by Sara Orwig
“She was until a few minutes ago,” he said, his sense of loss returning. “I don’t think she’s happy,” he said quietly. He turned and left the kitchen then searched through the house.
“Jeddy, have you seen your sister?” Luke asked, thrusting his head through Jeddy’s open door.
“No, sir. I thought you two were together. Dolorita said you were together and not to bother you.”
“We were together, but we’re not now.”
Jeddy’s head went back to his book, and Luke continued searching each room. He returned to the kitchen, crossing the room to get his coat and hat. “She’s not in the house. Did you see her ride away?”
“No, sir.” Dolorita frowned as he jammed his hat on his head and left. Luke hurried to the barn and saw Honor’s horse in a stall. He scratched his head, his gaze going out the door to the hill beyond. Suddenly he strode through the barn and into the wind, pulling his hat brim down low.
Sixteen
Honor pulled her cloak more closely around her as she sat on the dried grass beside her father’s grave. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth, gazing into the distance while tears spilled over her cheeks.
“Oh, Pa, why did you bind us into this marriage?” she whispered, wiping her eyes, finding no solace on the lonely hillside and knowing she should get up and go back to the house before Luke missed her and came searching for her.
She scooped up a bit of dirt and let it run through her fingers. The H Bar R, the Roth land. That was all she had and would ever have. She stood up and wiped her eyes with her fingers, straightening her shoulders. She caught up her cloak to search inside one of the deep pockets to withdraw a linen handkerchief and wipe her eyes.
Without a glance back at the graves, she turned away, heading toward the house. She walked down the hill and met Luke striding toward her, his green eyes mirroring her stormy feelings.
“Get out of my way,” she snapped. “The marriage is consummated and the H Bar R is saved, so make certain you stay out of my bed, Luke McCloud!”
His eyes darkened, his brows drawing together in a fierce look. She brushed past him, her back tingling because she half expected him to try to stop her. She walked away, her footsteps making swishing sounds in the dry grass, the wind whistling across the hills and catching her black cloak to blow it away from her legs.
Luke clenched his fists, fighting everything in him that wanted to go pick her up, carry her inside, and banish all her anger. But deep in his heart he knew he had to let her go, and her own anger would insulate her from hurt.
There was nothing to shield his own heart, and he hurt more than he ever had in his life. For the first time he realized how deep his love for Honor ran. He gazed across the hill and pondered again if there was any way to turn himself in and take a chance he wouldn’t hang—yet he would have to go back to Missouri, stand trial, perhaps spend years in prison.
He turned to stare after Honor, knowing that because he loved her, he would have to let her go out of his life. They would stay beneath the same roof, but he suspected he would see little of her, and after six months, he could move to the bunkhouse and leave her alone except for running the H Bar R.
He glanced at the two graves on the hill, one a friend, the other a man who had complicated Luke’s life and changed it forever because now Luke knew he would love Honor Roth until his dying day.
He swore and headed slowly back toward the house, mounting up without breakfast, all his appetite gone as he turned his horse and headed across the H Bar R, hoping he could lose himself in work.
That night dinner was eaten with both of them listening to Jeddy talk about the book he was reading. As soon as supper was over, Honor excused herself and disappeared into her room. Jeddy settled with a book in the library and Luke pulled out a ledger to bring ranch business up-to-date. Numbers blurred in front of his vision, and he realized he had added a column of figures wrong. He did it two more times and tossed down his pen in disgust.
“I’m going out,” he told Jeddy, walking through the quiet kitchen to get his hat and coat. He began to leave the house, then stopped to lift his gunbelt off a hook and fasten it around his hips. Striding to the barn, he saddled the bay, knowing he shouldn’t ride far alone, yet wishing he would encounter Rake Acheson without twenty other men. How he would like to meet him on his own. The horse’s hoofbeats were a quiet rhythm as Luke headed away from the house. A light burned in one window of Dolorita’s small house, and light spilled out of the bunkhouse.
