Straight From The Heart (14 page)

The ground was freezing again, and she heard the crunch of the snow beneath her mount’s hooves. The wind was frigid and numbing. It took her longer to return by backtracking than she had imagined, but she finally made it. She dismounted, unsaddled her horse, and put away her gear. Before going inside, she checked on her animals. Her footsteps and labored breathing were loud in the almost eerie silence of the sheltered valley. She sighed with relief when she was inside, with the doors and shutters locked. She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and was thankful to be home safe. She only wished Luke were here with her.

Dorry reminded herself that the weather was unpredictable this month, and travel over snow-covered landscape was hazardous and slow. She also reminded herself how skilled and smart Luke was. Still, she fretted. What if she’d spent her last night in his arms? In his life? What if Cleary’s men or bounty hunters had killed him? What if she never saw him again? No, she must not think that awful way! Her ancestor had not given up in the face of despair; the book her mother had passed on to her said so. Her ancestor had found a way to surmount impossible odds, so she must do the same. Nothing and no one would be allowed to destroy her; she must remain strong, proud, hopeful, and cunning.

It wasn’t long before Dorry heard noises. She rushed to the door, pressed her ear to it, and strained to listen. She dared not open it and allow possible peril to enter. She couldn’t unlatch shutters and peer out because the exterior ones were fastened. Time passed as she wondered who or what was out there. She squealed and jumped when somebody knocked on the door.

“It’s me, Dorry!”

Dorry unbolted the door and opened it. She flung herself against him and hugged him. “I was so scared and worried,” she murmured.

Luke embraced her for a minute before he backed them inside, closed the door with his foot, and replied in a hoarse voice, “I’m fine, woman. I shot a nice buck and hung him out of any wolf’s or bear’s reach. He’ll freeze fast and stay fresh. Sorry it took so long. I had to discourage some wolves from stealin’ him while I was skinnin’ and guttin’ him.”

“Was there any trouble?” she asked as she helped him out of his jacket and hung it on the peg.

He grinned and teased, “I just told you what happened.”

“I meant, with Cleary’s men. He came by today,” she began and related the incident, her panic, and her actions.

Luke removed his gloves, hat, and scarf. “I told you to stay put, woman. That was dangerous. Game seems low for some crazy reason, and those wolves and bears are gettin’ hungry and bold. Might be best if we stay close to the house and keep the critters penned up awhile. In a few weeks, game should return.”

Dorry followed him to the chair before the fire, where he sat down to doff his wet boots. “Do you think they’ll try to break into the barns?”

“Might try, but those barns are sturdy. Your animals are safe. But I’ll check for any weak spots tomorrow. Repair any I find.”

Dorry set the boots on the hearth to dry and faced him. “What are we going to do about Cleary?”

“Nothing we can do yet. That tells me why I felt eyes on me all day. Figured it was those wolves, but I guess it was more like the two-legged kind. They didn’t try nothin’. See, no new holes.”

“Don’t joke about something serious, Luke. He tried to appear calm and polite, but I could sense evil coming from him. I don’t want you to leave, but if you must go to stay safe, please do.”

The desperado pulled her into his lap. “You tired of me already?”

Dorry cuddled against his hard chest and stroked his icy cheek. “You know I’m not and never will be. I love you and need you. I—”

“No more sad talk, woman.” His lips roamed her face, a soft terrain he had learned well since their meeting in early October of last year. His fingers wandered into her red tresses and warmed themselves. She was a perfect fit in his arms and life. He loved her and wanted her with all of his being. It pained him to know how short time was for them. When April came, he had to leave, leave so she’d be safe from the men pursuing him. Yet, how could he leave her in peril? If only he could prove his innocence
 . . .

Dorry unbuttoned his shirt and pressed kisses to his chest. She wound sable hairs around her fingers and made tiny curls. She peeled the garment off his broad shoulders with his assistance. She spread kisses on the bronze surface, tanned deep from years of working shirtless beneath countless desert suns, so dark that even months of winter hadn’t faded it much. She trailed her fingers over that firm territory and reveled in exploration. He was sleek and hard and smooth. Touching him aroused her to a desire hotter than the flames in the fireplace. She removed her dress and tossed it on the floor; numerous nights in his arms had erased her modesty just as she erased the slate after their writing lessons.

