Читать книгу Luke's Cut - Sarah McCarty - Страница 8
ОглавлениеWITH DAWN JUST PAST, the ground wet with dew, the yard bustling with activity, the time to leave had arrived. Even with two cups of coffee in him, Luke was dragging. With the efficiency of long practice, he tightened the cinch on Chico’s saddle. Thanks to a restless night, his mood was jagged.
Around him, the sounds of the group preparing for departure joined the sleepy chirps of rousing birds. Leather creaking, horses stomping their feet, people talking, items thudding into the buckboard—it was all familiar. The rightness of it had settled over his unease with a soothing balm. He gave the cinch a firm tug. It was time to go. A man who stayed in one place too long got stale.
Tia came out of the house, escorted by her husband, Ed. Her dark green traveling dress was impeccably tailored, and the gray-streaked black of her hair was pulled up into a distinguished bun. She was the perfect image of a refined lady, but if he wasn’t mistaken, her dark brown eyes lit with excitement. It occurred to Luke that maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling the weight of settling down. For Tia to have been out in the back of beyond as she had been when the boys of Hell’s Eight found her, she had to have a spirit of adventure.
Funny how he’d never thought on that before. Tia had always just been Tia. The stability in their lives. The one they’d counted on. Behind her trailed Sally Mae. At six months pregnant, her belly led the way. It was her second pregnancy, the first having ended in miscarriage, and everyone was worried because, from the girth of her belly, this child was going to have Tucker’s size.
“I should be going with you,” Sally said and sighed, supporting her stomach with her hand. Behind Sally Mae came Tucker, carrying another suitcase. With a shake of his head he negated that idea. “Before you got two feet in that wagon, that baby would be bouncing out of your belly.”
Despite the ease of his tone, there was no doubting the concern in his eyes. Sally brushed it aside with a flick of her hand. “Expecting women have been traveling since the beginning of time.”
The suitcase landed on the pile in the back of the wagon. “Not my woman.”
Before Sally Mae could counter, Tucker wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him, taking over the supporting of her stomach with his much-larger hands. Placing her hands over his, Sally leaned back and allowed him to support them both.
Her whispered “It’ll be all right this time” carried.
Tucker ducked his head to respond. His hair fell forward to blend with hers. Light with dark. They were opposites that somehow formed a perfect whole. His “I know” reflected her conviction.
Luke didn’t share their confidence. Sally miscarrying the first baby had sent a shock wave through their whole community. The Hell’s Eight wasn’t used to losing, but there’d been no fighting that. Tucker had been devastated. For a time Luke had thought there’d be no more, but Sally Mae, with that implacable quiet resolve of hers, had wanted to try again. Tucker had forbidden it. Clearly in this, Sally Mae had had the stronger resolve.
Watching them, remembering the devastation of that time, Luke wanted to swear. Never, since the days after the massacre that had stripped Hell’s Eight of their families, had he felt so helpless and angry. Rubbing at the tension in his neck, he fought the feeling. Then and now, Tia was the key to the Hell’s Eight unity. She always had been.
Then, they had been starving and consumed with anger when they’d stumbled upon the young widow’s home. They’d tried to steal her pies, and she’d paid them back by taking them into her heart. Tia had given them discipline, education and a purpose. Now a mature woman, she gave them stability and love. Sam might need Tia, but Hell’s Eight needed her, too. No matter how spread out they became, Tia was home. “We could just stay here.”
He knew as he said it, it was a moot point.
Tia shook her head at him before smiling softly at Sally. “There is no need for worry. I will be back in time for this baby.”
Sally nodded. “I know. Bella and Sam need you.”
His “You’re both crazy” went ignored.
“So do we,” Tucker growled, placing his hand over Sally’s.
Tia smiled in that knowing way only another woman found comforting. “Your wife is a healer. She knows this time it is good.”
Tucker’s clenched jaw made it clear he wasn’t feeling any more soothed than Luke.
“I’d feel better with fact, not fiction,” Tucker growled.
Sally Mae patted his hand. “You’re going to just have to wait and see like the rest of us.”
