Luke

by Leigh Greenwood

  "Who said she's going to ride again tomorrow?"

  "I could see it in her eyes."

  "She doesn't like being closed up in that coach," Hawk said.

  "Do either of you want to scout ahead?" Luke asked. "I don't care what I do," Hawk said.

  "Me, neither," Zeke said, "but I think you ought to stay away from that woman. She's trouble."

  "What do you propose I do, lock her in the coach?" "No, but if she's got to ride, she can ride with me." "We tried that today."

  "Let Hawk give it a try," Zeke suggested.

  Hawk's grunt implied that he didn't think much of the idea.

  "I'd rather do it myself than have her hanging on your neck," Zeke said.

  "She's not hanging on my neck. But even if she were, what is it you're afraid she'll do?"

  "If she didn't do any more than take your mind off your work, she'd be dangerous."

  "And what else do you think she might be able to do?"

  "Seems to me you'd know the answer a whole lot better than Hawk and me. You're the one who's spent the last two days in her company."

  "I've spent weeks in the company of females at one time or another, and I've always managed to keep my mind on my work."

  "Mis one's different."

  Luke couldn't deny it, and it had nothing to do with her being a princess. In fact, being a princess was just about the biggest strike against her. There were more drawbacks, all of them substantial, but they didn't seem to make any difference.

  "She's richer and more beautiful," Luke said. "She's also a lot more trouble."

  "That's not what I mean," Zeke said.

  "Then spit it out. I've never known you to be coy about saying what you felt."

  "Zeke thinks you're sweet on her," Hawk said. "Me, too."

  "You're sweet on her, too?" Luke said, deliberately misunderstanding Hawk. "I can't wait to see her reaction when I tell her."

  "Anybody ever tell you that you can be a real bastard sometimes?" Zeke said.

  "A time or two," Luke said, "but it never stopped any

  one from wanting the protection of my gun."

  "Well, Hawk and I don't need your protection. We're just trying to look out for you."

  "I don't need anybody looking out for me, especially not a half-breed and an ex-slave."

  Zeke's fist caught him under the chin and sent him flying through the air. It hurt like hell when he landed on the rocky ground.

  Luke sat up and rubbed his chin. His jaw felt like it ought to be broken, but it still worked. "I guess I deserved that."

  "If I gave you what you deserved, you'd be dead," Zeke growled. He stood over Luke, ready to knock him down again if he attempted to get up.

  "Okay, we've established that I'm a bastard. What do you want me to do, start saying my prayers and going to church on Sunday?"

  "It wouldn't be a bad beginning," Zeke said. "You wouldn't mean a word of it, but anything that rubs off on you has got to be better than all that hate rotting away your insides."

  Luke stood.

  "I don't hate anybody or anything," Luke said wearily. "It's too much trouble."

  "The way I see it, you hate just about everybody, yourself most of all."

  Luke wasn't about to argue with Zeke. He could think what he wanted. It wouldn't change anything. "You're not worried I'm going soft on Valeria," Luke said. "What's really bothering you?"

  "You're a stubborn son of a bitch," Zeke said.

  "At least you got the parentage part right."

  "That's exactly what I mean."

  "What?" Luke was tired of this discussion. He needed some rest. Tomorrow wouldn't be any easier than today, especially if Valeria insisted on riding with him. "You hate your parents."

  "Hell, yes, I hate them." His voice had risen to a near shout. He brought it back down again. "Even Chet cusses when anybody mentions them. That's old news."

  "Old news doing more damage each day."

  "Okay, have it your way. Now if you've got nothing else to say, it's time-"

  "I promised your brother I'd keep an eye on you," Hawk said.

  "Me, too," Zeke said.

  That surprised Luke. And it made him angry. Years ago he'd put up with Chet following him about, but he'd be damned if he'd put up with Zeke and Hawk doing it. "Anybody else in on this conspiracy?"

  "Isabelle's worried about you. She says it's time you found a nice girl and stopped trying to get yourself killed."

  Next thing he knew, they'd have the entire clan after him. He wouldn't put it past them to bring the kids, just to make him really feel like a heel.

