by Tess LeSue
Alex yawned and wished everyone else was as tired as she was.
There was one communal cooking fire in the center of the circled wagons. The warm days gave way to crisp spring nights, so clear the crackle of the fire traveled clearly from one side of the camp to the other. The night sky was a vast sprawl of stars and the moon rose and set low over the plains, like a great white pearl. The livestock were tethered between the fire and the wagons; the area acted as a makeshift corral, stopping the animals from wandering, and protecting them from theft. While the O’Briens and the Crawfords retired early every night, yawning and rubbing their sore backs, and the newly wed Ulrichs rarely stirred from their wagon after dark, the more experienced travelers tended to sit up late around the campfire, chatting and sipping from Sebastian’s store of liquor. “Not too much now,” he’d warn, pouring them each a stingy mouthful, “we’ve got to make it last.”
The Watts brothers always moaned and kicked up a fuss. “Damn, Doyle, that ain’t enough to even wet my tongue.”
“Not the way you drink it,” Sebastian said. “You boys wouldn’t know the difference between whiskey and moonshine.”
“Nothin’ wrong with a bit of moonshine now and then.”
“So, pick yourself up a batch when we get to Fort Kearney, and leave my whiskey the hell alone.”
Alex wondered if men were always so coarse when women weren’t around.
“Alex,” Adam whispered, trying to get her attention from the darkness outside the flickering ring of light.
“What is it?” Alex asked, waving her hand to beckon him closer. When he stepped into the light the mules came too. They followed Adam everywhere. “You’ve got to stop feeding them sugar,” Alex told him, exasperated, “or they’ll never leave you alone.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, pulling one of Cranky Bob’s long furry ears through his fingers. He’d named them all, like they were pets, and, in a fit of pique after being bitten for the umpteenth time, Alex had renamed them. Now they were called Cranky Bob, Surly Sue, Ornery Frank, and Crusty Bill. Alex hated those mules. They kicked, they bit and they gave her the evil eye whenever she went anywhere near them. She wished she could have the stolid old oxen back. That was one more thing to hold against the Gradys. They’d taken her oxen and stuck her with these evil animals.
“What do you want?” Alex sighed, watching Cranky Bob nuzzle her brother affectionately.
“I need to . . . you know what.”
“So go,” Alex said, even as she clambered to her feet, knowing what the reply would be.
“I’m scared of the dark.”
“Come on.” Alex tried to keep well out of Bob’s way, but the beast still tried to take a bite out of her. She hissed at him. It took Adam forever to step outside the circle of the wagons. Crusty Bill had hold of his jacket and wouldn’t let him go.
“Can’t they come with us?” Adam pleaded, as he tried to extricate the jacket from Bill’s huge teeth. “They won’t run off or anything.”
“No.” She swore the heehaw that followed was Bob’s way of cursing her.
Once she’d managed to get Adam away from his admirers, Alex led him to the hole they’d dug downwind. There was a new moon, so the darkness was almost total. Alex turned away to give her brother some privacy. She tilted her head back to look at the dense spray of stars above. The sky seemed bigger out here, the stars close enough to touch. She almost reached out her hand. She was sure the stars would feel rough, like grains of sand.
She near leaped out of her skin when she heard hoofbeats. Who would be riding in this black night?
What if it was Indians?
“Adam,” she hissed, “hurry up!” She hoped the others could hear it too, but she doubted it. Their voices were louder than the sound of hooves, even out here beyond the wagons. She had to get back and warn them.
When Adam didn’t answer she went to find him. She couldn’t leave him alone out here. He’d die of fright.
But he wasn’t at the hole.
Her heart stopped. “Adam!” she hissed again.
The hoofbeats were getting louder. She scanned the area around her, but it was so dark she couldn’t make out much more than a few shapes in the blackness. None of them were moving, so she assumed they were shrubs.
