Cowboys 08 - Luke (3 page)

Chapter Two

Luke leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyelids to droop, but he watched Hans closely to gauge the extent of his sincerity.

"You can't quit," Hans was saying. "The princess is in great danger."

"You keep telling me that, but you can't give me any proof," Luke said.

Otto had followed Luke from Valeria's room, confirmed that he really had been fired, but said he could keep the money he'd already been paid. Less than twenty minutes later Hans tracked Luke down and begged him to stay.

"I'm certain they're only waiting until we leave Bonner. Once we're in your wilderness, there won't be anyone to stop them," Hans said.

"Who are you afraid of?" Luke asked.

Hans looked around with the nervous glance of a man fearful he would be attacked from behind at any moment. Luke could have told him the Crystal Palace was the safest and most orderly saloon in town. It was patronized primarily by the solid citizens of the town, along with some mine- and land-owners; the conversation was muted, the alcohol of good quality. Several years earlier the town fathers had hired Luke to clean out a gang of rustlers and gold thieves. People still remembered burying the gang one by one in the local boot hill. Luke's liking for a quiet place to drink his brandy ensured that the boisterous miners would seek their beer and whiskey elsewhere while he was in town.

"I can't be entirely sure who's behind it," Hans admitted. "Otherwise Prince Matthais would have caught the unprincipled cowards. He was not easily persuaded to let the princess travel to this country. For more than a year he insisted Duke Rudolf return to Europe. But such a trip would endanger the duke's life."

Why?"

"A revolution in Ergonia deposed his father ten years ago. Those in power now would try to kill the duke if he should attempt to return. He's depending on the princess's inheritance. So you see, he, too, is most anxious to see she reaches him safely."

"Still, I don't see who can be behind this danger you are certain hangs over the princess."

Luke told himself he shouldn't be wasting his time. Hans had spent his entire life in the confines of a dull, orderly, protocol-driven European court where being fifteen minutes late for lunch could put a person before the firing squad. Just being in the Arizona Territory was probably enough to start him seeing bandits behind every bush.

"I have lived at court my whole life," Hans said. "I can sense these things."

Luke refrained from pointing out that in the West people liked facts, that all this
sensing things
could get you killed. Being right wasn't always enough. You had to be smart and fast with a gun. Most people weren't smart enough or fast enough. That's where Luke came in. "It doesn't matter," Luke said. "The princess has fired me."

"She has no authority to do that," Hans said. "I hired you at the behest of her uncle. You are still our guide."

Luke sank deeper into his chair. "She doesn't want me. Otto told me I could keep the money, to just go away."

Hans didn't appear surprised, but he did appear disapproving. Or was it disappointed?

"That's how we do it in my country, pay people to ignore injustice and fade away quietly. I was told men in your country were willing to die for their principles."

"Meaning?" Luke didn't have any principles. Yet, once he accepted a job, he didn't consider his obligation fulfilled until he had completed the job. But he'd been fired. So why did Hans's disappointment prick a sensitivity he hadn't known he had?

"You can't desert the princess."

"I've been paid to go away."

"I'll pay you more to stay."

"Why?"

"My family has served the princess's family for more than a hundred and fifty years. During that time we've managed to prevent any of them from being killed. I don't intend to be the first one to fail."

"What's in it for you?"

"Honor."

"I'm talking about money," Luke said. "Nobody does something like this for nothing."

"You consider honor nothing?"

"It can be bought."

"Service can be bought. Honor never."

Hans's words stung. What right did he have to criticize Luke? He was short and unattractive, balding, on the shady side of fifty, his stomach threatening to burst the buttons on his waistcoat. He couldn't see without his thick glasses, and he was too slow and weak to defend himself. "You're mighty free with your criticism," Luke said.

"I don't know your character well enough to criticize you," Hans said, looking more nervous and ill at ease than ever. "But people say once you take on a job, you don't back down, regardless of the danger. That's why I chose you."

"This isn't a matter of backing down," Luke said. "I've been fired."

