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She blamed this cowardly man for turning her mind upside down. Well, he wouldn’t get away with it. Daniel, together with her father, would send every available man and bounty hunter after them.
“All right.” He yanked her off the chair with a muscled grip. “Let’s go.”
She’d try to stall him. Daniel and the others might already be searching. “What about my dress?”
“What about it?” His grip felt like iron. He lowered his gaze to the velvet gown, reminding her how bare her shoulders were, how much the bodice gaped without its button.
“We can’t travel in these clothes. They’re uncomfortable. We’d like to change.”
His gaze traveled to Olivia. Her poor friend stood trembling in her burgundy satin. He eyed Jenny with suspicion. “Do you have extra clothes here?”
“Well, no. But my house is only five streets over.”
He snorted. “Nice try. Forget it.”
“At least let me get needle and thread for my button. Daniel’s butler keeps a sewing basket in the kitchen.”
“I haven’t known you for very long,” he said, humor tugging at his lips, “but I do know one thing.” He raised a black brow and his charcoal eyes flashed, evoking another flash of fury. “If you do locate a needle, it’ll only wind up stuck in my eye.” His gaze skimmed her gaping dress. “I’m not letting you look for a needle. Your missing button doesn’t bother me.”
She felt her face blaze. She yanked her shawl around her.
His eyes grew wide with amusement. “As a matter of fact,” he added, “hand over the pin that’s in it.”
She gasped at the outrageous request. “No gentleman would ask such a thing of a lady.”
“I don’t rightly care.” He raised his gun. “Now hand it over. Nicely.”
Men out West certainly weren’t the same as the men in Boston! In Boston they had manners, they said please and thank you and they never looked directly at your…your bosoms! Jenny felt her nostrils flare as she groped for the pin.
“Drop it,” he commanded.
It pinged off the floorboards.
As they walked out the door, the two women in front, Luke grabbed a hunk of bread from Olivia’s sack. He ripped at it with his teeth, like a hungry tiger chewing on flesh. The man was truly an animal.
God, he couldn’t be a friend of Daniel’s.
A quarter moon lit the deserted street and houses. Orange leaves swirled at their feet. Huddling together, the women walked ahead of Luke and his horse. Where were they going? Jenny squeezed Olivia’s trembling arm.
Trains hissed in the railway yard behind the far trees. They were headed in that direction. Good. Jenny breathed faster, gulping down the scents of damp earth and oil. They d be more visible on a train than by horse. Other passengers might come to their aid.
Their captor directed them around some tall pines. A number of railway cars sat in the station. As a result of the derailment, the trains headed south had no place to go. But her father had told her the trains headed north to Wyoming or east to Omaha were still running on time. This brute had obviously timed his departure well, for the Wyoming train was whistling, as if waiting for them.
In the distance, above the rumble of the steam engine and the clatter of baggage being loaded, she heard the conductor call, “Thirty minutes to departure.”
They approached the train from the shadows. Glancing down the line of cars toward the platform, past the trunks and crates of vegetables, Jenny spotted a crowd. Capes and bonnets, walking canes and cowboy hats. Her muscles tightened with hope. Did she recognize any faces? They weren’t in anyone’s line of vision yet, but another fifty yards and she’d yell out to them.
She dodged a puddle. The train hissed and she jumped back in alarm.
A gun dug into Jenny’s back and she was forced to keep walking. So help her, the first chance she got, she’d hold a gun to his head and let him know how it felt.
They passed an open boxcar stamped Union Pacific, and a short, blond man stepped out from the shadows. “Boss?”
Oh, no, thought Jenny, Luke knew him. The lithe stranger, who had a wide, flat nose and muttonchop sideburns, guided Luke’s horse up a makeshift ramp. He glanced at them. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t ask, Tom, I’ll explain later. I didn’t get to Daniel, but I’ve got his woman and her friend. Forget about the tickets—we’ll have to stay with the horses and women. We’ll split them up. You take this one,” he said, tossing a shocked Olivia into the man’s arms. “The blonde comes with me.”
Panic welled in Jenny’s throat. She staggered back and screamed, as loudly as she could, at precisely the same time as the steam engine blew its whistle.
