Tender Is the Storm (4 page)

Benjamin Whiskers stood behind his bar, slowly wiping a beer mug. His eyes were on Lucas Holt, watching him walk to the swinging doors, look outside, then come back to stand on the other side of the bar. He finished his third whiskey, and that was the fifth time he’d looked outside. Ben was dying to ask him what he was looking for, but he hadn’t got up the nerve. He still couldn’t get it right in his mind that this was the friendly Holt brother, not the other one.

If Ben hadn’t been there the night Slade Holt shot Feral Sloan, seven years ago, then he wouldn’t have been so leery of Luke Holt. But he had been there, had seen Slade shoot Feral as cool as you please and walk away without a moment of remorse. Slade Holt was a dangerous man. And this one just happened to be the very image of Slade. They were twins. It gave a man the willies.

A lot of folks in town liked Luke, were real taken with him. It wasn’t that they discounted the
stories about Slade, it was just that they had met Lucas first, and while the brothers looked exactly alike, they were as different as night and day.

Lucas took something out of his pocket, frowned at it, then put it away. Ben had seen him do that twice now. The man didn’t look at all agreeable. Most times, he had a few pleasant words, but not today. He was downing whiskeys like water and looking agitated.

It had been some shock when Lucas came to town to stay nearly two years ago. Folks wondered why he chose Newcomb, but no one asked. No one came to settle in Newcomb anymore. Since the railroad had passed them by, it was a town everyone was wanting to leave. But Lucas Holt had come, buying the old Johnson ranch three miles out of town. He kept to himself and didn’t cause trouble. He was probably a likeable fellow if you got to know him, but Ben would never be friendly with Lucas. He would never be able to separate him from Slade.

Slade Holt had been back since Lucas settled there. He didn’t drift through often, but he sure gave people something to talk about when he did come. He always came into town after visiting his brother at his ranch. Folks just weren’t the same when he made an appearance. Everything quieted down. All fights were postponed until Slade went on his way again.

Hell, no one even had anything to say about the half-breed Lucas had working for him. Who would dare? Everyone had seen Billy Wolf ride into town with Slade. It wasn’t hard to tell they were friends.
Slade had brought Billy Wolf to Lucas because the Indian was supposed to be an excellent horse catcher, and that’s what Lucas had started, a horse ranch. With all the trouble those renegade Apaches from the reservation were causing, the half-breed would have been thrown out of town if not for the Holt brothers. Because of them, no one even looked crossways at Billy Wolf.

Lucas moved over to the door once again, and this time when he came back, Ben couldn’t resist asking, “You waitin’ for someone, Mr. Holt? I couldn’t help noticing you keep lookin’ up the street.”

Lucas fixed his green eyes on Whiskers. “I’m meeting someone on the Benson stage.”

“You ain’t expectin’ your brother, are you?”

Lucas grinned at the anxious note in the saloonkeeper’s voice. “No, Whiskers, I’m not expecting my brother any time soon. I’ve got a bride coming today.”

“A…bride? If that don’t beat all! Well, if that don’t beat all!” Ben was too excited to be cautious. “Sam Newcomb will sure be glad to hear that.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Ben amended quickly. “But I reckon you know Sam ain’t been married too long, and I reckon you also knew his wife can’t seem to keep her eyes off you. Not that Sam’s a jealous man, mind you, but I reckon he likes to know what’s his is his. He’ll be mighty glad to know you’re gettin’ yourself settled down with a wife of your own.”

Lucas said nothing, but he was fuming. Ben had hit the mark. The very reason Lucas was here waiting to pick up his bride was Fiona Newcomb. He wouldn’t be in this fix if not for her. Oh, they had had some good times together when he first settled in Newcomb and she was still Fiona Taylor, operating the only boardinghouse in town. He had never led her to believe he was looking for anything besides a little fun. She, on the other hand, had wanted to get married! When he refused even to discuss it, she had turned her wiles on Samuel Newcomb.

Sam knew he had got Fiona on the rebound, and it ate away at him. Before Fiona, Lucas had had Samuel Newcomb right where he wanted him, on friendly terms. That was because of Slade. Ironic, but the rich man felt indebted to Slade for getting rid of Feral Sloan. The man had been a thorn in his side.

