Montana Dawn (8 page)

C
AMP
was a quiet affair that evening. The men ate, then disappeared to their bedrolls one by one, probably still feeling the effects of the whiskey they’d consumed at the Wooden Nickel. It wasn’t often that the three brothers were in camp together at the same time, because one was usually out watching
the herd. The night before reaching the ranch, though, they were a bit more relaxed.

Mark, smoking a cigar, watched Matt work a frayed piece of rope. Roady and Luke sat opposite, enjoying the hot coffee Lucky had poured. Talk was small when they gave the effort; they mostly sat in silence.

Faith had not left her wagon since that morning. Lucky had taken her some supper, trying to entice her out, but she’d rejected the tempting meal.

“I’m not hungry. But thank you, Lucky,” she’d added.

“You gotta eat! Think of the baby. She needs your milk,” Luke heard him say.

“I have a little something to nibble on in here,” she’d assured the cook, her voice steady and low. “You quit your worrying.”

“At least let me take the little gal for a spell. You need some rest.”

She’d refused that, too.

Ike and Will Dickson walked into camp, leading their horses. Ward Brown was by their side. Luke stood, suspicion crackling through him like wildfire.

“Found him following our trail,” Ike said, motioning to Ward.

Luke looked at the newcomer, awaiting his response. Roady, at Luke’s shoulder, sized Ward up.

“That’s true enough,” Ward replied. “Heard last night at the Wooden Nickel how you fired Earl. With a herd as large as yours I figured you’d need every hand you can get. Especially for the river crossing tomorrow. I’d like to hire on…if you’ll have me. I’m good in the saddle and have worked my share of cattle.”

Matt and Mark looked to Luke. It was true: being a man short put everyone at risk. But the decision was Luke’s. The brothers respected each other’s authority.

Luke felt certain that Faith was watching them from her wagon. He could feel her stare burning into his back. This
just might be a good way to flush out the truth from her. Find out what was really going on.

“Grab yourself a cup of coffee. We’ll use you until we reach the ranch.”

“Much obliged, Mr. McCutcheon.” Ward’s blue eyes swung from one face to the next. “Where do I find a cup?”

As their new hire walked away, Roady rounded on Luke. “Are you loco? What’s gotten into you?” He shook his head, disgusted.

Luke followed him to the edge of the campsite. “If there’s a diamondback around, I want him out in the open where I can see him, not hidden under a rock ready to strike.”

Roady didn’t reply.

Word spread. All the men knew who Ward was, and Lucky was no exception. Luke watched the old man stand back and let Faith’s brother-in-law serve himself. Normally the cook would have jumped right in to help, making a newcomer welcome.

“Where you from?” Luke asked, going over to Ward. Roady followed.

Ward raised his cup and took a sip, tasting the coffee. “Nebraska. Small town called Kearney. Ever heard of it?”

“No.” Luke watched him. Ward’s eyes slipped from face to face of each the camp’s men, and it never once strayed to Faith’s wagon half-hidden just beyond Lucky’s. Curious, for a man so…concerned. “I suppose you know Faith’s relation. The one she’s going to live with,” Luke probed.

“Relation? She don’t have no relation. Her pa died shortly after she married Samuel. He’s the only relative that I know about.” Ward took another sip of coffee. “I wouldn’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Penelope Flowers,” Luke threw out.

Ward choked. Wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve, he turned and glanced at Faith’s wagon. In a sad and serious voice he whispered, “That’s what she told you, then? Penelope
Flowers is her aunt?” His tone was full of concern, as he shook his head in disbelief.

“That’s what she said,” Luke confirmed. Though he’d expected it, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed.

“Penelope Flowers is her
cow.
Been a good milker for years, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call her kin,” Ward joked, looking from Luke to Roady, his lips quivering as he tried to hide back a smile. “Although, Faith did seem quite attached to the old thing. Just maybe they
are
related!”

Luke’s anger grew, but he refused to appear anything but nonchalant. He didn’t know what galled him more—Faith’s lie or the fact that Ward was having fun at her expense.

Ward meandered casually over to the campfire and refilled his coffee cup, a frown marring his face. “This is exactly what I’ve been worried about.” He sat down, making himself comfortable. “Faith’s always had a fanciful way about her, making things up and such. Always harmless, mind you. She’s not let-tin’ on, but I think she’s takin’ Samuel’s death real hard. Dreaming up things that just aren’t true. It worries me—her taking care of the young’uns and all.”

