Noble Savage Read online

  "They're nearly dry."

  "Oh, for--Luke Savage, they're practically dripping. Now take them off and give them to me. Right now! I promise I won't watch."

  He refilled his hat and moved on to Salome.

  Well, if he wanted to be miserable, she would let him. She wasn't his mother, as he'd reminded her several times.

  Once the animals were fed and watered, Luke wrapped one of the gunnysacks around his hips and gave her his britches.

  Katie bit her tongue. She just barely managed not to giggle at the sight of his long legs clad in red longjohns sticking out from under the short, makeshift skirt.

  After supper Luke spread a bed for her under the tarpaulin which he'd strung like a lean-to from a pine branch. The night would be warm enough that he would sleep comfortably under the stars. Warm, well fed, and too tired to argue, Katie willingly took the bed.

  Stars? For the first time she noticed that thin clouds were obscuring half the night sky. More bad weather? She hoped not.

  * * * *

  For the next three days the wind grew steadily colder, the clouds drooped continually lower and darker, but the snow held off. They'd made good time since their scrambling, difficult descent into this valley below the high ridge. A creek meandered along its bottom, sometimes forcing them to detour around an oxbow or a marsh, but the valley floor was level and fairly wide.

  Game was plentiful, too. Luke had shot a big-eared deer the first day and they were still eating off it. Even better, the stock seemed to like the taste of succulent winter buds on the shrubs that grew along the creek.

  All in all, they were in pretty good shape for a pair of damn fools.

  From what little his map showed, he reckoned that they'd come down this valley about eighteen miles as the crow flies, twice that on foot. The ridge they were now ascending might be the divide they had to cross, but he doubted it. According to the conductor, the rail line cut through a hellacious hill before Bear River City. The one they were climbing now didn't seem anywhere near as high. Maybe they'd somehow avoided it.

  He sure hoped so. It was bound to snow soon. Luke checked the sky again, the umpteenth time that morning.

  "Are you sure you know where we're going?" Katie said.

  He didn't even turn around. "Yep."

  "And do you know where we are?"

  "Pretty much."

  A long silence was broken only by the soughing of the wind and the clip-clop of a dozen shod hooves.

  "But do you know how to get from here to there?" she said.

  "Tarnation, woman! If you don't like the direction we're goin', maybe you'd better take point and lead us some other way."

  Katie's arm slid around his, hugging his elbow tight against her. "Don't be so touchy. I just asked a simple question."

  "And I gave you a simple answer. But you couldn't be satisfied, could you?" He jerked free of her and strode ahead.

  Katie trotted to catch up, her breath coming harder as she fell into step beside him again. "Luke, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound critical."

  "Either you trust me to get you there or you don't. And it sounds to me like you don't."

  "I do. Honest." Again she tried to catch his arm, but he swung it out of her grasp. "It's just been so long since we've seen any sign of civilization."

  "It's gonna be a lot longer before we do, I reckon."

  "What do you mean?"

  She sounded worried. Luke immediately regretted his words. "What I mean is that it's still a hundred miles and more to Salt Lake City. There's not a lot between here and there, and what there is seems pretty easy to miss, when I look at the map."

  "But you said--"

  "What I said was, I had a pretty good idea that if we followed this creek to its head, we might find ourselves just over the hill from the Bear River Valley. I just don't know how high or how wide that particular hill is." As he spoke the last words, they topped the ridge and looked down into a narrow valley. Beyond was another hill, and behind that, still another. He waved his arm. "It's somewhere out there. So's the railroad. I just hope we'll strike one or the other before another storm hits."

  Katie stood silent beside him for long moments. Her cheeks were pink from the wind and cold. Below the heavy coat, her skirt blew ragged in the wind, showing scuffed boots and fraying petticoats. As she gazed into the distance, her teeth worried her lower lip, recalling to Luke the taste of her mouth.