Things had all gone according to plan until Fiona. Because Lucas was from the East and had more money than could possibly have been obtained by horse ranching, Sam figured Lucas knew what he was talking about when he mentioned those few small investments. Did Sam want to get in on them? He did. And after those paid off, it was easy to talk Sam into the big investment.

They weren’t nearly finished with Newcomb, and now it wouldn’t be so easy to clean the man out. Sam’s friendly interest in Lucas had cooled because of Fiona. As Billy Wolf pointed out, Sam would never relax and be gullible again as long as Fiona had the hots for Lucas.

Still, Lucas never should have let Billy talk him into getting married. It had sounded sensible at the time, but he’d had a few drinks in him, and just about everything Billy said that night sounded reasonable.

“Newcomb will keep his eye on you as long as he knows she still wants you and there’s the chance you might take off with her. But if you get hitched, he’ll think you’ve settled down. He’ll quit worrying. As it is now, the way he has you watched, he’s going to start wondering soon how come you get so much mail from back East. If he ever gets the notion to find out what your dealings are, well, that’ll be the end. You have to get his eye off you right now, and marriage is the way.”

He didn’t want a wife. So what if, when he watched Billy and his wife, Willow, together, he sometimes got a yearning to have his own woman? It was just that life on a ranch was lonely. He wasn’t used to staying in one place, and an isolated place at that. He was used to having women whenever he needed them. When this was all over, he would want to move on, but how could he if he had a wife?

So Lucas had hedged. Instead of looking around the area for a woman who would know what she was letting herself in for, he had written his lawyer and had him place notices in the Eastern papers for a mail-order bride. It was his hope that the Eastern girl would be horrified when she saw what she was up against. He wanted her to insist he send her back—and he gladly would, after a reasonable time. That was the problem. He had to
keep her there long enough to finish what he had started.

Having a preacher who came through town only every month or so would help. Just so long as Samuel Newcomb believed he was getting married, he had solved his problem.

He hadn’t told Billy that he had no intention of marrying the girl. With Billy and Willow there, and old Mack, too, the girl would be decently chaperoned, and no one could say anything about her staying at the ranch with Lucas before the preacher had his say.
She
might not like it, but then, Lucas figured, anyone desperate enough to turn herself over to a complete stranger couldn’t be too choosy. Besides, he intended to pay her well for her time and trouble. He meant for her leaving to seem entirely her own idea, so no one was going to be hurt by his deception.

He took the picture out of his pocket once more. If he’d realized how often he had done that in the last weeks, he would have been furious with himself. His eyes passed right over his intended “bride” and went to the other girl in the picture. That one posed regally, her shoulders thrown back, her small breasts pushed out. Her height gave her a queenly air, and there was a haughtiness to the set of her features. She looked skinny as a reed, yet there was something about her that had captured his interest from the first time he looked at the picture.

Lucas had just about settled on a girl from Philadelphia when Miss Hammond’s letter and picture arrived. He knew immediately that she was just
what he was looking for. The clothes had done it, the quality of the clothes the three people in the picture were wearing. Those clothes spoke of wealth, and Lucas knew from experience that pampered rich girls knew absolutely nothing about hard work. Therefore, a rich girl would balk at the life he offered. He wasn’t at all disappointed that the girl happened to be the most beautiful of all the applicants he had considered. He couldn’t help wondering why a girl of Miss Hammond’s charms would be a mail-order bride.

He wouldn’t mind having a pretty face around for a while. But he had no intention of taking advantage of her, lovely or not. If she arrived a virgin, she would return East that way. Even if she wasn’t, he wanted no entanglements with her that might put ideas into her head, make her think she was honor-bound to accept him.

Lucas realized he was staring at the picture again, and he quickly put it away, annoyed with himself. He moved to the door again, but there was still no sign of the stage. He wondered what the city-bred Miss Hammond was thinking about the Arizona Territory, where the sun could bake you through and through, where you could ride for weeks without seeing another soul. He grinned. The trip had probably already decided her on going back. The time of year was on his side, for it was the middle of summer. The poor girl had no doubt fainted half a dozen times already from the heat. No, a wealthy, gently bred New York City girl definitely wouldn’t like it there.

