Montana Dawn (18 page)

R
ETURNING
to the ranch, Luke saw Charity to Matt and Rachel’s house and offered to take her horse back with his. Arriving at the corrals Luke found Francis sitting in the entry of the huge log barn, polishing glass chimneys from lanterns used to light the bunkhouse and yard area. He had the
pear-shaped globes lined up on a sturdy table, sparkling in the sunshine. Luke dismounted as Francis came forward. The boy reached for the reins of both horses.

“Thanks, Francis, but I’ll do it,” Luke said, shaking his head. He needed time to think. With Charity occupied for the time being, he needed to ponder on Faith.

He looped both sets of reins around the hitching rail inside the barn’s dim interior and threw his stirrup over the saddle of his mount. He unbuckled the back cinch, letting the leather swing, and reached for the front. The bay gelding he’d picked as a replacement for Chiquita gave a deep sigh.

Luke lifted the saddle and pulled off the pads. The aroma of warm horseflesh and sweat floated up. With ease he carried the heavy, hand-tooled saddle to the saddle rack and laid the pads upside down atop the seat so they could air out and dry; then he ran a brush over the bay and turned the horse out in a freshly bedded stall. He repeated the process with Charity’s palomino mare and gave each animal a small scoop of grain, as a reward.

Lucky had said Faith came looking for Ward. Luke would’ve thought it would be the other way around. What had Ward done or said to make her cry as if the whole world were coming to an end? He had been sure her tears were because of him.

“Hear any more about the bull?” he asked Francis on his way out.

“No, it’s been real quiet around here.”

Luke looked first to the house, glancing at Faith’s window, then to the bunkhouse, weighing which situation needed his attention first.

“Faith. Have you seen her?”

Francis shook his head. “’Bout the only folks I’ve seen are your ma and pa. Flood rode to town this morning to tell the sheriff about the bull. Your ma went with him.”

That settled it: he’d see to Faith just as soon as he had a talk with Ward. He’d waited as long as he could.

He opened and closed his fists as he strode toward the bunkhouse. It was going to feel real good planting his fist in the middle of that man’s smug face. Injured or not, he should’ve thought before he messed with either Faith and Charity.

Lucky was skinning an onion over a pail, and tears streamed down his weatherworn face. He glanced over as Luke entered, then lifted the lid off a giant cast-iron kettle and tossed in the vegetable.

Ward, sitting at the table, was playing solitaire. Seeing Luke in the doorway, he smiled.

“Stand up, Brown.”

Gathering the cards, Ward held them in his hands. He didn’t look quite as relaxed. “McCutcheon,” he said, standing.

In the blink of an eye, Luke had him by the shirtfront. Ward’s startled eyes grew black with anger. He tried to shake Luke off, but his attempts were useless.

Adrenaline shot through Luke. “You dare touch my sister?”

“Nothing happened,” Ward answered. “She’s been giving me the eye ever since I arrived. I find it a mite convenient she was just hanging around out at the barn, too. I got the distinct impression she was waiting for me.”

Luke slammed his fist into Ward’s stomach, and the man’s air expelled in a whoosh as he doubled over. Luke threw him to the floor. Ward slowly stood, his arm pushing into his hurt abdomen.

“You’d hit an injured man?”

“Injured?” Luke scoffed. “You’re nursing that leg to stay on longer than necessary. You’re as fit as any man here.” He held back, knowing his mother was going to be madder than a wet cat when she found out he’d taken the matter into his own hands. Still, he couldn’t help but say, “Come on, Brown, let’s see what you’re made of.”

Faster than Luke thought possible, Ward picked up a chair and swung. Luke ducked. The chair leg glanced off his temple,
sending him reeling. Ward next hurled his full weight on top of him, knocking the air from Luke’s lungs.

The man was able to get one good punch into his face before Luke rolled over, taking Ward with him. The stinging in his right eye didn’t stop Luke as he threw blow after blow to Ward’s face. Soon the other man wasn’t fighting back but lay limply on the floor. From far away, somewhere behind his raging anger, Luke heard Lucky’s voice screeching to lay off.

Luke stayed his fists. He shook Ward until the man opened his eyes. “Don’t ever even look in Charity’s direction, understand?”

Ward nodded.