  "Let's get this straight once and for all," Luke said. "I'm not trying to get myself killed."

  "Then why do you keep accepting the most dangerous jobs?"

  "Because they pay the most money. Besides, if I am trying to get myself killed, it's my own damned business."

  "There's a bunch of people back in Texas who think otherwise."

  "I can't help what other people think. I've done my best to make them forget me."

  "It beats the hell out of me why we can't," Zeke said. "I blame it on Isabelle."

  Luke decided that if Zeke mentioned Isabelle one more

  time, he was going to hit him. "I'm not going nuts over Valeria and neglecting my job. She's got a lot of questions about living in this country. I answer the ones I can."

  "She'll soon have a husband," Zeke said. "Let him answer them for her."

  Luke couldn't argue with that logic, but he didn't trust Rudolf to tell his future wife she didn't have to marry him if she didn't want to, didn't have to turn over her fortune to him, didn't have to obey his every command regardless of how stupid or selfish. Even an honorable man would have difficulty telling a future wife of all the advantages she could keep for herself by not marrying him, especially a wife who'd make him a wealthy man. "I imagine there are a few things the duke might want to keep to himself."

  "Maybe, but that's none of your business."

  "And what I do is none of your business," Luke said. "Now let's not argue about it anymore."

  Luke turned and walked toward the river before Zeke or Hawk could reply. He wasn't in the mood for a walk in the moonlight, but Zeke had stretched his patience to the limit. He had to get away before he did something he'd regret. He'd give them ten or fifteen minutes to get to bed, then he'd go back.

  He welcomed the dark under the trees. He always felt better alone and in the dark. It was the only time he could be himself. He used to be sure what that was. Then Valeria came along and everything got all mixed up. Despite the fact that she came to him with her questions, it was folly to think she could possibly be interested in him. She depended on him to help widen her horizons, to tell her of her possibilities in America. It was only natural that she should continue to turn to him.

  Until she reached her future husband's ranch.

  Then she'd turn to him, and Luke would be right back where he was before the trip started. Well, not exactly. He would have let down a barrier, allowed himself to hope, and he would probably become more bitter and angry when that hope died, just as he'd known from the very beginning it would.

  If a guy's parents couldn't love him, he had to be unlovable. A perpetual outcast. But Luke didn't like being an outcast. He didn't like carrying this hate for himself all balled up inside. He didn't need Zeke to tell him it was eating away at him. He'd known it for years. That was why he had hoped to find someone who could love him, who could help him stop hating.

  Jake and Isabelle had tried, but that ball of selfloathing was so big it got in the way of everything they tried. It even came between him and Chet. He knew Chet loved him, and he came as close to loving Chet as he could to loving anybody, but it wasn't enough to dissolve the ball of bitter hate, to break the tension that kept him perpetually on edge.

  He'd left Jake and Isabelle's ranch because he knew he wouldn't find peace there. During those first years he'd moved from one place to another, hopeful he would find i
t. But the years had gone by until hope faded to a faint ember. The anger and bitterness made him strike out at people trying to help him, but he couldn't stop himself.

  Nor had he been able to stop himself from feeling that somehow Valeria could provide the missing pieces. Advice from his friends hadn't helped. He couldn't stay away from her. Even now he couldn't stop thinking about her. He could see the ebony hair falling on her shoulders, her dark-brown eyes watching him closely. He still wondered which of her ancestors had bequeathed her that exotic look, an almost Mediterranean sultriness. He could smell the heavy perfume she always wore, the Gunfire shattered the silence of the night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Luke knew immediately this was no fake attack. Though the attackers were again dressed up as Indians, this was no lightning horseback raid. These men had crept up to the camp on foot under cover of night and taken up defensive positions. They meant to stay until they achieved their objective.

  Luke was certain that objective was Valeria's death.

  Though he berated himself for letting his preoccupation with Valeria drive him into the dark along the river, he knew it would prove a considerable advantage. These men hadn't thought to secure protection from a rear or flank attack. As long as his ammunition held out, he could catch them in a crossfire.