Sharisse waved her handkerchief through the air, hoping the wet cloth would cool a little before she brought it to her brow again, but it didn’t. She was appalled to be wiping herself with a piece of linen already soaked with perspiration, but there was no help for it. Her underclothes clung to her, as did her long-sleeved blouse, and the hair on her forehead and temples wouldn’t fit into the tight bun at her neck, so it clung, too.

She had given up worrying about her appearance. She had meant to tone down her looks anyway, to be sure she wouldn’t be accosted on the train, even borrowing a pair of glasses from one of the maids before leaving home. Those had long since been broken and discarded, but it didn’t matter, because she looked her worst, anyway.

How had everything gone wrong? She still couldn’t credit that she had only two dollars left. That would buy one more meal if this stage stopped again before reaching Newcomb. She had
eaten atrocious meals and had lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose. Lucas Holt would take one look at her and send her packing.

She wasn’t supposed to be in this awful, hot place. She was supposed to be living comfortably in seclusion in some small midwest town with Charley to keep her company. Poor Charley. With his long, thick hair, he was suffering even worse than she was, losing great patches of fur, listless, panting constantly. How was she to know it would be this unbearably hot here? This was land she knew nothing about. But even if she had known, she couldn’t have left Charley behind.

She still couldn’t believe Stephanie had done this to her. Sharisse was the one taking all the risks, including risking their father’s wrath, and all for Stephanie. Why would her sister have wanted to make things even more difficult for her? Yet she had tried to talk Sharisse into going all the way to Arizona. Worse became clear when Sharisse found her jewelry missing. She remembered handing her reticule that contained the jewels to Stephanie while she secured Charley in his traveling basket. After leaving the house, she had not set her reticule down once, tucking it beneath her skirt when she napped on the train that first day. She had found the jewels missing when she searched in the reticule for Mr. Holt’s letter. Why had Stephanie taken the jewels? The thought of being stranded so far from home terrified her, and she had no money to get back with. She would just have to wait and see what kind of man Lucas Holt was.

His letter gave her no clue, though he sounded almost arrogant in making the stipulation that he have some time to approve her before they married. Well, that could work to her advantage if she had to depend on him for a while. She could use that excuse to postpone the wedding as long as necessary. She would have to disdain everything about him and his life so he wouldn’t be too surprised when she insisted it wouldn’t work out. And from what she had seen so far of Arizona and its hardy men, she didn’t think she would have to pretend very hard.

The large Concord stage swayed as it crossed a nearly dried riverbed. Only patches of slimy puddles remained of the river. The brightly colored stage had room for nine passengers, but there were just four on this run. Only Sharisse would be staying in Newcomb. Because of the ample room, no one had minded when she had brought Charley out of his basket. They had stared at him, though, as if they had never seen a pet cat before. Maybe they hadn’t. She certainly hadn’t seen another cat since changing trains in Kansas.

There were mountains ahead that actually had trees on them. This so surprised Sharisse after the deserts and wastelands and mountains of nothing but rock and cactus that she completely missed seeing the town until the driver called out, “Newcomb ahead. A one-hour stop, folks.”

Sharisse’s stomach twisted into knots. Her vanity surfaced, and she suddenly wished that she had changed clothes at the last stop. But that had been something she hadn’t been able to do completely
since leaving home. She realized she had taken Jenny’s services for granted and had left wearing a blouse she couldn’t get out of by herself.

Sharisse got hold of herself and remembered that she wasn’t out to make a good impression. It was just as well if she looked as bad as she felt. Years of proper behavior, however, made her put her jacket back on as soon as she got Charley into his basket. She managed to get the last button fastened just as the stage pulled to a stop.

A giant appeared out of the scattered dust to assist the passengers from the stage. Sharisse gaped at him, then quickly looked away when she realized she was staring. By the time she accepted his hand to step down from the stage, she did it absentmindedly, wondering which of the men standing around was Lucas Holt.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Sharisse turned back to the giant. He wouldn’t let go of her hand. “Will you, sir?” she said haughtily.

