Chapter Thirteen
An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Luke's stomach when he saw a rider galloping toward him. He couldn't think of any reason for Zeke or Hawk to leave the wagons unless something had gone wrong. But he'd heard no gunfire, seen no signs that anyone had been in the area since the rain.
It didn't take long before he knew the rider was neither Hawk nor Zeke. That enormous hat indicated a woman, and no one but Valeria would be foolish enough to ride a horse at a gallop over unfamiliar ground.
He'd planned to stay away from the wagons, but he waited for her. Obviously Zeke couldn't control her. He smiled when he saw Zeke's horse falling steadily farther behind. It had been bred to work cows and couldn't match the sustained speed or stamina of a thoroughbred. He was certain Valeria knew that, too.
Luke wasn't fool enough to try to deny the pleasure that surged through him. If you didn't like something, you faced it and dealt with it. If you couldn't conquer it, you made a compromise. At this point he planned to conquer it. He liked compromise only slightly less than defeat.
He just had to make certain he didn't do anything foolish, like think there could be something between him and Valeria. There was no question in his mind that she responded to him physically, no question his response to her was just as strong. But he had promised to do a job, and that didn't-couldn't-include any relationship with Valeria, regardless of its nature or duration.
It bothered him that such a possibility had entered his mind. He was certain it hadn't entered Valeria's. She was probably bored, looking for some excitement. It would be nothing but a game to her. When all was said and done, she was still a princess.
And he was still a hired gun.
"Do you make a habit of racing your expensive horses over rough terrain?" Luke asked when Valeria pulled her mount to a halt before him.
She looked uncertain about her reception but was flushed with pride at having outmaneuvered Zeke. He reluctantly admitted that victory looked good on her.
"Do you make a habit of running away?" she asked.
He hadn't expected a frontal attack. But if she wanted to dispense with pretense, he'd oblige her.
"It's not good for us to be around each other. I promised to deliver you to Rudolf in the condition in which I received you."
"I'm not a package to be wrapped in brown paper and tied with string."
"You'd be a damned sight easier to deal with if you were."
Zeke's horse pounded to a stop, spraying gravel in all directions. "I tried to keep her with the wagons," he said, anger distorting his words, "but she's crazy. I'm not messing with her anymore."
"I would have stayed with you," Valeria fired back, "but you refused to talk to me. You said Hawk wouldn't talk with me either."
"He wouldn't."
"Then I could see no reason to accede to your wishes." "You accede to her wishes if you want," Zeke snapped at Luke. "I'm done with her."
He turned his horse and started back. Luke knew there was no point in asking Zeke to take Valeria back with him. He wouldn't do it even if she'd been willing to go. "You know you'd be safer with the wagons."
"Of course I don't. I don't know anything about the West, as you've gone to great pains to point out."
Now they were getting to the heart of the issue. "So you're mad at me."
"I was yesterday, but I'm not today. You could have made your point some other way, but that's done. I don't mean to speak of it again."
"Then why did you come after me?"
"I want you to teach me about America, about the West," she said. "You said we'd be on the trail about two more weeks. I don't see why I should spend all that time roasting in the coach. By the time we reach Rudolf's ranch, I could know as much as a real American."
Valeria would never be able to act like a real American, not if she questioned him for the next ten years. But it was only fair that he do what he could to help her learn to survive. There was more to her than he'd assumed. If she was really willing to learn, she had a chance of making a decent life for herself in this country.
As long as her husband wasn't a fool.
"Okay, ask away. What do you want to know?"
"Tell me about American women," she said. "I want to know why you think they're better than I am."
She continued to surprise him. He'd accused her of expecting to remain safe in her gilded cage for the rest of her life. But once she climbed out of her cage, she left all pretense behind and looked him straight in the eye.
He touched his heels to his mount's side, and the horse moved forward. He had a job to do. He'd have to watch, think, and talk at the same time.
"I'll begin by saying I don't know you very well," he said. "I thought I did, but I don't. I don't think you know yourself very well, either."
Valeria had brought her horse alongside his. "That's ridiculous. I-"
Their gazes locked.
"Do you want to know what I think, or do you want to argue?"
She obviously didn't like that, but she nodded. "Fell me what you think."
He almost smiled. She wasn't used to hearing things she didn't like. It must have cost her a lot to swallow her protests.
"I don't like hereditary monarchs or people with titles. I don't like people who think being born to a particular set of parents makes them better than everyone else, gives them more rights and privileges, entitles them to more wealth and happiness." He waited for her to interrupt, but she remained quiet. "I especially don't like people who think everyone else should work so they don't have to."
"I don't think that," Valeria protested. "My family worked very hard."
"Deciding what to wear, who to marry, so you could perpetuate your life of power and luxury."
"That's a pretty harsh judgment."
"I don't think much of women who've never cooked a meal, or nursed their own children."
"A woman shouldn't have to be a drudge to be admired."
"I don't consider preparing food for your family or taking care of your own children drudgery. Isabelle liked doing it, and she was raised rich."
