a short way into the river, squatted down, scooped up some water in his hands, and drank.
"It's good," he said, "the best you'll find until you reach the streams up on the Rim."
"Thank you, but I don't want any."
He scooped up more water and came toward her, water dripping from his hands.
"Here, taste it. You can't condemn what you don't know."
She backed away. "I don't want any."
"I thought you royal people were supposed to have courage and an adventurous spirit."
"We do, but-"
"You look like inept cowards to me. You get thrown out of your homes and have to run six thousand miles before you can stop. Then you're afraid to take a swallow of water. That's the definition of a rank coward if you ask me."
"I didn't run," Valeria snapped. "I was sent."
"Then what's your excuse for being afraid of everything around you?"
Talking to this man did no good. She either had to show him or save her breath. "I have the courage to do anything you do," she said.
She pulled his hands toward her and drank. She wouldn't have admitted it for the world, but it was the sweetest tasting water she'd swallowed in many a month.
She'd drunk most of the water before she realized her lips were touching the inside of Luke's palm. Then she became aware she was holding his hands. There was something intimate about her lips touching his skin. She hadn't intended it to happen-she'd been so angry, so goaded, she hadn't considered what she was doing-but what could be more intimate than holding a man's hands, her face lowered to drink the water caught in his palms?
She'd never had any discernable reaction to the casual touch of the many men who'd danced with her or held her hand. But Luke's touch, his presence, gave rise to a very strong feeling. She couldn't describe it exactly, but she did know it was an attraction. It would be hard for any woman not to be attracted to a man like him, but Valeria hadn't expected herself to feel this tug, this curiosity to know what it was like to touch him, to be near him, to be held in his arms. He was rude, rough, and completely lacking in any respect or consideration for her. His clothes showed signs of heavy wear and too much washing. But for everything about him that repelled her, something attracted her more strongly. And it was not just his provocative good looks.
She figured it must be the heat. Nothing else could cause her to feel so peculiar.
"Have another drink," Luke said. "We won't stop again until dark."
He withdrew his hands from her grasp and turned back to the river before she could reply. She felt abandoned. Stupid. No woman in her right mind could feel abandoned with the man practically within arms' reach. But it wasn't his physical nearness that affected her so strongly. He had brought her water. He had waded into the river, caught the water in his hands, and brought it to her. That might seem ordinary to other women, but it had never happened to her. Servants brought her food and water. No man of her rank had ever been concerned enough with her needs or wants to take care of them himself. Luke Attmore had, and he didn't even like her. These Americans were a strange breed.
"We're lucky the winter rains lasted longer than usual this year," Luke said as he returned, water dripping from his hands. "I didn't look forward to digging for water every night for the next hundred miles."
Valeria chose to drink rather than respond to Luke's statement. She felt like a peasant drinking from an ordinary man's hands, but she preferred it to water drunk from the finest teacup in her uncle's priceless collection. Which just went to show how desperate a person could be when thirsty. She preferred that explanation to the alternative.
That she was attracted to Luke Attmore.
She didn't want it to be true. She was a princess, he a hired gun. There was no common ground between them.
She finished drinking and looked up into a blinding smile.
"You've got water dripping from your chin," Luke said. "What would the secretary of royal etiquette say about that?"
Before she could look for a handkerchief, Luke touched her chin with his finger, brought it all the way up until it reached her lips. Shivers chased each other through her body until she felt her legs grow weak. When he put his finger to his lips and drank the drop of water, Valeria was certain her legs would go out from under her.
"Do you have a handkerchief?" he asked.
She couldn't answer, not even nod her head. "It's a good thing I do."
He dug his hand into pants she had been certain were too tight to allow access to his pocket. He withdrew a handkerchief and wiped the moisture from her chin. "We can't have a princess dripping water from her chin," he said. "What would the servants think?"
Anger flooded through her, and she slapped his hand away. He was making fun of her. "They wouldn't think anything," she snapped.
"American servants would."
"I didn't think you had servants in this country." "We do, but we don't think of it as a profession, just being temporarily down on your luck."
"What's wrong with being a servant? It's a respectable calling."
"Maybe in your eyes, but enough people hated being subservient that they took the risk of coming to America to seek a better life."
"So they could hire servants of their own." He surprised her by laughing.
"Probably. American women like being independent, but they don't like to cook and clean if they can get someone else to do it for them."