“Adam,” she called again, her voice louder and more desperate. He wouldn’t have wandered off, not in the darkness; he was so scared of the dark. And then, to her shock, the hoofbeats came to an abrupt stop and her brother’s voice rang through the clear night air. “What’s the name of that horse?”
Alex couldn’t stop the squeal of fright that escaped her. She ran toward the sound of his voice, but she stumbled over the rough ground and went flying, skidding her face against the dirt and coming to rest practically underneath the dark horse. The horse was startled and reared, hooves pawing at the air. Alex heard a sharp curse as she rolled out of the way.
Now flat on her back and panting with fear, she looked up into the annoyed face of Luke Slater. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.
Alex couldn’t answer. Until that moment, she’d had no idea how scared for him she’d been. She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer of thanks. She must have imagined the Gradys killing him in a hundred different ways.
She heard the creak of his saddle as he swung down.
“She’s a lovely horse, Luke,” Adam said admiringly.
“Yes, she is,” Luke agreed, handing him the reins. “Her name’s Delilah.”
“Like from the Bible.”
“That’s right.” Luke held out his hand to help Alex up.
“Samson should never have trusted her,” Adam said as he stroked Delilah’s nose.
“Never trust a woman, Adam,” Luke said, sounding amused.
“Not any woman?”
“Stop filling his head with nonsense.” Alex scowled at Luke, ignored his hand and clambered to her feet.
“It’s something you should learn too, runt.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Women are every bit as trustworthy as men.” She couldn’t believe they were having this ridiculous conversation, as though he hadn’t been away for a week, as though he hadn’t been out to commit murder. As though she’d never kissed him and felt his hands on her body. The wayward thought shocked her and she tried to push it away. But it had unlocked other thoughts, and she couldn’t help but trace the lines of his long body with her gaze. She’d forgotten how magnificent he was. His broad shoulders strained at the dusty cotton of his shirt, his strong jaw was rough with stubble, and his beautiful, full lips . . . she mentally shook herself. What was wrong with her?
“That just shows how young you are, runt. Once you’ve had a bit more experience with women you’ll realize how duplicitous they are. They’ll swear till they’re blue in the face that they don’t want anything from you, and the next minute they’re crying because you won’t marry them.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. Who was begging him to marry them? Those whores at Dolly’s? That mystery girl back in Oregon?
Luke took the reins from Adam and started toward the wagons. “Is there any food left? I’m starving.”
Alex sputtered for a moment and then started after him. “Aren’t you going to tell us what happened?”
“Nothing happened. I lost them.”
“You lost them? Lost them where?”
“Does Delilah want a drink, Luke?” Adam asked, following on his heels like an overexcited puppy. “There’s water over here for the mules. She could share that.”
Alex was so distracted by thoughts of the Gradys, imagining them looming out of every dark shadow, that she didn’t notice Crusty Bill sneaking up on her. When his teeth sank into her rear she screeched.
Luke’s gun was out of its holster in a second. Alex gasped when she found herself looking straight down its barrel. She glared
at him and pushed it aside. “Would you mind not pointing that thing at me? It was just that damn animal.” Alex rubbed her sore behind and resisted the urge to kick the mule. It would only upset Adam. And who knew if the ornery beast wouldn’t come after her in a fury?
“Tarnation, runt, you scream like a woman.”
Alex scowled.
Luke laughed. The kid was a mess. His clothes were so huge he looked like a scarecrow, he was filthy, and he was holding onto his rear end like it would fall off if he let go.
“You didn’t find my horse, then?” she needled him.
“Or your horse?” Adam chimed in sympathetically. “She was a nice horse too.”
“The hunt ain’t over yet,” Luke told them cryptically. He didn’t want to worry them. In truth, he’d found a partial trail. Just a few prints that disappeared into a stream, but it was enough. The Gradys were following the water, knowing that the wagon train wouldn’t stray too far from it.
