by Tess LeSue
Luke had gone to see Amelia. Had sat in the parlor with her, on that plush little love seat by the window, sipping her mother’s overly sweet tea and nibbling at those dainty little cakes they had that seemed to fall apart in his big hands. He’d listened to Amelia chatter, filling him in on the local gossip, and he’d meant to ask her again, he really had. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
She’d seemed like a complete stranger.
He’d looked at her as though he’d never seen her before. He’d never noticed how fine and straight her dark hair was, without even the slightest hint of a curl, or how close together her brown eyes were, or how narrow her upper lip was. He’d never noticed how high and clear her voice was, without even a hint of huskiness. And she was so little. All fine-boned and delicate. Instinctively he knew that if he pulled her hard against him he would feel the jut of her hipbones. Amelia was small and sweet, and breakable.
He left feeling very mixed-up. He rode the familiar trails of the lower Cascades until both he and Isis were exhausted, and returned home feeling empty and strange.
As he and Tom rode up to the Harding place for the Sunday service he felt the same mixed-up feeling rising behind his breastbone.
“Luke!” Pam Cressley yipped when she caught sight of him. Beside her, Johanna Sprat and Mary Tonkin waved enthusiastically.
Tom noticed that every one of the local women, the married ones as well as the maids, had dressed in their best today. Word had obviously got around that Luke was back.
“More people than usual today,” Tom drawled as he joined Matt by the porch. Matt was slouching and looking surly. His unkempt beard reached halfway down his chest and looked like it could comfortably accommodate half a dozen birds’ nests. Matt looked like the roughest of mountain men, but Tom knew it was mostly for Luke’s benefit. Matt would paint his face green and dance naked on Courthouse Rock if he thought it would annoy Luke.
They watched as a flock formed around their brother. Matt snorted. “Look at him. Happy as a pig in mud.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tom said thoughtfully. “Haven’t you noticed how ornery he’s been since he got back?”
“Luke’s always ornery.”
“Only around you, little brother,” Tom laughed. “Seriously, look. When have you ever noticed him be ornery around a flock of women?”
Matt looked. Luke’s smile was thin and tight. In fact, he seemed to be trying to get away. “Maybe it’s because Curt Loughlin proposed to Amelia,” he said with a dismissive shrug. He didn’t really care why Luke did the things he did.
“He did?” Tom said, surprised. “I wonder why.”
“She’s the prettiest girl around, Tom,” Matt told him with a measure of exasperation. Tom didn’t seem to notice girls at all. Matt didn’t understand it; the girls seemed to think Tom was good-looking—he came a close second to Luke, anyway—and he was a happy, genial sort. But women lost interest the minute they saw that he didn’t really care for them. Tom’s whole world was his damn ranching. All he was interested in was driving his herds down to California.
Tom’s gaze searched Amelia out curiously. “I guess she’s pretty enough.”
“Well, who would you say is prettier?”
Tom was able to answer that question a couple of hours later when he and Matt returned home, leaving Luke to have dinner with the Hardings. There, waiting on their front porch, was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his life.
She wasn’t just pretty, she was breathtaking. So beautiful he would have sold every last head of cattle he owned just to know her name.
* * *
• • •
ALEX’S HEART PLUMMETED when she saw that it wasn’t Luke. From a distance she’d thought it was him and her heart had lodged in her throat. “Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked nervously as she watched the two men approach. One was as big and dark as Luke, riding a hardy-looking brown-and-white speckled horse. The other looked as wild and frightening as Jim Bridger, and seemed about to break the back of a tired old donkey.
“According to Luke’s directions,” Ned assured her.
Alex had her doubts. The house was so pretty. It was a large two-storied house with a long porch. It even had a porch swing and lace curtains at the windows. There was wild honeysuckle growing up the posts, and a few hardy sweetbriar roses were still flowering by the stairs. Not too far in the distance Alex could see the Cascade Range rising above wooded slopes of pine and fir, maple, mountain ash, hemlock and a dozen other kinds of tree she couldn’t name. Every window of the house would have a perfect view of this bountiful Eden. Had he built this place for Arnelle Hardnose?