“And, what the hell did you say to Faith to make her cry?” Ward didn’t answer, so Luke shoved him, knocking his head against the floor.

“Nothing. She came looking for me. I guess she just wanted to talk.” He panted a couple of times, then continued. “She was reminiscing about Samuel. Guess she’s missing him some.”

Luke didn’t believe it for a minute, but he didn’t think he’d get anything truthful out of Ward. “You’re scum, Brown,” he said. “If you think because you saved Mark you can do whatever you like, you’re mistaken. As far as I’m concerned, me not killing you right now makes us even. Furthermore, if we find out you’re the one who crippled our bull, we’ll hang you. It’s the law of the range. No one will question it. So my advice to you is get the hell out of here before I decide a beating isn’t enough for you.”

Standing, Luke brushed the dirt from his hands and looked to Lucky, who held out a thick chunk of raw beef. “Put this here to your eye. Looks like it’s gonna be a real shiner.”

Luke just waved him off.

Ward struggled to his feet and then wobbled outside to the washbasin. His face was bloody and bruised, but the sight gave Luke little comfort.

“Make sure he doesn’t leave the bunkhouse,” he said to Lucky. “I don’t trust him around anyone.” Lucky sighed. “Reckon you’re right.”

On her way to the kitchen, Faith ran smack into Luke, filthier than Colton the day he was bucked off the back of Smokey’s horse.

Lifting her gaze to his face, she couldn’t stop her gasp. “Your eye. Your poor face!”

Luke just stood there. The injured eye was streaked with blood the color of molasses, and the skin around it, red and angry, was swelling with fluid. “Hurts bad,” he said after a moment.

“It must. I’ve never seen one so bloody. Sit over here and I’ll get you a cool cloth.” She led Luke to the sofa and sat him down. “Would you rather lie on your bed? Does your head hurt, too?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” he admitted.

“Fine, then.” She helped him stand, then ushered him upstairs and fluffed his pillows before he sat down and lay back. “Comfortable?”

He nodded.

Faith hurried back down the stairs, and in the kitchen she found a clean cloth. Working the pump until water gushed forth, she caught it in a pail. Next she filled a glass and started back up the stairs.

When she returned, Luke’s eyes were closed and his long legs stretched out on the bed, his feet crossed. She softly called his name. “Luke?”

He didn’t open his eyes. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Had a little run-in with someone’s fist. Nothing to worry about.”

She didn’t want to pry. She had the sneaking suspicion that the fist was Ward’s, but she’d find out later, after he felt better.

Gingerly she pressed the cold cloth to Luke’s eye, and he flinched.

“Sorry.” She waited until he seemed to relax, then continued her cleaning. Several other scrapes and cuts on his face were angry and red, so she dabbed at them with the corner of the cloth.

Unable to stop them, she watched her fingers lightly smooth his soft black hair back from his forehead. Unexpectedly a long lump rose under his hairline, quickly turning an ugly purple and brown.

“You’ve been hurt worse than your eye. This looks really bad.”

Almost asleep, his answer was a whisper. “Just a bump. Nothing to get your skirts in a knot over.”

Faith couldn’t help but smile, amused. But her heart trembled at the thought of him fighting Ward. And Ward wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her! How much would this family suffer because she’d been thrown into their lives? First Charity and now this. It was too much.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

Luke opened his eyes. “Why are you sorry? You’re not responsible for what that man does.” He looked deep into her eyes. Funny, she felt like he didn’t blame her. He really didn’t. And, oh, how his eyes did strange things to her insides. What would loving be like with Luke? She knew in her heart that the union wouldn’t be like it had been with Samuel. It would be wonderful and sweet.

The beginnings of a slow smile tipped up his lips. The look in his eyes made her wonder if he’d been able to read her thoughts. She felt her face heat.

“It feels real nice,” he said.

Flustered, she wondered if he was talking about the cool rag or something entirely different. Her thoughts galloped back to last night as they’d lain together on the soft bed, his body melding with hers in the most natural way. Again she found herself
wondering why she couldn’t just tell him the truth. Then when she left he wouldn’t hate her. He would know at least that she’d had to go. That she’d had no other choice.

If she looked into his eyes a moment longer she would tell him; she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. So she stood. “I’m going to check on Dawn. It’s her feeding time. Will you be all right alone for a little while?”

