Luke's Cut

by Sarah McCarty

  “Don’t be scared,” she crooned, holding out her hand. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  He wasn’t appeased. With a toss of his head, he rejected her overture, and they were back to the game of cat and mouse until she wanted to throw up her hands in frustration. The stupid horse. Desperate, she whispered, “You can trust me, you know.”

  Chico flicked his ears at her.

  Flicking was better than running. “I need your cooperation.”

  Chico just snorted and rolled his eyes, clearly prepared to run if she got ornery. She needed a new plan. “Fine. I’m just going to sit here until such time as you calm yourself, because obviously we’re not getting anywhere like this.”

  And she did just that, sitting on the ground with her back to him. Reaching under her hip, she removed the stick that was poking at her. To her surprise, Chico didn’t run. In fact, he seemed to calm down.

  She heard him take a step. She didn’t move. Didn’t look up. He took another.

  “I’m not talking to you,” she told him. Another step, and air wafted by her shoulder.

  “You’re as contrary as your owner.” His lips nibbled at her ear. She shrugged him away. “Nope, I’m mad at you.”

  His head drooped over her shoulder. He clearly expected affection. “Now? After running my butt all over this darn plain, now you want pets?”

  His wuffle said yes. Very carefully, she reached up and rubbed his nose. He snorted and stayed put. “I know. I was scared, too. But your owner saved us and now we have to save him.”

  Very slowly, she eased her hand down his nose until she could grab the reins beneath his chin. She expected him to jerk and pull. He didn’t. “Don’t do anything crazy while I get to my feet.” She smoothed out her dress. “You have no idea what it’s like moving around in skirts.”

  He looked at her with soft brown eyes, as if to say he understood.

  “So here’s the deal,” she told Chico as she led him back to Luke. “I’m going to take this rope and tie one end to your saddle and the other to that tree and you’re going to walk that way.” She pointed. “And using all the muscle we’ve got, we’re going to pull this tree off Luke and then he will be okay because, because…”

  She didn’t know what she was going do if he wasn’t. The catch to the matter was, she couldn’t hold on to the horse and tie the rope at the same time. Thank goodness for Dane Savage’s descriptions on how to ground tie Western trained horses. Wrapping the reins around a substantial branch, she walked back to Chico’s side. “Stay now.”

  Chico just looked at her as if she were an idiot.

  “Nobody asked your opinion,” she muttered.

  Taking the rope, she tied the free end around the trunk of the tree, as tightly as she could.

  When the last knot was done, she glanced at Chico. Chico looked back at her. “This is it. Now it’s up to you.”

  Giving his hindquarters a wide berth, she untied the reins. Chico tossed his head. She patted his neck. “All you’ve got to do is move that tree. Just a little. Just enough for me to drag him out from under it.” She gave the reins a tug. Chico started walking, hit the resistance of the tree and stopped. She backed up, tugging on the reins. “Come on. You can do it.”

  He could have spooked, he could have refused, but as if he understood the importance of his job, Chico put his head down and his shoulders into the job. “God bless your muscles,” she told him as the tree cracked and rolled. “Come on, big boy. We just need another foot.”

  The horse gave her that foot. “Thank you.” Patting his neck, she wrapped the reins around a branch with a sigh of relief. “All right, stay here while I take care of things.”

  Looking down at Luke, she wasn’t sure how she was going to live up to that statement. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned to the side. His legs looked straight, no odd angles. That had to be a good sign. The same for his arms. She didn’t know about his back. Blood darkened his hair. That she did know how to address. Removing the knife from his boot, she hacked at her skirt and petticoats to make bandages. Thank goodness for Dane Savage’s novels. Unlike other authors, he was willing to get into the gory details of life in the West. If he hadn’t, it probably never would have occurred to her to take strips of her clothing to make a bandage.

  Fetching the canteen from Chico’s saddle, she moistened a strip of her petticoat before pouring water over the gash in his head. After cleaning the injury as best she could, she made a pad of another piece of petticoat and then tied a long strip from her dress around his head as a bandage. She sat back on her heels and wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. If it wasn’t so hot, maybe she wouldn’t feel like crying. Maybe she could think.

  At least he was still breathing. Breathing was always a good sign. As she sat there, her own aches and bruises started making themselves known. Her right shoulder blade, where the hail had struck, twinged every time she moved. It’d be stiff before long. She couldn’t imagine how much Luke was hurting.

  He’d thrown his body over hers to protect her from the hail. She brushed the hair off his cheek, smoothed it back over his brow, then arranged it over the bandage to give him a rakish look, because, well, it just suited him. There was something very untamed about Luke Bellen. Beneath those fine clothes, beneath those proper manners, there lurked a mountain lion.

  Cupping his cheek in her hand, emotion overwhelmed her. Feelings of gratitude, of awe, of more, flowed through her hand. Closing her fingers on the sensation, she drew her hand back to her lap. Touching Luke created the most powerful sensations.

  “Please, wake up,” she whispered.

