by Linda Broday
That seemed pitiful little, but he was glad he could at least offer that much. Maybe this time his gun would save someone, not take their life. He clung to that bit of promising redemption. Each tiny piece helped heal his soul.
She twisted around. “Luke, is everything all right between you and your father?”
He was silent a long minute. When he spoke, his voice was low. “He wants things I can’t give and I don’t know if I ever can.”
“Like what?”
“Dammit, Josie, don’t pry. Some things a man can’t talk about. Stoker and I…our relationship is complicated.”
Two weary cowboys came in, leading their mounts. They nodded politely and moved down the long row of stalls.
“Luke?” she said.
“Yep.”
“Promise you won’t sneak out and leave me behind.”
“I never sneak,” he said. “When I leave, you’ll know it. But I do want you to stay here. Where it’s safe.”
“No. This is my life we’re trying to get answers for. Make no mistake. I will be at Doan’s Crossing, either with or without you.”
The hard grit in her voice told Luke she wasn’t going to stand for any shady tricks. Josie yawned and stretched.
“I think I need to get you to bed, Miss Sleepyhead.”
“Luke, please sleep in the house. I won’t get a bit of rest if you don’t. I’ve grown used to having you near and I need it now. Noah does too and would say so if he could speak.” She lightly grazed his cheek with a finger. “Please. I’ve never begged you for anything.” A frown formed. “Well, only a few times.”
“Stoker put you up to this, didn’t he?” The question held frustration and anger but he couldn’t help it. He knew Stoker’s skill at manipulation. After all, how far could you trust a man who’d deceive his own son and marry him off to a woman sight unseen? Thankfully, Houston had fallen in love with Lara and had become the best father he could be to Lara’s daughter, Gracie. Still, Luke didn’t want Stoker trying to meddle with anything in his life.
“I haven’t spoken to Stoker. I swear. I peeked in on Noah and your father was asleep in the chair beside the bed. Luke, he was holding the boy’s hand and Rowdy had curled up in his lap. I think he’s taken quite a shine to them.”
Now that he had to see. The tough man who laid down the law with an iron fist didn’t seem the type to get close to shaggy-haired runaway boys and scruffy mutts.
“All right. Enough. But I refuse to sleep in a bed.” To do so would be too hard. The only single way he could stay here was to separate himself however he could.
For their sakes, he’d do whatever he had to in order to keep this part of his life from touching his family, as he’d kept it away from his mother all those years before her death.
Even if it meant appearing to be an ungrateful bastard.
As they walked back past the row of businesses, Luke told her what he knew of each. “Over there is the schoolhouse for the ranch kids. Sam’s wife, Sierra, taught there until they married and moved to Lost Point. I wish you could meet her. She’s something.”
“How far away is Lost Point?”
“About five hours, more or less. Stoker likes having Sam nearby. My other brother, Houston, lives out a mile or two on the ranch. I’m sure we’ll see him tomorrow morning.”
“You like your brothers,” she stated.
Luke didn’t have to mull that over. “Yes. Yes, I do. I like having people to belong to, knowing if I need them they’ll come running, no matter the time or place.”
“I’m glad. Everyone needs someone. Even me,” she said softly.
“Yep, and for now I guess I’m it.” He took her hand. “I want to show you something.”
He led her on past the town and around the side of the headquarters.
Josie gasped and stopped. “Oh, Luke. It’s beautiful.”
Ahead of them, near the tall flagpole where the Texas flag would fly come morning, stood two tall poles, a huge bronze star suspended by heavy chains between them. Moonlight shone through cutouts in each star’s tip and reflected on the ground in a lacy pattern.
“I’ve probably never seen anything so breathtaking in my whole life.” Josie moved closer. “It’s just unbelievable.”
“The first time I saw it I stopped and stared for a good bit. I’ve learned a lot about my father from the things that mean so much to him—the Texas flag he flies, this bronze star that represents what he cherishes, and his boys. Family is everything to the man.”