Accepting the heady inducement, Luke rose with her in his arms and walked to the bed. There, he removed her chemise and undergarments, then discarded the rest of his clothes. He gazed into her expressive blue eyes and said, “I love you, Dorry Sims, and I need you, too.” He covered their naked bodies with the quilt she had made and covered her parted lips with his. Supper could wait; this was the nourishment he needed . . .

March tenth came,
and so did William Cleary. Luke was out hunting again. A glorious month had passed since her neighbor had shown his wrinkled face at her home—weeks of relaxing, sharing passion, reading and writing lessons, and peace. Dorry hated for their reprieve to end as she went to see what the gray-haired man wanted.

“Lovely day, Miss Dorry. Spring will be here soon. You’re looking as lovely and sunny as always.”

“I still don’t need any supplies, Mr. Cleary, but thanks for coming—”

“That isn’t why I came, Dorry dear. The man I hired to search for John brought me news of him yesterday.”

Dorry trembled. “John’s alive? Your man found him?”

“Found him, yes. Alive, I’m afraid not.”

Dorry knew Bill was watching her reaction closely. She tried to retain an unreadable expression. “How? Where? Are you certain it’s John?”

“I hate to be the bearer of sad news, but I thought it best if it came from a good friend. It appears poor John was robbed and slain by bandits on the trail to Wyoming. Evidence was found of his
 . . .
unfortunate demise. I believe these possessions are his. Am I correct?”

Dorry accepted the bundle and sat on the porch to untie it, as if her shaky legs would not have supported her weight much longer. She found a belt buckle with John’s initials, one she recognized. There was a torn and faded letter addressed to her from John, which she would try to read later. There was a handkerchief from his mother with his initials on it, which she didn’t recall him taking along. “They’re John’s. Is this all your man found?”

“Of course his horse, saddle, money, and other belongings were stolen by those wicked culprits. My detective had his remains buried.”

“That was very kind of him and of you.” The evidence was undeniable: John Sims was dead. She was a free woman. Yet the proof appeared to be in better condition than it should if exposed to weather for twenty months. It was also convenient and suspicious, Dorry thought, that all three items had John’s name or initials on them. “I’ll send John’s family the bad news. I appreciate you going to so much trouble and expense to verify this for me.”

“As you can see, you are a widow now. I think it would be wise if you accepted my proposal and we married as soon as possible.”

Dorry’s head jerked up, and she gaped at him. “Marry? I can’t marry you, Mr. Cleary.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t love you.”

“In time, I’m sure your feelings for me will change. It’s the perfect and only solution to both of our needs. You can’t manage this place by yourself. You have no money for support, and being alone is dangerous.”

“I’m not alone; I have a hired man. I’m sure he can help me earn my living by farming as John’s uncle did.” Dorry witnessed the narrowing of Cleary’s gaze. He was standing stiff and straight, and his jawline was taut. His fake smile had vanished.

“Perhaps I should give you two weeks to grieve and reconsider my purchase offer and proposal of marriage. One or the other will be in your best interest, my dear. Accidents do happen, Dorry. Look what happened to poor John when least expected. I would hate for you to be left alone if anything similar happened to your employee. A lady like you certainly should not continue to live with a common drifter; that isn’t wise or safe. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision during the next two weeks.”

Dorry grasped the meaning behind his frigid words: Luke would die if she didn’t agree to his proposal. She thought it smart to pretend she didn’t understand. “I’ll think about all you’ve said, sir. Right now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone to mourn my lost husband. Good-bye.”

Dorry stood and entered the house. She locked the door and leaned against it. She heard Cleary depart without further trouble, no doubt licking his thin lips in anticipated victory. She walked to the table, sat down, and placed the bundle on it. She was sorry John Sims was dead, murdered. In his own way, he had tried to be a good husband.

It wasn’t right for William Cleary to get away with John’s murder or to take her land. Yet what could she do? She couldn’t summon the authorities and endanger Luke’s life, and she had no evidence to prove Cleary was a criminal. How could justice prevail for John, Luke, and herself?

