The Beholding, page 6
Both men were noted gunhands, but the blink in Jim’s eyes hinted he thought Luke the better.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jim taunted Luke, motioning toward Tess’s fading figure. “Rile me so we shoot it out and only one of us gets to take her wherever she wants. Makes you look good in the widow’s eyes shining up to the boy, doesn’t it, Mr. Bounty Hunter? But those better looking than you have tried that little trick and it got ’em nowhere. Hers is a marrying bed and, frankly, mister, you don’t strike me as a man with much use for a mattress.”
Luke grabbed Jim’s high-starched cravat, drew and triggered his pistol before the gambler could go for his gun. Poking the barrel under Daggert’s chin, Luke used the cold steel to assure his sincerity. “Keep your filthy conjecture to yourself, and stay clear of the boy. He hollers or cries one time and you’re anywhere near him, I’m gonna rip you apart with my bare hands and feed the pieces to the coyotes. Then you’ll wish I’d done you the favor of shooting you. Do I make myself understood?”
Jerking away from Luke’s grip and the gun, Jim garnered more courage than most who stared down the barrel of Luke’s Colt. The gambler straightened his shirt and vest, adjusting his cravat.
“More than happy to oblige, Reeves. But his mother’s a different matter.”
Wiping his hand on the butternut-colored buckskins as if he had touched something foul, Luke sheathed the revolver and pulled his hat low on his forehead. “The widow’s old enough to make her own choices.”
But was she? Did she know Daggert wanted more than a quick straddle? The man was marriage-minded. “Makes a man wonder how much choice her husband had, doesn’t it?” Luke taunted Jim. “A pretty lady like that must’ve had plenty of men wanting to steal her away from him. Even a best friend might take a shine to such a fine-looking lady.”
“What are you implying?” Jim’s hand wavered near his holster.
Luke never flinched, his gun ready if the stupid man went for his gun. “That maybe I’ll be watching you two a bit more careful than I would have. Could be more to those rumors about Harper’s dealing with Hoot Hill and a third member of their gang than I suspected. I might have been a bit too hasty in judgment. The plug I pulled out of her husband is the same caliber as mine, but that doesn’t necessarily prove I did the killing.”
“Watch all you want, bounty man. All you’ve got are notions.” Jim’s Custer-style mustache lifted to one side, creasing the sharp planes of his broad face as he snarled, “Proof is what you need.”
The jagged white scar on Luke’s right cheek and brow twitched at the challenge. He hoped like hell Tess hadn’t agreed for Daggert to tag along so the two of them could go on with their schemes while he provided safety. There seemed only one way to settle the doubt gnawing at him and to knock that gloating grin off the bastard’s face.
Luke hoped for Tommie’s sake that he was wrong. Letting Daggert think he bested him for the moment, Luke moved his left hand clear of the Colt. “Like I said, I’ll be watching.”
Chapter Five
The mules plodded on a winding path through the foothills, following a northbound course parallel to the Arkansas River. Tess fought to hold the reins as the jacks and jennies nipped and kicked each other, pulling in opposite directions.
Glaring furiously at them from below the brim of her brown bonnet, she slapped the broad leather straps down hard and shouted, “Hyaw!” for the hundredth time that morning, calling encouragement to the working team. Drenched in perspiration, Tess’s arms felt as if they were being wrenched from her shoulder sockets. Her fingers vised around the reins that pulled and released as the mules stopped and started.
Oh, to be three years old again, she complained silently and gritted against the pain of the splintery driver’s seat. Tommie had stripped to only his trousers, which he hitched up as high as the pant legs would allow. He now slept in the back of the wagon where the horseshoe-shaped tarpaulin kept the searing sun from beating down. With no one but her son near, Tess pushed modesty aside and unfastened her buttons from collar to mid-bosom. She fought to hold the leather straps and fan the linsey homespun to get relief from the stifling heat. Beads of perspiration ran down her throat to pool in the valley between her breasts. The first stop they made she would forfeit the corset. The scalding hot stays were tight enough to suffocate.