“I hate waiting.”
Luke could put an amen on that. Fortunately, he didn’t have to sit and wait.
Zach rode around the corner of the barn, controlling the prance of the powerful stallion with the same calm efficiency he used to manage the Montoya ranch with Sam. Behind, his men followed, all mounted on equally impressive horse flesh and all equally in control. Zach pulled the stallion to a halt at the edge of the yard. With a tip of his black hat, he acknowledged those gathered. In a slow yet somehow unified meander, his men flanked him. They were an impressive sight.
“We should not wait much longer,” Zach called. “We must cover a lot of trail before dark.”
Acknowledging the comment with a lift of her hand, Tia encompassed them all in a look. When they were growing up, that look had had the power to rein in their wildness. Now it had the power to convey conviction. “We’re not losing another baby. Not here or at Rancho Montoya.”
Ed took her hand and raised it to his lips. “We’re not losing you, either.”
“I’ll be safe, my husband. I feel it.” She stroked his cheek. “You and my boys should not worry. I am not so easily lost.”
“I’d feel better if you’d wait so more of your ‘boys’ could be going with you,” Caine grumbled.
“I know, but...”
“Ah, senora...” Zach came forward, spurs jangling, looking as cocky as always in his black pants, black shirt and black hat adorned with dark turquoise around the brim. “My men and I are not Hell’s Eight, but we are of the Montoya and we have saved Hell’s Eights’ behinds before. You will arrive safely.”
“One time,” Caine muttered from where he was tying down the canvas on one side of the flatbed. “One time they save the day and we never hear the end of it.”
Zach flashed a rare grin. “It is relevant.”
“And we are very grateful,” Tucker drawled with a sharp look at Caine.
That was the truth. Without the Montoya vaqueros, Sam would not have his Bella. Nor Tracker his Ari. And Desi’s promise, which had started it all, to find her stolen twin and dance together once again in a field of daisies would have gone unfulfilled. He shook his head and stroked Chico’s neck. From the day Hell’s Eight had been hired to find the “runaway” Desi, all of their lives’ paths had taken a pivot from wild to civilized. Caine said because it was time. Tia said because God had plans for them beyond an early demise. And Luke. Luke just didn’t know who was making plans for whom. He only knew he wasn’t fitting the mold.
“It is important you are reminded that not all that is good is Tejano,” Zach added.
“Si,” Tia said, patting Caine’s hand this time. “This is true.” She looked over at him. “So stop worrying, Luke. Bella needs me. Sam needs me. The baby needs me.”
Luke tried one more time. “The baby isn’t here yet.”
She looked at him from under her brows. “For this reason, Sam sent for me.”
Luke gave another tug at the cinch. Chico snorted his displeasure, emphasizing it with a stomp of his hoof. “Yeah, I know.”
“That to the horse or Tia?” Tucker asked.
“Shut up, Tucker.”
Luke dropped the stirrup back into place before addressing Tia. “I’m not exactly sure that Sam sent for you. That telegram could have been to keep you apprised.”
Tia clucked her tongue and pulled her scarf up over her hair. “Do not be silly.”
And that fast, Luke knew there was no point in talking further. He loved the small, plump woman from the tip of her bun to the soles of her pointy black boots. She was the anchor of Hell’s Eight and now she was leaving the sanctuary. He didn’t have to like it, but he would support her. “Then let’s go.”
“We can’t yet.”
“Why not?” he asked, preparing to mount.
Everyone went silent. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. From the barn came a rhythmic clanking. He knew that sound.
He looked around. No one would meet his gaze.
“Oh hell no.”
A broken-down nag came through the doors, walking like an old man felt, as if every step dragged its past along with the gaudily painted peddler’s wagon. Sitting in the seat, all delicious curves and annoying attitude, was Josie. She met his frown with a smile. The contents of the wagon clanked as it hit a rut.
Tia smiled. “We are ready.”
“Why did no one tell me Josie was invited along?” Luke asked.
Tia looked at Ed. Ed looked at Ace. Ace shrugged. “Jarl made a promise.”
And Hell’s Eight owed Jarl.