He nodded and closed his eyes. “Only a little while, though.”

Nodding, Faith went to see her baby. In the room across the hall, Dawn slept peacefully. Faith paced back and forth, telling herself that she only had herself to count on now, but she’d get through this. She was strong. It was best if Luke hated her when she left to supposedly work in Priest’s Crossing. Then he wouldn’t follow and find out she was really with Ward. That secret she’d do anything to spare him.

Anything.

Excited voices woke Luke from his deep sleep. Confused, he tried to remember where he was and why he was lying in his bed when there was daylight streaming through his window. The motion of turning his head made him wince and feel like he needed to throw up. He lay back until the feeling passed.

His head and neck were painfully sore, and his eye was another matter. Gingerly he explored it with his fingers as he remembered the fight. He might be hurting some, but he’d give a buffalo nickel to see Ward.

Faith materialized out of thin air. She rushed through his doorway, excitement brimming in her eyes. She cradled Dawn, who was wrapped in a blanket. The voices continued.

“What’s all the commotion downstairs?” Luke asked. With everything else that’d happened today, he wouldn’t be surprised if she said the sun had fallen from the sky.

“It’s Adam. He says his ma is going to have her baby now.”

“As if she has a choice,” he mumbled tiredly.

Faith smiled, then gave a quiet laugh. “You’re right about that, Luke McCutcheon. Our babies make the rules, don’t they?” She glanced down at Dawn, placed her finger in the baby’s tiny fist and wiggled it around.

The look of adoration and love on her face was a sight to see. Did she wish her dead husband could see his daughter? Luke wondered. Was she missing him, as Ward said? He pushed the jealous thought out of his mind and asked, “So. Did you get her fed?”

Faith glanced up. “Oh, yes. Why, that was some time ago. You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours at least.”

Luke struggled to sit up. He’d had no idea he’d been resting that long. He had things to do; the men must be wondering where he’d made off to. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he closed his eyes.

“You don’t look too good, Luke. Maybe you’d better lie back down.”

“I’m getting up and going to Matt’s. Has he been told yet?”

“Yes.”

Luke stood. Feeling better now that he’d gotten his balance back, he stepped close to Faith and looked down at her child. “You want to come?”

“Do you think she’d mind?”

“No. I’m sure she’d be glad to have your help. Being that you’re an experienced mother and all. Gather what you need and I’ll wait downstairs.”

Faith was down shortly, and the three of them headed for Matt’s. On the way they saw Chance, Roady and Smokey on the bunkhouse porch, eating their noon meals. Seeing Luke, they broke into earsplitting grins.

“Boys,” Luke acknowledged.

They just nodded and kept eating. But their smiles proved Ward looked a sight worse than he did.

They took a footpath that would join up with the road that led to his brother’s house. It was well-worn from constant use
of the family going back and forth. Its sides were lined with rocks, and there was a little bench under some trees along the way.

“Won’t she get a mite warm dressed like that?” Luke looked again at the baby, who was bundled in a dressing gown and also wrapped snugly in a blanket. A beanie that his mother had knitted and given to Faith topped her head.

“I don’t want her to catch a chill.”

Luke laughed. “For God’s sake, Faith. It’s nice out.”

“You think she’s too warm?”

“She must be roasting, wrapped up like that.” Luke pointed to the infant’s shiny forehead. “I think she’s sweating.”

“You’re right.” Faith pulled the little hat from Dawn’s head and opened the blanket.

The baby, with her sky blue eyes, looked right up into Luke’s face, interested. She was much more alert now, compared to when she was born. Completely aware of the things around her. Luke smiled down at her as they walked.

“Howdy there, perdy little gal,” he said, accentuating his Western drawl. Faith giggled. “You don’t think I’ll scare her with this eye?” he added, pointing to his face. She laughed again and shook her head.

Matt’s house sat atop a little knoll. When he went to build his own home, Luke planned a place with a little more privacy. Especially if he had a wife like Faith. Why, he’d take her off to a spot like the upper crest. A place a man could feel the land around him there, all-encompassing and grand.

Faith went about collecting anything that was even remotely connected to the flower family. Most of her treasures were wild grasses or weeds, but she did manage to find a late-blooming pink primrose to add to her makeshift bouquet. It occupied her as they walked.