Straight From The Heart

by Janelle Taylor

  Dorry Sims blushed as she caught his meaning. “You know I love you, Luke, but a future together is impossible unless things change for both of us; we’ve known and accepted that dark reality from the beginning. I vowed to be John’s wife ‘until death do us part,’ and I have no proof he’s dead. I don’t know how long I should or will wait for news, but eighteen months isn’t enough. And you, you might have to flee for your life at any moment. I wish we could marry and make this ranch ours, have children, have a wonderful life together.”

  “I didn’t mean to put them tears in your eyes, woman. They’re as pretty and blue as Texas flowers. I just can’t abide knowin’ somethin’ could happen to me, and you’d be left alone to fight Cleary and who knows what other dangers.”

  “I’ve survived plenty in the past, my love. I sometimes think someone watches over me. When my family was killed by those Indians, I was with John’s folks in town. I’ve outlasted blizzards, hunger, injuries, and more since I’ve been here alone. I know how to shoot, ride, ranch, farm, and do whatever’s needed to survive here. But my survival won’t mean anything unless I have someone to inherit my family’s legacy, my book. I want that person to be our child, Luke. Maybe that’s wrong and wicked of me, but I can’t help but feel that way. My grandma gave each of her children a copy of the book and a chest to keep it in, and it’s been part of our family ever since. When I hold the book, it gives me strength, courage, hope, and joy. It isn’t just a legend, a made-up story, Luke; it’s true; I know it’s true; Mama said so.”

  “A book can’t protect you from guns and bullets and knives and greed. If I’m killed or captured, I can’t neither. But Cleary ain’t gonna give up on gettin’ you and this land till he’s lyin’ face down in dirt. You ain’t forgettin’ he came over at Christmas and tried to buy you out if you wouldn’t marry him. He’s been makin’ cow eyes at you ever since John left. He told you months ago he’d get news about John, but he won’t tell you nothin’ till it suits his needs. You can bet he ain’t pleased you plan to hire a helper come spring; he’ll do his darnedest to make sure you don’t get none. If I kill him to protect you, I’m in worse trouble. I’m bettin’ he knows John’s dead, ‘cause he did the shootin’, or had it done. He’d kill me, too, if he knowed I was here.” Luke wished he hadn’t made that last remark, though it was true. “You got good grass, a lotta trees, and plenty of water—mighty temptin’ to any man, ’specially with you comin’ along with ’em.”

  Dorry gazed into dark brown eyes that were filled with bittersweet emotion. She noticed how black hair fell over his forehead whenever he lowered his square chin. Luke James was tall and strong, over six feet of hard muscles. He was rugged and handsome, and he’d stolen her heart and wits within days of meeting him. She had trusted him from the start and hired him to help her battle her land-grabbing neighbor. But her missing husband stood between them, as well as a crime Luke swore he hadn’t committed.

  “Whatcha thinkin’ about so long and deep?”

  “How we met and why you came here. Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to clear your name? If John’s dead, we could—”

  “Don’t go dreamin’, Dorry. My neck still itches from that rope’s tickle. One more minute, and I’da been ready for a dirt blanket to cover me. That posse woulda stolen my last breath if that knot hadna been tied wrong. The minute it came loose and my boots hit the ground, I was in them woods and hidin’. Plenty of times they almost caught up with me to finish the job.”

  “But you didn’t murder your partner for his share of that gold claim, and a posse has no right to play judge and jury. If you, we, went back—”

  “We can’t, Dorry. It was my gun they found, and two men said I did it. I don’t know how the murderin’ snake got my pistol or why those cowpokes lied, but the law believes I done it and wouldn’t hear nothin’ I said to the contrary. If I go back, I’m a dead man. If you went, you’d be in the fire with me. I run for seven months with bounty hunters eatin’ my dust before I came here. Like I told you, I was headin’ for Canada to hide out when I stumbled onto this place. It was lucky Henderson showed me that newspaper sayin’ I would hang soon as I was caught, or I wouldn’a knowed the law was after me.”

