Bound For Eden (36 page)

‘I think
you
will look magnificent in this colour,' the Indian whispered near Alex's ear, as his hand reached over her shoulder to stroke the bolt of rose-coloured cotton she held stiffly in front of her.

‘In
pink
?' Alex snarled, unable to let go of her anger.

‘You, Alexandra, would look magnificent in just about anything,' he continued, still speaking too low for the others to hear, ‘and even more magnificent in nothing at all.'

She flushed. At least
someone
treated her like a woman. If only it wasn't the wrong man.

‘I'm only sorry you won't be able to wear new gowns tonight,' Luke said, ‘but make yourselves as pretty as you can. Tonight we celebrate your freedom.'

What
freedom, Alex grumped as she threw her gift into the wagon. She watched as Victoria glowed over her yellow satin. She felt like kicking something. Or someone.

Thirty-One

‘I already have a drink,' Luke protested, as the Watts brothers pressed a tin mug into his hand.

‘Two drinks are better than one,' Henry laughed, raising his own glass in salute. As Luke took a mouthful he could hear Joseph guffawing. He grimaced. Whatever they'd given him tasted like kerosene.

He noticed Ned O'Brien standing nearby. The easterner was pretending to watch his daughters dance to Sebastian's appallingly off-key harmonica, but any fool could see that he was really watching Victoria Sparrow. A number of people from Laramie and the surrounding camps had wandered over, and were also twirling about to the God-awful racket. A constant stream of young men approached Victoria and asked her to dance, but each time she gave them a closed-lipped smile and shook her head.

‘Why don't you ask her?' Luke suggested.

Ned shook his head. ‘She would only say no.'

‘Surely not to the man who saved her life,' Luke insisted, giving Ned a gentle nudge. ‘You need more confidence, O'Brien.'

‘Oh, that's not it,' Ned said, sounding surprised. ‘She'll say no because of her tooth.'

‘Her what?'

‘The tooth Grady's gun chipped. She's self-conscious about it. Haven't you noticed how she always holds her hand over her mouth when she speaks? Or how she hardly smiles any more?'

Luke hadn't.

‘Actually,' Ned said, clearing his throat, ‘I was thinking that maybe
you
could go over and ask her to dance. She would never refuse you. And maybe while you're dancing you could mention how becoming you think her smile is. Just say something to make her realise that no broken tooth could ever dim her loveliness.'

Luke looked down into Ned's eager face and grimaced. He'd never seen a man so witless over a woman. ‘I really think it would be better if you did it, doc. I didn't even notice that she
had
a broken tooth.'

‘Exactly.' Ned gave Luke a tentative push in Victoria's direction.

Luke drained his mug full of kerosene and gave Ned a sour look. Hell. One of these days he'd have to learn how to turn his back on wounded women. He tried to turn his grimace into a smile as he headed towards the wounded woman in question.

Her eyes lit up when he asked her to dance and she nodded, still smiling with her lips pressed close together. Somehow they managed to dance to Sebastian's squawking harmonica, although as the Watts brothers' moonshine hit Luke's system the noise grew increasingly painful to his ears.

‘Who taught you to dance so well?' he asked, trying to think of a way to raise the subject of her tooth.

Victoria pulled her hand from Luke's shoulder and surreptitiously covered her mouth, trying to look as though she was simply dabbing at her upper lip. ‘My brother Stephen.' He caught her hand and they came to a standstill. Victoria looked up and found herself mesmerised by his liquid dark eyes. ‘You don't need to do that,' he told her in a husky voice.

He decided that he couldn't put it any better than Ned had, and quoted him verbatim, ‘No broken tooth could ever dim your loveliness.' Ah, hell. Why were her eyes swimming with tears? Had that been the wrong thing to say?

Victoria melted against him, burying her face in his shirt. He patted her back awkwardly and they began to shuffle to the music. To his great relief someone soon dragged out a fiddle and Sebastian's honking harmonica was drowned out by a lively reel.

Alex didn't dance a single dance. She barely touched the feast. By midnight she was thoroughly sick of pasting a smile on her face. And then she saw Victoria spinning in Luke's arms, a wide smile on her lips as he flung her about.

Alex headed for the river.

‘Still a boy, I see,' a horridly familiar, cool voice remarked, interrupting her gloom.

‘Still here, are you, Rides Like A Dolt?'

‘Your temper ruins your charm,' the Indian remarked lazily, reclining against a large boulder, his long legs stretched out before him.

‘No, Dimrider, I think you'll find that it's this muck on my face that ruins my charm,' she said petulantly.

‘So wash it off.'

Alex rolled her eyes. ‘It's not that simple.'

‘No? The Gradys are behind bars, aren't they?'

‘Yes,' she muttered, kicking at the sagebrush like a cranky child.

‘I'm missing something.'

‘I can't wash it off,' she snapped at him, ‘because of Victoria.'

‘I'm still missing something.'

‘If you haven't noticed, she has feelings for him.'

