Noble Savage Read online

  With an effort, Katie opened her eyes.

  He stood over her, his face shadowed. Even so, she could see deep lines in his cheeks, like slices of pain. His mouth was set, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

  She reached for him. "Come here," she whispered, lacking the strength to raise her voice.

  His black eyes looked back at her, veiled and unrevealing. Slowly he shook his head. "I don't think I could stop again, darlin'. Not if my life depended on it." He picked up his coat and hat. "It's better this way."

  "But--"

  "It sounds like things have quieted down some," he said. "I'm going out to see what's happening." Without another word, he opened the door and slipped through.

  Katie heard him lock it from the outside.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The lobby of the hotel was empty, a single lamp burning low in the window. The door was barred. Luke eyed it, then turned and went toward the back of the building.

  The kitchen door was also barred. Somebody was more worried about keeping trespassers out than about letting paying customers in.

  Silently he went back up the stairs. The back window was on a landing four steps down from the second floor. He eased the window open, wincing when it protested shrilly. He waited for a slow count of sixty. But no doors opened, no voices called out in curiosity.

  No man with the sense God gave a goose would be curious, given what was going on in the street.

  If I had any brains atall, I'd stay indoors tonight. But hadn't he already proven tonight that he had none? Feet first he slid through the window, balanced on his belly for a moment, then dropped, landing with knees bent. At the corner of the building, he waited, listening.

  Not a sound from anywhere nearby. Just the bone-deep growl of a simmering tumult.

  Slipping from shadow to shadow, he went along the backs of the buildings until he drew near where a crowd nearly filled the street. It seemed to be centered on a frame building across the way, its high false front lit by the light of half a hundred flickering torches. Luke couldn't see a sign above the boarded-up window, but it looked like there used to be one. Dark splotches on the wood looked like somebody had been slinging mud, too. Or something smellier.

  The mutter of voices was too garbled for him to make out words, but he heard the animal undertone of angry men bent on violence. All they needed was a little push.

  Standing back from the crowd, silent men in dark clothing lurked in the shadows. Some were armed with long guns, others with pitchforks and cudgels. Luke edged around the corner and found a piece of wall to hold up, not too close to anybody. He joined the watchers.

  Individual words sometimes emerged from the crowd's low roar. "Burn...Smash....Lynch...Johnny Rebs...Lies...Vigilance...."

  Luke eased up to the nearest man. "Who're they after?"

  The fellow eyed him suspiciously. After a long examination, he apparently decided Luke wasn't part of the mob. "The Freemans. They own the newspaper."

  "Those fellas who think the South won? What are they doin' in a place like this?"

  "Been following the rails. They set up here a while back. They're agin the government, but they preach law and order."

  "Ahuh!" Luke could just imagine how popular that sermon was.

  "Lately they been callin' for a Vigilance Committee." The fellow shook his head. "A man would be takin' his life in his hands to answer a call like that."

  Sometimes that was what a man had to do, Luke reckoned, but he didn't say so. "I take it there's some who believe with the newspaper."

  The fellow nodded. "Ain't been a day go by for more'n a week hasn't been two, three killin's. Sometimes more." He shook his head, a slow back-and-forth motion. "Not that there's much we can do about it. It'd take an army to fight that mob." His tone was despairing. "Some of us talked about standing up to 'em, but it just don't seem like we'd have a chance, not with every saloon keeper and madam stirrin' things up."

  His harsh laugh was without humor. "Law and order's the last thing they want."

  "I reckon it is," Luke opined. He watched a few more minutes. It seemed to him the crowd was working up to an explosion, but hadn't quite got there yet. Probably wouldn't tonight. But tomorrow they'd get themselves liquored up again and all Hell would break loose.

  The fellow he'd been speaking to slipped away, slinking along the storefront like a shadow. Luke remained where he was, watching the furor gradually die down. Angry muttering degenerated into occasional shouts as the crowd broke up, its edges fraying like a torn shirt. Many of the men wandered into one saloon or another, while others staggered off into the dark.