Luke overtook them easily. He knew the trail like the back of his hand, whereas they were in unfamiliar territory. He considered lying in wait and facing them head-on, but the fact was, he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours at a time since the night before the fire, and even then it had been sleep snatched in the saddle. He needed his wits about him to face those brutes.
He lit out after the wagons, putting a comfortable distance between himself and the Gradys. He planned to catch up to the group, rest a little, and let them come to him. All he’d have to do is ride scout every day, and eventually they’d turn up. When they did they’d learn what happened to horse thieves in the territories. And it wasn’t pleasant.
Alex eyed him suspiciously. The hunt wasn’t over? She didn’t like the sound of that. What was he doing here if the hunt wasn’t over? Where the hell were the Gradys?
“Rustle me up some food while I settle Delilah, would you, runt?”
“Can I help you, Luke?” Adam asked.
“Sure thing. You ever brushed a horse before?”
Alex could hear them chattering as she headed for the campfire. Rustle him up some food. What was she? Some kind of servant?
“Luke’s here,” she told Sebastian and the Watts brothers.
“Thought we heard a woman scream?” Henry said curiously.
“Nice of you to get off your backside and see if she needed help,” Alex muttered under her breath.
Joseph slapped his knee and hooted. “The boy’s sassing you, Henry.”
“I notice you didn’t get up either,” Henry snapped.
“Luke wants food,” Alex told Sebastian, ignoring them. “Can I get something out of the chuck wagon?”
“Help yourself.”
She threaded her way between the oxen, mules and horses, muttering under her breath. She wasn’t sure why she felt so irritable. Shouldn’t she be thrilled he was back safe? Maybe she would be if he weren’t always ordering her about. Or laughing when she was assaulted by demon animals.
She paused over a bag of beans and sighed. That wasn’t it. Not really. If she was honest with herself she was irritated because he looked right at her and didn’t see her. How could he look into her eyes and not know who she was? After he’d touched her . . . tasted her . . . possessed her.
She had a sudden desire to walk out there and show him just who it was he was ordering about. She could see it clear as day in her head. She would stalk out there, through the dancing firelight, walk right up to him, and kiss him. At the first press of her lips he would know. His eyes would burn, the way they had that night at Dolly’s, and he would look at her and see.
Wouldn’t he?
18
THE ONLY THING Alex kissed that night was her pillow. And it wasn’t even a real pillow. It was just a sack of flour. It was hard, uncomfortable and it didn’t kiss her back.
She buried her face in it, scrunched her eyes closed and tried to block out the sound of male voices drifting over from the campfire.
She’d been so tired before Luke showed up. She had longed to go to bed. Now here she was, stretched out under her itchy blanket, as wide-awake as it was possible to be. She’d made Luke his dinner, washed the frypan and sat down to wait them out. She’d been able to feel the leather bag full of bonds pressing against her belly. She had to burn the wretched things. She stared into the flickering flames and listened to the men talk; most of it was boring talk of farming and politics and she found herself starting to doze.
She started awake when Luke’s hand settled on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Get to bed, runt.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You’re falling asleep,” he said patiently. “Get to bed, Alex.”
She winced. That was infinitely worse than “runt.” To hear her name said in that low, rough voice was torture. Worst of all was the note of tenderness she detected. She didn’t want that kind of tenderness from him. Not the tenderness of a big brother; not when she’d known the tenderness of a lover.
He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Off with you.” He gave her a gentle shove toward her wagon.
She paused before she climbed the wooden step and watched as he laid out his bedroll. He left his boots on, she noticed. He settled himself close enough to the fire for warmth, and dropped his hat over his face.
“Night, Luke,” Adam called sleepily from his position under the wagon.
“Night.”
Now here she was with her face buried in a bag of flour, straining to hear his breathing. It was ridiculous. And yet, she swore that she could make it out, beneath the rise and fall of voices, beneath the soft whicker of horses and the rumble of Adam’s snoring. That steady susurrus was him, she was sure of it.
