“Should I marry him, mon petit bonbon?" she said, patting her rounded belly, "Would you like Mr. Luke for a papa? I do think I’m falling in love with him, sweet one.”
She sighed deeply. The warm water felt soooo good. With the coziness of the nearby wood stove and the crackle of the fireplace in the front room creating a sleepy backdrop to the drama that played across her mind, it was not long before exhaustion overtook her. In fifteen minutes she was fast asleep, her hands still protectively around her belly, cradling her little bonbon.
#
Lenora awoke in confusion. She blinked and shook her head, trying to clear her mind. As she glanced around the darkness in an effort to comprehend where she was and why she was sitting in cold water, it dawned on her: she was still in the tub and the oil had run out in the lamp. How long had she been sleeping? It felt past midnight. Shivering and feeling foolish, she clumsily pushed herself into a standing position and, feet still in the tub, reached for the towel she’d left on a nearby kitchen chair. As her hand touched the rough cotton, she heard someone step onto the front porch. She froze, her fingertips dripping motionless on the towel, goose bumps covering every inch of wet skin. The intruder took a few more steps, and then she heard the sound of the door latch being pulled. Every muscle in her body went rigid with cold, heart-stopping fear.
Before she could think of what to do, she heard the sound of someone running and then a violent thud as the runner bounded onto the porch.
“Stop it right there, Jennings!” a man shouted. “It’s aimed at your head!”
Jennings? Lenora began to shake involuntarily as she heard the sickening thud of a body being slammed against her front door.
“Where’d you hide the body?” a man shouted.
Luke?
Then a hard, muffled whump as someone’s head was rammed against the door. In a panic, Lenora threw the towel around her naked body and ran to the bedroom, dripping and cold, to get her handgun. She should have dashed for the rifle over the door, but her first instinct was to run away from the noise, not toward it. From the front of the house she heard angry shouting.
“Where? Where is it?”
Lenora was certain now. Luke was on her porch with another man, surely Buck Jennings.
“What are you talking about?” snarled Jennings.
“You know who I’m talking about,” said Luke with equal venom. “You tell me where you hid Rose’s body or I’ll blow a hole in your head bigger than that bragging maw of yours. Now tell me!”
Another unnerving whump against the unyielding plank door. Lenora’s entire body shook with raw terror, a core deep shaking that was heightened by the cold. But the nearness of the two men made her keenly aware of her nakedness, superseding her fear of the violence on the porch. She jerked open a drawer and felt around for a nightgown. When her fingers recognized soft flannel she yanked it, threw it over her head, grunting and pulling awkwardly against the cotton that dragged against her wet skin. Feeling less vulnerable now that she was covered, she opened her underwear drawer and grappled in the dark for the Colt. Once her fingers felt the cold, hard muzzle, she picked it up and walked hesitantly to the door of her bedroom. But even with the gun in her hand, she was too petrified to step beyond the door frame into the front room.
Her breathing was fast and furious as she listened in terror, the scene playing out on the porch etched like acid on her mind. She could feel the tension building outside as palpably as the cold wood floor beneath her feet. She held the Colt with two wobbly hands, aiming at the door. From the porch she heard the click of a trigger followed by a long, strained silence.
"There's a lower place in Hell reserved for creatures like you."
Lenora imagined Luke's face up close as he growled at Jennings.
“You jackass,” said Jennings.
In the next instant Lenora heard the tell-tale sound of a man hawking in his throat, then an ugly splooth as someone—she imagined it was Jennings—used spittle to provoke. She waited for an explosion of male outrage, but none came.
“I may be a jackass,” said Luke, “but I’m a jackass with a gun, and it’s aimed at your neck. I'd blow your brains out, but there's no use shooting where there’s no target." A skull slammed against the door a third time. "Where’s his body?” Luke was shouting now.
Another taut silence. Lenora involuntarily tensed her chest muscles so hard that her diaphragm ached. Finally she heard Jennings speak, all bravado drained from his voice. He sounded pinched, as though Luke had gripped his throat and was squeezing his airway.
