Bound For Eden (32 page)

Luke gave her a sideways grin. ‘You got any man in particular in mind?'

‘Well,' she said slyly, feeling a wicked impulse to torture him, ‘not really. Although Jane's father is awfully attractive, don't you think?'

‘Ned?' Luke couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice.

‘He's mighty smart.'

‘A little old for you, ain't he?' Luke said dryly.

‘Well, maybe not him exactly. But a man like him.' She sat back and enjoyed the disgruntled expression on Luke's handsome face. ‘You haven't answered my question. How should a man treat me?'

‘I don't think you need to worry, not if that's the kind of man you're aiming for.'

‘Oh. Well, what if it was a man like you? Just for an example.'

‘A man like me?'

‘Yeah. How do you treat Adelia? Just for an example.'

‘Amelia.'

‘Isn't that what I said?' she asked innocently.

He gave her a sharp look, and she looked away. ‘How do I treat Amelia?' Luke echoed thoughtfully, making a great show of pursing his lips and considering. ‘Well,' he said, ‘I sit with her at the service Sundays, and afterwards I'm invited to sit a while on the porch. And if I'm lucky her folks will ask me to stay for dinner.'

‘Do they like you? Her folks?' Alex's curiosity was genuine. She had a vivid picture of Luke sitting on the porch of a neat little whitewashed house, next to a very pretty girl. In her mind's eye they were on a swing, their thighs brushing; they were surrounded by roses and jasmine, and the smell of fresh-baked blueberry pie wafted out the kitchen window. Sighing blissfully, the pretty girl leaned her head against Luke's shoulder as her soft white hand was enveloped by Luke's large brown one.

Alex looked down at her own filthy hand, callused from driving the mules, and grimaced.

‘Harding's the mayor of Utopia – officially he likes everyone,' Luke told her, interrupting her thoughts.

‘What about unofficially?' Alex perked up.

‘He sure didn't say no when I asked for her hand.'

Alex's mouth popped open. ‘Her what?'

‘Her hand.'

Alex couldn't speak.

Luke took one look at her shocked face and felt a stab of pity. ‘When you grow up, brat, I'm sure there'll be men lining up to ask for your hand too. Especially if you wash all that muck off. Why, I bet you'll look just as pretty as your sister.'

‘We're not blood related, remember,' Alex told him numbly. He was getting married. Married! And yet that deceitful, disloyal wretch had flirted shamelessly with Beatrice in Independence! Had seduced her even! Alex had to bite down on her tongue to keep from blistering him with it. ‘I suppose congratulations are in order,' she forced herself to say.

‘They are?'

‘For you and Arnelle.'

‘Amelia.'

‘Yes,' Alex said coldly, ‘the fortunate Miss Hardway.'

‘Harding.'

‘Indeed. Congratulations are in order for you and the fortunate Miss Hardly.' Alex was clenching her teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn't snap.

‘Well, they would be, only I haven't asked her yet,' Luke lied. He wasn't about to advertise the fact that she kept turning him down. Even his brothers didn't know.

Amelia Harding was going to be his wife. She just hadn't realised yet that women didn't say ‘no' to Luke Slater.

‘You haven't asked her?' Alex tried not to think about why that news should fill her with joy. Relief for poor Ariella Hardwig, she rationalised. Perhaps she would learn what a philanderer he was before she had to suffer marriage to him, while Alex was simply experiencing the common bond between women, in the face of a man's perfidy.

‘Haven't found the right time,' he said, not meeting her eye.

‘Glory,' Alex said, ‘I hope she's not married to someone else by the time you get back.'

Luke scowled.

Alex was so busy picturing Aurelia Hardnose walking down the aisle towards a bridegroom who wasn't Luke Slater that she forgot about Gideon Grady.

At least for a while.

Twenty-Seven

Alex had thought she'd known what fear was. But that was before she woke up to find herself staring at Gideon's knife.

