Winter Hearts (4 page)

Sam held Luke’s gaze for a minute, and then the corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “No worries, boss.”

“Don’t get sassy with me. There’re two hotels in town, and you can stay at either one of them.”

Sam dropped his gaze. “I’d rather stay here,” he said quietly.

“Then get dressed before you freeze.”

Luke turned his attention to the stove. His cock was as rigid as the poker he used to stoke the coals. As soon as the fire was blazing, he crossed the small room without looking at Sam, pulled on his coat and hat, and grabbed the coal bucket as he headed out the door. The clothesline led him to the stable in the whirling wind and snow. Inside he breathed a sigh of relief just to be away from Sam for a while.

Grabbing the pitchfork, he said out loud, “I can’t do this!” The horses and the cow turned to look at him. “Either that boy is a tease, or he just has no damn clue how handsome he is. He flirts every time he looks at me.” With angry movements he pitched a bale of hay at each of the animals. “I’ll tell him when I get back to the house. He’s got to go. I’d rather starve until spring than risk what might happen if I make the mistake of touching him. He can pay his seed wheat money to Beardsley or Mead. It’s his problem, not mine.”

Anger growing, he raked the manure out of the stable and then set about filling the water trough for the animals. That done, he made his way back along the clothesline to the house.

The smell of salt pork and pancakes frying hit Luke’s nostrils the second he opened the door. The house was warm, it smelled good, and he had to admit he hated walking into an empty house with nothing but his thoughts to amuse him.

“This is ready, Mr. Chandler.”

Chandler. That’s good. The boy’s smartening up
. He wasn’t smiling either, which made it easier to look at him. Maybe another chance was in order.

Luke sat down at the table. “Your horse looks better than he did last night. He’s rested and eating well.”

Sam put the tin plates on the table loaded with golden pancakes and delicious fried salt pork. “Thank you for taking us in.”

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled. He picked up his fork and put it down again.

Sam clasped his hands and bowed his head, so Luke waited while he repeated the same grace from the night before. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Luke said after him. “There’ll be a church opening up come spring, or so I heard.” He poured molasses on his pancakes. “You go to church?”

“Usually.” Sam spoke between bites, but he still ate carefully, mouth closed. “My grandfather was a minister in the Episcopal Church. He passed away when I was sixteen.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Luke said.

Sam fetched the coffeepot from the top of the cookstove to fill their cups. The coffee was fresh and hot, warming Luke down to his toes. “That’s good.”

The smile that bloomed over Sam’s face was a touch smug and a touch boyish pride. “I’m a fine cook. You should see what I can make when I have more interesting ingredients.”

“You’ll be on your own land by then,” Luke said without margin.

“I make a delicious turkey dinner.”

“That’s useful. But do you know how to farm?” The pancakes were light and fluffy. How did he manage to make them so tasty with only cornmeal, without white flour?

“Yes, sir. I’ve got that all figured out. I’ve read a number of books.”

Luke slammed his tin cup down so hard his coffee slopped on the table. He burst out laughing. When he finally calmed down, he looked at Sam’s shocked and slightly hurt expression. “A number of books, huh?”

“I don’t know why that’s so funny. What have you got against reading?”

Luke cut up his salt pork with the side of his fork. “I got nothing against reading. I read the newspapers when I can get them, but you can’t learn farming from a book.”

“You can learn the basics,” Sam protested, his fair cheeks growing pink. “Where did you learn? I guess you grew up on a farm.”

Luke swiped the last bit of molasses off his plate with his forefinger and then sucked it. “I grew up in Boston. My father owned a butcher shop in Jamaica Plain. But I left home at fifteen and went to work on a farm, first for my uncle and then for other people. I worked on farms till I went up to work in the gold mines at Cayoosh Creek in Canada. I did that for three years.”

“Did you get rich?” Sam asked. Just like last night, he ate more slowly than Luke. He cut a pancake into quarters and forked a neat triangle into his mouth.

“Nope. But I’ve saved some money, and I bought plenty of seed wheat. I’ve got it stored in the stable, and I’m going to build a nice little house on my claim after a couple of years.”

“And get a nice little wife to take care of you?” Sam asked with a grin.

Uncomfortable, Luke looked away. “That’s right.” He looked at Sam again to find a curious, questioning look on his face. “But you can’t learn farming from a book.”