The two strange men came to a halt directly in front of her and Alex fixed a smile on her face. They were staring at her like they’d never seen a woman before. She fiddled nervously with her skirts and wished she’d changed into her best pink-flowered dress. She’d just about worn this gray to death and she was painfully aware of its stained hem and frayed cuffs.
“Good afternoon,” she said politely, wincing under their stares. Now that she could see them properly she knew very well who they were. There was no mistaking their resemblance to Luke. What had he told them about her? They were looking at her like she had two heads. “I hope you don’t mind us intruding,” she blathered on, blushing as they remained silent. “It’s just that my brother has run away, and we assumed that he would come here, because of Blackie.”
“Blackie?” the scruffy mountain man rumbled, his bushy eyebrows drawing together.
“The horse,” she stammered, blushing more than ever. Oh God, he’d told them everything; she just knew he’d told them everything. “The Arab.”
“The Arab?” The one who looked the most like Luke fixed her with his intense eyes. Eyes that were green, she noticed with surprise, and not like Luke’s at all.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Alexandra,” she said through numb lips. “Alexandra Barratt.” She could tell by their faces that they had no idea who she was. Alex wanted to sink through the floorboards of the porch. This was worse than if he’d told them everything. Luke hadn’t mentioned her at all. She’d ceased to exist for him.
“Alex!” Stephen’s voice rang across the yard. “I found him!”
Forgetting about the Slater brothers, Alex tore down the steps and across the yard. Her bonnet flew from her head and they watched her gold-streaked curls bounce as she ran.
“Who is she?” Matt asked admiringly.
“I saw her first!” Tom was off the paint in a second.
“Hell, you did!” Matt was close on his heels.
When they burst into the barn they found her wrapped around a large youth. A large youth who was wrapped around Luke’s Arab. Next to them stood a thin, ascetic-looking man, who was pulling nervously on a narrow mustache.
“Don’t you ever do that again!” the beauty was shouting, as she rained kisses on the squirming youth.
“Go away!” the youth bellowed. “I’m staying here with Luke. I’m going to help him with his horses.”
“You know Luke?” Tom blurted, his heart sinking. Hell. There went his chances with her.
But the beauty was too busy shouting to notice him. “Luke said no,” she was yelling.
“I’m dreadfully sorry,” the nervous man apologized, approaching the Slater brothers. They eyed him. He couldn’t be her husband, surely? “I’m afraid she was very upset when Adam disappeared.”
“And you are?” Tom asked.
“Stephen Sparrow,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m a pastor. From Amory.”
“Amory? Never heard of it.” Sparrow. She’d said her name was Barratt. So he wasn’t her husband. Tom brightened and shook his hand enthusiastically.
“It’s just up the valley, north of Oregon City.” The pastor wilted a little. “I’m afraid it
hasn’t turned out quite as I expected. I only have a congregation of two, sometimes not even that if they decide to go trapping.” He sighed. “I’m afraid my sisters were awfully disappointed. They seem to have their hearts set on somewhere a little more civilized.”
Sisters! So there was another one somewhere. Tom’s green eyes gleamed as he imagined finding a way to foist the sister on Matt so he could have the beauty all to himself. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “we don’t have a real preacher around here. Our mayor does a reading on Sundays. That’s where we’ve come from. You’d be a mighty welcome addition to Utopia.”
While Tom was busy with the preacher, Matt took the opportunity to approach Alexandra. “I’m staying!” Adam was still bellowing as Alex tried to pry him away from the Arab.
“You can’t.”
“I will!”
“You won’t!”
“You know,” Matt interrupted them, “that horse ain’t had his oats yet. I reckon your shouting might be making him hungry.”
Alex jumped, embarrassed, and turned to find herself staring into a pair of golden-brown eyes. She was astonished that such an unattractive man could have such beautiful eyes.