“He’s buried in that German woman’s grave. Next to the church.”
“Down! Get down!”
Luke sounded positively wild to Lenora, and in a second she heard Jennings slump to the porch floor.
“Lenora,” shouted Luke. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes?” Her voice sounded like a kitten’s mew, she was shaking so badly.
“Stay where you are until I tell you what to do.”
“I will.”
He needn't have worried. Lenora was still frozen to the entrance of her bedroom. She heard shuffling, muffled thuds, and obscene curses, the particularly obscene ones belched by Jennings. Several times Luke told him to shut up. After what seemed like a very long time, the disturbing rustling noises stopped.
“Lenora, you can open the door now,” said Luke, his breathing ragged.
Lenora pulled the latch and slowly cracked the door, half crazed with fear that this was all a nightmare and that some evildoer pretending to be Luke waited to pounce on the other side of the door. But once she saw him looking down at her, she flung open the door and rushed toward him, still holding the Colt, now aimed straight at Luke’s midsection. His eyes got wide and in a swift, practiced movement, for the second time in a matter of months he lunged for her gun and grabbed it from her.
In one breathless moment his arms were around her, holding her tightly to his hard chest. He was damp with sweat despite the frigid night air, but to Lenora he was safety. He was home. He held her for a long while, stroking her hair, neither one speaking, until at last she stopped trembling. Finally he released his hold and pulled her away from him, just far enough to gaze down into her eyes. Seeing the tears streaking her face, he reached into a pocket, drew out a hanky, and handed it to her.
Lenora wiped her face with the hanky and started to speak, but Luke put his finger to his lips and tilted his head to urge her into the house. As she moved toward the door, Lenora glanced at Buck Jennings. Luke had tied him up like a hog going to market, but his hands and feet were roped firmly behind his body instead of in front. He was gagged, and he looked very uncomfortable. He looked mad, too. Jennings glared at Lenora, a look of pure evil that sent shivers up her spine. She started shaking all over again.
Once inside the house, Luke touched Lenora’s elbow, guiding her toward the fireplace in the front room where a bank of hot embers threw an intimate red glow over the two of them.
“You alright?” he whispered, gripping both of her shoulders.
“I’m fine,” she lied. "What happened?"
He didn't answer. Instead he pulled her to him and bent his head and kissed her, a long, deep kiss, pressing his body to hers firmly but gently, sparking such intense desire in her she felt excited and frightened all at once. She could feel the power of his longing, and it made her knees go weak. She put her arms around his waist and melted into him. Finally he broke away, but he held her firmly, his hands bracing her upper arms.
"I'll explain everything tomorrow. Right now I need two blankets. One for me and one for the snake," said Luke, jerking his head toward the porch. "We'll stay here until daylight, and then I have to get him to town. I'll need your wagon. I'll return it later tomorrow."
"Alright," said Lenora, nodding obediently.
She left him by the fire while she fetched two blankets from the bedroom. He took them and left. An hour later Lenora was still so wound up she could not sleep. She tip-toed to the f
ront room and peered through the window. In the silver-blue shadows of night she saw Luke's blanket-draped silhouette. He sat upright on the bench, eyes open, cold moonlight glinting on the gun in his lap. Buck Jennings lay still and shapeless on the porch floor under the other blanket.
When she awoke the next morning they were gone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lenora was standing in her kitchen peeling potatoes for supper when she heard the sound of horses and a wagon rolling into the yard. She wiped her hands on her apron and then hung it on a hook. Luke had said he would return her wagon today, so she was ready for company. She wore the dress he said he liked so much, her striped white-and-pink gown with the dainty pink flowers. But now it was altered where she had let out the tucks in front to make room for her expanding girth.