No one heard her except Luke. Her cries were muffled as he threw her into the car behind his horse. Her gown twisted up around her thighs, and her feathered shawl dropped to the tracks. Luke dove in on top of her, squashing her between the solid wooden floor and his hard muscled body. Her chest felt like it would burst.
Never in all her life had she been so mistreated, had she wished a fellow human being harm.
Before she had time to blink, he rolled off her and slid the rickety door closed behind them. Seized with dread, she watched his lean profile melt into a swirl of blackness.
Good Lord, what would he do next?
In the cool, quiet hours near midnight, Luke stared into the darkness. Now he had to face up to what he’d done.
With a mean-awful pounding in his ribs, he dragged himself to his feet. The railcar bounced and swayed beneath him. The cramp in his calf squeezed tighter and he shook it out. He’d been lying so long in one position, pinning Jenny down so she couldn’t bolt and spook the horses, that his muscles needed release.
Sighing, he sought out her curvy shape on the straw. She wore the jacket he’d given her for the cool night, and she was breathing steady in a deep sleep. Fighting him at first, she’d finally simmered when he threatened to harm her friend. Empty threats, but they’d worked.
Luke’s bay whinnied. Another horse, belonging to another passenger, stirred beside him. Tugging the scarred door open, Luke gazed up at purple sky and twinkling stars. A branch scraped along the train’s side and he ducked his leg to avoid it. Judging by the silhouette of mountains, they were close to the territory border, had maybe even crossed it. By early morning, they’d reach Cheyenne. The next train from Denver was tomorrow, and he expected Daniel to be on it.
Thank God, Maria had told Luke the truth before she’d died. She’d lived in the boardinghouse, accepting the measly dollars Daniel sent her monthly—just enough to keep her mouth shut about the paternity of the boy, to keep her hovering above poverty.
For five years, as Maria worked the lunch hours, she’d kept the boy by her side. Luke had shooed Adam out of the way at every opportunity, never spending more than five minutes with him. Hadn’t he even told Maria to try to keep Adam hidden? That having the boy around wasn’t good for business? Luke burned with shame. After Maria’s death, he’d taken a hard look at himself and realized he’d treated his horse better than he had the kid.
Sure, in the end, when she’d suffered that horrible sore throat from diphtheria, Luke had stepped in, taking Adam to his friends’ ranch to protect the boy from getting sick. But that hadn’t worked so well, either, had it? She’d died so soon, the boy hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. Luke knew what that felt like. A hole that never got filled.
Hadn’t he missed the opportunity to say goodbye to his old man? He’d heard the applause from the hanging, though. He’d been sitting on the bench behind the courthouse beside his brothers, all spiffed up, their mother in her worn-out Sunday dress, begging the judge to release their pa.
Looking back on it now, he knew the hanging was inevitable. Cattle rustling, a shoot-out with the sheriff, one dead deputy… But as a sparkly eyed six-year-old kid, with two optimistic brothers and a frantically hopeful mother, they thought the judge would show leniency.
None of them had said goodbye.
Luke sighed, bone-tired of it all. Daniel’s family had taken him in, saying they could use the extra hand on such a big ranch, with only one child of their own to help. For the first few years, he and Daniel were the best of friends. But as soon as Daniel’s friends—especially the young women—started paying Luke attention, and Luke’s abilities with horses and guns outstripped Daniel’s, a rivalry grew.
Not on Luke’s part. But during Luke’s troubled teen years, marked by petty crimes that followed his mother’s death and his brothers abandoning Cheyenne and Luke as a result—well, Daniel had gloated. The two hadn’t spoken in years, not since Daniel moved to Denver.
What happened to the good person Daniel used to be? Did he deserve another chance? Would marriage to Jenny straighten him out?
She seemed like a good woman. She had guts and stamina. And out here, where men outnumbered women eight to one, the strength of men depended on the strength of their women. Once Jenny married Daniel, she’d be stepmother to Adam. She’d make a good one, too. She’d been kind enough to help Luke, hadn’t she?
And how had he repaid her kindness? He stirred uneasily.
Forcing himself to look at the moving ground outside instead of the captivating woman inside, Luke ran a hand over his bandaged chest and moaned. The whiskey stains had dried. He’d been through enough fights to know his wound was light and it would heal. He was used to changing bandages all by himself, and he’d change these, too.