“As it should be to you too, Luke Weston.” Josie glared at him. “I just don’t get you. If I had a place like this to go to, I’d never leave. But no, you’d rather be riding off to God-knows-where, dodging hot lead and getting shot half to death.”
“When and if I ever get my life straightened out, I’ll claim this land. Until then, I’ll only be passing through.” It was nice to know he had some reason for living. He’d never take any of this for granted either. The Lone Star was special.
Josie playfully tugged him forward. “Come on.”
Luke watched as she lay down, positioning herself over the lacy pattern on the grass. She stretched out with her arms high over her head, her golden hair fanning out around her. She had to be as crazy as a loon, but she was his crazy lady. She was wild, adventurous, and bold, and everything that he wasn’t.
And he wanted her. Oh God, how he wanted Josie Morgan.
When he lay down next to her, she reached for his hand and threaded her fingers through his. He loved the feel of her velvet skin, the softness that reminded him of Angelina.
“My brothers told me of a legend associated with this land.”
“What kind of legend?”
“Some kind of old saying. They claim that if a man sleeps beneath the Texas star he’ll learn his true worth. Of course, my brothers don’t put much stock in it.”
Josie stared deep into his eyes. “The legend is nice, Luke, but you already know your worth. You’re a good, honorable man.”
“And you got this sage wisdom in all of three days?”
“In the first hour we met. If you weren’t a man of honor, you’d have left me tied to that tree and kept on riding to catch Ned Sweeney. Some things you instinctively know right off. Like a certain smell. I knew Reno’s men and Noah’s uncle were no good because I could smell their putrid breath, all rancid, like they’re rotting inside. Sometimes you just know.”
“I have to agree.” He raised himself up on an elbow and pressed his mouth to her soft lips.
He knew that no matter how this thing with Josie went, he’d be forever lost without this wonderful, maddening, crazy woman.
She was everything he wanted—temper, six-shooter, and all.
But fate had a way of snatching things from his grasp.
Fourteen
Boot heels struck a hardwood floor like shots from a Sharps .50 caliber buffalo rifle. Luke jerked awake and grabbed his Colt, tossing aside a soft wool blanket. For a second, he struggled to remember where he was, but a quick glance at his surroundings assured him he was in the office at the Lone Star headquarters.
The memory of Stoker covering him during the night flooded back. Luke had feigned sleep, only raising an eyelid enough to see the huge man tiptoeing into the office. The sight lingered in his mind. But it was the care with which Stoker had spread the blanket over him that would stay with him forever.
Luke had slept under the watchful gaze of his mother in the portrait above. And also, it seemed, that of his father.
The backs of his eyes burned. He’d missed her gentle touch and hadn’t realized exactly how much until this. His mother had stopped her tender nurturing when he was twelve and he’d told her he was too big for that. The hurt in her eyes swam in his vision. He’d been so very foolish, thinking she’d always be there.
“Estúpido,” he muttered angrily
.
The knob on the door turned. Luke rolled from the sofa to his feet and slid his Colt back into the holster as Houston Legend strolled in.
The large form of his brother blocked the morning light spilling through the doorway. “Thought I saw that black gelding of yours, Luke. I was hoping you’d come to visit.”
“Not by choice.” Luke tucked in his shirt and strapped on his gun belt. “Needed a doctor and no time to waste.”
“Who’s hurt?”
“A runaway boy I found. He’s bleeding inside.”
“I sense a story there. Most likely someone’s dead.” Houston twirled the dove-gray Stetson in his hands. “Which you can tell me about over coffee. Had any yet?”
“Nope.” Luke picked up his hat. “Know where I might get some?”
“Just might. ’Course, if you’ve gotten Pa riled, we’d be safer building a fire in the corral and making our own.” After scanning the room and taking in the blanket, Houston faced him squarely. “Our beds not good enough for you?”
“Your beds are fine for civilized folk.” Luke let a grin form. “You know, you and Sam sound more like Stoker every day. I expect you’ll soon start to act like him too. He’s not the only one who tries to meddle.”