Roady pitched the remainder of his coffee into the crackling flames. “I’m turning in,” he said curtly.

Matt and Mark, who stood quietly nearby, followed suit. They looked questioningly at Luke, then headed for their bedrolls.

“Do you want me to take a watch?” Ward asked.

The last thing Luke wanted was this man up when everyone else was asleep. But he didn’t want to show his hand just yet. “You bed down with the others, I’ll wake you later.”

“Thanks again for givin’ me a chance. I know I’m a stranger and all.”

Luke watched him go. Either Ward was a damn good liar or Faith was. But then, what about her and Colton’s reactions? Those hadn’t been an act, he’d bet the ranch on it. So, what
actually was going on here? Determined more than ever to find out, Luke looked to the wagons. Was Faith still awake? Only one way to be certain.

Faith heard Luke approaching. She waited for him to knock, but he didn’t. What was he waiting for? Her temper flared. She’d heard bits and pieces of Ward’s conversation about poor Samuel and how hard she was taking his death. With a pounding heart, she clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking.

“Faith, you awake?” Luke called quietly.

She sat there stewing. Colton and Dawn had been asleep for a good hour. She could pretend she was asleep, too; that way she wouldn’t have to face the accusation she knew she’d see in his eyes. But, Lord. She hated not defending herself. Hated letting Ward go about spreading lies.

“I’m awake.”

“Would you mind coming out here for a spell?” Luke cleared his throat. “So we can talk.”

No. She wouldn’t mind. But he might when she got finished with him. “I’ll be right out.”

Snatching up her shawl, she wrapped it tightly around herself and slipped out into the darkness. She felt his hand steady her as she climbed down the wheel to the ground. The desire to pull away was strong, but she mastered it, knowing such an act wouldn’t do any good.

He steered her away from the campfire to a more secluded place beyond some trees. Her nerves were taut, frayed. Unable to hold back a moment longer, she rounded on Luke, throwing him off balance. “How could you?” she demanded.

“What?”

“How could you let that lying, cunning, sad excuse of a human being stay?” she cried. “Oh, he’s so smooth. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.”

“He hasn’t lied to me—at least not that I know of.”

“You believe him. Trust him. Because he’s a
man.
And women are stupid, lazy, lying and…and…” She couldn’t think of anything else Samuel called her. “Don’t you? You don’t think he’s a threat to Colton or me. Or to Dawn for that matter.”

His lips thinned. “Quit putting words in my mouth,” he whispered angrily. “I wanted answers last night, Faith. Wanted to figure out just what was going on. But you didn’t seem to have any for me. Remember?” He paced away, stood for a moment and then paced back, irritation apparent in every inch of his body.

Damnation.
Why was it so hard for her to talk with him without getting worked up?

She erased any evidence of emotion from her voice. “I remember, Luke.” Oh, she’d wanted to give him answers. Wanted to spill the whole ugly mess into his lap, then let him pick up the pieces of her heart and soul, one by one, and make everything right. But she couldn’t. Just the thought of telling him was enough to make her stomach sour up. So, silence was her answer.

“See?” he charged, pointing his finger in her face. “You’re doing it again. Right now. Shutting me out.”

“You’re right,” she threw back, wishing she could do otherwise. “There aren’t any answers.”

“There aren’t? Or, you just won’t give them to me?” Luke stared at her. Moments ticked by. “Your aunt Penelope,” he said in a much calmer voice. “She has room for the three of you?”

“Well…” Faith paused, thinking. “Yes, she does.”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “And, you know her well, then, this aunt of yours?”

Each time he said the word “aunt,” Faith noticed his jaw clench and release. Whatever was wrong with him?

“Why do you ask such a silly question? Of course I know her well. She’s sweet and kind and gentle. She has brown hair and beautiful big eyes, and…I love her dearly.”

“Hmm. I see,” he said, his eyes reflecting dangerously the moonlight from above. “And, does she usually prefer oat, alfalfa or clover hay?” He’d dropped his arms to his side and stood glaring.

It took a moment before she realized what he’d just said. Gathering all her courage, Faith advanced on Luke and his anger. “You big”—she planted her hands in the middle of his chest and shoved with all her might—“ox!”