“You can teach me.” Sam smiled a lot.

“I’ll be too busy with my own land.” He stood up and pulled his chair away from the table to sit near the stove, and for the next hour he surreptitiously watched Sam as the young man washed the dishes, swept the floor, and made the bed. When Sam was done with that, he found a couple of rags and set about dusting the shelves.

“What’s this?” He held up the envelope with Luke’s pictures.

“Put it back.”

“Sorry.” Sam replaced it after dusting the tea chest. From the corner he took the broom to sweep the house. He didn’t ask Luke to move but simply swept around him.

When the place was spotless, he sat down in the chair opposite Luke by the stove. “Tell me about yourself, Luke,” he said, his voice soft, encouraging.

“There’s nothing else to tell. I’ve told you everything worth knowing.”

Luke couldn’t make this boy out. His smiles seemed intimate at times, but it could be youthful enthusiasm that he kept eye contact for longer than men normally did. Children did that when they wanted your attention, and men did it when they wanted sex with you. Maybe Sam did like men, or maybe he was just lonely. Every tussle Luke’d had in the gold mines or on farms when he was younger had been with men lonely for their wives or girlfriends, but who were not like him. In a pinch they’d have intercourse with anything that moved. But even in a pinch Luke could not be with a woman. He liked them, but he wasn’t attracted to them, and he’d realized in his youth that he couldn’t fake it. It would be a dream come true if a man like Sam really wanted him in the way Luke wanted men, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to make any mistakes by trying to find out. If Sam behaved, he could pay his rent in food until it was possible for them to set up home on their quarter sections—separately.

“Should I go to the stable to get my bedroll?” Sam asked.

Luke looked at the young man, who tilted his head to one side as he waited for an answer.
Darn!
He was pretty. Luke kept his tone stern when he replied, “We only just had breakfast. There’s plenty of time.”

“I could do the evening chores and get it then. Anyway, I want to see how Pip is doing. See how he’s doing.”

Sleep on the floor. That’ll be safer for both of us
. “Whatever.”

Chapter Five

“Luke, the storm’s blown itself out. The sun is shining!” Sam grinned, his handsome face lighting up the whole house.

For a moment Luke just stared at him before managing to catch himself. “It always does eventually.”

“But it’s been four days with no letup. Has there ever been a winter as bad as this?”

“Not according to people who’ve lived here longer than me.”

Four days they had been stuck in the house together, and Sam had still not fetched his bedroll from his wagon; Luke hadn’t told him to either. A couple of times Luke had thought about bringing it in when he was in the stable doing the chores, but he never did. Four days of Sam cooking their meals and sweeping the floor while Luke did the outdoor chores like they were a couple. Four nights of sleeping beside Sam while Luke’s cock was so hard he feared he’d end up with blue balls. It was impossible to relieve himself with another man in the bed so close that their bodies touched, but he had to admit it was warmer to sleep beside another person. Having company after months alone in his little house made winter more bearable.

Luke put his hat on. “I’m heading over to Fuller’s to find out if there’s any news.” He pulled on his coat, fastening the buttons as he walked outside.

“I’m coming too,” Sam said, following him out into the still, bright morning, pulling on his coat and hat as he went. The wind had blown most of the drifts from the road, making it easy to see the houses and to cross the street to Fuller’s.

Outside the Ingrams’ house, four pretty girls going up in age like steps and heavily bundled against the cold played in the snow. Remembering what Ingram had said, Luke wondered how hungry the family was. If they were, the children showed no signs of it, their faces shining with happiness at being outdoors.

Farther up the road an assemblage of young boys whooped out their joy as they threw snowballs. He looked at Sam, whose gaze was on the sky. “Isn’t it beautiful, Luke?”

“I’ll be glad when winter’s over, that’s for sure. And call me Chandler.”

Inside Fuller’s all eyes turned to the newcomer. A stranger in town got everyone’s attention even when the trains were running. Ingram was the first to approach Sam, his hand extended. “Where did you come from, son?”

Shaking the man’s hand, Sam smiled. “I’m from back east. I was in Volga and heading to De Smet when the storm hit. I followed the railroad track and knocked on the door of the first building I could make out.” He looked at Luke, who looked away at once, focusing on the checker game by the potbelly stove. “Mr. Chandler took me in. I’m going to stay with him until I can move onto my quarter section in the spring.”