Dust raised by the mules’ hooves billowed into Tess’s face, blasting her with shards of cacti and blackjack leaves. Wisps of hair which had escaped from her bonnet no longer looked blonde but matched the butternut brown-gray of rebel uniforms. While she was licking at the grit that coated her teeth despite Luke’s bandana, a spell of sneezes racked her body. When her eyes threatened to swell shut from stinging, Tess decided she should have taken Jim up on the offer to drive the team. But her pride had not allowed that. Determined to prove she could take care of Tommie and herself, Tess had sent the gambler out to scout with Luke.
Not that her decision met with the bounty hunter’s approval. He hadn’t much liked the idea of Jim not being near the wagon. Then again, at lunch he seemed displeased that the gambler chose to sit next to her on the wagon bed while they ate. Did Luke harbor the same suspicions she did about Jim?
Endless questions poured through Tess’s mind as scrubby trees and prickly pears filled the horizon. What she would not give for a few answers concerning the gambler. Had he been a party to selling rifles to the Indians? Had he involved Clifton, or was her husband truly an innocent bystander? Tess wanted to believe Jim innocent, as well. Wanted to put aside her uneasiness and accept, without hesitation, the friendship he offered.
But Jim had no real profession to speak of. He said he kept himself in such fine attire and income by extraordinary good fortune at the gaming tables. When luck ran a bit lean, he took on scouting duties for General Hunt or rode posse for the territorial marshal. Still, those jobs were not frequent enough to set aside the suspicion in her own mind that he earned money another way. A way that was not so law-abiding.
Once Tess had trusted men far too much, and that gullibility had nearly destroyed her. Might still, if she didn’t play her cards carefully around Luke Reeves. He was up to something more than guiding her to Colorado, and until she discovered his intent, it seemed wise to keep up her guard.
“This place needs a splash of color,” she said aloud, putting aside her disturbing thoughts and brooding mood. “A splash of anything,” she added with a quirk of her lips. Green eyes narrowed as a bead of perspiration chose that moment to sting her eye. “Well, not anything.”
The thought of striking camp in a few hours spurred her on, adding energy to Tess’s tired, aching shoulders and hips. A bath in the Arkansas and a place to stretch out in the wagon alongside Tommie would be wonderful.
A flash of yellow buzzed around her face, and she shooed it with one elbow, trying not to let go of the reins. “Scaaat!” she yelled as she swatted at the yellow jacket that impaled itself just above her right breast. “Ouch!”
Her shout of pain awoke Tommie and startled the mules into a gallop. Suddenly a dark cloud whirled in front of her, droning the danger into which she’d driven. She yanked back on the reins, but too late. More hornet-like insects swarmed the mules’ ears and flanks, attacking her and infiltrating the wagon.
“Wake up, Tommie. Wake up! Yellow jackets!” she screamed. “Help, somebody! Help us!”
She leaned back, stiffening her legs to brace herself against a possible stampede of the team. Slapping at her shoulders and face while maintaining control of the frightened mules seemed impossible. The pestilence reached her son, and his wails pierced the air.
The mules bolted into a full-out run, jerking the reins from her hands. Tess fell back into the wagon and landed nearly on top of Tommie. Seconds seemed like eternity as she fought to stand, her grip a vise around Tommie’s arm so he wouldn’t be out of her reach. With all the force of her fear, she screamed, “Runaway!”
Praying that Luke or Jim heard her scream, Tess shouted, “Hang on, Tommie! Hang on to Mommie and don’t let go!”
Fighting the wild rocking of the wagon, she tried to regain her position on the driver’s box. Splinters pierced her gloves as her hands gripped the back of the wooden seat, but she flinched away the pain. When one foot finally settled over the edge and promised to steady her balance, a rut in the road toppled her backward, yanking away Tommie’s grasp on her waist.
“Reach for me, Tommie!” she commanded and thrust her arm out, hoping it would be enough to stop his plunge toward the back of the wagon. If he hurtled out at this speed, he would be killed.
“Mommie, Mommie! Catch me, Mommie!”
Tommie clutched for her hand and in a moment of gutclenching terror their fingers threaded, then slipped. With no thought of anything but her child, Tess gave up the only chance she had of regaining the reins and groped for Tommie.