"What do you mean independent?"
"They like controlling their own property, owning their own businesses. A few have become doctors and lawyers. And women in Wyoming will soon have the right to vote."
Everything else he said was overshadowed
by one statement. "Do you mean American women can have control of their own money?"
"Of course. No woman wants to work all day just to hand her money over to some man."
"What about my money?"
"In this country you'd have control of it."
"Then I could marry who I wanted."
"As long as he wanted to marry you. It works both ways over here."
She'd never thought of anyone not wanting to marry a rich woman. She'd never met a man like that.
"It's time to get back to the coach," Luke said. "I want to make at least fifteen miles today."
Valeria started to tremble. Did Luke mean to carry her to the coach? She turned away from the river. She was certain the color had drained from her face. She didn't want him to know he had such a strong effect on her. She felt helpless enough already.
"I hope Zeke doesn't mean to terrify Elvira again," she said.
"Zeke and Hawk will treat her fine as long as she acts like she's got a little gumption. It's hard on a man to know a woman is petrified to be near him just because he's not the same color or race as she is."
"We've heard terrible stories about Indians."
"They're probably true. But they aren't half as terrible as stories I could tell you about what we did to them."
"Your country is very different from what Elvira and I are used to. I imagine we're going to do many things you don't like. I can assure you that you've done quite a few we neither like nor understand."
"Like carrying you from the coach?"
He'd cornered her. "That's one."
"You don't want me to carry you back?"
"It's very ungentlemanly of you to force me to answer that question. You know I can't pass through that brush on my own. But to ask you to carry me would sink me beneath reproach."
"Not in this country. Any woman who can get a man to carry her anywhere is likely to be greatly admired."
"Not by other women."
"Especially by other women."
Valeria gave up. If Americans were as Luke said, she'd never understand them.
"Hawk has come for Elvira," Luke said. "I can't wait to see how she acts when she sees him."
"You're cruel."
"You can't blame me. My parents didn't have any normal feelings to give me."
Valeria didn't know or care about the shortcomings of Luke's parents, but she did care about Elvira. "Are you a little cooler?" she asked when she reached her maid's side.
"How can she be?" Otto asked. "It's hot even under these trees."
"Not as hot as in the coach," Hans said. "I do feel a little better," Elvira said.
"Good, but I'm afraid it's time to go back. One of Luke's brothers is already here to carry you back." Elvira's hand gripped Valeria's arm with conclusive strength when she saw Hawk approaching.
"Luke said he likes Hawk the best of all his brothers."
Luke, of course, hadn't said any such thing. "He said he's kind and sweet tempered."
"He doesn't look like it," Elvira whispered.
"That's just the way Indians look. Both Hawk and Zeke are ordinary people. I want you to treat them just as you would Hans or Otto."
Elvira didn't shrink from Hawk, but she looked doubtful.
"Thank you for taking her back to the coach," Valeria said to Hawk. "Maybe there won't be so much brush the next time and we won't have to impose on you."
"I don't mind," Hawk said.
"Stand up, Elvira," Valeria said. "He can't pick you up if you're sitting down."
Casting an apprehensive look over her shoulder, Elvira stood. Hawk picked her up.
"You easy to carry," he said.
Valeria imagined that with arms as big as a horse's foreleg, he could pick up a woman two or three times as heavy as Elvira.
"That was well done," Luke said from behind her. "We may be used to a tradition of service in my country, but the people who serve us become our friends, even part of the family."
"Sounds like you're overdoing it a bit, but I won't complain if Elvira doesn't."
It didn't matter what she did; the infuriating man managed to find a way to criticize her. "You ready to go back?"
"No, but I take it you're ready to leave." "Not giving an inch, are you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. You're royalty. You couldn't possibly be wrong."
"According to you, everything I do is wrong."
"Not everything."
"You're too generous."
"No I'm not. I think your class should have been done away with years ago. I don't see any reason for kings and princesses. Or dukes."
"Then you ought to be pleased they got rid of us."
"But you managed to keep your money."
"We deserve something for all the work we've done over the centuries."
"You mean stealing money from your countrymen and getting them killed in useless wars so you could stuff your pockets with more gold?"
"Not every ruler steals money or starts useless wars. Many men in my family died to protect our country."
"Not as many as the peasants."
"Of course not. You can't have everybody running the country."