  The street was all but empty when Luke pulled his shoulders away from the wall against which he leaned. More than ever he was determined to get Katie out of town before the lid blew off.

  Now that he was alone, he had no more excuse not to think about what he'd almost done.

  He'd never felt such torment as when he stood up and left Katie lying there on the bed, sated and soft, her body wet and ready for him. Her arms reaching for him.

  Aroused as he'd never been before, throbbing with a terrible longing to sink himself into her and never come up. Hell, he was hard again, just thinking about it. He jerked his hat from his head, hoping the crisp, cold air would cool his lust, calm his fevered thoughts.

  He'd sworn to himself that he'd not touch Katie again. Hadn't he seen the budding devotion in her eyes, sensed her growing dependence on him?

  The last thing he wanted. The last thing he needed. A woman thinking she could depend on him.

  And he'd come close--so close it scared him--to telling her he loved her.

  Well, he did, much good it'd do him. He wasn't the kind of man for a fine woman like Katie Lachlan. Not Lucas Savage, who'd never in his life lived up to what was expected of him.

  Hell and damnation! He should have told Mick to find Katie another bodyguard, one who could be trusted to take care of her. Then he should never have gotten on the train in Chicago.

  He could have gone back to Kansas. Faced down Japhet Breedlove's kin. Settled somewhere and proved himself up a farm. There was some might pretty country down along the Arkansas River, country that would support the horses and mules he had a mind to raise.

  His pay from last summer's cattle drive would have been enough of a stake to start on a herd. The cattleman who'd owned the last herd he'd driven to Kansas had had some good mares he'd have sold to Luke. Probably would have let his stallion cover them, too.

  Not many stockmen knew beans about farming, but Luke did. He could have raised his own corn and grain, put in a kitchen garden. Set aside a pasture for a milk cow and fenced a pen for some hogs. It would have taken hard work, but Luke hadn't known any other kind.

  Life would have been a hell of a lot simpler, that was for certain.

  * * * *

  Katie stared at the door as it closed behind Luke, her mouth open. She could not believe he'd done what he had to her, then just got up and walked away.

  He'd wanted her. She knew he had, for she'd felt the hard length of his arousal against her belly. She'd seen it, still straining against his pants, when he'd stood over her, his face carved into lines of suffering.

  Well, he should be suffering!

  "Damn him!"

  She forced herself upright, lowered her feet to the floor. Her clothing was scattered all over the small room. Picking it up took an effort of will.

  With shaking hand, she poured water into the basin, dipped her kerchief into it and cleaned herself. A hot flush engulfed her as she touched tissues still tender from Luke's tongue and teeth. Heavens above, what he had done to her!

  She had never dreamed she could feel like that.

  Or that a man might kiss her so intimately.

  How could he have just walked out?

  Shivering, Katie quickly pulled her clothing on. No telling when Luke would be back, but she knew he would not abandon her. Not that I need him all that much.

  Why had she ever
decided to hire him, anyhow? So far she'd done as much taking care of him as he had of her. Where had he been when she needed him tonight?

  The longer she sat, waiting, the madder Katie got. She dozed, off and on, but never slept soundly. By the time Luke knocked quietly on the door, sometime in the wee small hours, she'd gone beyond mad.

  "Where have you been?" she demanded in a loud whisper when he slipped inside.

  "Out." He crossed the room and pulled her petticoat aside from the window, peering out. "How long will it take you to pack up?"

  "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

  "Suit yourself." Luke tossed his bedroll on the bed, opened it enough to retrieve the bag of ammunition.

  As he distributed cartridges into coat pockets, she said, "What are you doing?"

  "Packing." He tied the bedroll tightly and set it aside. "You owe me fifty dollars."

  Katie gaped at him. "Fifty...you must be crazy!"

  "The deal was for a hundred to get you to Salt Lake City. We're close enough in miles it makes no difference, so I figure you owe me. Particularly since I paid out most of what you already gave me for food and lodging."

  "Are you...." She stared at him, unbelieving. "You're walking out? Leaving me here?"