“I, for one, will be glad to have another woman on the journey,” Tia said.
“Well, I’m not.”
Another woman might be one thing, but Josie wasn’t just any woman. She was the thorn in his side. Trouble walking. A mass of contradictions. He ground his teeth to the rhythm of the wagon’s rattle as she approached. Hell, even her hair was contrary. Neither blond nor brown nor red, it was an ever-changing mix of all three, depending on the light. Right now it was red. A warning to anyone who’d care to harken. He opened his mouth. Caine cut him off.
“I wouldn’t even bother saying it.”
Luke turned around to glare at Caine. In many ways, he was the same hard man Luke had grown up with. In others, he was different. Caine had been sent by an unscrupulous bastard to retrieve Desi, and in true Caine form, had ended up keeping her. In Desi, Caine had found everything he’d been searching for. And that hungry, restless wolf inside had settled down.
“What exactly do you think I’m going to say?”
There was a smile in Caine’s gray eyes. “That if she goes, you won’t.”
The thought had crossed his mind. “It’s a thought.”
“It’s a bad thought. I need to know you’re there, Luke. Zach and his men, they’re good but they’re not Hell’s Eight. I can’t spare more than I have.”
Yet another change of the last few years. Hell’s Eight had once functioned as a unit. Almost as one man, one thought, but that had changed. Members had married. Settled down. It was as if each man had found the woman who completed him, anchored his restless ways.
“Hell’s Eight is changing.” Luke sighed.
“We’re bigger,” Caine countered.
“And more vulnerable,” Luke added, looking at Tia. Hell’s Eight had grown. More lives. More responsibilities.
Caine nodded. “I know the photographer irritates you.”
“She does.”
“Now, why is that?” Ace asked as the wagon came closer.
“She’s too flighty. It’s irritating.” That got a raised brow from Ed and a snort from Tia.
“So irritating you can’t take your eyes off her?” Ed asked.
Dammit. Luke yanked his gaze away. He was watching her.
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Tia murmured.
“Better not be too much fire,” Caine cut in. “Josie’s under the protection of Hell’s Eight.”
Luke shook his head. He might be fascinated, but he wasn’t suicidal. “No need to worry. As soon as that woman opens her mouth, any interest a man has dies.”
“Oh?” Tia cocked her head. “I find her quite funny, and Sally Mae says she is a most interesting woman.”
It was Luke’s turn to snort. “All she talks about are those plates and chemicals she uses to make those tintypes.”
“Have you even seen her work?” Caine asked.
“No.” Ever since the woman had pushed him out of his place at the wedding to set up a picture and stolen his point of view with a smile and an elbow in his side, he’d been avoiding the temptation.
“You should.”
“Uh-huh.”
“She is my guest,” Tia reminded him quietly. “And I promised her we did not mind her coming along.”
He’d imagined Josie’d pushed herself into the trip. “You invited her?”
Tia shrugged. “Pictures of my grandson would be good to have in my parlor.”
“There might be photographers out there.”
Tucker snorted. “Now you’re clutching at straws.”
“Yes, he is,” Zach cut in. “The Montoya ranch, it is big, but it’s remote. There are no photographers.”
There went that argument.
Tia smiled at Josie. Josie smiled back.
That smile had way too much impact on his libido, coming as it did from a woman holding the reins of a gaudily painted peddler’s wagon drawn by a knock-kneed horse wearing a ridiculous bonnet sprouting a huge plume of weeds that bobbed with every plodding step. The right wheel hit a bump. The pans attached to the side clattered. Lounging on the porch, Desi’s hound, Boone, lifted his head and moaned before sinking back onto the sun-warmed wood.
“Between that wagon and her...eccentricities, she’ll get us all killed.”
From the edge of the yard came an amused and far too appreciative “I think she will add some beautiful scenery to the journey.”
The last thing he wanted was the too-handsome vaquero noticing Josie. “Shut up, Zach.”
“What do you have against the woman, Luke?” Caine asked.
She was too flighty. Too pretty. Too aggravating. Too tempting. “She has no idea what she’s riding into. Hell, she’s probably got a picnic basket all packed for our little excursion,” he growled under his breath.