He'd been telling himself for years that Jake and Isabelle hadn't had much influence on his thinking or his values. It startled him to realize he'd been comparing women to Isabelle all his life. He wondered how many other things he'd been doing without realizing it.
"I judged you because of your birth," Luke said. "You were a princess, and you acted like the world owed you a living. I didn't think you were capable of being anything else. Now I'm not so sure."
"Why?"
He shouldn't be spending this much time thinking about Valeria. The more he understood her, the more he wanted to think about her, which defeated his purpose in trying to stay away.
"You've never screamed, fainted, or ordered Otto to shoot me when I touched your royal body. You didn't like it at first-"
"I never liked it!"
"But you figured out I really wasn't threatening you." He turned until their gazes met. "And you do like it. It scares you to death, but you want me to do it again."
It pleased him to see her flush with embarrassment. He refused to let her hide behind her royal trappings to protect herself from facing an uncomfortable truth.
"I don't agree with you, but go on."
"You've learned to get ready in the morning without all your old rigamarole. You eat more sensibly, and you don't complain of the heat. I wish you'd wear the clothes I bought you, but I guess I've got to be thankful for every little bit of progress."
"You're generous," she said sarcastically.
"I'm never generous," he said. "I never give people the benefit of the doubt, and I always assume they'll make the worst possible choices."
They reached a low saddle between two ridges. Luke scanned the horizon. He didn't see anybody, but then he didn't expect locating possible attackers would be that easy. The people who'd attacked them two days ago had gone to a great deal of trouble to make it look like rogue Indians had staged the attack
. He couldn't be sure of their purpose, but he was certain that wasn't the end of it.
"Are there any other incidents that have served to moderate your opinion of me?" Valeria asked. "I'm not asking for praise, just trying to understand the way you Americans think. I'd rather you didn't dislike me."
"You've got spunk," Luke said, "and a streak of common sense. You don't like me, and you don't like Arizona, but you know you've got to learn to get along and you know I can help. So you're willing to pull in your horns long enough to pump me for what I know."
"Do you always have to state everything in the most unflattering manner?"
"I state things as I see them."
"Then you've got a very dim view of people."
"People are selfish, narrow-minded, willing to sell their souls to get what they want."
"And what have you sold your soul for? Notice I didn't say what would you be willing to sell it for."
He laughed. "You keep giving as good as you get, and I might actually learn to like you."
"I'm not sure I understand you."
"And you're half right. I don't have a soul, but I didn't sell it. I never had one."
"Everybody has a soul."
"My brother does. Even Zeke and Hawk do, though Zeke tries to deny it. I don't."
"I don't believe you."
"I protected a man once because his father paid me to. The very day I quit, I killed him."
"What did he do?"
Her reaction surprised him. He'd expected shock, horror, even claims that he was a monster. Maybe she was so used to her father and uncle killing anybody who opposed them, it didn't seem important to her. After all, what was the death of a few peasants now and again?
"What makes you think he did anything?"
"You've got a strange code of honor, but it's absolutely inflexible."
If he hadn't been riding into the sun, he'd have sworn he felt a flush of embarrassment.
"I don't understand you half of the time," she said, "but I know you wouldn't kill anyone without a good reason."
"Or without being well paid."
"You didn't mention pay. You did this on your own. Why?"
He'd underestimated her. She could see around corners. He wondered if it was that kind of talent that had kept her family in power for more than five hundred years. "I killed him because he ambushed my brother."
"I thought you had nothing to do with your family."
"When I left the ranch, Chet insisted on following me, trying to protect my back, even though I was much better with a gun."
"So you repaid him by protecting him." Luke shrugged. "I was there."
Her gaze made him uneasy. He spurred his horse forward. A dry wash cut through the desert a little way ahead. He'd have to find an easy crossing for the wagons.
The sand in these washes tended to be soft. If the wagons got stuck, it would cost them several hours to get them free.
"What happened to your brother?" she asked.
"He got married and went back to Texas. I think he has two boys. Last I heard they were expecting another child."
"Haven't you seen his family?" "No."
"Don't you want to?" "No.It
'Why?"
He didn't like all these questions. Answering them would force him to reconsider aspects of his life he'd sealed shut years ago. It didn't go any good to keep agonizing over a decision. It was best to make it, move on, and not look back.
"I thought you wanted to learn about Arizona?"
"I do. It's not just the land and the customs that are strange to me. The people are different. Maybe if I learn to understand you, I'll understand others better."
If she believed he was anything like other men, she wasn't nearly as perceptive as he thought. "Stick with the land and the customs." he said.
She looked hurt, but she was badly mistaken if she thought wanting to learn about Arizona entitled her to poke about inside him like he was a musty closet. He didn't pretend his life was perfect, but he'd molded it to suit himself, and he wasn't about to let some dispossessed princess go rummaging about, knocking things out of kilter.