It was embedded in the wooden floor of the wagon, barely an inch from her nose. And pinned beneath it was a scrap of sunshine yellow calico. There was a note, consisting of five childishly scrawled words.
Come alone or she dies.

Alex sat bolt upright, wildly searching the wagon, her heart pounding. She was surrounded by a sea of sleeping Crawfords.

How had he gotten in without waking a single person? How had he stabbed the knife through the boards without alerting them? He was like some kind of demon, Alex thought with a shiver.

And Victoria! Alex stifled a moan as she thought of her sister. Luke had said she'd be safe spending the night with the O'Briens. And she'd believed him!

Wrenching the knife from the boards, Alex reached for her gun and slithered through the tangle of bodies towards the tail of the wagon.

‘Alex?' Lucinda asked sleepily.

Alex froze. ‘I need to go to the hole.' Luke had told them to keep her in sight at all times. But Lucinda was still half-asleep and she merely muttered and rolled over. Within a moment her breathing was deep and even again.

It was still deep night, Alex realised as she dropped from the wagon. She could hear the Watts brothers talking softly. They were supposed to be keeping watch on opposite sides of the camp, but had obviously taken the opportunity for a nip of moonshine and a chat. Alex felt a blaze of rage. Some watchmen. While they gossiped like a pair of old women her sister had been taken by the devil.

Alex crept from the circle of wagons, pausing as she passed beyond the faint light cast by the fire. A sliver of moon cast a pale glow, illuminating the vast plain. Where was she supposed to go?

A sharp whistle made her jump. She turned to see a horseman silhouetted against the night sky. He was too far away for her to make him out. It could have been any of the Gradys. Her hands clenched around the butt of her gun. She was glad she'd loaded it before she went to bed.

The horseman jerked his head, indicating she should approach. As she took a step he turned the horse. He wanted her to follow him. All of a sudden Alex felt deadly calm. Her knees stopped trembling as she strode out after the slow moving horseman.

This was the moment. She had no doubt that tonight she would come face to face with Gideon Grady. And one of them would die.

The scream woke Luke.

He was out of his bedroll, gun in hand, before he registered that it was a scream of rage. He scratched his head and watched as Victoria snatched a length of calico off the saltbrush by her wagon.

‘Adam!' she shrieked. ‘What did you do to my dress?' She stalked over and kicked at Adam's feet, which protruded from beneath the wagon. ‘I'm out of the wagon for
one
night, and look what you do!' She shook the yellow fabric, and Luke could see that the bodice had been torn.

Adam's head emerged. ‘Vicky?' He blinked sleepily. ‘What happened to your pretty dress?'

‘That's what I want to know!'

‘Good morning,' Henry Watts said nervously, as he slithered out from behind Adam. ‘You're looking lovely this morning, Miss Alexander.'

She blushed, suddenly aware of how shrewish she looked.

‘That's a shame about your dress,' Adam said ruefully, as he too clambered out from under the wagon. ‘You looked real nice in it.'

Luke shook his head and set a pot of coffee on the fire.

‘You didn't do this?' Victoria asked Adam.

‘No,' Adam said, offended, ‘I liked that dress. It's as pretty as a daffodil.'

‘But who would do such a thing?' She held her lovely dress out before her. Tears welled in her eyes as she regarded the damage. There was no way she could repair it; it would need a whole new bodice.

‘Don't cry,' Adam said, alarmed. He didn't like it when his sisters cried. They made him feel so lost and helpless. He looked to Luke, who sighed.

He didn't see why crying women had to be his lot in life. ‘Now, there,' he soothed patiently, offering Victoria a mug of coffee, but not getting close enough for her to collapse against him. ‘I'm sure you can whip yourself up another just as pretty when we get you to your brother in Amory. And maybe while you're at it you can get that wildcat sister of yours to dress like a lady too.'