Zach just chuckled. Luke had the overwhelming urge to knock him off his horse. As if to prove his point, Josie called over, “Good morning, everyone. I’m so sorry I’m late. I had the darnedest time getting Glory’s hat to stay put.”
Shit. Luke swung up into the saddle. She’d named the nag Glory. What more proof did his point need than that?
“Welcome, hija,” Tia called, bringing the cacophony of horse and wagon closer.
Chico stomped his foot nervously. Luke patted his neck. “Easy, boy. Now is not the time to be temperamental.”
Zach’s horse started its own little dance. As if she didn’t understand the disaster she was courting with that obnoxious wagon, Josie kept coming, shyly flashing those dimples that sent his imagination teetering into areas it had no business being.
“Thank you so much for inviting me. I can’t tell you how excited I am by this opportunity.”
Luke’s cock perked right along with his aggravation. The wheel hit another bump. The pans clattered. A bucket swung, its contents grating around in its interior. Chico crow-hopped and flattened his ears. Zach’s horse snapped its head up and reared. Zach’s quick reflexes were the only thing that saved his ass from getting dumped in the dirt. “Stay back, senorita!”
“Josie,” Luke ordered. “Stop right there.”
Startled, Josie pulled back on the reins. He kneed Chico over. Josie watched him approach, her intriguing blue eyes big beneath her wide-brimmed satin, ruched hat. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit he liked her eyes on him. While there could be a certain haphazardness to her attention, when the woman focused on something, it was all out. He couldn’t help but wonder if she brought that intensity between the sheets.
A shiver raced over his skin. He liked that image entirely too much. The corner of her lips twitched. Fear or humor? It annoyed the bejesus out of him that he wanted to know which. Seems he’d done nothing but watch the woman since the moment he’d damn near tripped over her, kneeling in the dirt taking a picture of a bee on a flower, the day before Hester’s wedding. He’d known she was off-kilter from that second on, but it didn’t seem to make any difference—then or now. He couldn’t look away. Somewhere deep inside him, for some goddamn reason, it mattered if Josie was happy or sad. And that irritated the heck out of him.
Luke folded his arms over the saddle horn and stared right back at her. She cocked her head to the side and studied him.
“I’d like to take your picture like that someday.”
“Why?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “The composition is perfect.”
“Excuse me?”
She made a square of her hands, looking through them with the intensity of a hawk looking at a tasty mouse. “The way you’re sitting, with the mountains behind. And the shadows...” She shifted slightly to the left and nodded. “It would be a good picture, a very good picture.”
Glory stomped his foot. She frowned. “I don’t suppose we have time now, do we?”
He had the insane urge to say yes. “Hell no.”
She sighed. “I lose so many moments that way.”
She was an odd one for sure.
Boone raised his head and gave a light woof. From around the corner of the barn came piling six of his offspring, barking and growling and carrying on. None of them seemed to share Boone’s lazy porch hound ways. They charged in. One raced between his horse’s legs. Chico jumped and snorted. Glory tossed his head and reared up in the traces.
With a scream as ugly as his hat, he threw his head back. Luke only caught a glimpse of Josie’s terror before the horse took off with a surge of energy. The wagon went right along with it, banging and clanking in a cacophonous prelude to disaster.
Chico reared up. As soon as Luke got his hooves back on the ground, he started crow-hopping. Time slowed as Zach’s horse joined in.
This time it was Caine’s turn to say, “Shit.”
He grabbed for Tia’s team. Tucker lunged for Glory and missed. Luke pulled hard on the right rein, forcing Chico into a tight circle before sending him racing after the wagon, driving the gelding through his fear as Glory’s hat sailed by. It only took a few strides for Chico to catch up with Glory. Grabbing his reins just below the bit, he pulled the bag of bones up short. The clanging lessened until the wagon came to a halt.
The whole rescue only took a minute, but at the end of that minute... Luke shook his head and glanced back over his shoulder. Chaos had been unleashed. The yard looked like a tornado had ripped through it, the ground chewed up by horses and wagons, pots and pans and other items strewn across the ground. And sitting on a rosebush was the nag’s ridiculous hat.
