Cowboys 08 - Luke (30 page)

"Very well, I do, but how am I going to get it in this sweltering sun?"

He didn't want to take her back to the canyon. They would lose practically a whole day. Besides, it was mis erably hot in the canyon, even in the shade.

"I can use the horses to help block the sun." "They're liable to step on me."

"Then I'll shade you."

"You'd do that?"

She sounded surprised. He wasn't one to mollycoddle people, but he didn't hold back when they really needed help.

"I promised to get you to your ranch."

"I forgot your pride." She sounded slightly angry. "You couldn't possibly let anything jeopardize your unbroken record of success. If you failed even once, you might actually have to admit you're human."

He hated thinking his record of success was meaningless. It was his measure of a man, of who he was, of his proof he was the best. But a woman who'd never had to
do
anything couldn't understand something like that. "What would a pampered princess know about being human?" he demanded.

"Not much when I started this journey, but I've learned a great deal since I met you."

"I asked you to tell me when you needed rest," he said. "Why didn't you?"

"Do you want the truth?"

"Of course I want the truth. It's a waste of time to lie." There were times he didn't understand her at all. "I'm tired of being treated like a pampered, useless, weak, stupid female. I wanted to prove I could stay in the saddle as long as you could."

"But you're not a man."

"You can't blame that on my being a princess."

"I didn't mean it like that. Besides, you're not used to the desert."

Her defiance seemed to collapse. "I probably never will be."

"You can get used to anything. Now let me make you more comfortable."

But the moment he touched her wounded arm, she grimaced. "Is your arm hurting more?"

She looked at him as though weighing every word. "I don't know."

"Why can't you give me a straight answer?"

"Because I never know what you're going to do."

He didn't understand her. The harder he tried to consider her feelings, the more angry she became. He wished Isabelle were here. She could tell him what to do.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked as he removed her bandage. It was obvious she didn't want to answer. "Come on, I'm not going to beat you."

"There are worse things than a beating."

How could she know? Probably nothing worse than missing dessert had ever happened to her. At least until the last week. "Maybe, but are you afraid of me?"

"Yes."

He wouldn't have cared if it had come from another woman, but from Valeria it bothered him. "Why?"

"Because you're always angry with me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"See, you're shouting. You're angry at me."

He forced himself to speak in a level voice. "I'm frustrated. That's not the same."

"It sounds the same."

It obviously wouldn't do any good to tell her she was wrong. "Why do you think I'm angry with you?"

He didn't like what he saw once he removed the bandage. The wound was still angry and red. He couldn't get rid of the fear that somehow gangrene might set in. Obviously his whiskey treatment wasn't sufficient.

"You act like I'm so useless I'm a waste of your time. You've made it abundantly clear you think all royalty ought to be eliminated. You've also made it very clear you think I'm the worst example of my class you've ever encountered. If not the worst female ever. I'm surprised you bothered to stop Otto from killing me. Oh, I forgot your precious record of unbroken success. You couldn't let the elimination of someone as worthless as myself endanger your reputation."

He was angry that she'd misjudged him so badly. He'd gone against his better judgment in accepting this job. He'd spent hours trying to explain America to her, what she had to learn to survive. He'd never spent that much time with any woman, never cared so much about any woman's well-being.

And that didn't take into account the effect she had on him physically. He didn't know if that would please her or insult her, but he'd be damned if he'd give her the pleasure of knowing she had him in knots.

"I've never heard such nonsense in my whole life," he said as he started to replace the bandage. "You're obviously delirious. I'm taking you to a doctor. I don't like the looks of that wound."

"How many days will that take? I'll probably be dead before we get there."

"It won't take more than a few hours. There's a town about thirty miles from here."

"Where?"

"Beyond those ridges." "But there's nothing here."

"We're close to the Gila River. There are at least a dozen towns along it."

She seemed to swell up like a puff toad. "Do you mean there are towns all around here, and you've been dragging me through the hottest, most uncomfortable places you could find?"

"I didn't want to take a chance on anyone trying to kill you."

That took the steam out of her. "Can you stand up?" he asked. "Of course."

She couldn't. She could barely keep her feet under her with him holding her up.

"We'll have to ride double," he said. "How can we do that?"

"We'll manage. Can you stay in the saddle for a few seconds without me holding you?"

"Of course."

That was what she'd said about standing up, but he'd have to hope she was right this time. He brought their horses close together. "Hang on," he said as he lifted her into the saddle. She blanched, but managed to hold on. Luke mounted immediately. "Now I'm going to lift you out of your saddle onto my lap."

"That's impossible."

"Probably, but like you said, I have no intention of letting you ruin my record. Here goes."

It wasn't easy to lift a woman out of the saddle when you were astride another horse. He had no leverage. He grunted when he lifted Valeria. There was nothing graceful about it as he dragged her into his lap.

She looked appalled to find herself in his arms. "Relax. I'm not going to teach you any more lessons about being alone with strange men."

"I didn't think you would. Once you give your word, I'm sure nothing can induce you to break it. It's how you feel about me that I don't like."

He had an almost irresistible urge to tell her how he really felt, but he doubted she would believe him. More important,
he
didn't want to believe it.

If he did, what could he do to keep himself safe?

