Amanda got to her feet. Luke was right; to go home might make things worse. She shuddered at the thought of the gunmen, terrorizing her home town and frightening Mrs. Pincus into a panic. Forcing herself to think clearly, she weighed her alternatives.
She didn’t have a choice. There was no sense to go backward; she would have to continue forward. Yet, she couldn’t do it alone….Amanda’s eyes returned to Luke.
He was talking quietly with the townspeople, assuaging their fears, assuring them that Amanda was indeed leaving. There was a cold authority about him that made the people listen, coupled with their memory of how quickly he had drawn when the gunfire started. Leaning against the wall, his black Stetson removed, his dark hair curling crisply in the heat, he looked devilishly handsome and completely in control. Amanda was amazed at the contrast between the gunman and the townspeople. All of them were afraid of the Haskwells—except him.
She needed him. It was as simple as that. She’d think of a way to convince him to help her, to escort her to Texas and protect her from the Haskwells. A guilty flush stained her face as she recalled that night in the Harvey house, then she immediately dismissed the thought. No, she wanted Luke to perform a job for her, just like any other hire. Anything more than that was impossible.
As if hearing her thoughts, he glanced over at her, their eyes meeting. Excusing himself from the townspeople, he returned to her side. “We’d best get you out of here. A mob isn’t a pretty sight at any time. They seem calm enough now, but if the shooting starts again, who knows?” Luke picked up her bag and bird cage, and eased Amanda through the door.
Outside, he stopped short of the train platform. Shading his eyes against the sun, he noticed how damned vulnerable she looked, with those odd glasses and her tangled hair. She seemed lost in a world where she didn’t belong, for all of her startling intelligence. Luke shrugged. It wasn’t his business—and complications like Amanda, he didn’t need.
“You should head to Wichita and hook up with a wagon train there. One that hasn’t come this far north, and didn’t hear about the ruckus. Don’t ride off by yourself. Try to act like you belong with one of them.” Luke’s eyes ran over her odd dress, her owl, her bag bulging with books and notes. Amanda would draw attention no matter where she went.
She stared up at him, and he could almost hear her mind ticking. “Luke, I want to make you an offer. A proposition, to be more exact.”
“A proposition.” He couldn’t help but smile. With any other woman, he would think she had more in mind than business. With Amanda, he knew better.
“I’ve been given a ranch, three hundred acres in all, in the richest part of cattle country. The land itself is worth a good deal, but the business opportunities are endless. I need your help.”
“What kind of help?” Luke wasn’t about to make it any easier for her.
Amanda blushed, hating to ask him for anything. Forcing aside her emotions, she continued, with a voice that was like ice. “I have no experience with a gun, as you know. I don’t have the physical capability to fight these outlaws until I can discover why they want to kill me. I need someone who is good with a gun. Unafraid of outlaws. Someone without scruples, or morals, who can be bought for a price…”
“And you think I fit the bill.”
“Yes.” Amanda nodded. She’d gotten it out—the worst had to be over.
“How much?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How much money are you willing to pay?”
“Twenty dollars.”
Luke’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Twenty dollars? To take on the Haskwells? Are you out of your mind?”
“Fifty?” Amanda interrupted. “Seventy?”
“A hundred,” Luke said decisively. “If you want to hire me as a gun, you’ll have to pay the going rate. Haskwell’s worth three hundred. I assume you don’t have a lot of loose cash. What else have you got?”
Frantic, Amanda’s mind spun. “Only the ranch…”
“I’ll take half.” Before Amanda could do more than gasp, he continued ruthlessly. “That’s it or nothing, lady. I’m taking you to Texas, down that goddamned cattle trail, through Indian country, with one of the worst western outlaws wanting a piece of your hide and you don’t even know why. One hundred and half the ranch is my price, and that is provided you agree to the rest of my terms.”
“Such as?” Amanda choked in anger. She had to have his help—he knew it, and was taking full advantage.
“I am the boss on this trip. You do as I say, no matter how many goddamned books you’ve read. I’m not going to argue over every decision. You got it?”
