Luke’s Runaway Bride (10 page)

She was fooling herself about Daniel. She only saw what she wanted to see. Luke witnessed it all the time. People liked to delude themselves—hell, it was part of the joy of living. Some people’s delusions were quite grand here in the West. “Why would the sheriff arrest me?”

“For stealing ten thousand dollars.”

Luke scoffed. “Imaginary money.” He flicked the reins. “Tell me something. Don’t you think it’s odd that Daniel just gave the sheriff a description of me? Why didn’t he give my name and place of residence?”

He watched the confusion wrinkle her brow and he suddenly felt sorry for her.

“See?” he said, softly. “There was no theft. It was just an attempt on Daniel’s part to keep me out of Denver. Away from you and anyone else who might discover the truth. The sheriff in this town isn’t after me.”

She sighed. A look of sadness passed over her features, quickly replaced by one of stubbornness.

They stared ahead. The horse’s plodding hoofbeats echoed off the pine buildings. Their buckboard squeaked past the Cheyenne rail station and the rackety crowd shuffling on the platform. Two men zigzagged across the street, making their way from Annie’s Café to the guns and ammunition depot. On Friday nights the town came alive with shoppers, diners and strollers.

Luke took a deep breath. His town. His people.

The mercantile loomed to their right, and they turned the corner. He stole another look at Jenny.

The vulnerability in her eyes tore at him, made him want to protect her. Did she need protecting from Daniel? Or could she hold her own? He smiled softly to himself. He did admire her fiery nature.

With her hands clasped in her lap, she stared ahead. Her lips had stopped trembling, but were set firmly. Barely a word had escaped her on the thirty-minute ride, but what did he expect? She was going back to Denver, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could think of saying to stop her.

He might as well face it. From here on in, he was on his own in helping Adam.

He was on his own.

He flicked the reins.

He’d been so damn sure all he had to do was tell her the truth and she’d believe him. Wrong. Well, at least he’d tried. Tomorrow morning, when the train rolled in from Denver, he’d try once more. He’d ask them nicely, both Daniel and Jenny, to spend some time with the boy.

A quiver of emotion wove its way through his chest. Maybe he was suffering from his own delusions.

Did he have a hope in hell of getting Daniel and Adam together? Would Daniel make a good father, anyway? Or was it best just to ask him to sign release papers?

What would happen to Adam? How and where should Luke start looking for an adoptive family, if it came to that?

Is this what people had done for Luke—trying to find him and his brothers and mother a home when his father had died and left them with nothing? Is this what it felt like, trying to do your best for an orphaned boy, knowing that taking him away from all he knew and loved would probably be the worst thing for him?

At least Luke had had his ma. He couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like, as a kid, to be completely alone, like Adam was.

No.
Luke wouldn’t allow himself to feel defeated. Until he came face-to-face with Daniel tomorrow and Daniel said otherwise, there was still hope. Maybe Jenny would sleep on it, and her position would soften, too. Maybe.

His body swayed with the rhythm of the buggy. A burning desire for sleep crept into his muscles. God, he was tired.

The pain in his ribs jabbed again. He grimaced and ran a hand over his bandages. What he needed was a cold beer. That’d help his ribs.

Hell, Jenny could use one, too. A good stiff drink to settle her. Couldn’t hurt. He’d like to see her smile again. That warm smile that made him catch his breath, the one she’d given him after she’d fallen off the horse, right before he’d kissed her. He had to stop thinking about that kiss. She was Daniel’s.

Hell, she might be Daniel’s, but there was no harm in showing her
his
saloon. It was a matter of personal pride. He would put the McLintock charm to work, the one most women found hard to resist.

From half a block away, he peered at his saloon—a two-story building, one of the oldest permanent structures in Cheyenne. Two hotel patrons sat on the balcony, fanning themselves, observing the street from under the awning overhang. On the side stairs, a young couple holding hands made their way down to the alley.

Adjacent to the saloon was a smaller building, one he’d been renting for years. It housed his kitchen and supply pantry. The cook and his wife lived in the two rooms above it, and when Maria couldn’t find a sitter, she’d lay Adam down for naps in a room off the kitchen. Luke had opened one of the walls and connected the building to his saloon with a hallway. Soon he’d have enough money to buy the building.

