Another Dawn (44 page)

      
"What's your name?" Luke resisted the urge to run. He didn't want to face this guy, and he didn't even know why. "Dr. Wilson wants to notify your family."

      
Smith made a cackling sound with his singed vocal chords that sounded demonic, though Luke recognized the rhythm as laughter.

      
"Why won't you tell me your name?" Luke swallowed hard, trying not to look at the man's insidious eyes. They seemed to look through him.

      
Knowingly.

      
"You...know."

      
Cold penetrated Luke's flesh and stole its way into his very soul. The man's eyes grew more fierce, though he didn't move.

      
"You know," he repeated.

      
"No...I don't know."
 
Luke's pulse roared through his veins as memories assailed him, though he didn't understand why. The electric chair loomed in his mind, threatening and final.

      
"My name," the man said, still not moving any closer. "Say it."

      
"I don't know."
 
Luke's voice grew louder, competing against the roar of his own blood.

      
"I am...Justice."

Chapter 17

      
Luke bolted. He ran like he should have the morning of his execution.

      
For his life and from the same man.

      
Smith was Warden Graham.
God help me
. Why else would the bastard have called himself Justice? No wonder those demented eyes had given him the creeps for weeks.

      
Of course, Graham's definition of justice didn't come close to reality. The man was demented and obsessed.

      
In any century.

      
Ignoring the friendly greetings and curious stares of those he passed, Luke ran to the edge of town and stopped. What the hell was he doing?

      
Sofie. He couldn't leave her here. More importantly, he didn't want to leave her.

      
What a time to fall in love. Why here? Why now? He leaned against a tree, gasping for breath and reason. He had to think. Clearly. Carefully.

      
His life depended on it.

      
He doubled up his fist and punched the trunk of the pine that had been supporting him. "Shit."
 
Stupid, Nolan. Flexing his bruised knuckles, he counted to ten and forced himself to regain control.

      
Why should he be afraid of Warden Graham? That bastard couldn't do anything to him in 1891. Could he? No, Graham didn't have his precious prison system, or court orders for anybody's execution. He had nothing.

      
He was powerless.

      
A smug smile tugged at Luke's lips as he turned toward the parsonage. He would complete his plans to leave Redemption with the woman he loved, marry her, then take her away to live somewhere far from Colorado and the warden from hell.

      
Maybe they'd go to Oregon and look up Zeke Judson again. Wouldn't that old fart be surprised to learn Father Salazar had hung up his collar? Or how about California? Even without Disneyland, it had the Pacific Ocean. That certainly held appeal. They could even invest in California real estate way ahead of the game. Beverly Hills, Rodeo Drive, Malibu.

      
They could go west, but not until spring. Only a fool would take off across the mountains heading west this time of year. Denver had to come first. The sooner he and Sofie put some serious distance between them and Graham, the better. No, Graham couldn't hurt Luke here and now, unless...

      
Sofie.

      
She was the soft spot in his armor. His love for her made him vulnerable, just as his need for Grandpa's approval had. But this was worse. More power. More vulnerability.

      
Warden Graham might not be able to fry Luke's gizzard in 1891, but he could still hurt him if he had the ammunition. Luke had to make sure the bastard didn't get his hands on that ammunition.

      
On Sofie.

      
Luke kept walking, not missing a step even when he realized exactly what Graham could do to him here and now.

      
He could tell Sofie everything.
      

      
Pausing outside the back door to the parsonage, Luke ran his fingers down his face, tugging at his lower eyelids as he contemplated this newest mess. Would he never have peace?

      
Roman had said Sofie could travel any day. Now that Graham had played his hand, any day meant now. Today. Luke might not have a few days. He had to act fast, because it was already past noon.

      
What if Graham told Roman Wilson who he was? Who Luke was? Still, even if he did, no one would believe him.

      
No one but Sofie.

      
Luke slipped quietly through the back door, hoping he would find her alone. What he had to say couldn't be said in front of an audience.
 

      
The kitchen was empty, as was the parlor. Jenny must have gone somewhere with Shane. Slowly, Luke climbed the stairs, praying Sofie trusted him enough to leave without asking too many questions.
 