Lenora knew Luke would unhitch her horses and secure the wagon before he knocked on her door. She waited a while in the house, allowing him time to set everything in order. By the time he emerged from the barn she was waiting for him on the porch, wrapped in her emerald-green cloak. The sky was heavy and still, a thick, unbroken blanket of gray that stretched as far as the eye could see, a sure sign of impending snowfall.
Luke saw her waiting as he emerged from the barn. He smiled. “Let’s walk. We’ll be warmer that way,” he said. He extended his hand to her, and with her warm hand in his cool one together they began walking toward the open prairie. “I promised you an explanation,” he started.
“Indeed. I’d like to know how it was that both you and Buck Jennings were on my property last night. I have enough troubles,” she said, glancing down at her rounded belly hidden beneath her cloak. But she smiled as she spoke, making light of the situation.
“I’m sorry you had to be there for the worst of it,” said Luke. "My whole point in coming back last night was to keep you out of it.
“After I left here with Cyrus and the others, I decided to pay a visit to the Slocombs. I needed to talk to Ben. So I left the others and turned my horse toward their place. Mrs. Slocomb invited me to stay to dinner. Seeing that it was late and I was hungry, I stayed.”
They reached the end of the cleared portion of land around the house. They slowed their steps as they began to make their way through tall dry wheatgrass, which rustled pleasantly as they walked.
“Once I was back on my horse and headed for town, I had a real bad feeling, uneasy like. It was the strongest sense of unease I’ve ever known, like a voice in my head that wouldn’t quit until I turned my horse back toward your place.”
Lenora’s face grew ashen, remembering the evil in Buck Jennings’ eyes. “You waited in the barn, didn’t you?”
“I did.” Luke stopped walking and turned to face Lenora. “I kept thinking about the coincidences, how you were never bothered by a trespasser whenever Mrs. Nolan was with you, how someone started creeping around your property before the news of your husband’s disappearance had made its way around town. And then it all made sense. Jennings is gone from the Buffalo area much of the time. And he’s the meanest son of a—” Luke paused abruptly. “Forgive me, Lenora, but that snake has been holding a grudge against your husband and everything he owns, including you, for a long time.”
Lenora looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“After I turned Jennings over to the provost marshal at Fort McKinney, we finally got what we needed from him.” Luke took both of Lenora’s hands in hers. His eyes darkened and he looked very serious. “The night your husband disappeared, he was mighty mad, wasn’t he?”
Lenora cast her eyes to the ground in shame. Luke didn’t insist on a response.
“According to Jennings, James found him wandering somewhere on your property. We figure your husband mistook Jennings for a cattle rustler. Jennings was so drunk he didn’t even know where he was.”
Lenora nodded sadly in acknowledgment.
“That’s the only part of his story I have no trouble believing. Jennings says your husband insulted his mother and they started wrangling. He claims he shot your husband in self-defense.”
Lenora looked up again. “James was unarmed.”
“He says your husband went for his throat.”
“Everyone knows my husband was small of stature, especially compared to Mr. Jennings.”
“I know. I helped dig up his body.”
Lenora shut her eyes at the mention of her husband’s decayed remains.
“I’m sorry to bring it up again,” said Luke.
“That’s alright. Some things must be said.”
“As for the body, I have plans to come back tomorrow and take you to town to make arrangements,” Luke said.
Lenora only nodded. Speaking of the body was too difficult.
“Let’s keep walking,” said Luke. “It’s cold.”
A large flock of geese approached then, forming a sharpV in the northern sky. The cacophony caused Luke and Lenora to look up. They walked slowly, watching with casual interest as the honking party flapped its way to the next watery feeding spot.
“I don’t understand why he had such a grudge against me,” Lenora said, thinking aloud.
“Jennings had nothing against you, or Ulysses for that matter. But whatever happened out by the creek that night made him powerful angry, and he isn’t the type to bury the hatchet, not even when it comes to a dead man. He went after you and Ulysses because you belonged to James Rose. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up one morning to find your barn burned to the ground.”
“After all this time?”