  What a companion she was, despite her occasional questioning of his plans and actions. She might argue, but when convinced he was right, she put her whole self into cooperating. Most women he'd known would have dissolved into hysterics long since. Even the strong ones, like his ma, probably couldn't have pulled their weight like Katie had.

  If she was a man, she'd be someone to ride the trail with, that was certain.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They camped that night in a willow thicket, a crowded, uncomfortable camp, but sheltered from the cold, dry wind. Lafayette refused to squeeze among the dense osiers, but the two donkeys pushed their way inside and began nibbling at the tender branch tips.

  "We've still got food," Katie said as she pulled dried apples, cheese, and two worse-for-wear corn dodgers out of their provision bag. The corn meal she'd bought "just in case" was turning out to be one of her better ideas. She just wished she'd purchased more than two pounds.

  When she was a child, Katie and her older brother had often fed the whole family with the rabbits and grouse they'd caught in snares. Perhaps she should try her hand as setting some in the morning. Of course, they would have to stay over another day if she did, and she didn't think Luke would agree to that.

  She sighed, knowing that they couldn't take a chance with the weather. It was already mid-November, and more snow was on its way, probably in the next day or two.

  Luke seemed ill at ease as he fed the animals and puttered around camp. Finally Katie could bear no more. "What has your tail in a twist?" she demanded.

  He turned around and stared at her. "What did you say?"

  Hot blood flooded her face. Her ma had told her she'd get herself in trouble someday, talking like Pa, and sure enough she had. Until she had lain with Luke, her words would have meant little to her, but now she realized how suggestive they were. "Nothing," she muttered.

  His chuckle surprised her. "Girl, your ma would purely take a bar of soap to your mouth, could she hear you talk sometimes."

  She ignored him, turning aside to shake out the blanket and her quilt.

  "We'll bed down together," Luke said as she crawled off the tarp and started spreading it out.

  "Not on your life."

  "You want to freeze your ar...yourself to death? Make one bed, damn it!"

  The last few nights they had slept separately at opposite ends of the stretched-out tarpaulin. She had been snug and warm wrapped in her coat and the quilt. As far as she knew, he had been the same in his wool blanket.

  Each night, though, the wind had grown colder and the clouds more threatening. Even protected by the dense growth of willows, she could feel its bite.

  The last thing she wanted to do was lie beside him through a long winter night. She just knew she wouldn't sleep a wink, not with him close and warm against her.

  Besides, he'd probably snore the whole night long.

  His rejection of her in the shelter still stung. Of course, common sense had reasserted itself, and she knew that they had played with fire.

  The trouble was, the flames still tempted her.

  Just looking at Luke brought a warmth to her belly, a fluttery, hollow feeling. If his sleeve happened to brush hers as they were unloading the donkeys, she felt it, even through her heavy coat. When he smiled, it was if he had given her a priceless gift.

  And when she thought of him going his way in Salt Lake City, she felt as if she was about to lose something precious.

  She wondered if he had any idea how she felt.

  If he cared.

  Glancing at him across th
e fire, she caught him staring at her. The heat of his gaze was scorching, its warmth lasting even after he quickly dropped his eyelids.

  There was her answer. Whether he cared for her or not, he wanted her.

  And he despised her for it.

  For a moment, Katie wished herself back on the train. Or safely in Salt Lake City. Anywhere but here, wherever here was.

  No. No, she didn't. Hamilton Steens Whitney III would have found her before she reached Salt Lake City. Without Luke's assistance--his protection, admit it--she would have been fair game.

  There was something about the man who'd followed her more than a thousand miles. She shuddered, and told herself to rein in her imagination. Whitney was just a man, albeit a very determined one.

  Wasn't he?

  For the first time Katie appreciated what being very rich could mean. Her family was wealthy, even in an area where fortunes in gold and silver were dug out of the ground almost weekly. But they had neither the influence nor the apparently limitless wealth that her pursuer's family had.

