Cowboys 08 - Luke (32 page)

But if she didn't marry Rudolf ...

"I don't know what she'll do," Luke said. "But if she doesn't marry Rudolf, I'm the last person she'll ask for advice."

"Why?" Mrs. Brightman asked.

"Because she thinks I represent everything that's bad about this country." He puts his coffee cup down and rose. "Now I have to see to the horses and find myself a room."

"You're not staying here?" the doctor asked.

"I don't have any extra rooms," Mrs. Brightman said.

"I had to give Valeria my own bedroom."

"I appreciate your making room for her," Luke said. Mrs. Brightman smiled. "I couldn't think of turning her away. How many women can say they've had a real princess sleep in their bed?"

"None, I would expect," said the doctor. "That ought to make your boardinghouse the most popular in town."

And that, in a nutshell, was what was wrong with the notion of his caring for Valeria. She would always be a princess, and he would always be a gunman.

He needed to get out of Alice Brightman's fancy boardinghouse. He needed the heat, the stench of sweat and manure, the noise and odors of a saloon to remind him of his reality. It was becoming all too easy to imagine something quite different.

"Have you always run a boardinghouse?" Valeria asked Mrs. Brightman.

They were in the kitchen, Mrs. Brightman and her daughters fixing dinner for twelve men, Valeria doing her best to stay out of the way. She'd started by standing in the middle of the room. But after Mrs. Brightman politely walked around her-her twin daughters weren't so circumspect about letting her know she was in the wayValeria took her coffee and found a place against the wall. She reminded herself she was no longer a princess surrounded by people whose sole aim was to minister to her comfort.

"Only since my husband died," Mrs. Brightman replied.

"Was he a gunman?" Valeria asked.

Mrs. Brightman laughed. "Nothing so exciting. He managed one of the mines. He got killed during a robbery. Be careful with that dough, Sue. You know the men like their biscuits fluffy."

Valeria didn't know the age of Mrs. Brightman's daughters, but she guessed they couldn't be more than eleven or twelve. She found it incredible that anyone so young could actually make biscuits.

"Weren't you afraid?" Valeria asked. "Afraid of what?" Mrs. Brightman replied. "Of everything, I guess."

Mrs. Brightman tasted the beef stew, decided it needed more of something, and added a dash from one of the many bottles of herbs and spices that filled one shelf. "I wasn't afraid of anything except being married to the wrong man," she said. "Besides, after my Horace, I wasn't sure I wanted to be married again."

"Was he that mean to you?"

Mrs. Brightman stopped stirring her stew and turned to Valeria. "He was that good. Built me this big house when he had to haul the wood from a hundred miles away. He paid to have all my mother's furniture brought west after she died. I know he was disappointed I couldn't give him a son, but he always acted like no man could have wanted more than his two daughters."

Valeria knew about the need for a son. Her father had stopped speaking to her mother after she failed to produce a son. Only an occasion of state brought them together the day they were killed.

"But how did you know what to do?" Valeria asked.

"What's there to know?" Mrs. Brightman asked. "All a man wants is a soft bed with clean sheets and a good dinner. As long as you can supply that, you'll have boarders lining up at your door. Come to think of it, that's a pretty good formula for keeping a husband, too."

Valeria wondered what it would take to keep Luke happy. He appeared to be satisfied with food cooked over a campfire and a bedroll spread on the ground. What else would such a man want?

A woman.

Valeria felt herself blush. She never used to think about the physical side of marriage, but being around Luke had changed that. Just being near him, just looking at him, caused her to have hot and cold flashes, to feel unfamiliar stirrings deep in her belly. She was uncomfortably aware of his body, his arms, his legs, his rear. This was no polite or casual awareness. It was hot, intense, and kept her watching him long after she knew she should turn away.

She knew men placed great importance on their physical relationships with women, but no one ever explained why it was so important for men and not for women. Valeria wondered if it might not be the same with some females. If so, the way she reacted around Luke made her wonder if she might not be one of those females.

"Do you ever feel afraid, being here by yourself?" Valeria asked.

She had never been alone. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be responsible for running a boardinghouse, preparing the meals, and taking care of two daughters.

"Goodness, no," Mrs. Brightman replied. "If any boarder gets unruly, I tell him to leave."

"Suppose he doesn't want to leave?"

"The business end of my shotgun would take care of that."

"Mama shot a bear last winter," one of the daughters said.

"And a prospector last summer," the other added.

"He was trying to get one of my girls around the corner," Mrs. Brightman said, "and I couldn't have that."

Valeria felt a bubble of happiness forming inside her. Listening to Mrs. Brightman and her daughters made her want to laugh. She couldn't explain it, but just being in the same room with them made her feel better.

"Are you looking for a husband?" she asked Mrs. Brightman.

"No."

"Would you marry again if somebody asked you?"

Satisfied her stew was up to her standards, Mrs. Brightman tasted a pot of beans. "Maybe," she said. She added some pepper and covered the pot again. "He'd have to be pretty persuasive though. I'm used to doing things my way. I'm not sure I like the idea of changing to please some man. He'd have to go a long way toward making it worth my while."

"How would he do that?"

Mrs. Brightman looked straight at Valeria. "You don't know?"