He had the grace to look disconcerted. “A figure of speech, ma’am.”

“I know,” she replied coolly, and was surprised to see him grin.

Standing on the ground, she was even more amazed by his size, so tall and broad-shouldered. He made her feel downright tiny, something she had never felt before. Her father was tall, but this man would dwarf him. Was this a land of giants? But no, a nervous glance around showed the kind of men she was accustomed to seeing. It was only
this man, this man looking her over with a stamp of possessive ownership on his face.

Her heart skipped a beat. This couldn’t be Lucas Holt!

“You’re not—?”

“Lucas Holt.” His grin widened, showing a flash of even white teeth. “I don’t need to ask who you are, Miss Hammond.”

In her wildest dreams Sharisse wouldn’t have pictured Lucas Holt like this, so ruggedly male, so hard-chiseled and powerfully built. She sensed a quiet arrogance about him, and, oh, dear, he reminded her of her father. Immediately she decided she couldn’t risk telling him the truth, not if he was like her father.

She tried to look beyond the raw strength that frightened her. At least he was young, perhaps twenty-five or-six. And she couldn’t call him ugly. Some women might even find him terribly attractive, but she was used to impeccably clean, fastidious men. He wasn’t even wearing a jacket. His shirt was half-open, and he smelled of horses and leather. He even sported a gun on one hip! Was he a savage?

He was clean-shaven, but that only drew attention to his bronzed skin and unruly long black hair. His eyes were extraordinary. The color made her think of a necklace of peridots she owned, with stones of yellow-green, clear and glowing. And his eyes seemed even more brilliant next to that dark skin.

Lucas let the girl look him over. It was her, the girl he preferred in the picture. She was a bit
wilted, but that only gave her an earthy quality. Damn, but she looked good. It almost seemed as if he had wished her here, and here she was.

“I guess I’d better get your things, ma’am.”

Sharisse watched him saunter to the back of the stage and catch the trunk and portmanteau the driver tossed down to him. He was grinning. Why did he seem so delighted? She looked a fright. He should have been appalled.

He returned carrying the trunk on his shoulder and the small case tucked under one arm. “The buggy’s over here.”

She looked around, saw the hotel. “But I thought…I mean…”

Lucas followed the direction of her eyes. “That you’d be staying in town? No, ma’am, you’ll be staying out at the ranch with me. But you don’t have to worry about your reputation. We won’t be alone at the ranch.”

She supposed it had been too much to hope that he would pay for her room and board, when he probably had a huge ranch house with an army of servants. She followed him to the buggy and waited while he settled her trunks.

“Do you need anything before we leave town?” Lucas asked.

Sharisse smiled shyly. “The only thing I’m in need of, Mr. Holt, is a long bath. I’m afraid I haven’t had a decent one since I left New York. I suppose it will have to wait until we get to your ranch.”

“You didn’t take lodgings on the way?”

She blushed, but it was just as well he knew
the truth. “I didn’t have enough money. I used all I did have just for meals.”

“But your meals were included on your tickets.”

Sharisse gasped. “What?”

“The arrangements were made. But it looks like that was money wasted.” He looked at her speculatively. “So you don’t have any money at all?”

Sharisse was furious with herself. Why hadn’t she looked more closely at those tickets? Why hadn’t the conductor said anything? Why hadn’t Lucas Holt said something about it in his letter?

Her anger carried into her flippant tone. “Is that going to be a problem? You weren’t expecting a dowry, were you?”

“No, ma’am.” He grinned. Good, so she was completely dependent on him. She didn’t have the wherewithal to leave any time she wanted to. “But then, I wasn’t expecting you at all.”

“I don’t understand.” Sharisse frowned.

Lucas dug the picture out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Your letter said you were the girl on the left.”

Her eyes widened. So Stephanie had lied about that so Sharisse would have no qualms about coming here. She was mortified. Here he was, expecting Stephanie and getting her instead.

“I…I see I should have been more specific. You see, I sometimes get my right and left mixed up. I am sorry, Mr. Holt. You must be terribly disappointed.”

“Ma’am, if I was terribly disappointed, as you put it, I would be putting you back on the stage.
What’s your first name, anyway? I can’t keep ma’aming you.”