"Not by me, and I'm the one who made the contract with you."

Luke sat forward so quickly, Hans jumped back startled. "I'll honor our bargain on one condition."

"I understood you never had conditions."

"I do this time."

"What is it?"

How could a silly, defenseless man look so proud and regal? "The princess must ask me to go with her," Luke said.

Hans collapsed like a punctured balloon. "She'll never do that."

Luke settled back into his chair. "Then you'll have to find someone else. I won't take a commission against the wishes of the person I'm supposed to protect. I did that once"-to protect his brother, but Hans didn't have to know that "and I swore I'd never do it again."

"But how do I get her to change her mind?" "Let her spend several days in this town." "She'll insist I hire someone else." "Then hire someone else."

"They told me Americans were stiff-necked and proud, especially you."

"Who told you?"

"Jefferson Randolph. He's a very successful banker."

"I know Mr. Randolph." Luke would have a few things to say to Jeff when they met again. Not that Jeff would care. He could be extremely foul-tempered when he wanted to. Luke rose. "My honor can't be bought, either. I'll escort the princess to the duke's ranch, but she must ask me herself."

"She's much too proud," Hans said, perspiration the size of raindrops popping out on his forehead. "So am I," Luke replied.

As he watched Hans walk away, Luke wondered why he'd agreed to reconsider. He'd never done that before. He didn't understand why the princess intrigued him. He despised royalty in principle and in practice. The aristocrats he'd encountered deserved to be dethroned, cast out, and forced to earn their living. They were little more than glorified leeches living off the labors of others.

So what made him believe Valeria might be different? Had her dusky beauty hypnotized him? She had hair black as a raven's wing, thick and glistening, ebony brows, ruby lips. He'd never seen more perfect skin, not the pure white favored by most but almost an almond color. Could it be that the princess had a few drops of gypsy blood? The thought made him smile.

Maybe she had cast a spell over him.

He got to this feet, disgusted with his foolish thoughts. She was a beautiful woman with a tall, slim body endowed with almost enough curves to be voluptuous. He reacted like other men when it came to beautiful women. But he differed from most men in that he never let his physical response influence his actions.

Valeria couldn't sleep. The heat was nearly unbearable, but it was the noise outside that kept her awake. It seemed people in this town didn't go to sleep. For the last two hours they'd gone up and down the street, shouting to each other, shouting at each other, fighting, even singing drunken songs. She'd sent Otto to complain, but the miners were a rough lot who didn't appreciate restrictions. In her country, the army would have taken care of them immediately. She wondered why the American army didn't do something.

Then she realized she hadn't seen any army. What kind of country was this that didn't have soldiers everywhere? How were people controlled, revolutions prevented?

The army hadn't prevented a revolution in her country. Nor in Rudolf's. That was why she was in America trying to find her way across its trackless wastes. She wondered what Rudolf was doing on a ranch. He didn't know anything about working for a living.

The noise level on the street below had been dropping over the last few minutes until near-silence reigned. She could still hear footsteps, so she knew not everyone had gone home. Why had the men stopped making so much noise? Curious, she got out of bed and went over to the window. The number of men about didn't seem to have decreased, but they weren't loud and raucous as they had been for the last few hours. They walked quickly, talking softly among themselves, glancing into the shadows as though wary of something they couldn't see.

Valeria didn't see him at first. Then she gradually made out the shape of a man in the shadow of a building, leaning against the wall, his outline barely visible. Who was he? What was he doing on the street at this hour, and why was he hiding in the shadows? A tiny shiver raced down and back up her spine. Could this be the assassin Hans and Otto seemed convinced had been sent to kill her? She told herself not to be foolish. She was thousands of miles away from Belgravia. No one knew where to find her.

Yet she couldn't drive out the fear that this was a killer who had followed her to America. What other kind of man could cause drunken miners to fall silent?

A movement in the shadows caused her focus to become intent. She saw a faint red glow brighten, then fade. He was smoking a cigarette. Nearly every man she knew smoked. She considered it a disgusting habit, but no one cared what she thought.