“God, help me,” she pleaded and flung herself to the back just as his legs slid past the end of the wagon. Her fingers grasped, finding nothing. “Please, God!”
A finger. Two. Tess clutched at the precious treasure of that small hand. With every ounce of outrage that filled her heart, Tess yanked. A primeval yell of conquest echoed from the depth of her lungs as the touch caught and held.
The tiny, trembling body fell against her own. Tess clung and prayed, cried and shouted shrieks of relief, of distress. Their danger was long from being over. The wagon jostled and bumped, throwing them from side to side. Tess’s heart thundered to the rhythm of the pounding hooves. Leather and reins snapped their uselessness, jingling as the osage orange wheels shuddered beneath the onslaught of hooves and rutted roadway.
Could she make it to the straps again? Struggling to her knees, Tess clasped Tommie protectively. The sight before her knotted her stomach with dread. The reins were tangled in two of the mules’ harnesses. In order to reach them, she would have to jump clear of the schooner’s tongue and mount one of them as they ran. She faced certain death if she didn’t leap far enough and landed amid the grinding hooves. But face it she must… if she expected Tommie to live.
One of the jacks went down and the Conestoga veered, tilting dangerously to one side. The terrified scream of its team blended with Tess’s own as the wagon threatened to overturn.
Shouts penetrated her terror. Human voices! Hope lifted Tess’s spirits even as reality plunged her into crippling doubt. Could they stop the team in time?
Luke spurred Talon alongside the mules and grabbed the reins. With a mighty jerk, he pulled the team toward him. The schooner shuddered and righted itself. At the same instant, Jim barreled through the back flap, stretching two firm arms across the width of the Conestoga to prevent Tess and Tommie from being thrown out.
“Whoa there, jennies! Easy there, jacks!” Luke’s commands eased the frightened creatures from a gallop to a trot, then finally a breath-relieving canter. Only his powerful control kept the mules from fighting their harnesses and stumbling over the downed mule.
Sweat poured down Luke’s back from the supreme effort it took to stop the runaway animals, but never, never had Tess seen anything more appealing. Though Jim’s arms held her secure, Luke’s bravery had saved her son’s life… and her own. Not even a day out of Fort Smith, she knew that choosing Luke was the first right decision she had ever made.
When the team came to a lopsided halt, Tess accepted Jim’s help out of the wagon. Holding Tommie at arm’s length, she inspected the welts he suffered from the insect attack.
“What in the devil did you run into?” Jim gave her no time to pull back her bonnet, but did so himself.
“Yellow jackets. A swarm of them.” Tess’s hands shot to her red-blotched cheeks to feel the painful bumps. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to add hers to Tommie’s.
“Well, don’t just stand there gawking, Daggert. Unharness that mule and take the team upwind of it. I’ll grab some mud and doctor the boy. When you’re through, help Tess.”
Tess fixed her gaze on Luke as he walked toward the river and cupped a handful of wet mud. Grateful for his quick thinking, she ran to grab some mud to ease the stinging. Later they could bathe and rub the welts with baking soda. As she watched Luke dab Tommie’s welts, her gaze was drawn to the man’s magnificent form. Dark hair curled along the base of his neck while perspiration molded his shirt to the muscles of his broad back. A gunbelt emphasized his narrow hips and nestled the Colt against one well-muscled thigh.
Closing her eyes to break the fascination, Tess reopened them only to discover an even stronger attraction. As he moved to gather more mud, sleek muscular elegance powered Luke’s every step. When he suddenly became aware of her regard, danger lurked in his deep blue gaze. The indigo darkened into a fathomless, knowing look that acknowledged and challenged the flush of desire flooding her senses.
Suddenly Tess felt everything—the dirt in her hair, the grit on her teeth, the stinging welts all over her body. But more than anything else, she felt something unleashed inside. A wild, unmanageable, dangerous infatuation for the bounty hunter which ebbed into an ache deep within. She willed herself to concentrate on doctoring the bites.
“Do you feel all right?” Jim asked, moving up beside her. “You look a bit faint.”