  The redhead didn’t want to remind Luke that he couldn’t read ten months ago, so he didn’t really know what that newspaper story had said. He had only R. T. Henderson’s word about what was printed, and Henderson owned the claim next to Luke’s. He might have had his own reasons for wanting Luke to run and desert his claim. “We can’t settle any of our problems tonight,” Dorry said, “so let’s go back to your lessons. You’re learning fast, Luke. By spring thaw, you’ll be reading and writing as well as I do.”

  “You’re a good teacher, Dorry; I’m obliged to you for helpin’ me. My pa shoulda sent me to school when I was a kid. Nobody wants to be dumb.”

  “You were never dumb, Luke, just uneducated, and we’re changing that fast. You’ve already learned your letters and numbers. Besides, we’re helping each other. It’s a good bargain since I don’t have money for wages.”

  “Food, trust, and a bunk is plenty of pay for me.”

  Dorry didn’t mention his many speaking errors; those instructions would come later, if they had a later. She pushed aside that dread for tonight. “Even if you have to share that bunk with a filly?” she teased.

  Luke’s brown gaze fused with her merry blue one. During his thirty years, he’d never enjoyed a woman’s company more than Dorry’s. He’d never loved a woman more than Dorry Sims, unless it was his mother. His gaze drifted over her ivory complexion and beautiful features; then he let it journey over her flaming curls. Her smile was sunshine bright. She was everything a man could desire, in and out of a bunk or a bedroll. If only he could lay claim to her, it would be worth losing his gold strike in Arizona.

  Wind whistled around the small house, and a wolf howled in the distance, but Dorry ignored both sounds. The ones that she noticed were the crackling of a cozy fire and their uneven breathing. “If you keep looking at me like that, cowboy, lessons will be forgotten.”

  Luke grinned, rubbed his shaved jawline, and said, “Winter’s mighty long and cold in these parts, so we got plenty of time to school me good.”

  The desperado’s husky tone and playful expression caused her to grow warm. “Are you asking me something, Mr. James?”

  He reached his hand across the table and captured hers. His fingers stroked her flesh as he murmured, “I was just thinkin’ it’s time to turn in. I’ll work twice as hard at sunup to finish this lesson.”

  Her love’s peril and possible departure at any hour pressed down on Dorry like a heavy weight. What she needed were his comforting arms and kisses. “Bank the fire while I take the coffeepot off the stove and douse the lanterns. We have to shovel the stables tomorrow, so a good night’s sleep will help. We’ll leave our things here and finish after breakfast.”

  As Luke did his chore, Dorry kept glancing at his broad back and ebony hair. He was risking his life and freedom by staying with her this winter, and she was more than grateful. The first time he had made love to her on Christmas night had been glorious, like nothing she had experienced with John. Luke was gentle and caring, and her satisfaction was as important to him as his own; not so with John, who never considered her feelings in bed. They hadn’t planned to break her marital vows, but love and passion had stolen their wits and control. Love, yes, they were in love, ill-fated love. Perhaps one day their fortune would change.

  Luke James was honest and dependable. He was a proud man, but he was allowing her to teach him to read and write. When she’d discovered he couldn’t do either, she had convinced him to let her teach him by pointing out how that knowledge could save his life one day and would prevent anyone from taking advantage of him. Every time they sat down to do his lessons, she made certain her words, looks, and actions never discouraged or embarrassed him. John would never have let a woman help him in this manner. Perhaps it was terrible of her, bu
t she hadn’t missed her husband since Luke James arrived and stole her heart. She didn’t want John Sims’s death, only that he never return.

  Although John had courted her for over a year in Colorado, she had married him in a moment of weakness while suffering over her family’s loss. With all possessions and kin gone and the area too dangerous for her to stay alone, John and his family had convinced her to wed him. Within a month, John had packed them up and moved them to North Dakota. Three months later, her husband had taken their money and left on a cattle-buying trip. When he didn’t return by winter, she assumed bad weather or an injury had delayed him, though he hadn’t sent any word. Spring, summer, fall, and another winter had arrived but not her husband, nor an explanatory message. Surely he was dead, and she was a widow. But what if she started a new life and John returned? How long should she wait for him or for news?