  "You said you wasn't goin' anywhere. I am." Slinging his bedroll over his shoulder, Luke laid a hand on the doorknob. "Mind you lock this when I'm gone."

  "You're bluffing!"

  "Try me."

  Katie folded. "I can be ready in five minutes."

  His expression didn't change, nor did his stance. "You gonna listen to what I say, do what I say from now on?"

  Working swiftly, she tossed everything loose into the fiddle case. "Yes, but..."

  "Yes or no?"

  There. She was packed. "But Luke, I...."

  "But nothing." He glanced around the room. "Don't forget the petticoat. But first blow out the lamp."

  The petticoat ripped as she pulled it from the window, but Katie didn't care. She felt her way back to the bed. No light came from the window now, and not a sound. Bear River City was asleep.

  "Hold on," Luke said as she joined him at the door. "Where's your shotgun?"

  "In the case."

  "Won't do you any good there. Get it out and make sure it's loaded."

  She did as he said without argument.

  * * * *

  Once more they crept along behind the buildings. Katie had no idea what time it was--closer to morning then midnight, she thought. At the end of the street, Luke waited and listened, until she wondered if he planned to stand there until dawn. At last he motioned her to cross.

  She ran, stumbling in the dark, coming up hard against the outer wall of the livery stable. The thump she made when she hit must have disturbed one of the horses. She heard a whicker.

  Luke was right behind her. "Stay here while I check inside," he breathed in her ear.

  The smaller door beside the main entrance was closed, but not latched. Luke stepped past her and pushed it open.

  Katie's stomach clenched as he slipped into the dark barn. Where was Muldoon? Whitney's lackey had been deep in a drunken stupor when she'd escaped. Enough time had passed for him to have slept it off. Be careful, Luke!

  Not a sound came from inside. Maybe if I count to a hundred. And if he's not out by then--she forced her self to count slowly, silently.

  ...sixty-five...sixty-six...sixt--

  The door beside her eased open.

  Katie clutched the shotgun stock even tighter.

  "It's me." Luke's whisper was little more than a breath. He gestured. "Inside now. Quick."

  She squeezed past him, wondering if she would ever again smell a livery stable that she didn't remember the miserable hours she had spent here, bound and gagged.

  They found their way along the fronts of the stalls by touch, each step painstaking. Could Luke hear her heart pounding, her breath hissing like the steam from a locomotive's boiler?

  The distance from the door to the manger where Lafayette and the donkeys were tied had seemed endless when Katie was escaping. Now it felt at least ten times farther. With both hands full, she was dependent on Luke's guidance, so she set each foot down with utmost care. Even the merest rustling of the straw could disturb a horse's slumber.

  A disturbed horse was often a noisy horse. As good as a fire bell for rousing a sleeping hostler.

  Once more Luke laid a hand on her arm and put his mouth close to her ear. "Wait here."

  She halted. Her hands were sweating, for all that her breath made a faint cloud before her face. The shotgun's stock seemed slick, hard to hold.

  Luke returned, leading the animals. He silently helped her tie his bedroll and their gunnysack of food to Lafayette's packsaddle. "Let's go," he breathed, when they were done.

  "Wait." She handed him her shotgun.

  "Katie--"

  "Shhh! I'll just be a minute." When she was looking for a knife, she'd all but tripped over a gunnysack half full of shelled corn. Now if she could just find...There you are! She dragged it back to where Luke waited. "Corn for the stock. I can't lift it," she whispered. "You'll have to tie it on."

  Luke looped a thong around its neck and slung the sack across Lafayette's pack. "Good idea," he whispered. "Now, let's git!"

  Katie hurried ahead of him and opened one of the big doors at the front of the stable, just enough for the animals to pass through in single file.

  They headed out of town. At least Katie assumed it was out of town because it was uphill. "Do you know where we're going?" she asked Luke, when they'd climbed for perhaps a quarter of an hour.

  "Nope," he said. "But anywhere's better than here."

