Noble Savage

by Judith B. Glad

  "I didn't either. Back home we'd be bringing in the livestock about now."

  "Speaking of--" Luke stood, held out his hand for her. "I want to check mine."

  Snagging one last peach from her plate, Katie popped it into her mouth, then licked her fingers clean as she followed him out of the tent. I wish I knew how to make him smile more often. His smile makes me feel happy all the way through.

  The westbound passengers had played cards today, and gossiped, and gotten acquainted. They drew together, sharing childhood stories, talking about 'back home', wherever that was. The only one who hadn't spoken freely of his past was Luke, who'd simply said he'd served in the Union Army throughout the War. She knew he was from Kansas, but not from where or why he'd left.

  Nor had he volunteered why he was headed West. According to her pa, few single men made the journey solely for the sake of land. They were running from something--somebody?--or they were seeking adventure or riches.

  That wasn't important. All that mattered to Katie was that he was here with her.

  She felt him take her hand again, enjoyed the frisson of warmth that went up her arm when he squeezed. But Katie was immersed in her daydreams, and paid little attention to where he was leading her. Perhaps that was why, when he suddenly jerked his hand from hers, she was taken so completely by surprise.

  "Hold him!"

  The voice was out of her nightmares. The painful grip on her upper arm was familiar. Straining against it, Katie twisted until she could see Luke, standing unnaturally tall in the shadow of a pile of ties.

  Behind him loomed a big man, tall and wide. Jammed against Luke's windpipe was a gleaming blade--it looked just like Pa's Bowie knife. Without moving anything but her head, Katie looked back over her shoulder and up into the pale, cold eyes of Hamilton Steens Whitney III. "What do you want?"

  "I think that's rather obvious, Miss Lachlan. I want you to come with me." He jerked his head. "Take him away."

  "What d'ya want me to do with him?" the bruiser said.

  She felt Whitney shrug. "I don't care. Kill him, I suppose."

  As if Luke were nothing but a bug.

  "No! Don't." Moving slowly, Katie slipped her right hand into the pocket of her skirt. "He's done nothing to you. Why kill him?"

  The fingers of Whitney's free hand flicked, as if to rid themselves of something unclean. "Why not? He has been a nuisance to me."

  Although still warm from the heat inside the crew tent, Katie shivered uncontrollably. "Wait. Please!" She made her voice as humble as she knew how. The derringer was caught on something in her pocket. She tugged gently, afraid to move too obviously.

  "You have caused me a great deal of inconvenience, Miss Lachlan. So has he." Again that flick of the fingers. "Take him away. Dispose of him."

  There! "Don't move," Katie snapped at the lackey. "Unless you want your boss shot in the belly." She prodded Whitney's midsection. "Tell him to turn Luke loose," she ordered, "and to drop the knife."

  The fingers on her upper arm tightened, making Katie wince. Her fiddle case fell from nerveless fingers.

  "Careful. I might pull this trigger by accident," she said. Again she prodded. "Tell him!"

  Whitney released her. "Do it." The order was given grudgingly.

  As soon as the bruiser's blade dropped from his throat, Luke pulled free. He kicked the knife away, so that it went skittering across the frozen ground. "Get lost," he said to the bruiser.

  "Mr. Whitney?"

  Whitney nodded. "Go. I shall deal with this."

  The man went. Luke picked up the knife, holding it easily, so it didn't quite touch Whitney's ribs.

  "How'd you get here?" Katie demanded, prodding with her derringer yet again. "You weren't on the train."

  "On the contrary, Miss Lachlan. I rode in the caboose." He smiled. "I believe it was far more comfortable than the public car in which you traveled."

  "How--"

  "Money," Luke rasped, "He's got money, and that'll get him just about anything."

  Just then a train whistle sounded.

  "Tarnation! That's our train, Katie. Quick, give me your scarf!"

  She snatched it from her head and watched Luke loop it around Whitney's wrists. He pulled it tight, knotted it. Then he pushed Whitney away, a good hard shove that sent him reeling out into the darkness. A crash told Katie he had found one of the scattered piles of scrap wood that littered the area.

