Luke's Cut

by Sarah McCarty

  “I understand.”

  “Maybe when we stop for the night.” She was still on the developing.

  “Maybe.” Taking the case, he waved her ahead of him. “It will be near dark by then.”

  “That’s fine.”

  She hiked up her skirts and climbed up the slight hill. Not enough for him to get more than a glimpse of her serviceable shoes. More’s the pity.

  “I need dark to develop the image,” she continued. “Too much light is bad.”

  Out of curiosity, he asked, “How do you know what you’re doing if it has to be dark?”

  “I use a tiny bit of indirect light.”

  “Do you ever make mistakes?”

  “All the time. Developing is different with every picture.” Looking back over her shoulder, she asked, “Do you think it’s going to rain?”

  “Probably.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You going to have room in that wagon for me when the skies open up?”

  She stopped and turned before looking him up and down. “Do you think you’ll fit?”

  He had no doubt she meant that in the most innocent of terms. It didn’t matter to his imagination. He could see himself lifting her onto the mattress, coming over her, forcing her back, easing himself down over her until they were chest to breast, breath to breath… He tipped his hat back.

  “I will definitely make us fit.”

  That us caught her attention. She flushed a bright pink that just emphasized the color of her eyes. He was getting real partial to that particular shade of blue.

  Clearly stuck in the moment, she licked her lips. “Um.”

  He waited but nothing followed.

  “That’s all you’ve got? Just ‘um’?”

  Her muttered “For the moment” floated behind her.

  Luke smiled. He did like her sass. He checked the horizon again. The storm was moving fast. Camping in the open tonight was not going to be an option. There were some caves three miles west of their current course. They might be able to make it there ahead of the rain.

  “If you hustle, you might not have to come up with a better retort.”

  Holding her hair back from her face, she asked, “Do you think we can outrun the storm?” She seemed excited by the prospect.

  He shook his head. “Do you honestly see that nag of yours outrunning anything?”

  Frowning, she corrected, “His name is Glory.”

  “Uh-huh.” He motioned her on. She didn’t go any faster. “Woman, move.”

  With a sigh, she stepped up her pace. “Are you afraid of getting wet?”

  It was a damn naive question. “I don’t like to get caught in a wash or out in the open when a storm like that one brewing opens up. And a day as hot as today is usually goes out with a bang.”

  “Oh, I hope so. I love thunderstorms.”

  “Says the woman from Massachusetts.”

  She stopped and spun around. “Now, what do you have against Massachusetts?”

  With a hand on her shoulder he kept her turning until she was back on course. With a nudge he got her moving again. “Not a damn thing, but you haven’t seen storms like we have here. They spit out tornadoes as randomly as they spit out raindrops.”

  Another stop. Another turn. She blinked. “A tornado?”

  “Yup.”

  She glanced at the storm with a little less enthusiasm. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. One can’t just ride out a tornado. You either avoid it or it picks up your butt and tosses it four states over.”

  Gathering up her skirts, she said, “Then we’d better hurry.”

  “I thought that’s what I’d been saying.”

  “It’s rude to boast.”

  Hitching the box over his shoulders, he caught her hand. “Even ruder to ignore sound advice.”

  She tugged at her hand. “I can walk, you know.”

  “You seem more inclined to stroll.” He set a brisk pace. She was forced to skip a little to keep up.

  “Do we have to run?”

  “Yes.” Mainly because it gave him an excuse to keep her hand in his.

  When they got to the camp, everything was already packed up. Zach shot him a look. “Storm’s coming in.”

  “I noticed.”

  Zach pushed his hat back. “Hopefully, it’ll blow on by, but either way, we need to move.”

  Ed helped Tia up from where she sat. Driving this morning had taken a visible toll on her. She hobbled a bit on her way to her wagon, Ed hovering protectively, keeping his hand on the base of her spine, though he wasn’t moving any easier.

  Luke tugged Josie in the direction of Chico. “You come with me.”

  “As if I have a choice.”

  No, she didn’t.

  Josie shook her head and dug in her feet. “My wagon…”

  It barely took any muscle at all to pop her along behind him. “I’ll get one of the men to drive it.”