  Luke stood and stretched. He’d never been one to do so much sitting and lazing around, but it felt good with her. He had taken to this existence with ease and speed and didn’t want to lose it or the woman he’d come to love. She was teaching him more than to read and write; she was teaching him joy and confidence and sharing. Except for his mining partner and a few friends in Arizona, he had been a loner. He hadn’t thought about becoming a husband, a rancher, or a father. He hadn’t thought about having others depend on him for happiness and survival. He had lived from day to day until Dorry entered his life and changed him. What he had discovered here with her was all he wanted in life now, and it was too late to stake his claim. “Fire’s safe. You ready for bed?”

  Dorry walked to him and leaned against his firm body. His arms banded her and held her tight. Could something that felt so wonderful be wrong? She lifted her head and locked her gaze to his before their lips meshed. As always, her senses whirled, and her body blazed. When their mouths parted for a minute, she whispered, “I’ll love you forever, no matter what happens.”

  Luke lifted Dorry and carried her to the bed they now shared as if it were theirs. He laid her there and gazed at her for a moment before extinguishing the last lantern, undressing, and joining her . . .

  After breakfast, Luke helped her clear the table. While she washed the dishes and pans, he dried them and put them away, familiar now with everything in the house. He enjoyed doing any and every chore with her, and she enjoyed his assistance. He savored her smiles, laughter, and talk. He hated the thought of ever leaving her side, but the law might force him to take that dreaded action one day, any day. This lovely mountain setting was secluded and distant, but those bounty hunters had been persistent. He was lucky he had managed to elude them so many times, but how long would that luck hold out?

  He gazed around the small cabin, seeing Dorry’s touch wherever he looked. It was well built to keep in heat and to keep out the Dakota winter. It had been built near a grove of hardwoods that sheltered it from brisk winds and heavy snows. John’s uncle had chosen a perfect site and carved out a nice place before old age and bad health forced him to sell and move back east with his kin. John had been lucky to get it at such a bargain price, and luckier still to get Dorry. Would he, Luke pondered, be just as lucky one day?

  He looked out a window, where outside shutters had been opened earlier. Adjoining barns were nearby for doing chores even in the worst weather. A covered walk led from the house to the barns. Dorry had built it herself last summer and had lined the exterior with de-limbed logs to prevent snowdrifts from closing it off during blizzards. There was a well to supply water when the stream froze, as it often did for long periods. In every direction, the cabin was surrounded by forest, so firewood was no problem. The area John’s uncle had farmed was fertile, and grass was plentiful and lush in season to feed the cattle John had intended to raise. The Missouri River was only a few miles southward, so transporting crops or stock to market wouldn’t be difficult. Luke wished this were his wife, his home, his land, his future, if he had a future. He wouldn’t if the Arizona law discovered his location. Yet he couldn’t leave Dorry alone, not with Cleary so hot for her and her land.

  “Ready to finish our lesson before it warms up enough to do outside chores?” she asked.

  “Ready and willin’, teacher,” he replied with a grin as he joined her at the table, where books, a slate, and chalk awaited him.

  Bundled up against the biting cold, Luke and Dorry went out to break up the ice in the water trough so the animals could drink: their horses, two milk cows, and three steers too young to market. He fetched a tool similar to a large hammer and returned to the corral. Dorry watched him slam it into the hard surface several times and send chips of ice flying in all directions. He labored until the frozen barrier yielded to his superior strength and efforts. He flipped large hunks to the white ground; then he and Dorry made several trips with buckets to fill it halfway with water from the nearby well.

  “It’ll freeze again tonight, so we’ll have to repeat this every morning,” she said. “You’ve made us enough room to add what the stock needs for today. At least we haven’t gotten that blizzard yet, but it’s been threatening to come for a week. I recognize the signs by now.”

  “Never been this far north. Didn’t know about this kind of weather.”

  “After you’ve been here awhile, you’ll learn the signs, too, and get used to the cold.”