"Bring her right in," Mrs. Alice Brightman said. "I'll put her straight to bed while you fetch the doctor."

"I don't need to go to bed," Valeria said. "I just need to get out of the sun."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Brightman said. "You look worn to a frazzle. After the doctor sees you, I'll give you some cold chicken and tuck you into bed."

By the time they reached the little community of Ogden, Valeria expected to faint again at any moment. Luckily Mrs. Brightman took her inside immediately. Valeria didn't want to be treated like an invalid-it wouldn't help her campaign to make Luke respect herbut she felt too tired to resist. She'd be strong and independent tomorrow. Tonight she simply wanted to go to sleep and forget this nightmarish journey.

"Fetch the doctor," Mrs. Brightman said when Luke laid Valeria down on the bed. "I can take care of her for now."

"I'm worried about the wound," Luke said.

"I'll clean it," Mrs. Brightman said. "Go on," she said when Luke seemed reluctant to leave. "You can trust me to take care of her."

"He's not worried about me," Valeria said after the door closed behind Luke. "He's worried about his precious reputation."

Mrs. Brightman laughed easily. "I've never known him to be indifferent to a beautiful woman."

"Maybe, but he has a particularly strong dislike for me."

She sounded like a jealous woman. If she'd had any doubt about it, Mrs. Brightman's reaction would have eliminated it. Her eyes opened a little wider, became a little brighter, and her expression become positively eager. "Now why would he have that?"

Valeria had allowed her feelings to run away with her, something she never did. Now she had to offer some explanation and hope it didn't lead to more curiosity. "I was born into a privileged position," Valeria explained, "and Mr. Attmore doesn't approve of privilege."

Mrs. Brightman gently pushed Valeria's shoulders down until she lay on the bed. She drew a sheet over her. "Luke wouldn't care about that, only what a person can do."

"That's the whole problem. I can't
do
anything. He thinks I'm a useless ornament."

And he was right. Looking back on her life from her new vantage point, she had to concede she hadn't been raised to do anything that could actually contribute to the well-being of anyone, even herself.

"I'm sure you'll learn," Mrs. Brightman said, cheer fully. "It'll be a whole lot easier once your arm's well." "That's not as much of a problem as the rest of me." "How do you mean?"

"I'm quite a capable rider, but I'm not used to riding from dawn until dusk. My entire body aches. It hurts to sit in the saddle."

"Let me see," Mrs. Brightman said. She wasn't shy about lifting Valeria's skirts and pulling down her undergarments. "Merciful heavens!" she exclaimed. "I don't see how you can sit down without screaming."

Valeria was so glad to have someone sympathize with her, she pretended it didn't hurt as much as it did. "It's not that bad, but it is hard to enjoy the scenery."

"There's no scenery in this part of the territory worth looking at," Mrs. Brightman declared, "but I wouldn't notice a stampeding herd of antelope if my bottom looked like yours. I'll rub some ointment on it immediately."

Mrs. Brightman rubbed every part of her from the underside of her knees to the curve of her bottom until she felt her skin sting from friction.

"There," Mrs. Brightman said after she'd righted Valeria's clothes and pulled the sheet over her again, "that will feel better in a little bit."

"Thank you," Valeria said, but she didn't feel any better.

"Let me get this wound cleaned up. I don't know what Luke was doing. I've never known him to get a woman shot before."

"He kept me from being killed," Valeria said.

"His mind couldn't have been on his job. Everybody knows no killer gets past Luke. You sure he hasn't taken a shine to you?"

Valeria didn't understand the words, but she understood their meaning. "Luke doesn't like me at all. And the killer didn't get past him. My uncle hired one of my trusted advisers to kill me."

"I always did say nobody makes a worse enemy than kin," Mrs. Brightman said. "Did he do this to you?" She had unwrapped the wound.

"Yes."

"Then you don't have much to worry about. He can't be a good shot."

"I don't have to worry about him at all. Luke killed him."

"Better late than never," Mrs. Brightman observed. "Now let me get this cleaned up. The doctor will be here soon, and I won't have him thinking I left a wound looking like this."

"Luke cleaned it with whiskey," Valeria said. She didn't want Mrs. Brightman to think Luke hadn't attempted to take care of her.

"I bet it burned like the devil."

"Worse," Valeria said with a weak laugh. "I kept wishing he'd leave it alone."

"Whiskey medicine is fine for men," Mrs. Brightman said, her tone rather reproving. "Most of them don't have any feelings anyway, but it's a right cruel way to care for a woman."

Once more Valeria found herself wanting to defend Luke. "He didn't have anything else. He said he'd take me to a doctor if it didn't get well quickly."

"Luke's a good man. As men go, he's probably one of the best, but he hasn't figured out yet that you're supposed to treat a woman different from a man."

"Have you known Luke a long time?" Valeria asked. She'd love for someone to tell her something about him. He wouldn't say anything about himself.

"A long time, but not well," Mrs. Brightman said as she gently dabbed the wound clean with a soft cloth. "He travels all over doing I don't know what, but he drops in every now and then since my husband was killed." She laughed easily. "I guess the boy thinks I can't take care of myself."

Valeria found it difficult to think of Luke as
a boy.
She didn't see how Mrs. Brightman could, either. "How old are you?"