  “I thought you couldn’t spare somebody in case there was a problem.”

  “You get sick.”

  “I’ll drink plenty of water. And—” she sighed, shaking her head at him “—I’ll take off my corset.”

  She might be learning. “A wise decision.”

  They’d arrived at the back of her wagon. She pulled her hand free as he opened the brightly painted doors. She clearly took exception to his tone.

  Straightening her bonnet, she said with deliberate indifference, “A deal’s a deal, after all. I got my pictures and now you get my corset.”

  He passed her the camera box. “I was wondering if we were going to have to fight on that.”

  “No, but I’m driving my wagon. No Comanche is going to wave my scalp around because you wasted a guard on something I can do myself,” she stated firmly as she put the box in the back of the wagon.

  So now she was giving orders? He pushed his hat back. “What do you know of Comanche?”

  “I’ve done my research. I’ve read all about the West.”

  “You’ve read about it?”

  She nodded. The brim of her bonnet cast her eyes in shadow. He didn’t like it. “Extensively. The West and its traditions are quite fascinating.”

  “I see.” He could just imagine what she’d read.

  “Mr. Savage, my favorite author, has quite the descriptive flair,” she informed him blithely. “To the point I feel as if I’ve already been here.”

  It was his turn to blink. That took care of the need to imagine. Damn. He tugged his hat down over his brow. She was hot for his pseudonym? He didn’t know how he felt about that. “You can’t believe everything you read.”

  She was undeterred. “I believe enough to know I don’t want to be scalped.”

  “No Comanche would snatch your scalp.” They’d snatch her virginity and her future, but they’d leave that thick mane of hair.

  Another roll of her eyes. “I appreciate your trying not to scare me, but I’m not beyond common sense, you know. I recognize danger when I see it.”

  As she ducked her head to climb in, her skirts stretched lovingly across her full hips. Lust that had been simmering all day rose hard and fast. Curling his fingers into fists to avoid the temptation to smack that ass, Luke gritted his teeth.

  He wished he could say the same about himself.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE STORM CHARGED across the open plain like buffalo of old, a stampede of violence, of churning clouds and lightning. Darkness swept before it, enveloping them all. Horses stomped and screamed in panic. Men yelled, “Take cover! Take cover!”

  For once, Glory didn’t plod. He took off. Holding the reins tightly, wrestling for control of the wildly careening wagon, Josie searched for anything that could be called cover. There was a copse of trees to the left. She steered for it. Behind her, she heard people shouting. She made out the word cover again. She slapped the reins on Glory’s back, but he was already going as fast as he could. Looking over her shoulder, she didn’t think it was fast enough. It was impossible to tell which way the
storm was going. The clouds were odd, dense swirling demons, seething and spitting out lightning flashes. Even as she watched, a huge tube stretched down to the ground like a black tentacle reaching for hell. In the back of her mind she knew what she was looking at. She’d read about it in Dane Savage’s books. Luke had mention it earlier…

  Tornado!

  The reality was more terrifying than the legend. Tornadoes were giant funnels of wind and death that wrenched up everything in their path—people, buildings and trees—and chucked them out, sometimes miles away as they relentlessly ripped across the land. Lightning flashed again. And again. The storm was delineated in the strobing light. Her stomach clenched and dropped. It was coming right for her.

  Oh God, she prayed, help me!

  In an answer to her prayer, Luke rode up alongside, looking as wild as the storm on his big horse with the wind tearing through his hair. He yelled something she couldn’t hear. His hat flapped across his back. Leaning over, he slapped the reins on Glory’s flank. Glory tossed his head. Luke waved her on, pointing forward. Slapping the reins down again on Glory’s hindquarters, Josie whispered, “Hurry. Hurry!” Maybe she screamed it. Who could tell over the roaring wind? Inside, panic churned with the same violence.

  The wagon clanked and bounced over the rutted ground, almost bucking her out of the seat. She no longer had control over the horse. Where they were headed, she didn’t know. Just away. Away from the storm.