"Luke will tell you princesses are useless, that we live off the efforts of others. I guess that's true. I know how to dress, how to behave at parties, how to talk to men, but I don't know much beyond that." Valeria remembered the way she felt when she was around Luke. "Do you mean the physical relationship between a man and a woman?"

Mrs. Brightman smiled. "You know more than you give yourself credit for."

"My aunt said women aren't supposed to like that."

"Maybe you aunt didn't, but I know a lot of women who like it very much." She turned back to her pots. "Sometimes it's all that makes it worth putting up with a man."

A thousand questions flooded Valeria's mind, but she didn't even know how to ask them. "I wouldn't know about that," she said.

"Well, I can't talk about it now, not with long ears listening," Mrs. Brightman said, nodding in the direction of her daughters.

"We know all about boys, Mama," one of the girls said.

"You'd better not know too much."

"We don't have time to get into trouble if we wanted to," the other twin complained. "There's always beds to make, sheets to wash-"

"Dinners to fix and clean up after," finished her sister.

"Do you want to have a boardinghouse when you grow up?" Valeria asked.

"No!" the twins answered in unison.

"I want to sing and dance on a stage in front of a lot of people," one said.

"I want to marry a rich man and have lots of jewels and furs," the other said.

"I've had the jewels and furs," Valeria said. "It's not as much fun as you might think."

"Tell us about it."

"You'd better pay attention to your work, or you'll spend your evening scrubbing burned food off the bottom of those pots," their mother said.

They had none of the hundreds of things Valeria had grown up thinking essential. But Valeria could tell that in spite of the large amount of work that needed doing, Mrs. Brightman and her daughters were quite happy.

Valeria was not.

"You feel up to taking dinner with the boarders?" Mrs. Brightman asked Valeria.

Valeria almost said she'd rather eat in her room when she realized that would be a lot more work for Mrs. Brightman and her girls. "Of course."

"You sure you can sit down?"

"I'll try if you promise not to let Luke toss me into a saddle first thing in the morning." She hated to appear weak, but this was the first time she'd been remotely comfortable since leaving Bonner.

Valeria knew she needed time to let her chafed skin heal before she got in the saddle again, but she also wanted time to study Mrs. Brightman. This woman had been a wife, was a mother capable of running a boardinghouse patronized entirely by men. This was the kind of woman Valeria wanted to be. Then maybe Luke wouldn't despise her.

"Time to take up," Mrs. Brightman announced. "Ring the dinner bell." One of the twins ran out of the room. Moments later the sound of a loudly rung bell sounded through the house.

"That man is back," the twin announced when she returned. "Did you set a place for him?"

"What man?" her mother asked.

"The man who brought her," she said, pointing to Valeria.

Valeria felt herself stand a little taller. She no longer felt quite so tired or so unsure of herself. Luke had come back. He must be concerned about her.

She longed to check her looks in a mirror, but it would depress her spirits. She lacked the clothes, jewels, and beautifully arranged hair she'd always depended on to make herself attractive. She had the plain, brown dress Luke had bought her and a pendant necklace she never took off. She had brushed her near-black hair back and tied it with a ribbon. Elvira probably wouldn't recognize her.

Her spirits plunged, then lifted slightly. Because she had none of those things, she had nothing to remind Luke she was a princess. Maybe he could see her as she was, as a woman.

Her spirits plunged again. If she just a woman, she was useless. She didn't know how to do the things Mrs. Brightman's daughters could do without thinking. She had no idea how to make a biscuit, keep vegetables from burning, or season a stew.

"I know who he's come to see," Mrs. Brightman said and winked at Valeria.

Valeria didn't misinterpret that look. "He's worried about his reputation. He's probably come to find out how long before I'll be ready to ride again."

"I know something about men," Mrs. Brightman said. "And Luke is interested in more than your bottom."

They both realized what she'd said at the same time. Valeria blushed. Mrs. Brightman laughed.

"That's not quite what I meant," she assured Valeria.

"I know, but you're wrong. He despises me."

"He does not!" Mrs. Brightman stated in a manner that brooked no contradiction. "He may not know it yet, but he likes you."

"I'm quite sure you're wrong," Valeria said. "But if you aren't, you've got to promise to help me."

"Do what?" Mrs. Brightman asked.

"Help make him fall in love with me."

Valeria was shocked by her words. How could she want anything so ridiculous, so absurd, so impossible? Had coming to American caused her brain to stop functioning altogether? She couldn't want to marry Luke. The idea was insane. She didn't even like him. He was ... he was ... he was the only man who made her feel alive, who caused her to think of him all the time, to weave endless scenarios by which he came to adore her. She didn't fully understand her feelings for him, but she knew they were powerful and true. She also knew that if Luke did fall in love with her, he'd love her for herself, not her money or her crown. That was the most wonderful feeling of all.

"Are you sure?"

"I haven't been sure of anything since I set foot in this

country. But I am sure no man has ever caused me to feel the way Luke makes me feel."

"How's that?" one of the twins asked.

"You're too young to know," her mother said. "Take the vegetables into the dining room and keep a still tongue in your heads."

"Have you considered what kind of man he is?" Mrs. Brightman asked after her daughters left the room. "He's a gunman, a professional killer."

Valeria laughed, but the sound lacked humor. "That exactly describes the men in my family for the last five hundred years. How else do you think they managed to stay on the throne of a country that didn't want them?"