  "Let's go!" She picked up the fiddle case and ran. Luke was right behind her.

  The train was already moving when they grabbed the bars beside the door and swung aboard.

  Chapter Ten

  "You don't need me," Luke panted as they stood in the vestibule of the railcar. "I should've stayed in Laramie." He wasn't ready to think about what it meant, that she'd been so ready to defend herself. Not yet.

  Katie looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "Yes, but I might next time." She hugged him, the fiddle case whacking him across the shoulders. "If you hadn't been there, I'd have had to contend with the both of them. My hero!" Quickly she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him on the cheek.

  Luke turned his face, caught a bare taste of her mouth before she could pull away. Once more he breathed lilac and springtime, and his gut tightened. "Damn it, woman, what were you thinking of, shoving that toy gun into his belly? He'd have had it away from you in a minute!"

  "No, he wouldn't have. I would have shot him."

  "One shot," he sneered. "That would have stopped him, sure enough."

  "Yes, it would have stopped him, long enough for me to get away, at least."

  "Long enough for you to get killed, you--"

  The door behind Luke opened and he almost fell into the railcar proper. "You folks cut it pretty close," the conductor said as Luke caught his balance. "You get lost or something?"

  "Or something," Luke agreed, pulling Katie inside. "It's like the inside of a deep well out there."

  "Hard to keep lights burning in this wind." The conductor caught his balance as the train jerked forward. "You could've caught up. We're just moving to a siding so a freight can pass us. It's carrying explosives for a tunnel they're trying to get built before winter." Shaking his head, he said, "Sure hope we have a mild one. Where they're working, it wouldn't take much to snow them in good." He led the way up the aisle.

  Katie slipped into an empty seat close to the stove, setting her fiddle case against the window. "When will we get to Green River?"

  "Oh, an hour or so, if the freight don't take too long to lay on coal and water. It's about fifteen minutes behind us right now. We'll let it get that far ahead before we follow."

  "I can't complain," Luke said. "I've had enough of explosives to last me a lifetime."

  "In the War, were you?"

  "I was. Will we be at Green River long enough for me to check my stock?" He should have done that instead of going to eat, but the lure of coffee had been too strong. And he'd looked in on them at Point of Rocks, only about thirty miles back.

  The conductor nodded. "I reckon, if you look sharp." Another passenger, a new one, asked him a question and he turned away. Luke sat down.

  "I don't like this delay," he said, feeling the train sway as they crossed a switch point. "We're too close to town."

  Katie's eyes were dark as she looked up at him. "Do you think he'll try to catch up with us?"

  "He's done it before. And you heard what the conductor said, didn't you? We're gonna sit on a siding for God only knows how long. Whitney could be a hundred miles down the line before we get out of the switchyard."

  He won't though. He's playing with her, like a cat with a wounded bird. "That dude is plumb crazy!"

  Nodding, she said, "I've thought so, too. He's so unpredictable. One minute he's so polite butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, and the next he's acting like a thug." She stood up and dug a hand into her pocket. "Can you get to the gunny sack?"

  With a grunt, he lifted the provisions to his lap.

  "I brou
ght some biscuits," she said, showing him a napkin-wrapped packet. "They taste a lot better than our crackers."

  Luke eyed the napkin. "Stealing from the railroad?"

  "Not a bit of it. I left two bits on the table." The biscuits disappeared into the sack. "Do you want a lemon drop?"

  Luke took one. While he sucked the sweet-sour candy, he looked at the map he'd bought at Laramie. It wasn't very detailed, but it did show a bit of the topography. It looked like they had one more major divide to cross before they got to Evanston, which was as far as passengers were being carried. Now where...? Ah, there it was. Checking the mileage table at the bottom of the map, Luke saw that they had about a hundred twenty miles to go. If the snow didn't slow them too much, they could be there tomorrow morning.

  The rails veered north just past Green River, missing Fort Bridger by quite a ways. Then they cut south across the stage route, not rejoining it again until Evanston. "Maybe we should get off at Green River," he muttered.

  "I thought the conductor said we could ride to Evanston."

  "Well, we can, but if there's trouble, we could have a long walk." He showed her.