  “Why?” he rasped without opening his eyes, reaching for the bandage on his head. “You got a mean streak that needs indulging?”

  She hadn’t realized how worried she’d been until she heard his voice. “I imagine you have a headache.”

  He tried to sit up, groaned and flopped back down. “That’s an understatement. What happened?”

  “A tree landed on you.”

  He cracked his right eye opened. “Did anything major break?”

  She bit her lip. “You might have broken your back or neck.”

  “If I broke my neck I wouldn’t be breathing.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessarily true. Back home, there was a man in town that got thrown from his horse. He broke his neck but didn’t know it. Nobody knew until that night at dinner. He turned his head, and then dropped. Dead,” she added in case he didn’t understand.

  “Yeah, I get your point, but trust me. My neck’s not broken.”

  She worried her lip with her teeth. She didn’t trust him. “Then why aren’t you moving?”

  “Because I damn well hurt.”

  “Oh.” That made perfect sense. A little of the tension left her shoulders. She really had to stop anticipating the worst when she started feeling happy. And she really should stop thinking there was no one she could trust when she started to feel free. Since coming to Hell’s Eight, she’d begun to feel like she was finally free to live as she’d dreamed. That was scary.

  She patted his shoulder. “Take all the time you need.”

  His thank-you was a bit sarcastic.

  She didn’t care. The tornado was gone. They were alive. He could take forever if he wanted to.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE’D LIED. LUKE didn’t have forever. He had about two minutes before she broke down and cried because looking at him lying there in the dirt, knowing he was hurting, knowing she didn’t know what to do if he was hiding a bad injury was tearing her apart. She was used to him commanding the space around him, cracking jokes, being irritating, being him. He’d told her he’d be all right, but the man wasn’t one for telling the whole truth. He spooned it out in bits and pieces, based on what he thought a person could handle. But this time he couldn’t hide what was happening. And that she really didn’t know how to help.

  His fingers twitched, digging deeper into the soil. H
is moan was muted, but she heard it. Darn it! He looked so alone, lying there, his silence masking pain. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And she wasn’t tolerating it anymore. The man had been prepared to die for her. She wasn’t going to just sit over here and watch him suffer in all his stoic splendor.

  Scooting closer, she eyed her options. There weren’t many, so she went with her gut. Stretching out beside him, using his upper arm as a pillow, she put her arm over his back. It all felt rather awkward, but she was here. She needed him to know he wasn’t in this alone.

  Her “Hi” was soft.

  He cracked an eyelid at her. “What are you doing?”

  She smiled. Why did touching him always make her feel better? “I’m keeping you company.”

  His lips twitched at the corners in that prelude to a smile she was coming to know so well. “Are you planning on staying long?”

  “As long as you don’t die, I’m staying.”

  “Not going to tolerate me stinking up the place?”

  “No.”

  “Then if you’re going to do this, do it right.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Figures I’d be spooning in the dirt with an amateur.”

  “We’re not spooning.”

  “Uh-huh.” His muscles flexed. “Lift up.”

  She did. He groaned and pulled his arm out from under her before dropping it over her waist. She had a moment to appreciate the comforting weight before he growled, “Now, come here.”

  With a flex of muscle that should have been impossible in his current state, he turned and tucked her up tight against his side. Putting her hands beneath her cheek as a pillow, smiling into his eyes, she confessed, “That is better.”

  His eyes drifted closed. “Yeah, it is.”

  That panic she couldn’t shake gripped her stomach in a cold fist. She clenched her fingers together to suppress the urge to touch his cheek. Even lying in the dirt, there was a limit to how forward she could be.

  “No one should die alone.”

  “You’re a rather morbid cuddler.”

  She’d be able to judge his mood better if his delivery weren’t so deadpan. “I can’t help it.”

  “Uh-huh.” His eyes opened. They were blue and clear, and looking into them, she began to hope. “At least your instincts are sound.”

  She knew she probably shouldn’t ask but the question just popped out. “Sound?”

  His smile curved with irritating amusement. “You wiggled right into my arms like a homing pigeon. Shows you know who to trust.”

  It was surprisingly hard to fake outrage. “I thought you were dying!”

  His smile let her know he was on to her ruse. “Well, I’m not.”

  Placing her palm against his chest, she felt for his heartbeat. “How do you know?”

  “I hurt too damn much to be lucky enough to die.”

  She could feel his heart beating steadily. “I don’t believe that’s a true barometer.”

  Lifting up and twisting, he slid his other arm under her head. His shrug pressed against her cheek. “Trust me. It’s damn accurate.”

  It was comfortable with her head resting on his arm, and his heart beating against her palm. More than that, it was safe. He made her feel very, very safe. And she’d almost gotten him killed.

  She closed her eyes against the memory of his body jerking above hers as the hail pummeled him, the wind trying to tear him from her arms. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “That you got hurt because of me.”

  His thumb stroked over her arm. “I’ll find a way for you to make it up to me.”

  That popped her eyes open. Her shock collided with his humor. “You’re outrageous.”