In minutes Luke wound into the darkness, hearing the soft whisper of wind through the trees. His thoughts drifted to Honor and he remembered only twenty-four hours earlier their night of love that would bind his heart to her forever. He thought about her supple body in his arms, her intense response to the slightest caress. In minutes Luke was lost in thought, riding farther and farther from the house.
He didn’t realize how far he had gone until he heard the bawl of a steer. It was distant, carrying in the quiet of the night, but it had been an animal in trouble. He reined in and frowned, glancing around. He looked at the cloudy sky, the moon hidden by a thick layer of clouds, and he wondered where he was and how far he had ridden. Turning his horse, he headed south in the direction he had heard the steer.
For a few minutes the only sounds were those of his horse moving through brush, but then he heard the deep voice of a man yelling something, and a cold fury filled Luke. He urged the bay forward, following the noise.
Changing directions he headed toward Rim Creek. As the sound of men and horses grew louder, he guessed someone was stealing H Bar R steers.
Luke knew he would be helpless to stop it unless he rode back for more men. And by the time he got help, the thieves and steers would be gone.
“Get ’em clear, boys!” a deep voice bellowed.
Luke recognized that voice, and rage burst inside him. He had promised Horace Roth he wouldn’t take the law into his own hands. But now he was on his own property, and he had a legal right to shoot anyone caught stealing H Bar R livestock, and that voice had been Rake Acheson’s!
Luke kicked the bay’s sides and leaned over it, quickly moving forward. He topped a hill and saw six men on horseback driving steers ahead of them. In seconds Luke recognized Acheson’s broad shoulders. Without stopping to think, Luke flicked the reins and yanked up his pistol. Giving as good a Rebel yell as he had heard in battle from the enemy, he fired while riding down on them.
“Let’s go!” Acheson shouted, leaning over his horse, cattle forgotten. Luke fired, and a man toppled from the saddle and another slumped over his horse, a man taking the reins to lead the horse behind him as the thieves galloped away. Men fired at Luke, who raced recklessly after them. Luke fired and another man slumped and fell from the saddle.
He galloped after them across Rim Creek and then realized he was on Acheson’s property, his steers milling behind him. Waving his hat and shouting, firing his revolver and hoping he sounded like half a dozen men, Luke turned the beeves, heading them back toward H Bar R land. The beeves splashed back across the creek, spreading out, then charging off into the brush.
Luke reined in and dismounted to kneel beside one body. The man was dead. He heaved the body across the back of his horse and waved his hat at the cattle, driving the remaining ones north. In minutes he spotted the next body and stopped. The man was dead, and Luke placed that body beside the first one, mounting up and going slowly, but wanting to take the bodies back before Acheson’s men slipped over in darkness to claim them.
In a short time, he saw a rider approach, the red tip of a cheroot glowing in the dark.
“I thought I heard gunfire,” Dusty said. “Trouble?”
“You have ears like a wolf. Damn, I don’t know how you could have heard us since I was clear down at the creek.”
“Looks like you met trouble. Or someone did,” he added dryly.
“Acheson and his men were trying to steal our cattle. I took after them.”
“All by yourself?”
“It was dark. They didn’t know only one man was after them. If they had, I would have been the body across the horse. Our steers are back there—”
He broke off as he heard a rider approach. “Boss?”
Recognizing Hank’s voice, Luke called out. “Over here.”
Hank appeared, reining beside them. “I was at the line shack and heard shots.”
“Acheson and his men were trying to run some of our beeves across Rim Creek. I’ll take the bodies home, Dusty. You and Hank get the herd back to a range away from there.”
“Sure, Boss,” Dusty answered easily.
“You two get those fellows?” Hank asked.
“I did,” Luke answered quietly, knowing he had done something foolhardy, but glad he hadn’t let Acheson take the steers. “I wish it had been Acheson.”
“We all do,” Dusty said.
“Dusty, when you get back to the house, I want about four men to ride with me to take these carcasses to the marshal tomorrow. I’m through dealing with Branigan.”
“Good. Sorry I wasn’t along.”
