Luke

by Leigh Greenwood

  Luke's brother, Chet, had believed. Maybe it worked for him. Luke didn't know. He hadn't been back to the ranch since he'd left more than fifteen years ago. Chet had been able to escape the curse of their blood. Luke hadn't.

  Which didn't explain why he should suddenly want to save a woman who'd lived an equally useless and selfish life. Valeria used other people without regard for their feelings or well-being. She lived off the toil of others and considered herself more praiseworthy because of it. At least he only used people. He knew he was worse than they were.

  He didn't understand why he should care about this woman's fate. She was beautiful, but he could have all the beautiful women he wanted. He hadn't seen any fine inner character to preserve and liberate. No great intellect, no grand passion to accomplish something, no enduring love lost and longed for. No reason why he should treat her any different from any other woman.

  But he had. He could only assume it was a quirk. Maybe one of Isabelle's lessons was trying to take hold. Yet it didn't really matter why he was acting so uncharacteristically. The job would come to an end and he would leave Valeria to her fate. He would have nothing to do with whether she changed or remained the same.

  Yet he knew that if she didn't change, he would be disappointed. And that in itself was strange. He was never disappointed in people because he never expected anything of them.

  "They've finally stopped washing those damned dishes," Zeke called. "Now we can get some sleep."

  "You shouldn't be close enough to be bothered by the noise," Luke called back.

  "An army troop could ambush us under cover of that racket," Zeke replied.

  Valeria felt as though she hadn't slept at all. She'd asked Elvira to wake her at four o'clock. She'd expected to need at least an hour to get dressed, and it had taken every minute of that time. Bathing from a basin had been difficult enough, but it had been nearly impossible to see anything in the dim light of the one oil lamp Luke allowed them. At home sunlight pouring in through tall windows was supplemented by banks of gaslights, which she preferred to the new electric lights other rulers were putting in their homes.

  The tent had no windows. The air felt heavy and muggy. By the time Elvira had finished helping her dress, Valeria was hot. She was relieved to be able to go outside. The coolness of the night still lingered.

  She laughed to herself when she saw Otto, appearing far from his usually impeccably attired self, hovering impatiently near the table set for breakfast. He caught sight of her and came forward.

  "The chef is furious," he said. "He's threatening to leave."

  "Why?"

  "There was a rattlesnake in one of his pots this morning, and a creature in his shoe that looks something like a shrimp but is called a scorpion and is very poisonous. The driver said it happens all the time. He said we ought to check our shoes every morning before we put them on."

  Another reason to dislike this new land. She knew about snakes. She hadn't known about scorpions.

  Hans emerged looking as nervous and ill put together as Otto. Valeria wondered if he calmed down even during his sleep. He seemed about to jump out of his skin.

  "I'm glad it's almost too dark to see one's hand in front of one's face, your highness," he said to Valeria. "I have no doubt I make as sad an appearance as Otto."

  "I couldn't even shave," Otto complained. "There wasn't enough hot water, and I couldn't see well enough to keep from cutting myself."

  "You'll have plenty of light when we stop at midday," Luke said. "And plenty of water if the river doesn't go underground."

  Valeria jumped. She disliked his habit of seeming to appear out of nowhere. She didn't know how he could walk on this rough ground without making a sound. She had trouble just keeping her feet under her.

  "How can it do that?" she asked. She had made up her mind to learn everything she could about this new country. It was going to be her home, so she might as well get used to it.

  "The riverbed is made up of loose gravel. When there's not much water, there's not enough to fill up all the holes below the surface."

  "Then how do you get water?" Otto asked.

  "You dig for it."

  "Like a well," Valeria said. She knew about wells. There had been an old one in one of the castle gardens.

  "Something like that," Luke said. "Now I suggest you eat your breakfast. Your cook has to wash up and pack everything before he can follow."

  "Why don't you have breakfast with us?" Valeria asked Luke.

  "I've already eaten."