  He stole a glance at her as he murmured, “I hope so.”

  Dorry gazed around at the lovely valley and cloudy sky as she checked the weather’s clues and talked. Upon her arrival in the spring of seventy-six, the meadow had been adorned with colorful wildflowers and verdant grass. The valley, foothills, and mountains had been green with pine, spruce, birch, oak, elder, willow, and aspen. During her two autumns, she had watched the hardwood leaves turn to blazing shades, then fall to the ground, leaving the branches bare and ready for their cloaks of white. Now, only the green of pine, spruce, and a few others could be seen through blankets of snow and ice. It was cold this time of year and this far north, but the coldest and worst weather—in her opinion—would come in February. This year she longed for that to happen, so she would be shut in with Luke.

  Dorry knew her cheeks were as red and her nose as numb as Luke’s were. Both wore gloves and layers of garments, but the cold and wind still seemed to find little places to sneak in to attack one’s body. Beneath those gloves, her hands felt stiff and frozen, and she was certain his were too. She shuddered and blinked as northern gusts from Canada dipped into the valley and tugged at her clothes. Whenever they talked or breathed, wispy smoke left their warm mouths and quickly vanished.

  “I’ll turn out the steers and horses to do some walkin’ and stretchin’,” Luke said. “Snow’s not too deep for them to move around a mite. I’ll leave the milk cows till you’re done with them.”

  While he did so, Dorry gathered eggs, but left the chickens penned up because the cold weather and snow were too harsh and deep for their feet. She tossed feed on the coop floor and gave them fresh water. She fastened the gate, used cleansing snow to scrape clean her boots, and trudged back to the house. She placed the basket on the table and lifted a milk pail, not wanting to risk carrying too much while she traversed the frozen and often slippery ground.

  Dorry went to the barn. Luke had climbed the ladder into the loft and opened a small door; he was tossing down hay for the stock to eat. She closed and bolted the door to keep out blasts of icy wind. She talked softly to the animals as she placed a short stool near a cow’s back legs. She hated to remove her gloves, but she had to do so for a proper grip on the cow’s teats. She kept speaking in a mellow tone as she worked as fast as her rapidly stiffening fingers allowed.

  When she finished, she moved the pail out of danger of a spill while she readied the second cow. After she finished with it, Dorry put away the stool, replaced her gloves, and let the two cows out to roam. When Luke joined her, she told him they could wait until tomorrow to shovel the animals’ stalls.

  Luke carried the bucket of milk to the hou
se with great care, as Dorry followed. When they were safely back inside, with doors locked, the desperado set the milk pail beside the egg basket on the kitchen table.

  Dorry removed her coat and scarf, then hung them on their peg. She pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into her coat pocket before changing from damp and dirty work boots into clean and warm house shoes. Luke did much the same, using John’s boots and garments, since he’d left his campsite too quickly to collect his belongings. If not for the gold nuggets in his pocket, he would have been forced to steal food, a pistol, and clothes after his escape. He was glad he hadn’t been compelled to break the law, even if he was a hunted man.

  Dorry walked to the fire to warm and loosen her fingers. Luke joined her there. As he and the heat worked on her hands and body, she relaxed and savored their stolen moments together.

  At least for a while, he would distract her from her constant worries. Later, there was milk to be churned into butter. Animals to be tended. Fires to be fed. Cleaning to be done. Warming water to wash clothes and then iron. She also had mending and sewing to do, which would take up more time. Time she wanted to spend with Luke.

  He eyed her flaming locks, mussed from the scarf she’d worn while doing chores in the near freezing weather. As if she sensed what held his attention, her fingers tried to straighten her hair, but he grasped them between his larger ones to finish warming them. “You look beautiful. I could stare at you all day, woman.”

  She returned his smile and caressed his chilled cheek. “So could I.”

  “Stare at me all day?” he teased, eliciting merry laughter. He rested his cheek atop her head, his ebony hair a striking contrast to her fiery tresses. She had come into his life and changed it, had changed him, both for the better, for the best. Almost, his mind challenged. If only they could live where they would be blissfully happy and safe.