  Grimacing, he shifted position. “You like it.”

  She did, but she wasn’t going to admit it. With a huff, she refrained from answering.

  The scents of dirt and blood filled her nostrils, adding to the chaos inside her. Beneath that was the scent of Luke. He was right. This was better. She shifted onto her back, because, well, just because it felt better. His hand came up and brushed her cheek. Startled, she turned her head.

  “You’ve got a smudge.”

  “So do you. A whole lot of smudges.” Smudges made of blood and dirt. She touched a spot beneath his eye. “Thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “I doubt that.”

  His smile was a little crooked, a bit weak, but still wonderful to see. “Then you have no idea how good you feel beneath a man.”

  She blinked. She blushed and she brazened it out, because what was the point of being shy with a man who’d been willing to give his life for her? Maybe he would have done it for anybody, but he’d definitely done it for her. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Nope. Not the really skinny ones. All those bones hurt.”

  She chuckled. She couldn’t help it. It was nonsense, but it was fun nonsense. And after the terror, that felt good. “Are you calling me fat?”

  “Far from it. You, my darlin’, are a beautiful, perfectly proportioned woman, and if you wear a corset again, I’m going to cut it off where you stand.”

  “I can’t go around without a corset. It’s unseemly.”

  “Uh-huh.” The muscles under her cheek flexed as he shrugged. “You’ve been warned.”

  “Because you never say what you don’t mean?”

  “Unless I’m out of my head.”

  “Are you out of your head right now?”

  “I might be.”

  She hid her smile against his shoulder at the teasing. There was silence for a bit. However, unlike most silences, this one didn’t bother her. She finally broke it. “Chico is all right, too.”

  “So I see.”

  She heard the relief in his tone. “I couldn’t have pulled that tree off you without him.”

  “I’ll give him an extra ration of oats tonight.” He shifted. “And Glory?”

  And that fast her calm disappeared. The shivering started deep inside as she remembered the tornado’s utterly relentless force. “I don’t know. The last time I saw him he was heading for that bunch of trees.”

  “Relax. He’s probably hiding in them.”

  She tried to contain the remnants of terror speculating about Glory’s fate created but it was like a living breathing creature demanding to be free. She shook her head and bit her lip, but the tears came out of nowhere, seeping over her cheeks and dripping onto his arm. She was very afraid Glory was dead.

  “He can’t be.” She shook her head. “The whole copse. It’s…it’s…just gone.” She made a cutting motion with her hand. “Leveled. Like it was never there to begin with.”

  The finger he put over her lips was dirty and firm. She didn’t care. There was comfort in the touch.

  “Glory’s been around long enough to have picked up some sense over the years. He’s likely heading back to the river to get a drink after that run.”

  “Do you truly think so?”

  “Trust me. I know ornery when I see it. And Glory is ornery enough to survive.”

  She managed a weak smile. “Glory is not ornery. He’s sweet.”

  “So you keep telling me.” The pad of his thumb was calloused, but his touch on her cheek infinitely gentle as he wiped away tears. “I do like to see you smile.”

  “Why?”

  Running his finger down her nose, he tapped the end before he shrugged. “Because it makes me want to smile, too.”

  A simple straightforward answer when she’d expected evasion. Would she ever understand him?

  His arm shifted beneath her shoulder. He tucked her a little closer. So close, he was all but lying on her.

  “I’ll have you know, I managed to wiggle out from almost this very position a little while ago.”

  His eyebrows arched and then he winced. “Now, why would you want to do that?”

  Reaching up, she touched the makeshift bandage. A spot of blood was beginnin
g to seep through. “I thought you were dead, and as exciting as Mr. Savage makes these events sound in his stories, it wasn’t enjoyable at all in real life.”

  “You’ve got a real passion for that author.”

  “He’s such a vivid writer.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You shouldn’t mock him. Without the landslide scene in Savage Storm, I wouldn’t have known how to tie off the tree and hitch it to Chico to lift it off you.”

  “Crap.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He sighed. “Chico thinks he’s too fine to be used as a plow horse. It’s going to take a month of oats to soothe his ruffled dignity.”

  Luke might be complaining, but it was clear the man loved that horse. “How long have you two been together?”

  “About eight years now. I’ve had him since he was a foal. His mom rejected him. I couldn’t get another mare to take him on, so he became my responsibility.”

  “So you raised him from a baby?”

  “Yes.” He shook his head and immediately groaned and put his hand to the bandage. “Don’t ever do that. They get to know you too well. It makes it hard for them to remember who’s boss.”

  “Because you love him.”

  “Don’t go fanciful on me. He’s a horse.”

  “That you love.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is he standing nearby?”

  “Yes. He’s just on the other side of the ditch.”

  “Then I’m not answering that question.”

  “Why? Do you think if you don’t say it, it doesn’t make it true?”

  “The truth has nothing to do with it.”

  She was beginning to understand his sense of humor. Another smile tugged at her mouth. “Oh?”