  "What?" Otto asked.

  "Salt pork with biscuits and jam."

  Valeria could tell Otto was about to say that wasn't decent food for anyone, even an American. She'd had enough arguing, especially about things that couldn't be changed. "Then you can have some coffee with us," she said. "And answer our questions."

  Chapter Nine

  "I can't stay long."

  Valeria could tell Luke would have preferred to refuse her invitation. He acted as if he'd accepted as a way to get an unpleasant job done more quickly. Regardless of what might be in his mind, it wasn't flattering. Because of her position and wealth, she was used to having men practically fall over each other to please her. She had been spoiled by attention her whole life.

  "Didn't your cook listen when I said to cut back until he could buy more?" Luke asked.

  "Of course he did," Otto said. "This is barely half what he usually serves."

  The meal consisted of coffee, rolls with butter and jam, eggs cooked with bits of bacon, a goulash made of beef and potatoes, sausages, big chunks of bread, and cheese. To Valeria, whose uncle insisted upon a table loaded with several hot and cold meat dishes, and hot and cold fruit, this looked almost Spartan. "You said we couldn't eat again until evening."

  "Do you plan to eat everything on this table?" Luke asked.

  Valeria wasn't sure what he was asking. It was obvious they couldn't eat it all.

  "The chef prepares food in such quantities that everyone can eat as much as he or she wants of any particular dish," Otto said.

  "But you can leave a dish untouched if you've had enough?" Luke asked.

  "Well, yes."

  "Starting tonight, your cook can prepare what he likes, but there'll only be as much as will be eaten at that meal."

  Hans held Valeria's chair. She sat down with what was perilously close to a plop. "Please be seated," she said. "You, too," she added when Luke appeared to hold back.

  "Don't force him," Otto said. "He probably feels uncomfortable because he's not dressed."

  The fact that he left off the word properly didn't take any sting out of the remark. Valeria's gaze flew from Otto to Luke.

  He surprised her yet again. "I'd be delighted to join you," he said, pulling up a chair next to Otto. "I hope my dirt and stink doesn't put anyone off his food. I didn't bathe this morning. But then it's not unusual for me to go more than a week without taking a bath or changing my clothes."

  Valeria realized he was saying this for Otto, who reacted with horror and disgust just as Luke must have expected. Elvira looked at him as though were some kind of wild animal momentarily allowed to roam among civilized people but who might at any moment revert to his natural state and savage them all. Hans regarded Luke with a kind of wonder Valeria couldn't interpret.

  She wondered how much of what Luke said she could believe. Most of it, probably, but she wouldn't put it past him to enjoy mocking their ignorance and prejudices. And her midnight decision to look at everything American in a different light told her that much of her attitude toward America and Americans was built on ignorance and prejudice.

  "It's not a good idea to shave and splash yourself with perfumed water when you're sleeping out," Luke added. "It attracts insects. They love the sweet smell. You'll be covered with bites. Then there's the wild animals, especially the big ones."

  "What big ones?" Otto asked.

  "Coyotes, wolves sometimes. But it's the cats I worry about."

&n
bsp; "Cats?"

  "Mountain lions," Luke explained. "They mostly live on deer and mountain bighorns, but they love the smell of perfume. It's like a drug. They can hardly keep from coming up to take a sniff or two."

  Valeria knew Luke was deliberately trying to frighten them. He had succeeded with Elvira, who had turned white. She didn't know about Hans. His expression hadn't changed. Otto fidgeted uncomfortably. He doused himself daily with nearly as much scent as a woman.

  "Don't these animals bother you or your brothers?" Valeria asked.

  "Naw. After a couple of days, they're careful to stay upwind of us."

  She couldn't resist. "Should we do the same?" She was so used to anger and scorn from him, the slow rise of one ironic eyebrow surprised her.

  "That's probably a good idea," he said.

  He was daring her not to be afraid of him.

