The Complete Oregon Series, page 81
She didn’t miss the grateful glance Amy directed at Hendrika and the gentle smile she received in return. They’re becoming friends. It was what she had hoped for and why she encouraged them to share a room. Amy had so few friends.
“Let me see, please.” She had to see with her own eyes that Amy was fine. When Amy pulled up her nightshirt, Nora’s breath caught. Anger simmered until she thought steam would come out of her ears. She wanted to march right back to the pigpen and kick Adam again. Hard.
Careful not to put any pressure on Amy’s ribs, she slid her arms around her in a tender hug. Her eyes fluttered closed when she felt Amy’s sturdy body rest against her. “You need to be more careful,” she whispered. “Your father and I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you or Nattie.”
Amy trembled against her.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No, I’m fine. He just kicked me, but I hit him a few times too, just like Papa taught us.” Amy stopped trembling. She straightened and looked at Nora with a proud gleam in her eyes. Then she swallowed. “Don’t tell Papa, please. I don’t want him to worry or think that I can’t take care of myself.”
“Your father and I promised that we’d never keep secrets from each other,” Nora said. “You wouldn’t want me to break that promise, would you?” She brushed a stubborn lock out of Amy’s face.
Amy shook her head.
“Please promise me you’ll never try to keep something like this from me again,” Nora said. “I know you just wanted to protect me, but risking your health is not the way to do that.”
Bare feet shuffled over the floorboards. “I promise.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you two get some sleep now, but we’ll talk more about this tomorrow.” For now, it was enough to know that her daughter was all right. She kissed Amy’s cheek, then leaned across the bed and kissed Hendrika’s too. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
Hendrika blinked up at her. “Uh, you’re welcome.”
Nora smiled. “Goodnight.”
Keeney Pass, Oregon
May 24, 1868
Luke’s gaze swept over the hills and mountains on both sides of them. Up ahead, two long, parallel lines wound through the straw-colored grass—ruts that thousands of wagons had carved into the ground as they made their way through Keeney Pass.
It was the only sign of humans in the area. Other than the creaking of their saddles and the occasional snort from the horses, nothing interrupted the rustling of the wind through the long grass. They were alone in the pass.
Still, the little hairs on the back of Luke’s neck prickled. She kept her right hand close to her rifle.
“You all right, boss?” Phin directed his gelding next to hers. Side by side, the horses marched up the steady incline.
“Yeah.” Her gaze wandered over the hills. “But I’ll feel better once we have a few more miles between us and Fort Boise.”
Phin studied her. “It’s been two days since we left the fort. By the time they let those three bastards out of their cells, we’ll be long gone.”
That was what Sergeant Johnson had promised them. The three soldiers had been in trouble before, and this time, they wouldn’t get away with a few extra duties. They’d be facing a formal hearing, and the sergeant would read Luke’s statement. “I don’t trust Kelling. I have a feeling he’s doing a lot of things without the colonel’s knowledge, and if he’s out to take revenge on me...”
Phin adjusted the scabbard on his saddle, making sure his rifle was within easy reach. “We’d better keep an eye out for trouble.”
Warm lips moved over hers and placed little kisses over her cheek; then gentle teeth bit down on her earlobe.
Luke moaned, stretching her neck to give Nora easier access.
A trail of hot kisses wandered down her neck, sending shivers of delight down her body. The caressing lips stopped when they encountered a barrier—Luke’s shirt. Dazed, Luke took her hands from the familiar curves of Nora’s body and reached up to open the shirt.
“No.” Nora’s breath brushed over her collarbone. “Lie still and let me do this.”
When Luke sank back, Nora opened the top button. She pressed her lips to the bare skin, then moved her fingers to the next button. The fabric of the shirt fell open under her eager fingers.
Teasing nails scraped over the bandages that bound Luke’s chest.
Luke arched her back.
“Open your eyes,” Nora said. “Open your eyes, Luke.”
Luke opened her eyes.
Instead of the enchanting green of Nora’s eyes, her gaze found the hazy gray light of dawn. She blinked, then lifted her hands and touched her shirt.
All of the buttons were closed.
She rubbed her hand over her chest, feeling Nora’s elusive touch. A breath of longing escaped her. Nora wasn’t here. She was still three hundred and fifty miles away.
Going back to sleep was impossible now. She might as well get up and see if Phin had put on some coffee. She was about to throw off her blanket and sit up, but her instincts stopped her. Something didn’t feel right. Not moving, she listened to the sounds around her and peered through half-closed lids into the gray light.
Phin, who had the last watch, sat next to the fire, drawing lazy patterns in the ashes with a stick. To her left, a staccato of snores indicated that Charlie was still asleep.
Her gaze wandered to the horses.
Dancer stood with his head held high. His ears flicked in every direction as if trying to pinpoint the source of a sound.
Cold fear gripped Luke.
Someone was out there, watching them.
She slid her hand under the blanket. The worn wooden grip of her revolver felt soothing against her fingers. Without a sound, she slid the weapon out of its holster.
A snort from one of the horses interrupted the silence between two of Charlie’s snores.
Phin’s head jerked up.