Everyone was listening, so that took care of the explanations. Luke said, “The boy says the train is stuck in the Tracey Cut and the railroad won’t dig it out till spring.” A collective groan circled the store. Everyone needed something: food, lamp oil, coal. “Has anyone heard any different?”

“No,” Fuller said. “That sounds about right. We’re stuck until spring. I hope everyone can make it.”

Mr. Ingram’s thin face was strained and careworn. “We’ll manage,” he said brightly. “We’ll have to.”

There was no food left in the store to buy but candy, and Luke didn’t want that. He looked at Sam, who had wandered over to the checker game to watch with the other men. “You going to farm that land on your own?” one of the men asked. “No wife?”

“I’m all on my own,” Sam replied. Everything he said was accompanied by that smile. Maybe Luke had it wrong. Sam wasn’t flirting. It was his nature to be warm and friendly. It was a good thing Luke realized that now.

“Come spring, you’re welcome to drop by my house,” the man said. He had two daughters who were of marriageable age. Luke had seen the girls in town between storms, both pretty enough in their own way. When another man added his invitation, Luke walked outside into the cold, fresh air. Sam could be married within the year if he wanted to, and he probably would be. He was young, strong, handsome, had a piece of farmland, and the town was isolated out on the prairie for much of the year. A man like Sam would be in demand among young women wanting a husband—but then so would Luke.

Without telling Sam, Luke headed over to the stable to get Pretty Girl out for some exercise and air. He was halfway through tacking her up when Sam walked in sucking a red-and-white-striped stick of candy. “Want some?”

Luke’s cock hardened and lengthened as he watched the young man draw the candy stick into his mouth before pushing it out and then sucking it in again. He turned his back to tighten the saddle straps. “No.”

“Are you going for a ride?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Luke snapped.

There was a pause before Sam said, “Good idea. Pip needs exercise too. Wait for me.” But Luke had his horse tacked first and led her outside. She was jumpy and ready for a run, and it took him a moment or two to steady her long enough to mount. When he did, Sam was beside him, riding with no saddle or bridle. Luke looked around the wide-open prairie for places where the drifts were low and set off hoping Sam would stay in town. But when he looked back, Sam was gaining on him as he leaned forward over the horse’s neck, hanging on to his mane, knees clinging tight to Pip’s shoulders. The beautiful Morgan horse—with the breed’s reputation for speed and strength—passed Pretty Girl and kept going. Several hundred yards ahead, Sam expertly brought his animal around, circling back to Luke with a wide, infectious grin. “Beat ya!” he said.

“That’s a good horse.” Luke smiled back.

“Being out in the air for a while makes you feel better, doesn’t it?”

They trotted the horses, side by side, eyes on the horizon for the storm’s returning.

“Yeah, it does,” Luke agreed. “I’m looking forward to moving onto my land and starting a crop and a vegetable garden.”

Sam looked at him. “A vegetable garden? I never thought of that.”

Luke looked at Sam’s surprised face. “What were you planning to eat?”

“I thought the stores would carry all the foods they carry in the city.”

“But I thought you’d read a couple of books.”

Laughing, Sam leaned over and shoved Luke in the shoulder, then took off with a “Whoop!” his arms in the air.

For a minute or two Luke watched the younger man’s expert riding skills as he rode with ease without even hanging on to the animal’s mane. Where did a city boy learn to ride so well?

Without warning, a shot rang out. Sam jumped down from his horse while it was still galloping, landing easily on his feet.

“What the hell!” Looking around him at the pure white landscape, Luke thought they were under attack, at the same moment remembering he hadn’t bothered to bring a gun. He looked again at Sam, fearing he’d been shot, and galloped hard toward him. Drawing Pretty Girl to a halt, he leaped down. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“You fired that shot? Why?” His heart pounded. He was terrified that Sam was injured. Now that he saw the young man was just fine, he wanted to punch him. Smoke from the end of Sam’s pistol hit his nostrils. He followed Sam’s gaze to a few drops of blood in the snow and saw a large hare lying dead, shot clear through the head. “You did that with a pistol? You must have good eyes.”