‘For him?'

‘Luke!' Alex growled.

‘I think she is not the only one.'

Alex gave him a sour look.

‘
Ho'nehe?
' A velvety voice slid out of the darkness. In its wake glided an elegant woman, clad in a long dress of supple leather decorated with quills and beads. Her hair fell in a shining midnight wave over her shoulder. Alex felt a pang of envy. Once her hair had been long and pretty too.

‘I will be there shortly,' Deathrider told her, still speaking in his clipped, unaccented English.

‘I will not wait all night,' she replied, her own English lilting.

‘You will not have to.'

Her lips curved and her eyes grew moist with promises, and then she melted back into the darkness from which she'd come.

‘Why hide yourself from Slater?' the stubborn Indian inquired the moment his bedmate was gone. ‘He's a decent man. You seem to have a certain . . .' he paused, ‘
fondness
for him.'

‘I told you, my sister has feelings for him.'

‘But he has none for her.'

Despite herself, Alex could feel her heart leap. ‘How can you tell?' The Indian shrugged. Her heart fell again. ‘It doesn't really matter how he feels,' she said, with no small measure of disappointment.

‘So this is a question of loyalty?'

‘Yes,' she insisted.

‘You're not curious about how he would react to you if he saw you as you really are?'

‘I know—' Alex bit her tongue, but it was too late. His dark eyebrows shot up in surprise.

He was equally surprised to see the tears welling in her eyes. He had seen this woman fight like a cougar, and yet now she was weeping over Slater? ‘Everyone is occupied,' he said slowly. In the distance they could hear the sound of the fiddle. ‘Why not take the opportunity to wash the dirt away.'

Alex gave a cynical laugh. ‘You want me to go for a swim, with you sitting right there?'

‘The river is shielded by the sage.'

‘What would be the point?' she demanded. ‘Everyone keeps telling me to bathe, but what's the damn point if I just have to muddy myself right up again afterwards?'

‘The point,' the velvety female voice curled from the darkness, ‘is that you are eating yourself up inside. You would do well to remember who you are.'

‘Yellow Bird,' Deathrider sighed. ‘You do not need to spy on me, I told you I would come.'

‘Your promises are as faithful as the wind, White Wolf.'

‘White Wolf?' Alex echoed, exasperated. ‘How many names do you have?'

‘He has many names, and he has none.' Yellow Bird again made herself visible, ignoring Deathrider's flinty stare.

‘And you do not have enough names,' he said tersely. ‘You should also be known as Flapping Ears.'

‘You should do as White Wolf says,' Yellow Bird told Alex, ignoring him. ‘I will stand watch with him. You will come to no harm.'

Alex capitulated, but mostly because she wanted to be left alone.

‘You just wanted her gone,' Deathrider accused Yellow Bird as they watched her walk down to the riverbank.

Yellow Bird sank down beside him and slid her warm hand between his shirt and his skin. ‘Yes, I did,' she admitted. ‘I do not like you talking to other women.'

‘You have no say in it.'

Her fingers traced circles on his flesh. ‘I have say enough.' She nuzzled his neck and had just felt him begin to relax when there was a crashing in the sagebrush and the sound of a man swearing.

‘Slater?' Deathrider asked, disbelief colouring his usually flat voice. The man was barely able to stand.

‘Those damn Watts brothers,' Luke complained, stumbling through the bushes towards them. He was bleary-eyed and swaying on his feet. ‘That moonshine is evil stuff.'

A sly glint came into Deathrider's pale eyes. ‘Wash your face in the river,' he suggested, ‘it will help.' Yellow Bird made a small noise of protest, but Deathrider gave her a warning look.

‘Just what I was thinking,' Luke mumbled, staggering off down the riverbank.

‘What are you up to?' Yellow Bird asked suspiciously.

‘Is that what you want to do?' he replied. ‘Talk?'

The moment his hot mouth claimed hers she forgot all about the crazy white people.

Down at the river Alex dove beneath the black waters. The current was gentle, teasing her with its pull. She could feel herself growing lighter as the dirt dissolved and she realised that Yellow Bird had been right: it felt marvellous to be herself again.

It was a hot night and the water was pure pleasure as it slipped against her naked skin. With a surge of energy she stroked upriver against the current, revelling in the sensation. She swam until she was exhausted, and then she rolled over on her back, turning her face blissfully towards the multitudes of glittering stars, and let the current carry her back downstream.

The night was mild and perfumed with sage, and the heavens above were breathtaking. It was enough to make her forget Luke Slater completely. Well, almost.

Luke collapsed by the river, feeling hot and sweaty and more than a little disturbed by the way his heart kept skittering and skipping. He felt like liquid fire was tearing through his veins. Just wait until he got his hands on those Watts brothers.

He groaned and splashed his face. The cool water helped a little.

He had to revise his opinion when he sat up and his vision swam. He held his breath and submerged his head beneath the dark water. When he came up he opened his eyes cautiously. That seemed to help.