  His first gunshot startled the gunmen, but when they didn't scatter and run, Luke knew he faced a group of hardened professionals. He would have given anything to have had his rifle with him. He could have picked them off with deadly accuracy. Driving off a half dozen determined killers with handguns wouldn't be easy.

  Luke dropped to the ground and crawled forward on his hands and knees. He had to keep very low. He was in almost as much danger from the bullets coming from the circle of wagons as he was from those being fired by the gunmen. At the same time he had to be careful his bullets didn't hit one of his men.

  Or Valeria.

  He kept moving, using any cover he could find from cactus to sagebrush to grass. He hit one gunman but not seriously. He heard the man cussing vigorously. He shot a man hiding behind a cactus. The man went down with a loud groan.

  A bullet hit the ground in front of Luke, throwing dust into his eyes and blinding him. He rolled to the side and blinked rapidly to cleanse his eyes. His vision cleared just in time to see a man coming toward him through a patch of tall grass, crouched low to avoid being seen. Luke fired off two quick shots.

  The man sank out of sight. Luke saw no signs of movement.

  That broke the attack. The men retreated through the sparse cover, their withdrawal hastened by the barrage of gunfire from the wagons.

  "Hold your fire," Luke shouted. "I'm coming in." Zeke met him at the wagons. "It's a damned good thing that woman's got you tied in knots," he said. "They were settled in to stay."

  "Where is Valeria?" Luke asked, not bothering to argue with Zeke's assessment.

  "In her tent, I reckon. Nobody's had a chance to check on her."

  Luke sensed something was wrong before he reached the tent. Sounds of a struggle could be heard from several feet away. He burst inside to find Hans and Otto struggling with each other, and Valeria and Elvira smeared with blood, huddled in a corner. He crossed quickly to Valeria and knelt down.

  "Are you hurt? Did a bullet hit you?'

  "He tried to kill me," she said, looking toward the battling men. "He took out a pistol and pointed it directly at me."

  "Where did he hit you?"

  "He's killing Hans!" Valeria screamed.

  Luke turned to find Otto stabbing the fallen Hans. Luke pulled his gun and fired twice. The impact of the bullets knocked Otto away from Han's body.

  "I'm all right," Valeria said. "Please help Hans. Otto would have killed me if Hans hadn't stopped him."

  Luke was reluctant to leave Valeria until he could be sure her wound wasn't serious, but she was pushing him too hard toward Hans to be seriously wounded. He moved to the wounded man's side. A cursory glance told him Otto was dead.

  Zeke burst into the tent. "What's going on?"

  "Otto tried to kill Valeria," Luke said without looking up from Hans's body. "Hans stopped him."

  A single glance told Luke that Otto's knife had inflicted a mortal wound. Hans's face was contorted with pain, his face drained of color. Luke was certain his lungs were filling with blood. He had only minutes to live.

  Valeria crawled to Han's side. She smoothed his brow with her hand. Hans's eyelids fluttered, then opened.

  "Why did you do it?" Valeria asked, her words barely understandable through the tears.

  "You're my princess," Hans said. "I'd give my life for you." He frowned. "You're hurt."

  "I'm fine," Valeria said. "You kept him from killing me."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Luke asked, angry over the death of a man whose integrity and courage he admired.

  "I only suspected," Hans managed to say. "How could I tell anyone her own uncle wanted her dead so he could claim her inheritance?"

  Valeria's face registered shock, disbelief. "But her money goes to her husband."

  "If she dies before the marriage, it goes to her uncle," Hans said.

  "What does he want the money for?" Luke asked. "Fo help win back the throne of Belgravia."

  Luke cursed vigorously. "He'd kill his own niece for a throne?"

  "One of our kings killed his own son," Hans managed to say before a cough shook his body.

  Luke knew he wouldn't last much longer. "You should have come to me," he said.

  A faint smile curved Hans's lips. "My family has always protected the princess of Belgravia."

  "But you're a soft little bureaucrat," Luke said, too angry to be polite. "You're not fit to fight."