  Determined to test his invitation, she said, "Elvira said one of the drivers told her it's customary for ranch hands to eat at the same table as the owner."

  "Duke Rudolf would never allow that," Otto assured her.

  "That's the custom on most ranches," Luke said, watching Valeria carefully. "Some of the wealthy ranchers have a separate cook and kitchen."

  "I told you," Otto said, relieved that his faith in the absent Duke Rudolf had been restored.

  "Do they bathe regularly?" Valeria asked.

  "No, ma'am. There's not enough water most times. Besides, you get used to the smell after a while."

  The eyebrow rose again, and Valeria repressed a smile. "What's it like to live on a ranch?"

  "For you or the cowhands?" Luke asked.

  She felt herself blush. "Both, I guess."

  "It depends on whether you live on the ranch or live in San Francisco and let a foreman run it." "Assume I have to live on it."

  "Are you going to have servants?"

  Valeria hadn't expected that question. Servants had always been part of her life. She couldn't imagine life without them.

  "Naturally her highness will have a full staff," Hans said. "You can't expect her to do her own cooking."

  It had never occurred to her to wonder what she would do if she were on her own. Nothing about her situation had made that a likely problem. Even deposed royalty had servants. "What would I do if I didn't have servants?"

  "Cook, clean, wash clothes, iron, mend, and do all the ordering of supplies for the household. Probably for the ranch hands, too."

  She didn't know how to do any of that. "Maybe make your own clothes."

  She'd never repaired a rip or replaced a button. "What about the men?" she asked. "Where do they live?"

  "In a bunkhouse. It's a lot like rn.litary barracks."

  "What do they do?"

  "They spend most of their time away from the ranch looking after the cows. In the spring they round up the new calves and brand them. During the summer they make sure the cows can find food and water, doctor them against disease and insects, and try to keep lions and wolves from getting too many calves. In the fall they round up the steers they mean to sell. During the winter they do pretty much what they did during the summer."

  "That sounds a lot like the herders in our country who take the cattle to the mountains for the summer," Hans said.

  "They don't get to come back to the ranch very often," Luke said. "They sleep in the open, do their own cooking over a campfire, and wear the same clothes until they come back to the bunkhouse."

  "You'll have nothing to do with any of that," Otto assured Valeria.

  But she thought she probably would have more to do with it than any of them expected.

  "It'll be dawn shortly," Luke said, getting to his feet. "I've got to talk to your cook." They'd eaten less than half the food on the table. "If he cooks this much food again, I'll have the drivers eat with you. There won't be anything left then."

  He left before Otto could swallow his food and lodge a protest. "You were a fool to hire that man," he said, turning to Hans. "You were an even bigger fool to rehire him."

  "If I hadn't, we'd still be sitting in Bonner."

  "At least we wouldn't be faced with starvation or being pushed about by a petty tyrant."

  "He's doing what he thinks is best for us," Valeria said.

  "Then he's got a peculiar idea of what that is. I'll have to set him straight."

  "Don't say anything," Valeria said. "He dislikes us enough as it is."

  "He's a servant, your highness," Otto objected. "He has no right to dislike you or disapprove of anything you choose to do. If we were in Belgravia, I'd have him before the firing squad."

  "Maybe that's one of the reasons we're no longer the rulers of Belgravia; people like you and my uncle put too many people in front of the firing squad."

  "We didn't send enough," Otto replied. "Next time-"

  "There won't be a next time. We're fortunate to have enough money to reestablish ourselves. We should begin to learn American ways, to forget our old life."

  "I can never forget it," Otto said.

  Valeria was afraid she couldn't, either. But she could do many things in America she couldn't do in Belgravia. Maybe she wouldn't miss her old life so much after all.

  A deep, male voice dragged Valeria from a sound sleep. She couldn't imagine who it might be. And no one, man or woman, would have dared to rouse her with a peremptory call to, "Wake up! You've got one hour to get dressed!" Nor would anyone have spoken to her like she was a kitchen maid. She had to be dreaming.