  Whitney had known where she was staying in Chicago before she checked into the hotel. She was certain his appearance at the depot in Council Bluffs had been no accident. He'd arrived at Sidney before her, and probably Laramie, too. And Medicine Bow. To get there he had to have been on the same train she had, yet Luke had checked every passenger coach, every stock and baggage car. That meant Whitney must have bribed his way onto the train. The caboose? It was the only place they hadn't looked for him.

  How much had he paid to ride the freight carrying explosives to Green River?

  Again a shudder shook her. Her pa had once claimed his Katie wasn't afraid of anything. Well, he'd be disappointed to learn she was scared stiff of Hamilton Steens Whitney III.

  * * * *

  Her back was warm when she woke sometime in the night. Her nose was so cold it felt as if it might break off. Yet Katie would not turn over and burrow against Luke.

  It would be too much like begging.

  Was this the sort of behavior that all noble men engaged in, or was Luke an extreme case? Both her parents, at different times and in different ways, had warned her of the male tendency to indulge in fornication when and where it was available and let the devil take the hindmost. Ma had admitted that sometimes a noble man would put a woman's welfare first--Pa had done that until Ma had been about ready to strangle him--but she hadn't told Katie what to do when it happened. All she'd said was that when a man like that came along, Katie was to grab him with both hands and not let go.

  Well, here he was.

  And he wasn't about to let himself be grabbed.

  She cupped her hands about her nose, wishing she could sleep with her head under covers. All her life she'd suffered from cold nose at night, and she'd never found a better way to combat it than to bury it against her sister's warm back.

  Ellen had never objected, although she'd often teased Katie about looking for a husband who'd be willing to put up with her cold nose.

  Would icicles form on the tip of her nose if she went to sleep? Like they did on Luke's moustache? She blew into her cupped hands again, feeling the moisture in her breath condense upon her face.

  "Cold?" His voice was soft, little more than a whisper.

  "Not really," she lied.

  "You can't be any warmer than me," he said as he rolled over and wrapped one arm around her, "and I'm likely to freeze."

  Katie snuggled back against him, wishing the many layers of wool, linen, and leather to perdition.

  Then she silently laughed at herself. Tonight she'd rather be warm than almost anything else. Even her nose felt less icy.

  Lying beside Katie, pretending to sleep, made each second seem eternal. Luke counted her every breath, tried to ignore her restless turnings.

  Knowing she was as awake as he made the torment all the more keen. Her eyes held an invitation each time he looked into their blue depths. He could have her for the asking, could lose himself in her warm, willing body.

  She reminded him of raw recruits he'd known. Full of fiery enthusiasm for something new and exciting. They had seen war as grand and glorious--until they learned better. He reckoned Katie thought much the same of lovemaking--grand and glorious, delicious and forbidden. And, because he'd shown her how, perfectly safe and without disastrous aftereffects.

  For all her fancy book learning, Katie Lachlan was an innocent in the ways of men and women. She thought she could experiment with love and walk away unscathed.

  Luke knew better. For him it was already too late, yet he had no choice.

  He would walk away. But not unscathed.

  * * * *

  They topped a crest, toiled down the other side. Just enough snow had fallen yesterday that the going was difficult. The low-growing sagebrush, when covered with snow, gave a deceptively smooth appearance to the ground. Just let a foot--human or animal--break through its fluffy white covering, and it became a slick, springy trap for the unwary. Twice Sheba had fallen and lay thrashing on the ground until Luke could throw his coat over her head. Even then it took both him and Katie to unpack her and get her back on her feet.

  The second time it happened, Katie said, "Let's leave the wood here. It looks like there's plenty along the river."

  Luke, already loading the last of their dry cedar and pine back into the makeshift panniers, shook his head. "We're not likely to find logs this size along a stream. Not dry, anyhow. And it could be days yet before we reach a town."

  She frowned, but she didn't argue. Luke glanced at her as she held Sheba's head so the fool animal couldn't buck until he got the panniers fastened down.