Luke turned to ride home. At the corral he reined in and dismounted, while Will emerged from the bunkhouse. “I thought I heard someone out here,” he said.
“We had some trouble. Acheson’s men tried to steal our beeves.”
“Damn bastard thinks he can get away with anything!”
“Dusty and Hank are driving the herd back to one of our ranges. As soon as sun’s up, you can go with me to take these bodies to the marshal. I’m going to need some protection to get past Acheson’s place.”
Will walked over to tug the bodies from the horse and let them fall on the ground. He turned one over with his toe. “Sly Whittaker. Good riddance.” Luke dimly remembered Maizie talking about a troublemaker named Sly, but he didn’t know the man personally. Will moved to the other one. “Stomp Peters. I imagine he’s the one who worked you over. That’s where he gets the name Stomp. I don’t know what his real name is. Well, the world is better off without these two. Too bad Boss and Enrique don’t know. I think they’d both be pleased.”
“I wish I could have caught Acheson,” Luke said, staring into the darkness as he unsaddled his horse.
“I’ll see that the bodies are loaded on horses.”
“Thanks Will.”
Luke cooled down the bay, then unsaddled and brushed his horse. When he was finished tending the animal, he leaned against the corral fence to light a cheroot and stood smoking, glancing at Honor’s darkened windows and thinking about her asleep.
In a while he heard hoofbeats and he waited until Dusty appeared and dismounted. “The beeves are back where they belong. Damn that Acheson,” Dusty said quietly. He unsaddled his horse, leading him into the corral and swinging shut the gate behind him. He turned to look at Luke.
“I didn’t expect to find you out riding in the night.”
“Dusty,” Luke paused, knowing there was nothing Dusty could do to help him. “If anything ever happens to me, you’ll take care of Honor, won’t you?”
“Yes, I will,” Dusty answered solemnly, still staring at Luke. “You expecting trouble?”
“No, but it’s a possibility. Stanton is applying for guardianship.”
“He can’t do that if you’re her husband.”
“That’s right. He won’t succeed.”
“Luke”—Dusty paused and placed his hands on his hips—“a man’s past is his own business—most of the time. When you came west, did you leave a wife behind?”
Luke knew Dusty would never have pried into his life except to protect Honor, so he felt no animosity because of the question. He shook his head. “Honor is the only wife I’ve ever had or ever will have.” He weighed his choices and gazed back at Dusty while the silence grew between them. “Dusty, I committed a crime back home,” Luke said, confessing for the first time since he had fled Missouri because he had never trusted anyone before or felt the need to explain his actions. “At any time a bounty hunter or lawman may recognize me, and I’ll be taken in. If that happens, you see to Honor.”
“We’re in a damned remote place. Most men leave their pasts behind when they come to Texas, and they never have to look back.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Luke said. “Bounty hunters want the reward, so they keep looking.” He turned to walk toward the house. “See you in the morning.”
He stopped at the pump to wash his hands, then strode inside. His jaw was set grimly as he entered and closed the door. He pulled off his hat and coat and crossed the room to pull down the hanging lamp and light it. He poured a glass of brandy and sat down at the table to clean his revolver, working carefully.
He heard the faintest rustle and smelled the scent of roses. Honor moved into the doorway, a puzzled frown on her face. “Is something wrong?”
She wore her wrapper pulled to her chin and tightly belted around her middle, her long hair cascading behind her shoulders. He drew a deep breath because he wanted to pull her into his arms and devour her with kisses. He wanted her love and eagerness and softness as he had had last night. Only twenty-four hours ago, and yet it already seemed to be receding into the past. His gaze went down over the wrapper, seeing her without it, remembering her tan and rosy body, her dark hair, her silken skin. His gaze met hers and she inhaled, her lips parting.
“I’m going to bed,” she said abruptly, turning away.
“Acheson was trying to steal our cattle.”
She spun around, her gaze going beyond him to the door. “How did you know that when you were here?”
“I wasn’t here.” He pushed out a chair with the toe of his boot. “Sit down, Honor. I won’t touch you.”