Luke tensed her muscles, ready to jump up. Her gaze darted around.
Shadows moved at the edge of their camp.
A shot shattered the morning’s peace.
Luke rolled to her left, away from the fire.
More shots. A bullet scratched along the saddle she’d used as a pillow, raining tiny pieces of leather down on her.
Two men ran up the hill toward her.
Where’s Phin?
No time to look around. She got to her feet and squeezed off a series of quick shots, forcing the attackers to stop their fast approach. With her free hand, she grabbed the still half-asleep Charlie and dragged him with her. Her searching eyes found no cover.
Their only chance was to run down the other side of the hill, out of reach of their attacker’s weapons, and then shoot them as soon as the two men crested the hill.
“Phin! Charlie! Follow me!” With her head down, she raced toward the crest of the hill.
Another shot rang out.
Next to her, Charlie cried out and fell.
Luke whirled around, her revolver raised. She crouched down next to Charlie and tried to get him up.
“Go!” Charlie waved her away. “Get out of here before they shoot you too!”
“Shut up and—”
A flash from a muzzle lit up the semi-darkness.
Luke dived to her belly and squeezed the trigger, aiming for the shadowy shape behind the flash.
With a gurgling scream, the man went down.
Where’s his friend? Luke peered through the gray half-light. There!
Behind his fallen friend, the second man swung up his revolver and aimed at her.
She squeezed the trigger again.
Click. The hammer fell on an empty chamber.
Luke looked into the grinning face of Bill Walters. “Bet you wish you hadn’t interrupted our bit of fun now,” he said, walking closer. The muzzle of his revolver pointed right at her.
“Forcing yourself on a woman is not a ‘bit of fun.’” Luke glared at him. “You are a soldier. Where’s your sense of honor?”
“I’m no longer a soldier, thanks to you.” Hatred blazed in his eyes. He pulled back the hammer of his revolver with a resounding click.
Sweat trickled down her back. She tensed her muscles, even knowing that she couldn’t outrun a bullet. She would be dead before she made it to her feet.
The moment when he squeezed the trigger was telegraphed in Walters’s eyes.
She rolled to the left, but the booming shot rang out sooner than she expected.
No pain came.
Luke glanced up.
Walters lay facedown in the grass, his right hand still clasping his revolver. Phin stood over him, blood dripping from his arm.
Luke looked around for the third man who had tried to violate the Shoshone woman, but there was no sign of him anywhere. She got to her feet and hurried over to Phin. “You all right?”
Unfocused blue eyes stared in her direction, then at the prone man. “I shot him. I think he’s dead.” A tremor ran through Phin’s tall body.
Luke had seen it before. Phin was a tough man, his body hardened and his reflexes sharpened from working with horses, but he wasn’t used to gunfights. This was probably the first time he had even shot at a man, let alone killed one. She knelt and rolled the motionless Walters onto his back. Sightless eyes stared at her, and blood soaked the front of his shirt.
Phin turned away. Retching sounds came from where he crouched behind a shrub of sagebrush.
The part of Luke that Nora called the “mother hen” wanted to rush over, but she had lived among men long enough to know that she would only embarrass Phin. She was his mentor, a father figure, and he wouldn’t want her to see him so weak.
Acid burned in her throat as she took the revolver from Walters’s stiffening fingers. Then she knelt down next to Charlie.
He was sitting up, clutching his leg.
“Let me see.” She slid off his boot and pushed up his pant leg. Blood streamed down his calf. Luke probed with gentle fingers.
Charlie flinched. He stared at his leg, his face pale.
“The bullet is lodged in the fleshy part of your calf. You’re lucky it didn’t shatter your bone.”
“I don’t feel lucky,” Charlie grumbled. “Is Phin all right?”
Luke nodded and used her bandanna to put a bandage around his calf. It would stop the bleeding until she secured the camp, checked the horses, and made sure the third soldier had stayed behind in Fort Boise, nursing his wounded thigh.
She helped Charlie settle down on his bedroll, then walked over to Phin.
He was on his knees, digging in the earth with frantic fingers.
“Phin,” she said. “What are you doing?”
Blood soaked the left sleeve of his shirt, but Phin didn’t seem to notice. He continued to shovel earth with his bare hands.
“Phin!”
He looked up, cold sweat beading on his pale face. “I need to dig a grave.” He bent and continued to dig.
“Look at me, Phin.” Luke used her most commanding voice, the one she had perfected as the boss of half a dozen young men and parent of two adolescent daughters.
His gaze flickered up to her.
“I know killing a man is horrible, even if he wasn’t a good man. Taking a life is something you never get over, and that’s one thing that separates you from men like Bill Walters. If you hadn’t shot him, he would have killed me and then Charlie. You did what you had to, and you saved our lives.” She looked into his eyes until the haze cleared. “How is your arm?”
Phin looked at his arm as if he hadn’t even realized he’d been shot. “Probably just a scratch.”
“Can you go and sit with Charlie while I make sure these two were alone?” She didn’t want to send Phin out with a weapon.
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed. He nodded.