The yard wasn’t the only thing in disarray. Josie’s bonnet was off to the side, and tendrils of hair framed her flushed cheeks.
“Why the he—” He caught himself just in time. “Why the heck don’t you have your gear inside the wagon?”
Josie gathered her skirts and hopped down. Her hem caught on the edge of the footboard, flashing him a glimpse of pantaloons and ankle. She yanked at it. “It is in the wagon where it should be.”
“Then what’s all over the yard?”
On a last tug, her skirt came free. She turned and headed toward the mess. “The other stuff.”
She said it as if it made total sense. Luke dismounted and followed. Shaking his head, he picked up a frying pan and handed it back to her. “You don’t think we’ll have cookware where we’re going?”
Josie shrugged. Her hat listed a bit more. “It all came with the wagon. I had no idea what to expect, so I just kept it all.”
“I see.” He went to the back of the wagon and opened the door. It was easy to tell what was her stuff. It was tied down in sturdy boxes.
“We’re going to have to cut back on some of this weight.”
That brought her hurrying right over, two metal bowls and that silly hat in her hand. “You’re not talking about my equipment, are you?”
“Would your equipment be in the large, thick wood box, weighing probably fifty pounds on its own?”
She came up beside him. The soft scent of lilac teased his nostrils. “The solutions I use to make my pictures need to be protected.”
“Uh-huh. What about the rest of this? Are you married to it?”
She pointed to the trunk in the middle. “That has my clothes in it. I could let that go.”
They could agree on one thing. Those ugly clothes she wore had to go. If she were his, he’d dress her in cool silk and simple designs to highlight her natural curves and beauty. Deep blue to match her eyes. Pink to contrast with her pale skin. “Do your clothes have to be in a trunk?”
Cocking her head to the side, she gave his question a second of consideration. “You know, I don’t suppose they do.”
“That horse of yours would probably appreciate a lighter load.” For good measure he added, “And he could probably do without that hat. There’s no dignity in that hat.”
There was little left in her own for that matter. One more nod of her head and it was coming off.
She stuck her finger through the ear holes and wiggled them. “Actually, I’ve been informed that without this hat he’s quite flighty.”
Glancing around the yard, Luke shook his head. “It stuns the mind, imagining how much more he could be.”
The puppies came up, tails wagging and tongues hanging out, completely unconcerned with the disaster they’d precipitated. Josie bent down and gave the one with the white front toe a scratch behind the ear. Her hat gave up and slid off. “Hello, Rascal.”
“I wouldn’t get too fond of them. Boone’s pups are in high demand.”
“I intend to get quite fond of this one. Tucker gave him to me.”
“Tucker gave you one of the pups?”
“Yup.” She snatched her bonnet out of his jaws. “I’ve never had a dog before, though.”
“Why would you want one now?”
She looked up at him. “Because now just seems the right time.”
Boone’s pups had been in demand since the day Boone had fought to save Desi and then, shot and bleeding, tracked her, saving her life. Dogs with that kind of heart were rare. Boone was a legend. And everyone wanted part of a legend. Tucker was mighty particular about whom he gave a pup to.
Yet he’d given one to Josie. Luke’s gut tightened, and not in a good way, at the implied intimacy. Was he actually jealous? “What are you going to do with him when you go back East?”
“They do travel, you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
The puppy made a jump for the hat. She held it above her head. “No, Rascal!”
Rascal kept jumping and she kept turning, uttering soft-voiced orders.
“You could help,” Caine suggested, riding up.
So he could. Grabbing the pup by the scruff, Luke ordered, “Sit.”
Startled, Rascal looked at him before slowly sinking down on his haunches. His face drooped into soulful despair as he realized his predicament.
Luke wasn’t impressed.
Josie grabbed his arm. “Ooh, don’t hurt him.”
Holding the pup’s gaze, Luke ordered, “Stay,” before releasing him.
No one was more surprised than he when Rascal stayed put.
Josie blinked. “I confess, I’m impressed.”