  Luke shouted again. The wind tore away the words. Chico stretched out his strong legs and drew even with Glory’s head. Luke reached down and grabbed the reins. He pulled to the right, away from the trees, toward barren land ahead. There was no cover there. They needed cover. Behind her, Josie could hear the tornado bearing down on them, sounding like a runaway train.

  Releasing the reins, Luke dropped back until he was even with the far side of the wagon seat. Glory kept running. Josie watched as Luke held out his arm and beckoned with his fingers. For a wild moment she pretended not to know what he wanted. With a snap of his fingers, he pointed to the edge of the seat. The wagon bumped and careened. She inched over, expecting the wagon to tip or to be thrown out at any moment.

  His lips shaped a word. Jump.

  Was he crazy? Sane women didn’t jump out of wagons. The wagon hit another rut. She pulled back on the reins. Glory was past caring what she did. He raced on. Another rut tipped the wagon dangerously. Luke shouted something. She was pretty sure it was a curse. He snapped his fingers again and held out his arm.

  Digging her nails into the wood, she took a breath. Jump. She had to jump.

  This was insane. Why did she ever leave home? This time, when the wagon tilted, it almost went over. She had to grab on to the frame to keep from being pitched out. In that split second, she saw the rocks waiting to cushion her fall. She’d never survive.

  Holding her breath, she looked up, straight into Luke’s eyes, seeing his confidence. This time his lips shaped the words Trust me. She didn’t have a choice. Clinging to his gaze like a lifeline, she waited. On the next bump, she used the momentum to launch herself up and out, arms spread, screaming and grasping.

  It wasn’t a perfect job. And it wasn’t a perfect catch, but Luke caught her. The point of his knee collided painfully with her side. She clung with everything she had, and so did he. He said something she couldn’t hear. She couldn’t focus, the relief was too overpowering. He hauled her up. And this time she heard the words.

  “I’ve got you.”

  There were not three more beautiful words in the English language. Chico, whom she’d always thought of as a little flighty since he’d put on the display before they’d left, was as steady as a rock, pulling away from the wagon with rhythmic strides. She risked a glance back. The tornado stalked them like a devil gone wild.

  Please God.

  Luke’s grip shifted and his body turned as he hefted her behind him. “Put your leg over.”

  Her skirts, sodden by the rain, wrapped around her calves, hampering her efforts, but he didn’t drop her as she struggled.

  I’ve got you.

  Yes he did. Putting her faith in that promise, she let go of his arm and hauled her skirts out of the way. Weak with relief, straddling the horse, she collapsed against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist. As soon as she did, another order whipped past her ear. “Hold on.”

  She did, clinging for dear life, leaning over as he and the horse became one, powering across the land. Behind them, the demon howled. She lost sight of Glory in the hell. She hoped he was all right. She prayed he’d be all right. Please.

  Something slammed into her back like a small fist. Another something grazed her thigh. A white ball whizzed past her face. Hail, she realized. It was hail, but bigger than any hail she’d ever seen. It hit the ground and bounced. It hit them too and seemed to bite into their bones. They had to find cover. Burying her head in Luke’s back, she clung to his waist. Why weren’t they headed to the trees? The trees would protect them.

  Trust me.

  Right now she didn’t have any choice. Luke was her only hope.

  Lightning flashed. In the flash she saw the ravine.

  “Watch out.”

  Luke pried her arms from around his waist. “Jump.”

  Was he crazy? “No!”

  Without a word, Luke pivoted in the saddle, anchored her to his body, and threw them from the horse. There was a sensation of flying, a moment when up was down and then the illusion vanished. They hit the ground. Hard. Her teeth snapped together. Stars exploded behind her eyes. In the next instant, they rolled down the hill. Chico didn’t follow them down the ravine.

  Hail hit with bruising force and thundered against the ground. So many strikes she lost count. She caught one brief glimpse of Glory silhouetted against lightning, still running, and then she saw the storm. It was a monster and it was almost upon them. “Luke!”

  Grabbing her arm, Luke roughly shoved her up against the hollowed-out side of the ravine, forcing her flat on her stomach before throwing his body over hers, pressing so hard all she could breathe was dirt and him.