When he was a boy, most of these buildings had been tents. The town had started out as a rowdy frontier town, then had exploded in growth. The neighboring shops now boomed with business. Every investor from here to the Atlantic wanted to get in on the economic surge. It filled Luke with pride to be part of it.

“What are they doing over there?” asked Jenny, motioning to a crowd gathered at the side of the road. A dozen people were lined up behind a wagon, where a man was selling clothing out of the back.

“Oh, that’s Harris. He’s selling new gowns. Direct from Paris, France. They come in once a year.”

Jenny craned her neck as they passed. In the crowd, a flock of arms tugged at a yellow dress. “He’s selling French gowns at the side of the road? Why? Don’t you have stores?”

“Most stuff like that sells before it gets to any stores.” He looked ahead and nodded to two of his men, who stood at the saloon doors—Beuford James and Travis Brown.

“Is that your saloon?”

“Yeah.”

Jenny came to full alert, as if she were a soldier going into battle and she’d just glimpsed the enemy across the river. Lord, she was suspicious of him. Could he blame her? She leaned forward in the fading light. Her loose, tangled hair glistened like spun gold.

The hooting from inside grew louder, the lights brighter as they neared. Luke’s trained ear picked up amiable noise—music, laughter, raised voices, but no serious ruckus. He’d learned years ago that it paid to keep two men at the doors on Friday nights. It was payday for many workers, and some of them went a little wild.

They pulled up to the boardwalk, underneath the large, burnished wood sign, Luke’s Saloon. Luke jumped off the buckboard, ignoring the dull ache in his ribs. He helped Jenny down to the street. As he picked up the traveling bag Daisy had packed for her, Jenny scurried away, a flurry of arms and legs.

“Evenin’, ma’am,” said Travis, tipping his hat as she walked by. His bushy black mustache covered much of his dark-skinned, smiling face. She nodded with suspicion and kept walking.

Luke stepped beside his men. “Howdy Beuford, Travis.”

Jenny stopped and spun around to face Travis. She searched his face and stiffened. “You’re Travis. You’re the man who’s looking after my friend.”

“Ma’am,” he said again, sheepishly, tipping his cowboy hat. “Pleasure to, ahh, meet you.”

“Huh! A pleasure indeed,” she snarled. “What have you done with Olivia? If you’ve harmed her in any way—”

“No ma’am, she’s not harmed.”

“Shame on you.
Both
of you.” She shot Travis an icy look, then turned her frosty glare to Luke. Lord, she could make herself look mean when she wanted to.

A prickly heat tingled up his neck. He was more than a little embarrassed. What could he say after the way he’d treated her and Olivia? He’d acted shamelessly, but he still intended to let them go. She stood there staring at him, and all he could do was raise his palms in the air, as if he were declaring a surrender. No use fighting with the gal.

She flung the fringe of her shawl over her shoulder and stepped within inches of Travis. “How could you go along with this man? Your mother should take a switch to your bottom.”

Travis’s bushy dark mustache wiggled as he smiled. “Been a long time since my ma switched my bottom, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me. Where is she?”

“She’s in there someplace. Last I saw her, she was at the card tables. No,” he corrected himself, “she was grabbing a sandwich in the kitchen.”

Jenny huffed past him, like a queen bee about to sting her drones. She stopped when she got to the saloon doors. She stood there on tiptoe, peering over the doors, then glaring over her shoulder at Luke, silently ordering him to accompany her.

Travis tapped him on the shoulder. “Better watch out,” he warned. “Olivia’s madder than hell. I’m glad you’re taking her off my hands.”

Luke gulped and tried to steady his nerves. Adjusting his hat, he headed toward Jenny.

Loud voices bellowed from the opening. With a sudden clatter and hollering of obscenities, two men burst through the doors. In a panic, Luke dove for Jenny, but the men’s bodies still managed to collide with hers. They accidentally pushed her into the street.

Helpless, Luke watched as, with a horrified shriek, Jenny landed in the dirt on her rump.

H
e was going to pay for this one, Luke thought, gazing at the heap of upturned petticoats and finely trimmed, blue cloth boots.