She flushed and raised her chin, walking to the chair as if she were approaching a chained lion. She sat down gingerly, her back as straight as the chair.
“Want some brandy?”
“No, thank you,” she said in a voice that faintly reminded him of Lavinia.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went out and was riding around aimlessly. My thoughts were elsewhere,” he said, cleaning the inside of the barrel of the revolver, studying it and finally glancing at her.
Her lips thinned, and she looked away from him. “And?”
“I didn’t realize where I was riding or how far I had ridden, but I heard a man yell and I heard some cattle. I moved toward the noise, and they were almost to Rim Creek. There were six men, and one of them was Acheson. I recognized his voice.”
“Oh, Luke,” she exclaimed, suddenly losing her coldness. “Do you think we can have him arrested?”
“No, Honor, because it’s still just my word against his. I don’t have any witnesses.”
She looked crestfallen, but then she seemed to remember the conversation. “Did they get our cattle?”
“No. I rode on them, and they didn’t know if it was one man or several. They were almost to their land and they fled. I killed two of them.”
“They’ll think twice about coming after our cattle!” she exclaimed with satisfaction, and he looked up at her.
“You sound like your father.”
“Well, they were stealing from us.” She slanted him a look and bit her lower lip, her fingers playing with a lock of her hair. “You took a terrible risk.”
“I suspect,” he said, putting away his cleaning rag and turning the chamber of his revolver, “if you had ridden on them all by yourself, you would have done exactly the same thing I did,” he finished dryly.
“I don’t know,” she answered primly, “but I’m glad you did! Now what will you do?”
“I’m taking four men with me in the morning, and we’ll take the bodies to Marshal Weitzman. I’m not dealing with that two-bit sheriff any longer.”
She stood up, and he looked up at her. “I’m glad you did that, Luke.” She turned and walked away, her back straight, her long hair swinging slightly with each step. He watched her go, longing to stop her, thinking about her Comanche heritage
and knowing if she had been raised to ride with her mother’s people, she would have done well. She had the strength and intelligence to cope with problems, and she took to horses and animals and the land as if there was a bond between them and her.
The next day he left shortly after dawn, Jeddy running to the barn ahead of him, excited at the prospect of seeing Judge Tolliver. Luke noticed how short Jeddy’s pants looked and realized the boy was growing fast and was going to be as tall as Horace Roth. He was already almost as tall as Honor.
Luke mounted up, the men joined him, and they left. As they wound down the lane past the house, Luke glanced at the curtained windows on the west corner, imagining Honor in bed, warm and tousled, her hair fanning over the pillows and covers. He pulled his thoughts away from her, back to the business at hand, keeping a sharp watch. Until they were miles past the Acheson land, he expected an attack.
After dropping Jeddy off at the judge’s office, Luke went to find the marshal. Marshal Weitzman said there was still little he could do because there would be no way to prove who had acted with the two dead men, but he said he would work on it. Luke left the bodies with him and, before he left town, stopped at the silversmith’s. He had a necklace made for Honor, even though he suspected she would fling it back in his face.
The four men rode home, nearing the Acheson land after sundown. Luke’s skin prickled and he kept his rifle in hand, yet they rode home undisturbed. It was dark, and supper was over when he entered the house. Honor was in her room, and he longed to be with her. Feeling a pang of disappointment and loss, he again wondered whether he should toss aside caution and forget his past. Yet every time he considered doing that, he knew how disastrous it could be.
The next morning was Friday, the day to meet the lawyer. He heated water, bathed, shaved, and dressed in his best black coat and pants.
Finally it was time to head to town, and he found Honor in the kitchen waiting for him. Dressed in the black poplin, her hair looped and pinned on top of her head, she looked beautiful and regal, but one glance in her dark eyes and Luke felt as if he faced a formidable combination of Tall Wind and Horace Roth. By sundown, Luke suspected both Stanton and Lavinia would wish they had never started guardianship proceedings. Luke took Honor’s arm, catching the sweet rosewater scent that flooded him with memories of their time together.