Amanda’s mouth went dry. “But what if I know better?”
“I mean it. The first time you disobey me, I’m leaving. There’s too much at stake here. And once we get to Texas, you go your way and I’ll go mine, even though we share the same property. I want no strings.” He tilted her face towards himself, looking behind her glasses to see if she really did understand his meaning. “And I think after last night, we’ll both agree that it’s best to keep our relationship strictly business.”
Mortified, Amanda couldn’t stop the hot rush of color that stained her cheeks a bright red. He was making sure that she didn’t misconstrue his help, that he wanted nothing more than the terms he was offering. Embarrassed beyond words, Amanda wanted to hit him, to hurt him as much as he’d just hurt her. Instead, she gave him an icy nod.
“Certainly. ‘Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love.’ Shakespeare.” She almost grinned in satisfaction as he snarled, then he stalked off toward the wagon train to make their arrangements.
She won, and he had agreed. But she wondered why she felt so much like crying.
“Blasted spinster!” Damien spat a wad of tobacco onto the ground and reined up his horse. Dust kicked up from the churning hooves on the plain, enveloping them in a cloud of red clay. “Thought I had her that time. Clean shot and everything. The woman must be blessed.”
“Will you shut your mouth?” Butch stared down the lonely road to the cow town. No one had followed them; the noise had seen to that. Yet he knew that their boss would not be pleased with their failure to gun down the prissy authoress. Haskwell accepted excuses from no one. He wanted results, and settled for nothing less.
“We’ll have to trail her. Christ, I’d hoped to have this thing done by now. We’ll have to find out what she’s doing, where she’s going. You still got that barber friend in town, the one who cut my ear?”
“Yeah. He didn’t take too kindly to your decorating his chair with lead,” Damien said sullenly.
“Ain’t that a shame. Tell him unless he wants me to come back and do the rest, we want to know where that girl’s heading. And who she’s going with.”
“Right.” Damien grinned, his sallow face wolfish. “Don’t worry, Butch. She’ll be on Boot Hill with the best of them.”
“She’d better. Or I’d hate to be the one to tell Haskwell we’ve failed.”
Damien’s smile disappeared. He jerked on the reins, and started back toward town.
The Drovers Cottage hotel stood beside the railroad. Cowboys sat on the shaded veranda, whittling long chunks of cottonwood while watching the trains unload. Rows of single windows stared out into the street, echoing the vacant gazes of the cowhands below. Spruce green shutters framed the windows, offering the only touch of color on the beige clapboard hotel.
Amanda followed Luke inside, dragging her bird cage and carpetbag behind her, oblivious to the disbelieving stares that her appearance warranted. Inside, she could see past the register desk to the bar and restaurant, and what appeared to be a billiard room. A stout, matronly woman glanced up from behind the desk and gave Luke a broad smile.
“I’m Lou Gore. Can I help you with something?” The woman’s face wrinkled with worry when her eyes fell upon Amanda. “Does your lady need assistance with those…things?”
“We’re not in any hu
rry,” Luke said smoothly, shooting Amanda a warning look. “We just need a room for the night.”
“You’re in luck, I’ve one left. Cattle train arrived yesterday, you know. Got the stockyards filled. There’s two things you boys all want when you get to town.” Lou beamed as she scribbled out the names. “You’ve got the one, and I’ll help you with the other.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Amanda put down the owl and scrutinized the hotel matron. “What are the two things?”
“Amanda.” Luke’s hand tightened on hers, then he sent Lou an apologetic smile. “It’s been a long ride.”
Amanda gasped in outrage, but the woman gave her a sympathetic glance and nodded.
“I know, it’s hardest on the ladies. Hauled across country on some godforsaken trail, and for what? Gold, cattle or homesteading. Expecting too, some of them are.” She smiled at Amanda, taking in her rumpled dress and stained sleeves. “I’ll take good care of you, honey. A nice bath and bed, and you’ll feel like a new woman in the morning.”
“But I feel fine…” Amanda protested, earning another approving glance for her bravery.