“Why don’t you let the boy feed him, and we can go in the house and talk this over?” Matt’s voice was warm and friendly. “We’d be mighty pleased to have you join us for Sunday dinner.”
“Oh, we couldn’t,” Alex protested.
“Sure you could,” the man with the beautiful eyes insisted.
“No, really. There are too many of us.”
“Three extra mouths won’t be any trouble.”
“Eight,” Alex mumbled.
“Pardon?”
“There are five more in the covered wagon by your porch,” she said sheepishly.
“The more the merrier.”
“Right,” Tom announced, clapping his hands and approaching them. “I’ve settled it with Pastor Sparrow here. You’ll stay with us until you get some land of your own.”
“What?” Alex gasped, appalled.
“We need a pastor, and he tells me that you and your lovely sister were unhappy in the wilderness. Utopia isn’t quite Oregon City, but we’re growing fast. We have a store and a mill, and our own telegraph office. We have a congregation even, although we have no minister.”
Alex was speechless. She turned huge eyes on her brother, but Stephen looked almost as bewildered as she felt. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but somehow in the course of the conversation he’d been employed as the town minister. He’d even shaken hands on it.
“I’m afraid we don’t have a hotel,” Tom was plowing on, “or even a boarding house, but we’d be thrilled to have you stay with us. Wouldn’t we, Matt?”
“Thrilled,” Matt agreed, his eyes twinkling at the thought of spending the winter under the same roof as Miss Barratt.
“We won’t be able to start building you your own place until the snows melt next spring,” Tom said apologetically, “but as you can see it’s a big house, so we should manage here just fine for the winter.”
“Our brother plans to fill it with kids,” Matt added. “He built six bedrooms.”
“If Matt and I move up to the attic we should all fit quite comfortably. And respectably,” he qualified, “as your brothers can chaperone you.”
Alex stared into the beaming faces of Luke’s brothers and felt her stomach twist. Oh heavens . . . “We can’t,” she blurted, at the exact moment that Adam yelled, “We’d love to!”
“There you go,” Tom said, clapping his hands again. “It’s settled. How about we welcome our new pastor with a nice Sunday roast? I put the joint on before we left this morning and there should be enough.”
Alex let herself be herded up the stairs, her head spinning. What had just happened?
38
LUKE SAT THROUGH the service sitting on the love seat by Amelia’s side. He sat awhile on the porch with her afterward, sipping her mother’s too-sweet lemonade. He sat opposite her at her parents’ lace-covered dining table. And he took her on a brief stroll around the garden before he left.
He had every opportunity in the world to ask her to marry him. But he didn’t. There were times when the moment was right, when she seemed to pause as though expecting it, but he stayed silent. And when he left he didn’t even try to kiss her. He simply tipped his hat, mounted Isis and left. He tried not to think about why this was.
By the time he arrived home, the sun had dropped behind the ranges to the west and the valley was blue and shadowed. The leaves were in color, glowing like orange and gold coals in the twilight, and the air had a chill. Soon it would snow and he would be facing another long winter, alone in his cold bed. He needed a wife.
Next Sunday, he decided, he would ask her next Sunday.
He took his time with Isis, giving her a thorough grooming, not looking forward to going inside and facing Tom’s teasing. He noticed regretfully that his brothers had already fed the horses. He wished he could have had the excuse to linger outside a little longer. On his way out of the barn he noticed the oxen and mules. He frowned.
When he emerged he saw the O’Brien wagon, parked beneath the big old beech tree. He felt a wave of relief. Thank God, Ned was here . . . that should keep his brothers from needling him about Amelia.