“If he can, have him check out your arm.” Luke reloaded Walters’s revolver, then her own. Dew drenched her pant legs as she walked through the grass, both revolvers at the ready. The horses had fled from the sounds of shots and screams as fast as their hobbled legs allowed. She found them next to two geldings that were tied to a shrub.
A quick check revealed the military brand of the horses. Had they stolen them, or had Captain Kelling helped them take their revenge? As soon as she got home, she would send a letter to Colonel Lundgren.
Just two horses. So the third man stayed behind in Fort Boise. The tension in her body dissipated. We were lucky. If I hadn’t woken up... The memory of her dream came back to her, and once again she heard Nora order her to open her eyes. It was what had woken her. “Thank you, darling,” she whispered.
Luke stared into the darkness, listening for anything out of place. The wind rustled the leaves of a few slender willows. Nearby, the Malheur River gurgled on its way north. Even with two wounded men and the additional horses in tow, she had insisted that they cross the river before resting, just in case someone else was following them and had heard the shots.
Most of the horses were dozing. Phin’s gelding bent his head in search of some tender tidbits amidst the valley’s coarse grass.
Still, Luke kept her rifle at the ready as she walked over and settled a second blanket over Charlie. The young man groaned in his sleep, then continued to snore even worse than usual. She had given him the last of their whiskey before digging the bullet out of his calf. It dulled his pain, but Phin had still paled at the anguished cries of his friend, and her stomach had roiled too.
Quietly, trying not to startle Phin, she made her way back to the fire. The wound on Phin’s arm was little more than a scratch, but she worried about him nonetheless. He stared into the fire, watching the flames devour the dry wood and turn it into ashes.
“Hey.” She settled down next to him.
A slight tilt of his head indicated that he was aware of her presence.
“Did I ever tell you about the first time I had to kill a man?”
That pulled him from his stupor. He looked up, his eyes still dull, not the usual sparkling blue. He didn’t need to answer; they both knew she hadn’t told him. She rarely talked about her life prior to meeting Nora. Still, she waited for him to speak. She wanted Phin to be in the present with her, not retreating into himself.
“No,” he said at last, his voice rough. “You haven’t.”
“It was during the Mexican War. I was barely twenty, and I thought I was really tough.” She smiled at the memory of her younger, more naïve self. “I’d made it on my own for a lot of years, worked on half a dozen ranches, and tamed wild horses that no one else could ride.”
“Sounds familiar,” Phin said. He hadn’t been all that different when he had first come to work for her.
“Yeah.” Luke grinned. “But instead of doing the clever thing and settling down somewhere, I got it into my head that the dragoons were the right place for me. And maybe they were, for a while, but the war...” She closed her eyes as the old images resurfaced. “There’s nothing glorious about killing someone. During my first encounter with the Mexican troops, one of their soldiers galloped right at me, yelling loudly, maybe to scare my horse or to encourage himself. I raised my rifle and fired—but nothing happened. My rifle failed. Back then, most of us still had the old muzzle-loading muskets, and the gunpowder must have gotten wet.”
She paused and looked at Phin, who was watching her. The flickering light of the fire pasted shadows across his face. He nodded at her to continue.
“The soldier gave a cry of triumph. He was almost upon me now, and he raised an old revolver.” She sucked in a breath. “I slashed my bayonet across his belly before he could pull the trigger.”
“He died?” Phin asked.
“Later, when we searched the battlefield to find fallen comrades, I found him.” The image of him clutching his belly, blood staining his once white shirt, had haunted her nightmares for years. “He was just a boy in farmer’s clothes, fighting with his father’s old revolver. They gave me a medal for fighting in that battle. I didn’t want a medal. Killing that boy or any of the other soldiers afterward didn’t make me feel proud.”
Phin flicked a branch into the fire and nodded.
Sparks rained down around them, and Luke watched them trail down to earth.
“I know you don’t feel good about killing Bill Walters, and you shouldn’t, even though he was a miserable son of a bitch. But you saved my life and Charlie’s. Maybe you can at least feel good about that.” She clapped him on the shoulder, knowing it was the only physical comfort allowed between two men. When he looked up from the fire, she added a heartfelt “Thank you.”
It wasn’t just for her. If she had died, her secret would have been discovered. It would have ended not just her life, but life as her family knew it too.
The shadows lifted from Phin’s eyes, and he straightened his shoulders. “I would do it again if I had to.”
“I know.”
They watched the fire in companionable silence until the blazing flames turned into glowing embers.
Hamilton Horse Ranch
Baker Prairie, Oregon
May 31, 1868
“Do you want a mare or a gelding?” Amy looked over her shoulder at Frankie, who followed her across the ranch yard. While mares were thought to make good mounts for women, most men preferred geldings, saying that mares were too cranky and easily distracted.
What would Frankie prefer? Amy still couldn’t figure her out. When she rode with the ranch hands to look at the land, she wore pants and short hair. Most neighbors they met mistook her for a man, and Frankie didn’t correct them. But when they went into town on Sunday, Frankie wore a dress, a hairpiece under her elegant hat, and dainty shoes that made Amy’s feet hurt just by looking at them. Frankie chatted about the newest fashions back East with the townswomen and seemed as at ease as she was riding the range.