"Of course you can. That's what we do here. Every man has a vote. In that way, we all have a hand in deciding what the government does."
She wanted to argue with him, but he kept cutting the ground out from under her, producing another piece of information she didn't know about.
"And if we don't like what they do, we can throw them out and vote for somebody else," Luke added.
"Do you like the people who run the government? Are they the ones you voted for?"
"I don't vote."
"Why not?" Here he was lecturing her on the advantages of the American system and he didn't believe in it enough to participate himself.
"I move around too much."
She was certain that wasn't the real reason, but she didn't get a chance to ask what it was. Without warning, he scooped her up and started toward the coach.
"Come on," he called to Otto. "We've lost too much time already."
Hans had already run ahead to hold the coach door for Elvira.
Otto got to his feet reluctantly, muttering irritably. "I don't know why we can't stay here longer."
"The longer we stay here, the longer before we reach Rudolf's ranch," Luke said. "And the longer we're on the road, the more likely someone will attack us."
"I'm sure there's no one after us," Otto said, tottering after Luke, still wiping his forehead with his handkerchief.
"I'm not talking about anybody from your country," Luke said. "We have plenty of people right here who would be only too happy to relieve you of your horses, not to mention all the silver and other valuables you've got packed in those coaches. Then there are the men who haven't seen a woman in weeks, maybe months. They'd be only too happy to take Valeria and Elvira."
Valeria's blood ran cold. She didn't know much about America, but European men had been stealing women for centuries, always for the same reason. She looked around at the barren waste that stretched for miles north and south along the river. There was nothing to impede her view, no concealment for anyone wanting to attack them.
"Then I'm glad you chose this route," she said to Luke. "Why?"
"No one can attack without our seeing them from a long way off."
"There could be ten Indians between us and the coach, and you wouldn't see them until they attacked."
Valeria looked around her. Except for one tall cactus, she didn't see anything that could hide a man. "Where can they hide?"
"An Apache can be in full view and you won't see him."
"I don't believe you."
"Hundreds of soldiers used to feel that way. Most of them are dead now. The Apache have fought over this land for hundreds of years. They know it better than your uncle knows your country."
Valeria wanted to argue, but they'd reached the coach. Luke set her feet on the bot
tom step, then helped her inside.
"I'd keep the curtains open in spite of the dust," he advised. "It's going to get hotter."
Valeria couldn't see how that was possible.
"When do we eat?" Otto asked.
"Not until we stop tonight."
"But I always have lunch," Otto protested.
"You can have any meal you want as long as you bring your food with you," Luke said as he slammed the coach door shut. "Move out!" he called to the driver.
Otto opened his mouth to protest, but Valeria heard a whip crack and the coach lurched forward.
"He has to stop," Otto said, consulting his watch as the coach bumped over the rocky trail. "It'll soon be one o'clock. I always eat at one."
"You should have eaten more breakfast," Hans said, his tone unsympathetic.
"I don't eat breakfast," Otto informed him as though it were some sign of superiority.
"You've got enough fat around your waist to hold you until dinner," Hans said.
Valeria usually ignored their sniping, but she couldn't stand the prospect of being shut up in the intolerable heat listening to them going back and forth at each other.
"There's no point in arguing over it," Valeria said. "We're at Mr. Attmore's mercy until we reach Rudolf's ranch. We'll all have to eat more at breakfast."
"And bring your own canteen of water," Hans said, glaring at Otto.
"Aren't you hungry?" Otto asked Valeria.
"A little, but I can wait until evening. I'll have an even better appetite for dinner."
Chapter Seven
Luke sat just outside the ring of light. He'd never led a trip like this, if you could call what he was doing leading. He might as well have been a bird they were following for all the influence he had over their behavior.
He and his men had eaten more than an hour ago, but Valeria's chef had yet to set the first course on the table. Luke was familiar with European customs, but he'd never expected to see anybody hold court in the desert.
They had dressed for dinner!
They had tumbled out of that sweltering coach, waited impatiently while their servants set up the two enormous tents they'd brought and unloaded several trunks. Then they'd disappeared inside. Even when he saw the men begin setting up a table, he didn't suspect the full insanity of what they meant to do. He figured that out when he went to Valeria's tent to ask if she'd like to eat with the drivers. Elvira had informed him Valeria was dressing and would sit down to dinner at eight-thirty.
Luke Page 7