Speechless but apparently unhurt, Jenny rolled upright. With cheeks as red as cherries, she opened her mouth, then clamped it tight. Luke grasped her by her arm and dragged her out of the way before she got tangled up with more bodies.

Beuford hauled one of the men to his feet, and Travis grabbed the other, giving the bigger one a kick in the pants before sending him down the street. “Get outta here!”

“Give us back our guns.”

“You know the rules. Come back tomorrow, when you’re sober.”

Jenny’s mouth puckered as if she’d downed a shot of tequila. “What kind of a place is this?”

“It’s not Boston,” Luke said brightly, hoping to lighten her mood.

“It certainly isn’t.” She glanced at the wanted posters nailed to the wall and sniffed with displeasure.

He bit back a reply. Did she have to be so uppity? Did everything from her world have to smell like fresh-baked pumpkin pie and everything from his like week-old manure?

Well, she needed to relax. He’d get a smile from her tonight if he had to wring it out of her.

She peered over the doors again. “Is it…is it safe to go in?”

He stiffened at the insult. Didn’t she know he could protect her from any man? From any fight? From anything? Besides, he owned this place!

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” he said, shoving the doors wide and stepping inside, “you’re with
me.
”

They entered the saloon. With Jenny standing two feet away, Luke pulled in a deep breath of air and crossed his arms. Familiar, comforting scents wrapped around him—a combination of cigar smoke, spilled booze and tanned leather. He breathed better just being here. The tinkling piano keys in the background and the rowdy murmurs and shouts made his blood pump.

How could Jenny dislike this place?

Suspended from the ceiling rafters on eight massive wagon wheels, kerosene lamps flickered high above the tables and cast a rich glow on the boisterous crowd below. An archway separated two rooms—one room for the drinking tables and bar, one for the dining tables, gambling tables and the stage.

Lamplight danced off the polished oak bar close to where Luke and Jenny stood. Five bartenders worked behind it, filling shot glasses and beer steins as fast as their hands would allow. The mirrored panels behind them reflected their smooth, easy movements and seemed to double the saloon’s energetic atmosphere.

Some of the regulars spotted Luke and waved. He raised his black felt hat in friendly greeting and scanned the crowd. About a hundred men were here tonight. Apart from the barmaids waiting for their drinks to be poured, and the dancing girls preparing behind the stage curtain, just a handful of women occupied the saloon.

No sign of black curls. No Olivia.

“Luke!” said a friendly voice. “Have a drink with us!”

“Later,” he shouted back.

“Then come have one with us!” shouted the dentist.

“Later,” Luke repeated with an impersonal nod, knowing full well he had no intention of drinking with the dentist tonight. The doc ran after anything respectable in skirts, and no doubt he’d noticed the beautiful woman standing beside Luke as soon as Jenny stepped through the door. The fact irked Luke more than he cared to admit, and unable to control himself, he lowered a firm hand to Jenny’s waist.

She spurned his touch and he withdrew. Why did she suspect his every move? She was under his protection tonight. Sliding off his gun belt, he checked it behind the bar. He peered through the archway to the dining area, where the piano player began another lively tune.

Lola would soon climb onto the stage to sing. Chairs shuffled and squeaked as people maneuvered for the best view, but there was no sign of Olivia.

Luke glanced up the stairs to the balcony. The doors along the hallway were shut tight. “She’s probably around the corner, through the archway,” he said, dipping his head to Jenny’s ear so she could hear him, low enough to breathe in the fresh scent of her skin. He let himself linger there for a moment longer.

Her breath caught and she clutched nervously at her shawl. She looked awkward as hell. How long would it take before she shed the ridiculous shawl? It was hotter than blazes in here with all the people. He liked her better in feathers. And that little lavender corset.

Jenny stared at the sign above the bar.

Luke’s Rules

All guns checked behind the bar.


No discussing politics, race or religion.


Discuss women at your own risk.

Someone shoved a glass of ale into his hand and he gladly took it, fully aware of Jenny’s disapproving look. “Don’t be so convinced that this is a rotten place. People are having a good time.” He took a swig of his drink, welcoming the familiar bite on his tongue.

“And the better time they have, the bigger your pocketbook gets.”

Wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve, he refused to be drawn into an argument. Tonight he intended to show her the marvels of this interesting place. “You know what you need?” he drawled, inclining his head to look her up and down. “You need to lighten up. Laugh a little. Daniel’s got your laces tightened so much, I’m afraid they might bust.”

She gasped. “And do you know what you need?” Her silky voice held a challenge.

He quirked a brow and leaned forward in mock interest.

She threw up her hands in disgust. “Oh, never mind.”

Uppity, uppity, uppity.
He rolled his eyes. Despite himself, he bit back a grin. “Let’s weave our way through.”

Whirling around, she lifted her skirt and squeezed among the tables. He followed, trying not to notice her swaying behind, trying not to think of what he needed. He knew what he needed. What he hadn’t had in a while. He sucked down another mouthful of ale, trying to appease his thirst.

Jenny’s heavy shawl brushed against tough old Mr. Winslowe, who was seated at his usual table. Without looking up, the white-haired gent grabbed her arm. “Get me another gin sling, would ya, miss?” he hollered, mistaking her for a waitress.

She snatched her arm from his grasp. “Oh, go get it yourself,” she snapped. “Can’t you see the girls are busy?”

His companions laughed, and Winslowe, eyelids half closed, turned his head in Luke’s direction. “Who’s doing your hirin’ these days, Lucas?”

“She doesn’t work here,” Luke answered with a slow grin.

“Don’t hire her,” Winslowe advised through the gales of laughter. “She’ll be bad for business.”

With a toss of her head, Jenny straightened her shoulders and kept walking, her trim waist and rounded hips calling out to Luke. That sashay of hers just wouldn’t let him go.

Luke caught up to her. “Winslowe enjoys sparring. You’ll give him something to write about in his column.”

She frowned and craned her neck. “Oh, he’s a writer?”

Luke found pleasure in her surprise. Even more when she bit her lip, trying to hide it. “He’s the publisher of our paper. Winslowe comes here to get the latest news, and he never has more than two drinks. So you see, we’re not all drunks.”

A pink tide crept up her cheeks. In rebellion, she flung her shawl over her shoulder. He moved his broad shoulder to avoid getting whipped. With her stuffy blouse buttoned to the throat, and her skirt dragging on the floor, she must be hot, but damn, she was stubborn. What would it take for her to remove the ratty shawl? Or to admit these people weren’t much different from her own? And what, in God’s name, would it take for her to relax?

Several men turned their heads to gawk at Jenny. Another rose to greet her. Didn’t they realize she was with him? Well, not really
with
him, but they didn’t know that.

Luke sighed in exasperation and squeezed through. “This man here,” he said, patting the shoulder of a young man in a crisp blue shirt and suede-fringed jacket, who rose to greet her, “this man’s not a drunk, either.”

Jenny squirmed. Luke watched her stiffly shake Thomas’s hand. Then, in a sudden burst of friendliness, she leaned close to Thomas’s freckly face. “Please ignore Luke’s rudeness. The man has the manners of an ox—”

Luke cleared his throat. “Say hello to Reverend Thomas.”

Her face turned crimson. “Reverend?”

Thomas nodded good-naturedly and shook Jenny’s hand again. “Just call me Thomas, Miss…?”

“Jenny,” she croaked.

He took a step closer. “And you’re from…?”

Luke pulled her along by her puffy sleeve. “We’re in a bind, Thomas. We’re looking for someone.”

“Won’t you join the hymn singing in my church tent on Sunday?”

“She won’t be here,” Luke answered, tugging her closer. Thomas had a fascinating effect on women—they were drawn to him like magnets to a pole—and hadn’t he told Luke just last week he was looking for a wife? Well, there was no sense in letting Thomas spend time with Jenny. She was already engaged and under Luke’s protection. Luke bent his dark head and whispered close to her temple. “Are you convinced yet? We’re not all drunks.”

Flushing, she clamped her lips together and shook her head. Her blond beaver tail shook.

Ahead, the dentist squeezed into their path. Luke muttered under his breath. It hadn’t taken long to get cornered. Franklin skimmed a hand through his parted red hair and gazed down at Jenny. A strange desire to compete hit Luke square in the chest.

“Luke, please introduce me to your friend,” Franklin crooned in his English accent. The rogue was wearing an expensive three-piece suit, and the chain dangling from his pocket watch twinkled in the lamplight.