  Katie looked tired. Worn clear to the bone. Her face was chapped from the drying blast of the cold wind, her skirt and petticoats torn and fraying from catching on rocks and twigs. Her pretty red shawl was in even worse shape. One corner was scorched where she'd used it for a potholder, and the fringe was tangled and knotted.

  She looked up at him and smiled. It was like sunrise on a spring morning.

  Once again Luke wondered if they wouldn't have been better off staying on the train, Boston dude or no. He swatted Lafayette lightly on the rump. "Git, you jug-head. We've got places to go."

  Once again he wished he had a better map. He thought they were within ten or fifteen miles of the railroad, but he couldn't be sure. Not until he stood on the rails and saw for himself.

  "This is too easy."

  Luke slowed so she could catch up with him. "Huh?"

  "I said, this is too easy." Her quick grin flashed. "Other than the snowstorm, we've hardly suffered. Don't you know that heroes always have to suffer before they get their heart's desire?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Oh, Luke, you know what I mean. Heroes go on quests and face all sorts of really impossible obstacles before they achieve their object. Like fighting dragons and monsters, getting captured by giants, things like that. Oh yes, they usually get thrown into a dungeon for a year or two."

  "They do, huh?"

  "And just when everything looks impossible, they defy impossible odds and break free, or slay the evil king, or whatever."

  Luke halted in his tracks, pulling Lafayette to a stop beside him. "And you think I'm one of these heroes?"

  "Of course. You rescued me, didn't you? And you bested the monster. At least I think Mr. Whitney's a monster, don't you? We were even in a dungeon--sort of."

  "A dungeon. Uh-huh."

  "Well, the shelter where we sat out the snowstorm might be called a dungeon. It's got rock walls and all."

  Luke contained the grin that wanted to spread itself across his face. "You've got quite an imagination."

  Her smile was smug. "That's what my whole family says. But they also take me seriously sometimes. Like you should, now."

  "I'm supposed to take you seriously when you tell me I'm a hero? Katie, if I'd been a hero, we'd be in Salt Lake City by now. Not lost out here in the middle of nowhere."

  "Oh,
Luke, you're wrong. And we're not lost. If we don't find the railroad today, we will tomorrow. I just know it."

  Luke thought of her words the rest of the afternoon. They followed a dry creek bed as it wound downhill and emerged into a broad valley just at dusk. At his insistence, they retreated about half a mile, until they were out of view of anyone traversing the valley. He wanted a fire tonight and there was no need to advertise they were here.

  It was snowing again. Luke cursed beneath his breath. "I'll need the tarpaulin," he told Katie as she was unrolling their bedding.

  Silently she handed it to him. She busied herself about the small campfire as he rigged the tarpaulin into a shelter, tying its ends to boulders on the hillsides. It would keep the worst of the snow off of them. Unless the wind came up. Then it would end up somewhere down in Utah Territory.

  They ate their meager meal while the animals munched on their grain. Luke was sipping his single cup of coffee when he said, "Nothing's too easy, Katie girl. And this ain't one of your fairy tales."

  She looked at him, brows raised in question.

  "Anybody who's been in the Army learns right sudden that when anything looks easy, it probably means something's gone wrong."

  "Like what?" she challenged.

  Like not wanting to keep my hands off of you. "Like what happens if this snow keeps up. I haven't seen any sign of game for a couple of days. We've got enough grain for another day, maybe two."

  "Coffee, too."

  Well, hell! "Save the grounds, then." More than once he'd drunk coffee made from twice or thrice used grounds. It tasted like panther piss, but it got a man going in the morning.

  "I have been," she said. From the provision bag she pulled a packet and held it up. "We still have a bit of jerky. And a little honey." Digging deeper, "Oh, and here's some portable soup. We can always feed the animals out of our provisions, if we have to. They'd eat crackers, or dried apples."

  Luke shook his head. "Katie, one way or another, we've got maybe two days before things get real chancy. You'd better keep your fingers crossed that we find that railroad tomorrow, and that there's a town somewhere close by." He looked out at the softly falling snow and wondered, once again, what chance they had.