Dorry took the biscuits
from the oven and set them on the table. “You can come eat, Luke,” she said as she poured their coffee.

Luke came in and eyed the deer she had sprinkled with spices and roasted for hours; its aroma caused his mouth to water. Fragrant coffee gave off steam to say it was too hot to drink. Green beans and corn from canning jars did the same, and the cats head biscuits released wispy white warnings to grasp them with caution.

“I’ll be glad to get my garden planted soon,” Dorry said. “I’m more than ready for fresh vegetables. I noticed some wildflowers coming up this morning.”

“We haven’t finished our talk, Dorry. Don’t saddle another horse before this one’s been ridden.”

“There’s nothing more to discuss. We’ve gone over this problem every day and night for two weeks since that snake hissed his warning. I’m going to offer him a compromise tomorrow; my deadline is up at sunset.”

“He’ll never accept your terms.”

“I’ll give him no choice. Either he buys me out but lets me continue to live here, or I’ll fight him to the death. This is my home.”

“He’s dangerous and cunning, woman. Don’t stay here. Sell to him, Dorry, and move into Cross Corners to wait for me. I’ll return in a few years.”

“The only way I’ll sell out is to leave with you. We could use the money to begin a new life in Canada. I’m free, Luke. John is dead for certain.”

“But I’m not free, Dorry. I can’t put your life in danger. Wait for me.”

“I will, but I’m waiting here.”

“If Cleary refuses your terms, will you do as I ask? Please.”

“Yes, I’ll yield that far, for you, for us.”
For our baby. I can’t tell you about our child or you won’t leave and be safe from the Arizona law, those bounty hunters, and that wicked neighbor of mine. But I have to stay here where we belong: this land is ours. I’ll kill Cleary before he steals it.

“You will?”

Dorry fibbed, “Yes. By tomorrow night, we’ll have our answer.”

As Luke watched her,
Dorry headed her mare toward Cleary’s ranch. It wasn’t too far, and she was skilled with weapons, so she’d be safe. The only difficulty had been in persuading Luke to let her go alone.

Dorry eyed the scenery during her journey. It was a wild and rugged land, but beautiful and challenging. Birds sang to announce the coming of spring soon. Squirrels and rabbits scampered about in search of food. Leaves were returning to bare hardwood limbs. Daring wildflowers were showing their stems and a few, their colorful faces. The world around her was being reborn; various colors mingled with splotches of green from pines that towered above the other trees. The sun beamed, and the sky was clear. There was still a slight chill in the air, but her jacket warded it off. She had come to love it here and could not bring herself to allow a criminal to take anything more from her. She rode forward, determined to prevail.

“You heard me right, Luke.
William Cleary is dead, killed by a grizzly two days ago. There is justice, if not by the law’s hand, then by God’s. He is no longer a threat to me; I’m free of his wicked greed. After he died, his men emptied his office and house of money, took the supplies, and left. Only the housekeeper is there, and she’s planning to leave shortly. She says there’s nothing to stop me from claiming the place myself if I want it. Cleary has no kin to challenge me. When you get back, we’ll have all the land we need to start our ranch. I’ll be waiting for your return, my love.”

“I wish I could stay, Dorry, but it’s more important than ever for me to get going.”

She noticed he put a “g” on “going” and smiled at his progress. Her lessons had worked; he would be better able to take care of himself now that he could read and write. “I’m so proud of you, Luke James; you’ve learned so much here. You can send me letters from Canada and use a fake name. I can write back and tell you all the news. Are you sure there isn’t something we can do to prove your innocence? We are having a run of good luck lately.”

The desperado ruffled his black hair and smiled. “That’s just what I’m going to do. I won’t be in Canada. I’m going back to Arizona to clear my name. Read this for yourself.” Luke fetched the ragged clipping he had carried for months. “Remember that article Henderson read to me, the one that said I’d be hanged if I was caught? I saved it all this while, but today was the first time I could actually read it for myself.”

Dorry unfolded the paper and read it. She looked at Luke in confusion. “I don’t understand. What does this article have to do with your trouble? It doesn’t even mention you or the murder.”