  "I saved the princess," Hans said. His eyelids began to sink.

  "But it's cost you your life."

  "The princess is all that matters," Hans said. "That and my family's honor. I have not disgraced them. Now she's your responsibility. You must promise to keep her safe.

  I wasn't good enough. I should have been stronger." "You were strong enough," Luke said softly. "No one could have done better."

  His expression relaxed. He seemed relieved of a great worry. "You'll guard her with your life?" "Yes."

  "Promise?"

  "On my honor."

  Hans smiled. "Then I know she'll be safe."

  His eyelids closed, his body shuddered, and then he lay still.

  Luke's renewed and invigorated cursing broke the silence. Then Valeria started to weep. Luke put his arm around her and drew her close. He wanted to shout and curse at the death of this little man who'd had more honor and courage than the whole damned house of Badenberg. He wanted to console Valeria as well. She had lost a beloved friend. And her uncle, her only relative in the world as far as Luke knew, had ordered her killed for her money. Luke's parents were rotten, but they hadn't sunk that low.

  "Why didn't he tell me?" Valeria sobbed.

  "Because none of us would have believed him," Luke said. "Otto was paying very generously for your protection. The worst that could be said of him was that he was a snob and a glutton." Luke paused. "He was probably supposed to kill you under cover of the attacks and blame it on Indians. Only someone forgot to tell your uncle the Indians in this area were sent to Florida years ago."

  "I can't believe Uncle Matthais would do this," Victoria sobbed. "Hans must have been wrong. Uncle Matthais didn't want me to leave Belgravia, but when it became clear we all had to leave, we had long discussions about what to do to make sure I was safe."

  Luke figured her uncle had probably wanted to keep her in Belgravia so he could poison her or have her die from some mysterious wasting disease. When she had to leave, he entered into discussions for her safety so he would better know how to arrange her death. Clever and ruthless tactics.

  "What do you want done with these bodies?" Zeke asked.

  "You can throw Otto into the desert," Luke snapped.

  "Let the coyotes tear him to pie
ces. Put Hans in his tent. I'll see to his burial."

  "We've got another casualty," Zeke said.

  "Who?" Luke asked.

  "One of the cook's helpers. Shot right through the brisket."

  Valeria cried harder.

  "Anything else?" Luke asked.

  "Nothing important. Your coming up from behind did the trick. One of the attackers is dead."

  "I know," Luke said. "Now get these bodies out of here."

  For the first time since Luke had known him, Hans didn't look nervous or jumpy. He looked at peace, as though having done his job, he could rest at last. Despite his own cynicism, Luke envied him that death, the feeling that his life had been worthwhile, that he'd given it in a cause he believed in with all his being.

  Luke reined in his thoughts. He'd never allowed himself to be swayed by sentiment. This was no time to start.

  "I want him buried in Belgravia," Valeria said.

  It was on Luke's tongue to say that was impossible, but the words died unsaid. Hans deserved to be buried with honor, not left in a grave that would soon be swallowed by the desert. "We'll have to bury him here, but as soon as I can, I'll send his body back to Belgravia. Does he have a wife or children?"

  "No, he always said my family was his family." She started to cry all over again.

  "He was a brave man," Luke said. "A bigger man than I gave him credit for."

  A moan from the corner reminded him of Elvira. Apparently she'd fainted. She couldn't be of any use to Valeria if she fainted every time there was a crisis. Then he remembered the blood on Valeria's clothes. If it didn't belong to Elvira, it must belong to Valeria. "Where did he shoot you?" he asked.

  "It's nothing," Valeria said.

  "It needs taking care of. It could become infected." "He just grazed my arm."

  Luke saw the small hole in Valeria's sleeve. He pushed the sleeve up on her shoulder. The bullet had gone through the fleshy part of Valeria's arm. It wasn't a bad injury and wouldn't disable her, but it would hurt and take some time to heal. He waited until two of the drivers had removed Hans's body.

  "Are you recovered now?" he asked Elvira. She seemed on the verge of fainting again. "Can you sit with Valeria till I get back?"