"Okay, tell me about the country where Rudolf has his ranch. You said it was completely unlike this desert." Valeria listened to Luke's descriptions of the Mogollon Rim country with only half her mind. Knowing they were headed toward mountainous country covered with pine forests was a relief. She didn't think she could ever learn to like the desert. She had no desire to know anything about cows, but she allowed him to ramble on about how best to raise cattle. If she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn he wanted a ranch of his own.
She noticed that everything around her looked fresh and clean. It had rained the night before. The layers of dust had disappeared. The wilting tree limbs had revived, and the air smelled crisp and clean. She had never smelled the air before, only aromas on the air, food, perfume, the piney scent of the forest. There was nothing here to cover the scent. Nothing false.
"Tell me about the women," she asked when she thought she couldn't stand another word about branding irons and doctoring for screw worms.
"What about the women?"
"You told me they could control their own lives. How?"
"They can choose their own husbands."
No women in her country chose their own husbands. Parents arranged all marriages. "Why would they want to do that?" she asked.
"Because they don't want to be sold to the highest bidder. They want to marry someone they love."
Love was never mentioned in her country in connection with marriage. No one expected it. Maybe a man loved his mistress, or a woman her lover, but emotions were fickle, and those arrangements never endured. Marriages lasted forever. The continuation of society, even the survival of the state, depended on them.
"Do you know anybody who married for love?"
"Jake and Isabelle were always crazy about each other, though they came from different backgrounds and fought all the time."
"Do they still fight?"
"Probably. But nothing they argue over is as important as their love for each other. They always manage to find a way around any problem."
"What did they argue about?"
"Everything. How to bring us up, how to run the ranch, where to spend the money."
"And other people do this, too?" It didn't seem possible. In her country, wives did not argue with their husbands. A woman might have an allowance for clothes and personal things, but everything else was taken care of by her husband.
"My brother and his wife," Luke continued. "They each have a ranch which they run together."
"But that's just two couples."
"Not every marriage works out. If it fails, a woman can get a divorce and try again."
"But that would take an act of state."
Luke laughed. "Only in your country. Over here it only takes a judge."
"I could get a divorce from Rudolf?"
"Yes. And your cook could get a divorce. The dancer in the saloon can get a divorce. The farmer's wife, too. Everybody can get a divorce. No one has to be stuck in a loveless marriage."
"But how would a divorced woman live?"
"She could get a job, work to support herself. If she were rich, she could live off her own money."
"It really doesn't belong to the husband?"
"Not unless you give it to him. If you work, you can keep your money. If you inherit a fortune, you can keep that, too."
"Suppose he wants it."
"You can refuse to give it to him."
Valeria wasn't sure just how much more she could absorb in one day. It was obvious there was a great deal about this country her uncle hadn't told her. She hadn't read the marriage contract-women in her country weren't supposed to be interested in such things-but she was certain her money passed directly from her uncle's control into Rudolf's. She didn't even know how much money she had, where it came from, whether it was in land or cash. The last thing she could imagine would be refusing to give Rudolf acce
ss to it. He wouldn't even ask.
"Not everything's easy," Luke said. "American women have a lot more freedom, but they have to work hard for it."
She couldn't imagine a woman who wouldn't be willing to work for the right to control her life. Immediately she realized she was wrong. She knew many women who would be willing give up any rights they might have for the comfort of knowing they would enjoy luxury and privilege for the rest of their lives. She didn't have a clear idea of what Luke meant when he said American women had to work for their freedom. It was entirely possible she wouldn't be able to do what was required, wouldn't be able to match these seemingly remarkable women.
"Tell me more about these freedoms."
Luke might say he had spent most of his life as a lonely gunfighter, but from all he said, Valeria decided he knew half the women in the West. He came up with dozens of examples. He probably knew more women than she did.
She didn't want to ask how she compared. She knew what he thought. Once a useless princess, always useless, whether she remained a princess or not. But she was not useless. She was determined to be just as good as these American women.
She figured life in America was pretty much what you made of it. There were lots of freedoms and opportunities, but if you didn't work for them, you didn't get them. But while the idea of all these freedoms was exciting, they seemed out of reach. She didn't have any skills. She'd never had to do anything. She'd just had to be, and Luke had made it clear that just being wasn't enough.
"You can be almost anything you want," Luke said. "You just have to work at it."
"But how do you learn to work at it? How did Isabelle work at it? How did she start?" He didn't seem to know how to respond.
"She just did it," he said. "She wanted to help some orphans, so she talked the authorities into letting her find homes for us. When that didn't work out, she talked Jake into taking all of us so a few of us could help him with his cattle drive. When that was over, she married him and talked him into adopting us. She said she loved us dearly, but if she had to wash, cook, and clean for eleven men, we had to help. Before she was done, every one of us could do for himself."
Valeria had spent her life talking people into doing what she wanted, so maybe she wasn't completely illequipped to survive on her own. As for the organization, she'd have to start paying attention to Luke. He had the whole train organized and functioning smoothly. Everything seemed to happen without his having to do anything, but she knew it wasn't that simple.
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