“Some things take a firm hand,” he bluffed.
He’d be damned if that didn’t send a little shiver down her spine, and he’d be damned if that shiver didn’t send another bolt of lust through him.
“We don’t have time to repack all this,” Tucker noted, holding out a badly dented pot as he approached.
Rascal bounded up to Tucker the way all animals and children did. Women, however, were usually intimidated by his dark looks and the scar slashing across his right cheek that lent him a sinister air. Josie just gave him a big smile.
“I’m fine with leaving the cooking equipment and we can take my clothes out of the trunk.”
Tucker turned the pot before tossing it to one of the hands. “That’s good.”
“Truth be told, I got this wagon off a peddler.” She handed the bowls to Luke. “It was one price for everything.” She said it as though it was pure luck the peddler had been selling everything lock, stock and barrel.
The bowls were almost rusted through in places. “I hope you didn’t pay much.”
“Oh no, I bargained.” With a tug, she pulled her bonnet back up. The brim obscured her expression. She still held the horse’s ridiculous hat. Bending down, she gave Rascal a pat. He wiggled and flopped over.
“You bargained?” he asked. She didn’t look as if she could bargain her way out of a feed sack.
Tucker chuckled and started stripping the remaining items from the wagon. “The way I hear it, there was a man down in Parson’s saloon whining about how he was fleeced by some good-looking filly.”
Josie’s smile widened to satisfaction. Luke noticed she was more free with her expressions when she felt hidden in some way. “Why, thank you, Mr. McCade.”
Tucker tipped his hat. “Always happy to pass on good news. And just call me Tucker.”
Luke wanted to knock the bonnet from her head and expose that smile, that woman. “I didn’t know you had such talents.”
“Imagine that.” Focusing on Glory’s hat, she straightened the brim before heading to the front of the wagon.
Tucker snorted. Luke cut him a glare before following. He motioned to the weed-adorned monstrosity. “You know, it’s darned undignified to make a horse wear that thing.”
“Uh-huh.”
The horse was too tall for her to position it properly. Luke folded his arms across his chest. If she asked nicely, he might help her.
She waved the hat. Instead of spooking, the horse lowered its head. She settled the hat over Glory’s ears, carefully working the right, then the left through the holes. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled. “It seems, Mr. Bellen, there are some things about which you don’t know everything.”
* * *
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, excess trunks and cooking equipment were stacked by the house, the wagons were in line, the women were ready and there was nothing left to do but leave. Luke looked around, a mixture of unease and anticipation roiling in his gut. The anticipation was for him. The unease for the women. Here was safety. Ahead lay danger. And he was leading Tia and Josie right into it. He pulled his hat down over his eyes.
“I’m not happy about this,” he muttered to Caine.
Caine nodded. “For the record, neither am I.”
But it didn’t make a difference. The trip was happening. Luke turned his horse and moved to the head of the small caravan. Zach’s vaqueros fell into place, surrounding the wagons. Warriors who’d give their lives to protect the women. He had to believe it was going to be enough.
From the porch, Rascal barked. And then howled. Tucker hushed him with a tug on the impromptu rope leash. Behind him, he heard the goodbyes. Before he got too far, Caine stopped him with a sharp whistle.
“Don’t forget where your home is.”
Looking back at Caine, Luke saw all there had been, all there could be. And the reality of what was. He didn’t know if he’d ever be coming back.
He touched his finger to the brim of his hat. “I won’t.”
Caine held up his hand. Right behind Caine was Ace. And behind him, Tucker. And then Ed. Solid men to the last. Dependable. His family. “If you do, we’ll come looking for you.”
And that was the beauty of Hell’s Eight. Even when they were apart, they were never alone. He tipped his hat. “I’ll hold it against you if you don’t.”
There was so much more he wanted to say, but all the words had been spoken and now it was only down to the doing, as it had been so many times before. But with this departure there wasn’t a bounty or the need for revenge to drive him down the trail. There was only this aching need for...something. Just something.
And it was time to go find it.
With a wave of his hand, he put the caravan in motion.
The journey had begun.