As he approached the house he noticed Matt at the woodpile, gathering an armful of wood for the stove. Luke stopped dead, his mouth open in shock. “What happened to you?” Luke didn’t remember the last time he’d seen Matt without his beard. Actually, he had a funny feeling that Matt had never shaved; from the minute his whiskers grew he just let them keep on growing. Staring at the smooth planes of his little brother’s clean-shaven face, Luke was astonished. He’d had no idea Matt was so handsome. He looked like their father—the same long straight nose, the same hollow cheeks, the same cupid’s-bow mouth. Now that he’d shaved, even his longish hair didn’t look so bad. Partly because it was clean, Luke thought, with another shock. So clean it shone in the lamplight falling through the windows.
“What do you mean?” Matt replied with studied nonchalance.
Luke approached him, unable to tear his eyes away. “I mean, what the hell happened?”
“I shaved,” Matt snapped, flushing.
“Why?”
“Felt like it.”
The sound of laughter drifted through the partly open kitchen door and Luke remembered Ned. “You’ve been taking care of the O’Briens?”
“They had dinner with us,” Matt said, grinning.
Luke blinked. He didn’t remember the last time his little brother had grinned at him either. His teeth were straight and white. Luke felt disoriented. What on earth had happened around here in the last few hours?
Luke pushed the door open.
And felt time stop.
His kitchen was crammed with people, but he only saw one clearly. She was sitting by the stove, her face flushed from the heat, her eyes sparkling. Her still-short hair curled around her face and shone with golden lights. She was wearing that dress, the gray one, the one that made her skin look like fresh cream and her eyes glow, the one that clung to the curves of her breasts and hugged her small waist. She was laughing. He’d never seen her laugh. Not like this. He’d seen the boy-Alex laugh, but he’d never seen this woman laugh. The sound was low and husky and sent shivers down his spine.
His gaze charged the air between them like a lightning storm, and she lifted her eyes. Luke felt his stomach drop, like he was falling from a great height. Her eyes were like rain, like thunderclouds, like floodwater, like smoke. They were every shade of gray in creation.
One by one they fell silent as they noticed Luke in the doorway. “Luke,” Tom greeted him jovially, “some friends of yours dropped by.”
“So I see.”
Alex winced and looked away. She felt sick
to her stomach. He didn’t look happy to see her. She’d known he wouldn’t be, but some fool part of her had hoped . . . Dear Lord, how would he react when he found out she was going to be living with him? He might well kill her, she thought nervously.
“How did it go with Amelia?” Tom’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife through butter. Her gaze flew back to Luke. Had he finally asked Aurelia Hardwig to marry him? Had she said yes?
“Excuse me,” she muttered, rising from the table, pretending she needed the conveniences. She couldn’t sit here and listen to him talk about Arnelle. She was grateful for the cold air on her burning skin as she stepped outside. She took a deep breath.
For the sake of appearances, she made for the outhouse that was hidden among a small cluster of juniper bushes. She walked around in circles for a while, not wanting to go back inside. The daylight had faded and the blue twilight was becoming purple night. Squares of yellow light fell through the windows onto the porch. It was such a beautiful house. Homely. Welcoming. Built for another woman. Alex sighed. She supposed she couldn’t stay out here forever.
She heard the click of a door and jumped. Someone was coming. She darted around to the front of the house, thinking to enter through the parlor door, in order to avoid whoever it was. She had a horrible feeling it might be Luke coming to wring her neck.
She flew up the stairs. And straight into a dreadfully familiar wall of muscle.
Luke had left through the front door. He was too furious to speak and didn’t want to run into the witch on her way back from the outhouse. He had every intention of saddling Isis and making for the saloon in town.
But the minute he opened the door he was hit by an armful of soft, trembling female. Once again, he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. He thought he’d learned not to do that on the torturous trip from Three Island Crossing to Oregon City. The minute he met her swirling gray eyes he was witless. When she’d careened into him his natural impulse had been to grab hold of her, and now he found his hands cupped around her shoulders, his thumbs mere inches from the swell of her breasts. He could feel her legs and thighs brush against him as she jerked sharply backward. His hands tightened on her shoulders. He could smell soap, something light and floral, and, underneath, a scent that was uniquely hers.