“I told you Jennings is a mean one. And from everything I’ve heard around town,” he paused, “your husband had a temper to match Jennings’.”
Lenora nodded soberly. There was no use trying to deny James’ proclivity to anger.
“It was just bad luck that Buffalo’s two angriest men, one blind drunk, crossed paths in the night with no witnesses around. And Lenora,” Luke said, “Jennings is dishonorable as well. His intentions toward you were of the basest sort.”
Lenora’s eyes grew wide with understanding. What if Luke hadn’t spent half the night waiting in her barn? She swallowed. “But my dog?”
“That’s just stupidity in boots. Either he killed Ulysses because his barking thwarted his evil plans toward you, or he took his anger out on Ulysses just for the hell of it. I first thought of Jennings when I saw the carnage in the barn loft, though I didn’t have enough clues then to see the whole picture.”
“Luke, would you really have shot him last night if he hadn’t given you the information you wanted?”
“Did you think I would?” He gave her a sidelong glance.
She paused to think before answering. “Yes.”
“Jennings thought so, too, though fortunately for us, he hadn’t yet heard that we’d dug up the body, or he might not have implicated himself.”
They walked along, holding hands in silence a while longer, enjoying the quiet intimacy of empty prairie. Then Lenora remembered Sam Wright.
“Does this mean you’ll set Sam free?”
“Don’t know. I don’t think he had anything to do with your husband’s murder. But I suspect he knew that Jennings was involved. I questioned Sam again this morning before I left town. He said that Jennings had spouted off in the past about your husband. Apparently James was less than polite when Jennings came asking for work.”
“I didn’t know that Mr. Jennings had ever approached James about a job.”
Luke nodded. “I got the feeling this morning that Sam was in sympathy with Jennings. He didn’t seem surprised, either, when I told him that Jennings had been arrested. Sam’s crime is that he didn’t tell us what he knew.”
“I see.”
“Lenora,” said Luke, stopping to face her again. He took both of her hands in his own and pulled them to his chest, warming them. They stood intimately close, all around them the stillness of the open prairie the only witness to this moment. A large, lone snowflake fell from the sky, landing on Luke’s shoulder. His
eyes were intense, almost pleading when he looked into hers. “You told me you would consider my request. I know it was a long night and you’ve had little time to think about it, but you aren’t going to send me back to Fort Laramie wondering where I stand with you, are you?”
Before Lenora could answer, several more lacy snowflakes, so large they seemed like feathers, fell from the sky. She removed one hand from his and gently cupped it around his face. His cheek was ruddy with cold but his eyes were warm and sparkling with affection. “I will marry you, Luke.” And then she added, softly, “I love you.”
“I love you, Lenora.”
He kissed her then, his soft lips pressed against hers with tender feeling. That same sense of headiness Lenora had felt in front of her fireplace in the night washed over her, leaving her breathless. When she opened her eyes, snowflakes were falling thicker and faster, wetting her hair. She hardly noticed.
“I’ll need thirty days of mourning,” she said, pulling away from him a little. He kept his arms around her waist, shielding her a little from the cold.
“I understand. I can wait, but it won’t be easy,” and he kissed her again.
Just then the puppy woke up and began to wiggle. Luke put his hand into his coat and brought up the furry bundle, cradling him with one hand on the outside of his coat.
“He’s for you.”
“Oh, he’s beautiful!” she said, stroking his tiny head with two fingers. The puppy yawned and stared wide-eyed at Lenora.
“I bought him at Laramie. He’s not your Ulysses, but he could learn to be a good companion.”
“Thank you. I love him already,” she said. Then, “Luke, would you care if I wore daffodil silk for the wedding?”
Luke raised his eyebrows. “Daffodil?”
“It’s a brilliant sort of yellow.”
“Is that what independent women wear to get hitched these days?”
Lenora laughed. “I wouldn’t know. An independent woman is not a slave to fashion.” Then more soberly she said, “When must you return to Fort Laramie?”
Crazy Woman Creek Page 27