“You two just come with me and I’ll take care of everything.” Ignoring her protests, the woman hefted Amanda’s bag, then escorted them up the staircase to the long, narrow corridor lined with doors. Selecting room number twenty-one, Lou fitted a key into the lock and opened the door.
“There you are, bag and baggage. I’ll send a girl up with a bath. The dining room’s downstairs, with a place for male refreshments. And if you need anything else, you just holler.”
Amanda waited until they were alone, then stared at Luke quizzically. “Why did you only get one room? Did she forget the key?”
“No,” Luke said patiently. “She thought we…wanted a single room.”
“Why?” Amanda asked innocently.
As a reply, Luke’s eyes caught hers and he smiled, a warm, sensual grin that reminded her instantly of that horribly embarrassing incident that happened between them. Her eyes dropped and she heard his chuckle, hating him more than ever.
“I see you’ve caught on. Believe me, that is what most people would think. But don’t worry, I have no intention of taking advantage of the situation. I want you in the same room, until I can find out what became of Haskwell’s gang. We have no idea of where they are—they could even be holed up in this hotel. And until then, it will reduce the need for explanation.” He waited until she nodded in reluctant agreement, still blushing hotly, then he continued. “I’ll be across the street at the store. I’ll get us some supplies, and tickets for the stage to Wichita. That’ll give you plenty of time to do whatever you have to do and send for some supper. Think you can manage?”
“I can manage just fine,” Amanda snapped. “’For solitude is sometimes the best society.’ Milton.”
Luke’s eyes blazed and he opened his mouth to reply. On second thought, he didn’t trust himself. Picking up his hat, he stalked out of the room.
The road to Texas never seemed quite so long. Suddenly, he wondered if it was worth it.
Amanda stood alone in the center of the room, gazing at the sturdy oaken bed table, the chest of drawers, and the bed which dominated the room. Aesop squawked, and she sighed, then removed the black felt cover and opened the cage door. The sleepy baby barn owl spilled into her hand like a soft ball of down. Amanda cuddled the owl to her breast, reassured by his muffled heartbeat and his sharp, clawed feet that scratched her palm.
“Aesop, we make a fine pair, we do.” The owl ruffled his feathers, but settled comfortably against her dress, his eyes blinking sleepily. Amanda smiled, running her fingers along one disjointed wing. She remembered the day she’d rescued him just a few months ago—a small, battered fledgling hopping around on the ground with a broken wing. The biology professor’s cat had stalked the tiny bird, and it was only by distracting the feline with her hair ribbon that Amanda managed to save the little owl. In spite of the titters of her classmates, she’d kept the little bird with her at all times, feeding him with an eyedropper when he was small, until he grew to the size where he accepted tiny field mice. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Aesop lived much the way she did, nor that they had a lot in common. The loneliness she’d known all of her life overwhelmed her, and her throat tightened. Placing the slumbering bird back inside the cage, she softly shut the door.
Aesop would have to stay in his prison.
But tonight, she was escaping hers.
The bar down the street was exactly as she’d pictured. Gaslights gleamed from the ceiling, the light scarcely penetrating the smoke-filled interior of the Applejack saloon. Women dressed in bright shades of scarlet, gold, and sapphire, with black plumes in their hair and gay white boots on their feet, sat boldly on the laps of the cowboys. Amanda gaped as more than one woman giggled appreciatively as a randy cowboy slipped his hands inside her low cut dress, greedily caressing her ripe round breasts framed in black lace. Gamblers sat at the felt-covered tables, studying cards and the faces of the other players with a surprising intensity. Businessmen gathered in the corner, sipping whiskey and tucking important papers inside their eastern styled suits, while the barkeep struggled to keep their glasses filled and their spittoons empty. It was raunchy, dirty, sweaty, and smoky. It was also full of life, passion, risk, and excitement.
Amanda was mesmerized.