Alex! Victoria's eyes narrowed. She remembered the envy on Alex's face at the dance in Independence. Not to mention the fact that her beautiful sister was obviously developing feelings for Luke. Imagine how she felt knowing that Luke wanted Victoria! Mad enough to shred a yellow dress, Victoria guessed. Her lips thinned, and without another word she stalked away, leaving Luke holding the coffee mug.

‘Alex doesn't wear dresses any more,' Adam reminded him in a conspiratorial whisper.

‘So I've noticed.' Luke didn't pay much attention to Victoria as he fixed himself and Adam breakfast.

‘What's the name of that red horse?' Adam asked dreamily.

‘What red horse?' Luke said, vaguely distracted by the voices from the Crawford's wagon.

‘Your red horse. That one you said I could buy.'

‘You've got a memory like an elephant.' He passed the boy a plate of sausage and a hunk of stale bread. ‘He doesn't have a name.'

‘Why not?'

‘I guess I just haven't got around to it. I've got an awful lot of horses.'

‘So I can name him?'

‘As long as you don't call him Blackie the Third.' Luke rose to his feet, concerned. Victoria's voice had gone shrill. He frowned. He wasn't in the mood to break up a catfight between the sisters.

The next thing he knew Victoria was flying across the camp, the yellow calico streaming behind her like a sail. ‘She's gone!'

‘Who's gone?' Luke grunted as Victoria slammed into him.

‘Alex!' She burst into hysterical tears, unable to say more.

Luke thrust her into Adam's arms and headed for the Crawford's wagon. Mal and Lucinda met him halfway. ‘Oh Luke, we feel just awful,' Lucinda moaned, wringing her hands. Luke felt his stomach drop.

‘Lucinda heard him get up,' Mal told him, pulling his wife close.

‘He told me he was going to walk to the hole.'

‘No-one went with him?'

They blanched. ‘I was asleep,' Mal said.

‘It's all my fault,' Lucinda admitted, her face crumpling. ‘I should have gone. But I was so tired, I barely woke up enough to ask him where he was going.'

‘What time was this?'

‘I don't know.' Tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘Late. It was pitch black.'

‘Henry!' Luke roared.

Back at the campfire Henry Watts choked on his mouthful of sausage as he watched the taller man approach. Luke's expression was black, his eyes flat and cold.

‘Something wrong, Slater?' Henry asked nervously.

‘You were on watch last night.'

‘Sure was.'

‘You didn't doze off?'

Henry bristled. ‘Hell no. I didn't so much as close my eyes until Ulrich relieved me at dawn.'

‘And you didn't see anything?'

‘No.'

‘Not even Alex heading to the hole?'

Henry swallowed hard. The hole was right beyond where he should have been standing lookout. ‘Well, now,' he said, clearing his throat anxiously, ‘there was a moment when I might have joined my brother. Just for a nip to keep myself awake, you understand.'

Luke swore.

‘Has something happened to the kid?'

But Luke didn't hear him; he was running to the Crawford's wagon. ‘Nobody move!' he ordered. ‘Not an inch, not until I tell you to.'

Everyone froze, turning to look at Luke with wide-eyed confusion.

He didn't want her tracks getting any more obscured than they already had been. But hell, all the Crawfords had left their wagon already and at its base was a mess of prints in the dirt. There was no chance of making Alex's out.

She'd told Lucinda she was heading to the hole, so suppose she had been and was snatched while she was gone . . . Luke followed the path she would have taken, his gaze trained on the ground.

It looked like every person in camp had been to the hole this morning, but eventually he found a small boot print he thought might be Alex's. The tracks led away from the circled wagons. He frowned. There was just the one set of prints. Where the hell had she been going?

If he'd kept following the trail he would have found the hoof prints, but before he could get that far he heard the click of someone pulling back the hammer of a gun, and then he felt the kiss of cold iron against the base of his skull.

Twenty-Eight

Alex felt like she must have walked halfway to Oregon. The horseman hadn't stopped for a moment. Now and then he seemed to turn in the saddle to check that Alex was still trailing him, but he never slowed his pace and she was no closer to finding out which Grady she was following.