  "But we've left him behind." Her tone showed she wasn't entirely certain.

  "Yeah, and we've already been delayed by one derail. What happens if we run into another?" Luke gestured at the window, which now had a lower rim of white, fluffy snow. "Or get stuck?"

  "We won't get stuck. The railroad has snowplows."

  "Ahuh! Well, I hope you're right." He folded the map and put it back in his pocket. "Sure hope we don't sit here too long."

  * * * *

  An hour later they were pulling into Green River, but for all Katie could see, it could have been the moon. Snow swirled around the train, so that the open door of the telegraph office, only a few feet from the side of the train, was hardly visible. As their railcar rolled slowly past it, Katie saw a man step into the rectangle of light. "Luke!"

  "Huh?" He tipped his hat back and yawned. "Oh, we're here. Guess I'd better see to--"

  "It's him again. Whitney!" Her teeth wanted to chatter. Surely it wasn't that cold all of a sudden.

  He pushed past her, peered through the window. "Where? I don't see anybody."

  "Right there--" But there was nobody in the doorway. Even as she watched, the rectangle of light slowly narrowed and disappeared. "I saw him. Honest I did!" This time she had no doubts. The man whose silhouette had filled the doorway was Hamilton Steens Whitney III. Her stomach clenched.

  "You're sure?"

  Katie looked into his eyes, praying he believed her. "He's in there, Luke. He's waiting for us."

  "Well, hell!" He scratched his chin, frowned. "Gather up your gear." Suiting action to words, he tugged his bedroll from under the seat.

  "Come on, Katie! Get moving!" Luke stood up, slinging the bedroll to his shoulder. "Hand me that fiddle case."

  "I can get it. Just a minute." The darned quilt wouldn't stay rolled. No wonder. The last place she'd seen the scarf she usually tied it with was around Whitney's wrists.

  Luke reached. "Then give me the quilt."

  "No, I've got it now. All ready." She tucked the quilt under her arm and handed the gunnysack of food to Luke.

  The train was still moving when they reached the door where the conductor waited. "I thought you folks was goin' on to Evanston?"

  "We are, but we've decided to sleep in the stock car. Can you keep that under your hat?"

  "Well, sure, but--"

  "Just do it," Katie said. "Please." She pressed a five-dollar gold piece in the conductor's hand. "There's a man out there we'd just as soon not meet."

  "Glad to oblige." There was a last shudder, the signal that the train was completely stopped. "Maybe you folks would like to get out this side," the conductor said, opening the door that faced away from the station.

  "Thanks." Luke tossed his gear to the ground, leapt after it. Then he held his arms up for her.

  Katie jumped, knowing he would catch her, fiddle case and all. As soon as her feet were on the ground, he grabbed her hand and half dragged her toward the front of the train. The snow was blowing so wildly that all Katie could see was the dark, moving shape of him ahead of her.

  When he stopped, she almost ran into him. It took him only seconds to slide the door of the stock car open a wide crack. "Here. Give me all that."

  "I can--"

  "Durn it, Katie, give me the consarned fiddle case. I ain't gonna steal it."

  She did, hating the feeling as it left her grasp. Yet she trusted Luke. Would trust him with her life, if necessary. So what difference did it make if he temporarily held everything she owned in his hands?

  In a moment all their possessions were on the floor of the stock car. Luke hoisted himself up and twisted until he was on his knees, leaning out. "Give me your hand."

  Katie did, and gasped as he swung her up. She might have been a feather, for all the notice he took. She scooted past him, pulled their gear farther into the car. Under her knees, straw rustled. Behind her, a soft, questioning nicker came from one of the animals.

  As Luke slid the door closed, all light disappeared from the inside of the stock car. "Have to feel our way," he said. "I don't want to make a light. There's cracks in the walls and somebody could see."

  The temporary stalls were still in place, making moving by touch far easier than it would have been without them. Katie knew she'd found Salome when a soft donkey nose jerked back and was replaced with sharp donkey teeth. She dodged the teeth and gave the cantankerous animal a quick scratch along the muzzle. She was feeling her way past the sorrel gelding's stall when a sudden lurch told her the train was pulling out of Green River.