  His hands came over hers, anchoring them into the ground. His lips brushed against her ear. “I’ve got you.”

  The promise came out as a whisper, but she was sure it was meant to be a roar. This was crazy. They were going to die. Because of a summer storm. She didn’t even know what to do with that.

  “I’ve got you,” he said again, his body her protection, his determination her lifeline. Hail bounced off the ground. It had to be bouncing off him. Now and again, he’d grunt.

  The wind yanked at them greedily. She could feel her skirts whipping up between and around his legs. Her hat was long gone. Everything was backward. With a voracious hunger, the storm tried to suck them in. She felt Luke’s weight lift. Snaking her feet between his thighs, she hooked her feet over his calves and tensed her muscles.

  No!

  The demon couldn’t have him. Wrapping her fingers through his, she clung with her legs and hands, using her body as anchor. It was her turn to yell, “I’ve got you!”

  It felt like hell as she and the storm fought for possession. The battle seemed to last for hours. In reality it was probably only a couple minutes. Her muscles burned with the effort. Then, just as suddenly as the chaos began, it was over. With an abruptness that left her gasping the wind died, its roar silenced, and the first few rays of the sun kissed their locked hands. She could only stare uncomprehendingly. Beyond their hands, hailstones glistened in the mud as they melted. They looked almost pretty.

  She took a breath and then another. It was over. The storm was over. Oh dear God. It was finally over. She wanted to laugh. She turned her head, not caring about the dirt that ground into her cheek.

  “We made it,” she whispered. They’d actually made it. Because of Luke. Through it all, he’d protected her. “Thank you.”

  Luke didn’t respond. Her laughter faded. Something was wrong. The man never shut up. She pushed o
n his hands. Nothing. “So all it takes is a tornado to hush you up?”

  Still no response. It took tremendous effort to unlock her fingers from his. She’d been holding on to him so tightly the muscles were cramped. Bracing her arms beneath her, she tried to come up on her knees but there was no moving him. This was not good.

  Wiggling upward, inch by inch, she worked her way out from beneath him. The progress of his head down her back marked her success. She took her first break when his head settled between her shoulder blades, the second when it hit the middle of her back, the third when it hit the back of her thighs. By then she was sweating. She knew he was still unconscious when he didn’t say something smart.

  Her heart stuck in her throat. She swallowed it back. Now was not the time to panic. Struggling to her feet, she turned.

  No, now was the time to panic. Luke lay on the ground against the side of the ravine. A large tree lay across his back, its roots sticking up like a monster’s claw. He looked odd. She realized she’d never seen him without his hat. What an inane thing to notice. It was better, however, than looking at the bleeding gash on his forehead.

  Kneeling beside him, she shook his shoulder. “Luke.”

  Still he didn’t move. This close, she couldn’t ignore the scope of the gash. It was about three inches long and just laid his skull bare. She hoped the bone wasn’t crushed. Sliding her finger under his nose, she checked for breath. Please.

  She’d done more praying today than she’d done in the last ten years. That probably wasn’t a good sign. She felt his breath. He was alive. She stood. She could work with that.

  Hands on hips, she surveyed the situation. First things first—the tree had to move. Grabbing one of the branches, she yanked. It didn’t budge. She tried again, putting all her weight into it, but all she’d managed to do was work a couple branches deeper into the mud.

  “Dammit!”

  She had to think. Climbing out of the shallow ravine, she looked around. The copse of trees was gone. So was Glory and the wagon. She bit her lip. Maybe he’d survived. In the distance, she could see the tornado thundering on its way, clearly done with them. To the right, about thirty feet away, Chico stood, head up, ears flicking like another answer to a prayer. Chico could move that tree. Dusting off her hands, she headed for him. The closer she got, the more he tossed his head. When she got within six feet, he took a step back. She took another step. He took another one back. This wasn’t working. She grabbed for his reins. He jerked his head, keeping them just out of her reach. His eyes were wild and rolling in his head. He was scared. So was she. Taking a minute, she paused to regroup. There had to be a better way. She decided to try sweet talk.