His smile was engaging, his voice so deep and resonant. She had expected to be nervous on this first meeting, but not this much.

“Sharisse,” she told him.

“Sounds French.”

“My mother was French.”

“Well, there’s no point in us being formal. Folks call me Luke.”

Just then someone did. “Who you got there, Luke?”

It was a squat little man standing in the doorway of a store, Newcomb Grocery. The building housed only that one store. Most buildings in New York contained dozens of offices and businesses.

Her attention returned to the man as Lucas introduced them. She was surprised when he added, “I knew Miss Hammond before I came here. She has finally agreed to be my wife.”

“Is that a fact?” Thomas Bilford smiled, delighted. “I guess congratulations are called for. Will your brother be coming to the wedding?”

“I hadn’t planned on any big affair, Thomas,” Lucas said. “I’ll just catch the preacher when he comes through town.”

“Folks will be disappointed.”

“Can’t help that,” Lucas replied, this time with an edge to his voice.

“Well, good day to you, Luke, ma’am,” the grocer said uneasily now, and quickly went back inside his store.

Sharisse remained thoughtfully quiet as they
drove out of the small one-street town. When the last building was behind them, she finally asked, “Why did you tell Mr. Bilford we knew each other back East?”

Lucas shrugged. “No one would believe you were a mail-order bride. Of course, if you’d rather—”

“No! That’s quite all right,” she assured him.

Sharisse fell silent again and averted her eyes. A change had taken place in the man sitting next to her. Without that boyish grin he could be coldly unapproachable. He seemed to be brooding. Was it something she had said?

“Why
are
you here, Sharisse Hammond?” he asked abruptly.

She glanced back at him. He was looking straight ahead at the dirt road. Well, she had anticipated the question days ago.

“I am recently widowed, Mr. Holt.”

That got his attention, but she paled as his eyes pierced her. She hadn’t thought of that! Was a virgin a requirement of his? Being an impoverished widow had seemed the perfect story, a good excuse for being a mail-order bride.

“I’m sorry if you were expecting a young innocent,” Sharisse said softly. “I will certainly understand if you—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Lucas cut her short.

He looked back to the road, furious with himself for reacting that way. It really didn’t make any difference. Hadn’t he considered the possibility that she might not be a virgin? So why did it bother him?

“Was he the man in the picture?” Lucas asked after a while.

“Was he…? Good heavens, no. That was my father.”

“Is your father still living?”

“Yes. But we’re—estranged. My father didn’t approve of my husband, you see. And, well, he’s not a very forgiving man.”

“So you couldn’t return to him after your husband died?”

“No. There wouldn’t have been a problem if my husband hadn’t left me destitute. Of course, I wouldn’t have married him if I’d known he was so heavily in debt,” she added primly. “But…” She sighed. “I come from a wealthy family, you see. It wasn’t as if I could work to support myself when I saw how bad things really were. When I saw your advertisement, it seemed the very solution.”

“You’re leaving something out.”

“No, I don’t think so.” She began to panic.

“You’re not exactly what anyone could call a plain-looking woman,” he told her pointedly. “If you felt you had to marry again, why go so far away? You must have had offers closer to home.”

Sharisse smiled at the assumption. Of course there had been offers of marriage, many offers, ever since she’d turned fifteen. But they were all made by men who coveted her wealth or who were otherwise unacceptable.

“Yes, I was approached by several men.”

“And?”

“They weren’t to my liking.”

“What
is
to your liking?”

Sharisse squirmed.

“I don’t like arrogance in a man, or rigidity. I appreciate sensitivity, a gentle nature, good humor, and—”

“Are you sure you’re describing a man?” Lucas couldn’t resist.

“I assure you I have known such men,” she said indignantly.

“Your husband?”

“Yes.”

Lucas grunted. “You took quite a risk, settling on me. What if I don’t possess any of those qualities?”

She groaned inwardly. “Not even one?” she said faintly.

“I didn’t say that. But how were you to know?”

“I…I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking along those lines. I just felt anything would be better than the choices I had at home.” She gasped. “I didn’t mean to imply…I mean, of course I hoped for the best.”