Taking a seat at one of the small round tables, she scrambled for her bag and retrieved a thick notebook. Her hand didn’t seem to move fast enough as she scribbled her impression of everything. God, this was so great. Taking a deep breath, she recorded the musty, smoky scent of the room, the smell of sweat, the odor of cattle, the excitement that was almost tangible. She had written so many bar scenes just like this one, and to actually be in one was like walking inside one of her novels. The point broke on her pencil and she frowned in frustration. Amanda tossed it back inside the open carpetbag beside her and fished around for another. When her head popped up from beneath the table, she was surprised to see she was not alone.
“Excuse me, ma’am. But are you lost or something?”
Amanda glanced up, surprised to see the bartender staring at her oddly. She shook her head. “No, I’m in the saloon. I’m not lost in the least.” She returned to her scribbling, ignoring him.
The barkeep scratched his head. “Ma’am, we’re not accustomed to ladies coming in here, if you know what I mean. There’s a restaurant next door, if you want something to drink.”
“Oh, I’m not thirsty. And I’m very sorry, but you’re wrong. There are ladies here.” She gestured to a buxom blonde saloon girl, who giggled from a cowboy’s lap.
The barkeep coughed, then continued delicately. “Ma’am, that’s real generous of you, but they ain’t ladies. You’d best leave. There could be trouble.” He glanced at the nearby tables where the interested cowboys and businessmen listened to the exchange in amusement.
“What sort of trouble?” Amanda leaned on her elbows, fascinated with the prospect.
“Well, um. Men can’t let loose and have fun with real ladies around. It puts a damper on things. And some of these cowboys haven’t had a woman in a long time. They get pretty rough when they’re full of whiskey. I’m sure you’ll be much more comfortable next door.”
“Thank you, you are so kind, but I am perfectly comfortable here,” Amanda continued. “And I find your argument very faulty. With all the saloon women around, why would my presence incite a cowboy when there is a ready receptacle for his passion at hand? And I fail to see how my presence can have any effect on their activity, since I do not wish to prevent it, partake of it, or comment on it. I only wish to observe.”
“Out!” The barkeep fought to keep his temper under control as the men nearby chuckled. “Madame, I must ask you to leave.”
“I’ll have to refuse,” Amanda said bluntly. “This is a public place, and I wish to remain.”
“Damn you!” The barkeep’s eyes hardened, as if trying to decide whet
her to physically toss her out or to drag her across the floor. “Who’s here with you? You got a husband or a brother?”
Before Amanda could respond, a cowhand interrupted. “She showed up in town this morning with a hired gun. Luke’s his name, as I recall.”
“Luke?” The cowhand spoke up. “There’s a fellow named Luke playing poker in the back. Big, with dark hair. Looks like a gun.”
“Fetch him.” The sheriff waited until the cowhand left, then leaned closer to Amanda. “Now you’d better come peaceably ma’am. This ain’t no place for a lady…”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t yet. I’ve not finished my work.”
“This him?” The cowhand indicated a tall man behind him, and Amanda’s eyes widened as Luke strode forth, looking anything but pleased to see her.
“It’s me. I’ll handle this. Amanda, come with me.”
Amanda’s smile vanished as Luke glared at her. He was angry. She could see the set of his jaw, the glittering tension in his eyes, and his gritted teeth. Shrugging, Amanda shook her head in calm rebuttal.
“As I’ve already explained, I see no reason why I cannot remain. I’m a writer. I need to see this, to experience life. As Emerson said—”
“Amanda.” Luke cut her off before he killed her. He stared at her thoughtfully, while the cowboys and the barkeep waited to see this lean, dangerous man put the woman in her place. Amanda stared up at him innocently, completely unaware of the position she’d put him into. Her hair tumbled from its knot, her eyes were wide and unblinking like that damned owl, and a bird feather clung to her breast. There was something incredibly naive about her, like a child wanting desperately to overindulge in sweets, and who cannot understand why a parent forbids it.
Luke turned to the barkeep. “If I’m responsible for her, can she remain?”
The cowboys murmured in surprise, but no one protested. The bartender eyed Luke’s gun, the worn grip just clearing his holster. His gaze went back to Amanda, who was smiling in excitement.
Wild Is the Night Page 5