  "I hope you're right," she said.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Caught between a rock and a hard place, that's how Luke felt. The town was about to erupt into a small war. This open country offered few places to hide. And now he and Katie were on the run again, this time with no water and little food for themselves, only corn for the stock.

  Once more he'd fallen short.

  All he could do now was keep Katie safe until help arrived.

  If help arrived. He'd sent those telegrams only yesterday.

  What if Mick couldn't persuade the Pinkerton Agency to send an agent to Katie's rescue? Then it would be up to him, and he wasn't sure he was up to it. Not against the rioters, Whitney, and maybe even Kiah Breedlove.

  "Hell and damnation!" He'd told Mick he wasn't a fit bodyguard for Katie.

  She was little more than a shadow, walking a few yards ahead of him. Her left hand clutched Sheba's mane, her right that damned fiddle case. In his mind's eye he could see her face--laughing blue eyes, stubborn little chin, and a mouth that begged to be kissed.

  Even if Mick got some help for them, she would have to depend on Luke for the next day or two. Nothing's going to happen to her. Not while I'm alive!

  "I sure hope Lafayette knows where he's going," Katie said softly.

  "I'm trusting him to. Smith told me he could smell water a mile off." The gulch they followed was rocky, but it was headed in the general direction of Evanston. At least he hoped it was. Under the dark clouds, he couldn't really tell which way they were traveling. As they walked, he prayed that along its steep walls they'd find a seep or a spring--somewhere he could fill the canteens with enough water to keep them alive for a day or so. He and Katie could live on the few provisions he'd bought in town and the stock had the sack of corn she'd grabbed. As long as it didn't snow again. But they couldn't go without water.

  Gradually the sky lightened. Looming black shapes became cedar trees, and the rocky floor of the narrowing gulch showed itself to be a dry creek bed.

  The gulch headed in a pile of rocks, ice-coated and tumbled at the base of a steep cliff. There was no cover, nowhere to hide. The only way to go was up.

  Luke eyed the precipitous slope, cursing under his breath and wondering just how high it was. I reckon it doesn't matter.
We're not goin' back.

  He could climb as far as need be, if he took his time and avoided the icy patches. Could Katie?

  She answered his unspoken question. "I climbed better than any of my brothers." Her voice held just a hint of challenge.

  "Get the leads off the asses," he told Katie. Quickly he removed the mule's cargo and packsaddle and shoved it all under a big cedar. "You're on your own from here on out," he told Lafayette, scratching him under the chin. "I'll come get you when it's all over." With a swat, he sent the mule ambling back down the gulch.

  Katie had freed both asses and they trotted after Lafayette. She stared after them. "Will they be all right?"

  "Better off than with us. I doubt any of 'em could get up there."

  Katie was rigging a sling on the fiddle case, using strips torn from the ruined silk petticoat. "Never mind that," Luke said. "Let's go!"

  "Don't be silly. I can't climb that carrying the shotgun." She swung the case over one shoulder. It looked awkward as the dickens, but seemed to be out of her way. Once again she pulled her skirt up between her legs and tucked it into her front waistband. "There! I'm ready." After a few moment's study of the rocky, almost vertical face, she started scrambling upwards, using both hands and both feet.

  Not for the first time, Luke thanked his lucky stars that she was not cut from the common cloth. If he had to take on the care of a female, he couldn't have picked one better than Katie Lachlan.

  Nor more stubborn. But sometimes stubborn got the job done. He picked his way carefully up the sheer wall, praying that none of the slight projections he used as hand and toeholds would give way under his weight.

  Or Katie's.

  Katie kept her eyes on the rock in front of her, just as she had learned at an early age. What her brothers had never known was how terrified of heights she was. As long as she didn't look down, she was fine. More than once she'd climbed an entire cliff with her eyes closed.

  As she neared the top, the going got easier. The slope eased until she was able to stand upright, catching at a rock or shrub occasionally when footing was uncertain. The first sign that they were in the wrong place was when she tripped over a scrap of wood protruding from a pile of rounded rocks. A board, roughly sawed on the edges.