  Leaving Mr. Mad-as-a....No. there's not anything funny about him. Not any more. Leaving Whitney behind.

  She hoped.

  "Katie?"

  "Here." She made her way along the side of the stalls, heading for where his voice had come from. As she passed Sheba, the friendly donkey nuzzled her gloved hand. "Hey, you honey," she said softly. "You're going to have company tonight."

  Something rustled, a faint sound almost lost in the sound of the wheels as the train gathered speed. "I've made you a bed," Luke said, keeping his voice low. "Over here."

  Groping, she found him, grasped his coat sleeve. Katie let him guide her a few feet, let him push her gently to her knees beside a mound of hay. He had covered it with a gunnysack, probably the one she'd seen lying in a corner of the stock car this morning.

  "Soon as you get laid down, I'll cover you up," he said.

  The hay was soft, and gave the impression of warmth, the way it nestled about her. As she knelt on the resilient mound, she was flooded with a warm swelling of longing. For two days Luke had been beside her. "Where will you sleep?"

  His breath was hot on her cheek as he said, "In the hay bin, probably." He laid the quilt over her.

  Once more she caught his sleeve, by feel, for while her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, he was still little more than a pale shadow against the blackness. "No! Please." Knowing full well what she should do, she decided to go with what she wanted, instead. "Stay with me."

  "Katie, I--"

  "I don't want to be alone, Luke. That's all."

  She could feel the indecision in the way he not-quite pulled his sleeve free from her grasp. "It ain't fittin'."

  "You said you'd protect me." She really didn't want to be apart from him. A little bit of her admitted she needed his strength and his protection. That she'd sleep better with him beside her than clear across the railcar.

  "Just a minute, then." His sleeve pulled free of her clutching fingers and she heard the scuff of his boots. In a moment he was back, dumping an armful of hay beside her bed. With his feet he pushed it all together, widening the bed.

  Again he walked across the railcar. Katie wondered how he could see what he was doing. Whatever it was, it took him several minutes, and disturbed the donkeys while he did it. This time when he returned, it
was to set his bedroll--four feet long, perhaps a foot in diameter--beside her. "Where's your fiddle case?"

  Katie touched it where it sat beside her bed. "Right here. Why?"

  "Hand it here. I want to tie it to my bedroll." As she hesitated, he said, "We might have to hightail it out of here right sudden. I want everything to hand if we do."

  "What about the provisions?"

  "I already packed them and the saddlebags on Lafayette. All we have to do is open the stall and grab his lead line." Lying back, he pulled the edge of the quilt over him.

  Katie suddenly realized how big and how male he was. And how warm.

  "They're already hitched together." He squirmed a little. "Don't untie your boots," he said drowsily, "or unbutton your coat."

  "Are you expecting trouble?"

  Her answer was a soft exhalation. Luke was asleep.

  No wonder. He'd probably not slept well since they'd left Chicago. A week ago? At least. Katie tried to count on her fingers, but found that the nights and days ran together. She couldn't even remember how many nights she'd slept with Luke.

  Slept with Luke! Wait just one minute, here. She'd sat beside him on a railcar seat. She'd even leaned against him once or twice. And last night she'd snuggled back against his chest. She had not shared a bed with him.

  Until now.

  Beside her he was like a stove, radiating warmth. Despite the noise of the rails and the howling of the wind--it must be blowing a gale!--she could hear each rustle and whisper as he moved and breathed.

  The interior of the stock car was colder than the railcar had been, yet Katie was far warmer. She wore wool next her skin, covered by her fine cotton chemise and the calico dress she'd bought from Lizzie. Outside the dress was a shawl crossed over her breasts and her coat--heavy Union blue melton, as warm as a coat could be. Luke must be clad in as many layers. He still wore the dark green wool shirt and the leather vest he'd had on the first time she saw him. His coat was sheepskin, with the fleece inside, where it did some good. The heavy denim of his trousers was probably not as warm as her skirt and petticoat, but under them he undoubtedly wore longjohns as adequate to the conditions as her wool challis camisole and pantalets.