Luke cupped his hand on Jenny’s warm shoulder, attempting to lay a claim, but instead, causing her to surge forward. Why did she always flinch when he touched her? “Miss Jenny Eriksen, I’d like you to meet Dr. Franklin Windsor.”

Luke watched helplessly as Franklin, ever the gentleman, took her hand and pressed his lips to it. “Pleased to meet you, my dear.”

When Jenny smiled and fluttered her lashes, Luke rolled his eyes. Why did this Englishman always have such a feverish effect on women? It was just his accent that kept females listening. It wasn’t as if Franklin had anything better to say than the rest of them, and if anyone paid close attention, they’d notice he was so long-winded, it took him twice as long to say it.

Luke reached for her other hand and whisked her on through the crowd. “We’ve got no problems with our teeth, Doc.”

Franklin raised his brows at the obvious getaway.

Out of earshot, Jenny asked brightly, “He’s a dentist?”

Luke nodded, irritated with the spark in her eyes. “They say he’s pretty bad. Can’t tell one tooth from another. And when he’s got you trapped, lying in his fancy pull-down chair with your feet stuck higher than your head,
blazes
the man can talk. At least that’s what I hear.”

Jenny laughed. Luke stopped, pleasantly surprised at the warm sound of her laughter. She was unaware of the captivating picture she made, her dimple fluttering, her skin glowing. Still holding her hand, he became aware of the heat pulsing in her fingertips. The twinkle in her eyes and the pink stain in her cheeks made his heart skip.

Suddenly flustered, she dropped her hand from his. It left a coldness in his palm. She stared at him with clear blue eyes ringed with chocolate lashes. What was that mysterious glimmer?
Amusement?
Yes, it was; she was laughing at him. As if he was no better than the others who were vying for her attention! Dammit, he was better than all of them.
He
could control himself. He was well aware she’d soon be another man’s wife.

He spun away from her charming smile.

She searched the crowd ahead of her, wiping her palms on her skirt as if she were erasing his touch. “Where’s Olivia?”

He tugged at his hat, trying to regain his composure. “She’s around here someplace.”

They reached the archway and stepped around the corner, and sure enough, there she was. Sitting at a packed table, close to the kitchen door. Concentrating on her fistful of cards, Olivia was dressed in borrowed clothes, her low-cut, red satin dress revealing plenty more than Jenny’s old blouse and skirt.

Jenny raced through the chairs toward her. “Olivia!”

Spotting her, Olivia shot to her feet. The wooden, slat-back chair toppled over, smacking the pine floor. “Jenny!”

The women dashed into each other’s arms, hugging and crying. In between their sobs and tears, they glared at Luke, making his guts heave. He’d never meant to harm them. What he’d done, he’d done for the boy. Apparently for nothing.

Lola walked onstage. As she spoke with the piano player, the excited chatter of the eager crowd rose in pitch.

Glancing around the table, Luke nodded to the others, saying hello to the young Slavic man and his wife. One of the few married women who ventured into the saloon, she enjoyed a bit of cards and entertainment on Friday nights. God bless her.

“How are you feeling?” Jenny asked, stepping back to look at her friend. “Did they hurt you?”

Luke sighed. Did she really believe they’d harm Olivia?

“You gonna finish the hand, Miss Olivia, or are you foldin’?” The old stagecoach driver peered over his cards.

Olivia tugged at the waistline of her red dress. “Oh, why, yes. Hold on a minute,” she replied. “Jenny, I’ve got a great hand.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, meant only for Jenny, but Luke heard it, too. “I thought if I win some money, when we caught up to each other we could use it to escape.”

Jenny’s mouth dropped open in dismay. “Good…good thinking. But we’ll be leaving tomorrow, on the noon train with Daniel. We’re free to go,” she whispered back.

“Really? No more keeping quiet? No more leverage?” Olivia swayed.

Jenny glanced at the half-empty glass on the table. “Have they been forcing you to drink?” She spoke a little louder than she intended.

People chuckled. Olivia blushed. “No. They offered me some refreshment, is all.” Her lips quivered suddenly. “I missed you,” she wailed as Travis stepped up beside them.