He was out there; only the waterproofed canvas separated them . . .
Alex pressed her face into the flour bag. She was never going to be able to sleep.
* * *
• • •
YET SOMEHOW SHE did. She woke early, before anyone was stirring. Alex figured she could burn the bonds before people started rising at dawn for their morning coffee. She tried to be as silent as possible as she crawled from the wagon. She was awfully stiff from sleeping on those hard boards. She poked her head from beneath the canvas flap and almost screamed to find herself face-to-face with Cranky Bob. And right behind him were the rest of them. Their eyes shone black as oil in the watery predawn light.
“Get,” she hissed. “Go on, get out of here.”
Bob simply snorted at her, and the rest of them didn’t so much as move a muscle. Alex frowned. She wriggled back through the canvas flap and fussed through the supplies, muttering to herself. Victoria moaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket up over her head. “Just another few minutes,” she mumbled.
Poor Victoria. She wasn’t coping too well with the traveling. She was bruised and sore from the jolting of the wagon and always close to tears at the lack of even the most basic amenities. Out of consideration, Alex stopped muttering as she looked for the right sack. The sugar was coarse and brown and full of lumps. She picked out some of the larger lumps and crawled back to the flap. Cautiously sticking her head out, she glared at the mules.
“Is this what you want?” she hissed, showing them the sugar. Cranky Bob bared his teeth. “Fine. Go and get it.” She tossed it away from the wagon. They turned to go after it, but she was certain that Bob gave her a backward look, as though warning her that he couldn’t be bought quite so easily. Lord, how she hated those mules.
She climbed down and crept to the campfire. She could hear Adam snoring, and Luke was still stretched out in his bedroll, although he’d turned on his side and his hat now lay in the dirt. Alex picked it up and placed it gently beside his saddlebags, then headed for the opposite side of the fire so she could check he didn’t wake while she went about her business. She stoked the fire until it was burning neatly, an
d quickly withdrew a few bonds. One by one she fed them into the flames, watching as they ignited, blackened and curled. After she’d burned a handful, she stopped, remembering Dolly’s caution. She raked the coals, searching for unburned fragments. She couldn’t see any, but she’d be sure she was the one to douse the fire later, so she could check the cold remains. Then she’d follow the whore’s advice to the letter, as she had every morning, and bury what was left.
As she worked soft apricot light stained the eastern sky. Alex had never seen sunrises and sunsets like the ones out here on the plains. Some mornings the sun rose soft like this, apricot shading to warm golds; other mornings it blazed pink and orange; while on others the light was garishly red, brassy as a whore. Today streamers of low clouds caught the rising sun, buttery in the apricot wash. On mornings like these, hope stole over Alex with the warm kiss of the sun. Maybe they’d make it all the way to Oregon without ever seeing the Gradys again.
After she’d set a pot of coffee to boil, Alex sat back on her heels and finally allowed herself to examine Luke as he slept. Her heart constricted at the sight of him. He looked younger. The hardness of his jaw had softened in sleep and he didn’t look quite so intimidating. His eyelashes were dark fans on his cheeks, and those incredibly full and enticing lips were slightly parted. The man was too beautiful to be true.
“Good morning.” The whispered greeting just about made Alex jump out of her skin. She’d been so focused on Luke she hadn’t heard footsteps approaching. It was Jane O’Brien. The one person Alex had been desperately avoiding.
Her father watched Alex like a hawk, which was mortifying, but the fact that Ned disapproved only seemed to make Jane like Alex more. She took every opportunity to seek Alex out, and Alex took every opportunity to flee.
“Couldn’t you sleep either?” Jane whispered as she sank down beside Alex. Alex made to rise, but Jane laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Don’t go. We haven’t had a chance to talk since the dance.”
“I think my sister’s calling me.”
“I don’t hear anything.” Jane cocked her head and gave Alex a flirtatious smile.