Tess’s hands cupped her cheeks, feeling the hot flush of her skin. She had actually blushed just thinking of the bounty hunter. Had she stood there gawking at Luke long enough for Jim to finish his task? “I’m fine,” she muttered, turning from the gambler’s intense inspection. “A bit shaken by the wild ride, I’m afraid.”
Watching Luke apply the mud to Tommie’s face and hands, dabbing wherever the insects left their mark, she was grateful when he drew Jim’s attention to her son.
“How’s that, folks? That mud ought to scare off the next swarm of stingers, don’t you think?”
Jim laughed. “It would scare me for sure.”
“You missed some, Mista Yuke. Right here.” Tommie pulled down his trousers and revealed several welts on his bottom.
Tess stifled a giggle behind her palms. “Excuse him, gentlemen. He’s just a—”
“Boy,” Luke finished for her. “That’s reason enough.”
Tess became all too aware of the intense look Jim gave her. Knowing the way his mind worked, she suspected that he wanted to help dab her unseen bites. “I’ll suffer the ones I can’t reach, thank you.”
Jim’s brown eyes widened in exaggerated disappointment. “Oh, but I do so enjoy administering to the sick. It gives a man a good feeling knowing how he’s helped.”
Tess laughed despite the suggestiveness of the remark. The laughter felt good after such a frightful moment. But a quick glance at Luke found a scowl on his face. Curiosity spurred Tess’s thoughts. Why is he so serious? What would those lips look like curved into a smile? Deciding she might like to view such a sight, she silently vowed to help him find a better humor.
The first shades of evening spread across the horizon and with them came a reminder of how long and difficult the day had been. Now they had a mule to butcher. “Will we camp here?” Tess asked.
“This is as good a place as any.” Luke surveyed all directions. “Besides, all that whooping and yelling would have brought in marauders, if there were any. We’re fairly safe.”
Should I take that as criticism? Tess almost spoke the question aloud, but he was right. Their screams could have brought in much more trouble than insects. The opportunity to see if he would laugh had proven too irresistible. “We might have scared off the marauders anyway, looking like this. Small pox, you know.”
“Mommie, you’d scare ’em, too, and you a big pox.”
Luke laughed, a deep full-throated baritone erupting without restraint. While he dabbed the last welt on Tommie’s bottom, the bounty hunter continued to chuckle. Tess smiled. The sound might just be worth the painful itch she suffered.
Seeing the companionable look shared by Contessa and Luke stirred Jim’s anger. His brows angled in disapproval. “You let your guard down, Contessa. You can laugh at it now, but what if Indians instead of insects waited to ambush you? Or a cougar perched on an overhang? Would it seem so humorous then?”
Luke walked to the bank, cleansed his hands and shook them dry. “It’s true that sound carries out here for miles, Tess. That will either save us from trouble or bring it.” He stripped off the buckskin shirt, pulled it over a broad muscular chest and flung it onto a blackjack branch. His grin faded as he challenged Jim’s glare. “But if we do our job, she won’t have to worry about it, will she, Daggert?”
“You saying I’m not pulling my share?” Jim countered.
“I’m saying I circled to the rear twice today and you weren’t anywhere to be found.”
“Anyone who plans on attacking us would find the same thing, wouldn’t he, Reeves? If you happen to get your butt in trouble, the scalawag would think the wagon only had one scout. I could come in and rescue you. Seems I’m pulling my share pretty damn well.”
Trying to ward off the confrontation that narrowed both men’s gazes to hard glints, Tess touched Jim’s arm. The last thing she needed was a fight. They might kill each other, leaving her and Tommie without a guide. “I’ll be more careful. My son’s safety is too precious to take such chances, despite the fine job you both are doing.”
A look of something close to respect passed between herself and Luke. A warm glow of satisfaction filled Tess, and she discovered that pleasing him had somehow become important. Caution spread through her, and Tess swayed as if struck by a blast of heat. Her whole life had been to please a man rather than herself. She refused to fall into that habit again.
“Are you all right?” Luke reached out to steady her.
Tess waved away his hand. Twice in the last few minutes, she allowed herself to appear in need. She was stronger than this and didn’t want to be read so easily. “I’ll be fine. I just need to wash off some dirt before I put any more back on.”