Her whisper pierced the quiet. “What’s your real name?”
He started at the silky sound of her voice and spun around. She sat up, clutching his jacket. Her hair matted along one side of her head, full of loose straw. Moonlight shadowed the hollows of her straight nose and curved mouth. He tried not to notice how pretty she was. She was Daniel’s. Luke would sooner die than cross that line of honor. He’d never chase another man’s woman. He was not his father.
Clearing his throat, he leaned a shoulder against the rough plank wall. “I told you. I’m Luke McLintock. And I didn’t steal any money. If I had, do you think I would have been standing on Daniel’s porch? And do you see any bags of money?”
She frowned, glanced at the saddlebags, then eyed him with suspicion. “Tell me truthfully how you know him.”
“You know already. We grew up together.”
“One friend wouldn’t do this to another.”
He winced, then shuffled his feet. “I’ve been saying the same thing to myself for eight hours.”
She sat up taller. Her slim waist flared to rounded hips. “Prove it to me. Tell me something only you would know.” A soft tremble rippled across her mouth. She was frightened of him, and that tweaked his guilt.
“Like what?” he asked gently.
“What day of the week was he born?”
“That’s easy. He says he was born to work with money. He tells everyone he was born on a Friday, the busiest banking day of the week. In mid-January.”
Her eyes probed his. “When were you born?”
“Six years later, during harvest. The last week of September.”
She lifted her chin. “Oh…that’s next week.” Her features tightened with suspicion. “What are his folks’ names?”
“They were Lance and Ellen. They passed away years ago.”
Scowling, she hugged her knees, pulling her gown around her. “Well, anyone might know that. Tell me something about yourself. How did your…your father die?”
“Daniel didn’t tell you?”
She drew back. “Should he have?”
“No, I’m just surprised.” After all, he thought to himself, Daniel loved to make himself sound superior. “My mother died of working too hard,” he said, gritting his teeth, trying not to remember how she’d had a stroke while on her knees scrubbing floors. “And my father…” he closed his eyes for a moment and leaned back against the wall for support “…my father was hanged.”
Silence.
“That can’t be true,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
He pressed his lips together and shrugged a shoulder, too ashamed to meet her eyes.
More silence.
“For what crime?”
“Pick one.”
Straw rustled. He turned to look at her and she inched backward defensively, until she was pressing up against the slatted boards. As if she had to protect herself from him.
But didn’t she? He’d taken her from her family, from all she loved.
Her lips parted. She continued to stare, measuring him with a pensive shimmer in her eyes. Her smooth skin glowed in the dim light and her messy hair tangled with the straw. He shouldn’t really stare, but she had such a wild beauty. There was a softness and a strength to her that fascinated him.
“How’d you and Daniel meet?” he blurted.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure she’d answer. “At a Union Pacific social,” she finally said. “The Independence Day fireworks. Father arranged the introductions.”
Luke found the news strangely uplifting. “You mean your father arranged the wedding?”
In a fluster, she ran her fingers through her hair. “Well, not exactly. Sort of…” She gave a little cough. “It was my decision.”
“I see.” Lots of fathers arranged marriages. Why did this news please Luke?
Sudden anger flashed in her eyes. “You better watch out when my father gets ahold of you.”
“Daniel has a way of convincing people. I’m sure he can handle your father.”
Her voice rose. “Not this time. My father will know something’s wrong.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never missed writing a speech for him before.”
He pressed his back against the cold wall, facing her directly. “You write your father’s speeches?”
She nodded and plucked at the straw near her boots.
“You’re educated then. Went to college in Boston?”
“Well, not precisely. My brothers did.”
“But not you?”
She furrowed her brow. “I read every one of their books.”
“Why didn’t you just go to school?”
“Because women don’t go to college, that’s why,” she answered.
He paused. “But I hear they do.”
Glancing down at her fingers, she twisted her engagement ring. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “It’s what my father always tells me.”
“Oh.” Luke was touched by her tender admission. “Yet he gets you to write his speeches.”
“But no one knows I do.” She met his eyes with such honesty, it upset his balance. “Well, except you.”