      
At the top of the stairs, he paused and listened. The house was quiet. Now he was certain Jenny was either gone or asleep, and he definitely hadn't seen evidence that the girl was a napper before. Allowing himself a smile, he proceeded to Sofie's bedroom door and knocked.

      
"Come in."
 

      
He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened the door. She sat in a chair near the window with a book in her lap, her hair loose and curling wildly as if she'd been asleep.

      
"Luke."
 
She closed her book and set it aside, then stood, smoothing her skirts. "I was just thinking about you–rather, about our trip to Denver."

      
"Sofie, I..."
 
Where should he start? How could he convince her to leave Redemption with him now?

      
Today.

      
"What is it?" She took a step toward him, frowning. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

      
Luke gave a humorless laugh and shook his head. "I've seen something much worse than a ghost," he said, no longer laughing. Drawing a deep breath, he banished thoughts of what Mrs. Wilson would think and closed the door.
 

      
Sofie arched a brow. "What's wrong?"

      
"Do you trust me?"

      
"You know I do. What is it?" She took a step toward him, open concern overshadowing any apprehension she may have had about his presence in her bedroom. "Tell me."

      
He wanted to reach out and cup her cheek with his hand, to brush his thumb along her upper lip. He wanted to say, "I love you, Sofie."

      
But he couldn't.

      
"Sofie, go with me today. Now."
 
He wanted to weave his fingers through her wild, rich curls, to lower his lips to hers.
      
Not here. Not yet. They had to leave Redemption and Warden Graham first. Then and only then could he make her his in every sense of the word. He burned with need–physical and emotional–reserved for this woman alone.

      
She stared at him in silence, worry and confusion furrowing her brow and darkening her eyes from blue to cobalt. "I don't understand," she finally said.

      
"I need to leave today," he said.
 

      
"Why?" She shook her head slowly. "Why, Luke?"

      
"I have some crucial business to take care of," he said, grasping for any lie that came to mind. He hated lying to her. Desperately. Being vague was his best bet, but still a lie of omission. "The weather will turn on us soon, and if I get stranded here all winter..."

      
I'm dead meat.

      
"What about Jenny?" Sofie straightened, stiffening. "I need to tell Dr. and Mrs. Wilson bye. And what about Dora? I–"

      
Luke chuckled, though he felt more like crying. "Hmm, what about Dora?"

      
Sofie gave him an impish grin. "Well, she did loan me some clothes."

      
"I know."
 
He raked his fingers through his hair, praying he could convince her before Graham took action. "Jenny has Shane now. She'll be fine, thanks to all you've done for her already."

      
"And you."
 
Sofie gave him a quiet smile. "I couldn't have done any of this without you. You saved me. Without you, I would've died in that explosion."

      
"The best day's work I've ever done," he whispered, and meant it. "They will all understand. They've always known we wouldn't stay."

      
"Yes, but..."

      
"Today, Sofie. Please?"

      
"You're...sure about this?"

      
"Yes."
 
He needed more inducement on his side, but only more lies were available.
Damn
. "I talked to someone at Roman's earlier who convinced me we had to leave now."
 
That was true.

      
"I still don't..."

      
"The weather, Sofie."
 
He shrugged, hoping this one logical excuse–and the only one that was completely true–would suffice. "We have to be at least nine thousand feet here. It's going to snow, and some of the old-timers around here think that will happen very soon."

      
She nodded. "Yes, that's probably true, but today?"

      
He brought his hands to her upper arms, gently touching her before he noticed her sling was gone. "Your shoulder is much better, the weather will be turning any day now, and I have important reasons to go now."

      
She sighed. "I just don't know."

      
"Trust me, Sofie," he said. "Please, just trust me."

      
"All right, Luke. I trust you more than anyone."
 
The expression in her eyes softened, and she looked down at one of his hands on her arm. Pink crept into her cheeks, and when she met his gaze again, Luke saw what he'd prayed he would see.

      
What he prayed he would always see in her eyes.

      
Love.