“Well, you haven’t done that good a job tending your life lately. We think you could use a hand.” Houston adjusted Luke’s hat like he was a kid and patted his black vest.
“You do, do you? Want to take a walk in my shoes?”
Houston chuckled. “Nope. They won’t fit. Besides, my body can’t take all those bullet holes.”
Luke’s chest swelled with gratitude at the simple banter, at having such a home to come to. He clasped one of his brother’s hands and pulled him into a quick hug before releasing him.
Houston stepped back to study him, as though stunned by Luke’s uncharacteristic show of affection.
A few minutes later, they walked into the cozy breakfast room. Stoker gave Luke a knowing nod and handed him a cup. Luke reached for the coffeepot and filled both his and Houston’s. Settled at the small table, Luke finished explaining the last few days to Houston.
Stoker blew on the hot liquid and took a sip from his cup. “Doc just checked on the boy. He said the bleeding inside shows signs of stopping. So far, no more swelling.”
Relief swept through Luke. “That’s great. The boy’s been through pure hell. I have some more good news. Josie also told me that Doc is sure her memory will return. At some point. It sounds promising.”
“What are you going to do with them, son? I mean when you ride out, as you and I both know you will.” Stoker pinned Luke with a piercing stare.
Luke squirmed. He hated the way his father had of looking down into places he didn’t want him seeing. The secrets he hid were buried deep, along with fledgling hopes and dreams, too new to stand any scrutiny. At least not Stoker’s meddling kind.
“Stop it, Pa, don’t badger him. Just be glad he’s here,” Houston said firmly. “I’m sure he has a plan. Right, Luke?”
Steam from the hot brew wafted up into Luke’s face. “It’s asking a lot of you to take care of the boy for a while but I don’t see any other way. Doc won’t let me move him. Would you—”
“Of course I will.” Stoker leaned toward Luke, his elbow on the table. “I’ll be happy to look after the boy. I don’t know how much clearer I can make it that I welcome you, son. Anytime, day or night. What about the woman?”
“Josie laid down the law.” Luke chuckled. “Threatened to put a bullet in me if I leave without her.”
He’d never forget the sight of her standing there spitting mad in the moonlight like some golden-haired angel warrior, smoke curling from her pistol, anger flashing like daggers from her eyes. He had no doubt she’d come within a hair of leaving a few bullet holes in his hide.
Then he’d showed her the bronze star, and that moment changed everything. Including him.
“She hit you?” Stoker refilled his cup, his mouth twitching.
“Nope.” Luke reached for a hot biscuit. “The bullet kicking up dirt around my boot gave me a new direction.”
“Smart woman.” Stoker took a plate of bacon and eggs from Cook and grabbed the salt. “I like her thinking. Maybe I’ll take a page from her book.” He shot Luke a cutting glance that made him want to find a hole to crawl into. Luke had seen his share of fearsome men, and none of them held a candle to Stoker Legend.
Curling a hand around his cup, Luke silently watched his bear of a father. Last night’s talk stood between them like a fragment of a shattered life that a man couldn’t claim. He wished he could tell Stoker he loved him, wished he could be the kind of son Sam and Houston were. And dammit, he wished he had his brothers’ easy way of talking to the man. But too much water had washed under the bridge and eroded the supports. Nothing was left but silt and rock.
Putting aside all his bluster and thunder, Stoker Legend was as tough as a piece of dried boot leather, and he took no grief from any man. Part of Luke still couldn’t help thinking the money and land Stoker offered him were too little, too late.
In spite of everything, the bitterness of doing without lingered. The nights he went to bed hungry and cold, the days of watching his mother toil over tubs of scalding hot water, then when ready to drop, ironed and folded the laundry.
If his mother wouldn’t go to Stoker for help, maybe he shouldn’t either. In a way, Luke felt he was betraying her.
What would she say if she saw him sitting at Stoker’s table? Eating his food? He imagined she’d be happy he was finally home. At least he hoped so.