The man dropped the cigarette, and ground it out beneath his boot. Then he stepped out into the moonlight. Luke Attmore !

What was he doing? Watching her window? If so, why? Instinctively she drew back, her hand at her throat. She told herself not to be foolish. The man was outside. She was inside. She had no reason to believe he wanted to harm her, but he'd found his way into her room without anyone knowing how. He'd caused the drunken miners to fall silent.

What kind of man could do that?

He looked up at her window. There was no doubt about it. He was watching her room. Otto had paid him to go away. Why was he still here? Then he did something very surprising. He took off his hat and made a sweeping bow, flashed a brilliant smile, returned his hat to his head, and retreated to the shadows once more.

Valeria felt exposed, defenseless. She wanted to jump back into the shadows, to crawl back into the safety of her bed. Luke Attmore had seen her at the window. He knew she'd watched him, and it pleased him.

As much as it unsettled her, she admired his boldness. She had dispensed with his services, so he had apparently decided to show her exactly what she'd thrown away. He intrigued her, she admitted that, but she wouldn't change her mind. She didn't like Mr. Attmore, and she didn't want him anywhere near her.

A light flared. Another cigarette. He obviously didn't intend to leave his position for a while yet. She didn't know whether to feel safe or pursued. She knew nothing about him. He could be the man Hans feared wanted to kill her. What better plan than to hire on as her guide and kill her in the desert where no one would ever find her body.

The pinpoint of light at the end of his cigarette glowed brightly, then faded.

Why was he watching her? Did he know the noise in the street had kept her awake? Why should he care? He had called her shallow, spoiled, and overdressed. Anger at his remarks swept through her. No one had ever dared to say such things to her. No one! But he hadn't hesitated.

The cigarette glowed again.

Valeria turned away from the window and back toward her bed. She prided herself on knowing men, understanding them. It was the only way a woman could achieve any degree of happiness. But she didn't understand Luke Attmore. He didn't behave like any man she'd ever known.

That probably came from living in this strange country. He intrigued her. She almost wished he were going with her. She even considered sending Otto to ask him to be her guide after all.

She lay back down on the bed. She refused to do anything so foolish just to satisfy her curiosity. She closed her eyes. But rather than her fiance, the image of Luke Attmore, standing in the middle of the street, smiling up at her, filled her thoughts.

"What do you mean, no one will take the job?" Valeria asked. Both Hans and Otto stood before her, Otto looking irritated, Hans nervous and fidgety.

"It seems he's a famous gunfighter," Otto said. "Everybody is afraid of him."

They had interrupted her breakfast. She was already irritated because her chef had not been given free rein to use the kitchen. A reprimand sent through her maid had resulted in a sharply worded reply stating that the princess wasn't the only person in Bonner in need of breakfast. It wasn't so much the lack of respect or the late breakfast. It was more that everything familiar, safe, and comforting had been taken from her, leaving her feeling very much alone, vulnerable, and adrift. But she couldn't confess that to anyone. A princess never admitted weakness. She was hemmed in, held defenseless by the very status which should have protected her.

"They also say he's the best," Hans said, wringing his hands in a fashion that made Valeria want to slap him. He was a good man-honest, dependable, hardworkingbut she wished he would act like a man instead of a mouse.

"Thank you for trying to make sure I'm safe," she said, smiling at Hans. "I'm sure dealing with such a man must have been hard for you, but I can't have him in my service."

Both Hans and Otto put forth several reasons why she should retain Mr. Attmore's services-Hans more convincingly than Otto-but she wouldn't listen. She would have nothing to do with Luke Attmore.

Still, something about him tugged at something deep inside her, something that had never come to life before. She knew it was a purely physical response, and that frightened her. Her entire life had been fabricated of arrangements made for reasons of state. Personal likes and dislikes weren't allowed to enter into her decisions. As for physical reactions, well, that was unthinkable. She was a princess.