  Then she came fully awake. The heat and the stuffiness, the smell of bodies too closely confined, told her immediately she wasn't in her spacious bedchamber at home but in a tent in the middle of the hostile Arizona desert, traveling to a destination equally unfamiliar. Luke Attmore stood outside her tent demanding in his mocking

  voice that she get ready in a hurry so she wouldn't hold him up. She considered reminding him that she was the one whose arrival was of importance. If she didn't mind a leisurely journey, he shouldn't.

  But she didn't. Luke had made it abundantly clear that while he was responsible for her safety, he made the rules.

  Valeria threw back the covers. "Wake up, Elvira," she called. "Mr. Attmore is on the prowl again."

  Elvira had compared him to a caged lion, always pacing back and forth, unhappy with his bondage but unable to leave. She decided it was an apt description. There was something of the lion about him-his blond hair, powerful shoulders, athletic body. His roar of disapproval.

  "What time is it?" Elvira moaned.

  "It doesn't matter. We've got to get dressed." She got out of bed, fumbled in the dark for the lamp, a match to light it.

  "I'll do that," Elvira said, sounding sleepy and guilty for not performing her duties.

  "It's time I started doing things for myself," Valeria said.

  "Duke Rudolf would never allow it," Elvira said, scrambling to lay out Valeria's clothes.

  Valeria doubted Rudolf could change the habits of a whole country no matter how much he wanted to. Valeria looked at the dress Elvira had taken out for her to wear. "Don't I have something less elaborate?

  Something like one of your dresses."

  "No, your highness." "Not even a day dress?"

  "You gave those away after your uncle announced your engagement."

  Her uncle had wanted her to look splendid at all times.

  "How about one of your dresses? We're about the same size."

  "Your uncle would be scandalized."

  "My uncle won't know, and I'm tired of being so hot. Besides, if I wear all my best clothes in this dirt and heat, they'll be ruined before I reach the ranch." They agreed that for the rest of journey, they would share clothes. Valeria also reduced her petticoats by three. "I'm no longer in a palace. It's not necessary that I wear enough petticoats to fill a doorway."

  She saved more time by adopting a simple hairstyle that required only brushing before pinning her hair on top of her head. "Anything to get it off my shoulders."

 
She left the tent in thirty minutes, half the time she'd taken the day before. She felt rushed and thrown together, uncertain whether her appearance would be acceptable or incite laughter. She had her reward in Luke's look of surprise.

  "Did Elvira throw you out?" he asked.

  The man had a peculiar sense of humor. Maids didn't throw princesses out of their own bedchambers. Even if that bedchamber was nothing but a tent.

  "I don't want to be guilty of wasting your time," she said. "I intend to learn to dress as quickly as you."

  "Then you'll have to sleep in your clothes."

  Valeria didn't think she could do that, not even to earn a smile like the one he gave her now. Which was just as well considering how silly she was being. She started casting about in her mind for more ways to make him smile, ways to get dressed faster, eat less, anything to earn his approval.

  She told herself not to be foolish, that a princess didn't seek the approval of ordinary people, but she didn't feel Luke was in the least ordinary. She felt he had been created on a grander scale than anyone she knew. She was the one who felt inferior, and that was an unfamiliar and unsettling sensation.

  "Would you like to have breakfast with us?"

  There was no sign of the table or of her breakfast.

  "Your cook doesn't seem to be able to get himself organized as quickly as you."

  Valeria hadn't thought of that. She was used to everything being ready when she was.

  "Then I'll take a walk."

  "Where?"

  "Down to the river. Maybe over to one of those hills. I imagine the view from there is wonderful."

  "You're welcome to walk to the river, but watch out for animals coming down for their morning drink. You can't walk to that hill. It's about eight miles away. Your clothes would be torn to ribbons, your shoes cut to pieces."

  "Then I'll ride."

  "I don't have time to take you, and I can't spare anyone."