Luke pushed aside the nagging thoughts and reached for the coffeepot. “You and Josie could’ve been cut from the same cloth. That’s one determined woman.”
“Nothing wrong with a strong filly.” Stoker gave a hard nod. “And nothing wrong with wanting to keep my sons within eyesight.”
Luke’s spine stiffened. If he didn’t watch it, his father would bulldog his way over the top of him as he’d done to both Sam and Houston, and sweep him up in the tumult.
“Glory to Pete, Pa,” Houston growled. “You’ve turned into a regular mother hen. Might as well put an apron on you and be done with it. I thought you learned a long time ago to let us be. You can’t keep Luke tied here any more than you can Sam and me.”
Glowering, Stoker shoveled a bite of eggs into his mouth. “Are you calling me weak?”
“Nope.” Cook set down Houston’s plate and he dug in. “Just saying you need a project, something to occupy you. Maybe something with ruffles.”
“Of all the fool things to say. I have work to keep me busy.” Stoker pointed his fork at Houston. “Namely, making sure this land stays as strong as the day I plunked down roots forty-three years ago.”
Deep emotion flickered across the faces of his father and brother. Luke watched them closely. Despite their gruff words, subtle displays of affection rippled between them that were as hard to miss as the width of the mighty Red River. They shared a deep bond that was borne from being family.
The price of Luke’s mistakes had never been clearer than at this moment.
Maybe he would always be the outsider, the black sheep…the one any decent family would have to hide.
Cook brought in a fresh pot of coffee and went back with the empty one.
Stoker wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Luke, I never noticed how much you resemble your mother until now. You have the same black hair and high cheekbones. You’re almost the spitting image.”
“Those who knew her often remarked on it,” Luke mumbled.
Houston glared. “Don’t say that too loud, Pa. We don’t want to give the people who make the wanted posters any ideas. So far none have Luke’s picture on them, and that’s a relief.”
The air stirred and Josie strolled into the breakfast room carrying Rowdy. She looked rested, final
ly, clad in a pretty lavender dress, her golden hair curling around her shoulders. All three men jerked to their feet. Luke finally dragged his eyes from her and pulled out her chair.
“My goodness, this is a fine morning. Thank you, Luke.” Her hand met his and sent warmth coursing through him. The dog growled at him and bared his teeth as though warning Luke to keep his distance.
Luke gave the mutt a steely-eyed glare and introduced Houston as the men returned to their seats and their breakfast.
Houston reached across the table to shake her hand. “Nice meeting you, Josie.”
“Same here. I’m glad to know Luke’s family.” She lowered Rowdy to the floor. “This poor little fellow’s hungry, but still didn’t want to leave Noah’s side. I had to coax him to come with me.”
Luke wondered if she’d threatened to shoot the dog too.
“Cook will fix him something. She does it for our mutts every morning; no trouble to throw in a little extra,” Houston said, rising. He went to the door and spoke to Cook then returned. “Be ready in a moment.”
“I trust you slept well, my dear.” Stoker slabbed butter onto a hot biscuit so thick it dribbled off onto his plate.
A smile twitched at the corner of Josie’s mouth. “I think I died. I can’t remember when I’ve slept so soundly.” She frowned. “I shouldn’t keep saying things like that when my memory only goes back three days.” Her gaze met Luke’s and softened. “I owe Luke my life. Even though finding me threw a kink in his plans, he never hesitated one second. I was in bad need of help and he showed me such extraordinary kindness. Saved me from the men who tied me up too. He even named me Rose right off because he saw how much I desperately needed to be someone.”
Stoker roughly patted her hand. “My son knows how to treat a lady, especially a pretty one like you. It doesn’t matter what name you go by. Both fit you.”
Luke watched a becoming blush color Josie’s cheeks. It was clear how much Stoker’s compliments meant to her.
“Thank you, Mr. Legend,” she murmured.
“Nope.” Stoker shook his finger at her. “I’m Stoker. And I want you to know that you have a home here anytime you want to claim it.” He pointed his fork at Luke. “Maybe you can talk some sense into my son.”