He didn’t go flying like she hoped he would, merely stepped back and caught his balance. That made her even madder.

“ ‘Poor Faith,’” she mimicked Ward. “ ‘She’s so upset over Samuel’s death! Poor Faith, she doesn’t know what she’s doing!’”

Nudging up his hat with his thumb, Luke stared at her all the harder. As she tromped back and forth in anger, an amused look came to his face.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that, Luke McCutcheon! Don’t you dare.” She stomped her foot. “I won’t take it, do you hear?”

“Look at you like what, Faith?” he asked slowly.

“Like I’m a child,” she said. “No, like I’m addle-headed or crazy. I’m not. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about.” She sighed, tired and defeated. What was the use? She calmed herself and said, “I want to explain to you why I was out this morning with Ward. When I woke up Colton was gone and I’d thought Ward had taken him. I was trying to find the livery stable so I could tell you. I got lost and that’s when he showed up and offered to carry my bag and walk back with me.” She shrugged. “Ward
is
a threat to me, Dawn and Colton. That’s all you need to know. If you don’t want to believe me, well…don’t.” She was through fighting. She just wanted to go back to her wagon and lie down. She turned to go.

“Wait, don’t go away mad,” Luke said, reaching out and
catching her by her arm. He was behind her and stood only inches away. “I didn’t mean to get you so worked up. I guess I just want to know more about you than I do. I think it’s because I helped deliver Dawn. I’m sorry.”

Those two little words flowed over Faith like thick, warm honey. Samuel had never said them. She closed her eyes and just stood there, absorbing the way they made her feel inside. He leaned in close. His mouth was just a breath away from her ear, and his hat seemed to close them both off from the rest of the world.

“You’re a wildcat,” he whispered, a hint of humor in his voice. “I never would have guessed it.”

“And, I suppose you’re a little lamb?” she replied, working hard not to enjoy his nearness.

“Depends.”

There was a world of meaning in that one little word. Her feet were rooted to the spot. If Lucifer himself rose up before her, she wouldn’t be able to move an inch. From behind, Luke wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek to hers. They stood like that, enjoying the respite.

Faith wished she could open up, but she knew that way lay disaster. It seemed like Luke already believed Ward. What if Ward told Luke she killed Samuel, or went to their sheriff? Would Luke accept it as truth? She couldn’t risk the Browns getting custody of Colton and Dawn. She either married Ward, giving them her father’s farm, like they wanted, and be subjected to an unthinkable life for her and her children, or they’d go to the judge in Kearney and she’d hang. If that were the case, they’d be raising her children anyway, without her being there able to shield them. Both outcomes were absurd. Escape was the only answer.

After a moment, Faith pushed Luke’s arms down and stepped away from his comforting warmth, the action unmistakable. They stood for an instant in awkward silence.
“I’ll walk you back to your wagon.” His voice was hard, the warmth and teasing gone. Faith understood the change, and regretted having to drive him away. He wanted her to confide so he could help. Little did he know there was no help for her.

C
ROSSING
the river took most of the next day. Luke came and drove Faith’s wagon across early, not saying more than a handful of words the whole time. She knew he must still be annoyed with her from last night. She longed to tell him that she hadn’t disliked his affection; that in actuality it was wonderful and exciting. But her memories of Samuel were hard to break. And, she couldn’t take the chance of her softening and telling Luke the truth.

Safely on the far side of the river, she and Colton watched as the men brought the herd over slowly. Chance, Ike and Ward held the remuda close by, for the men needed fresh horses often. Faith looked over at Ward but whipped her attention back to the river when she found him watching her. Oh, it galled her how he’d been able to worm his way into a job! At least Luke’s men seemed to be avoiding him.

The river was wide and shallow for the most part, but for thirty or forty feet in the middle it ran deep and swift. Several men atop their horses were stationed in the shallow waters, directing the cattle along the course Luke had picked out. When the beasts hit the rushing water, most got nervous and balked, refusing to take the plunge. A lead rider would have to swim his horse out across in front so that the cattle would follow; then they would exit one hundred feet downriver
from Faith’s wagon, and Smokey, Francis, John and Matt received the wet and frightened animals.

Colton had put up a fuss about having to stay on the wagon with her. He’d wanted to ride Firefly as soon as they were on the opposite side of the river. Luke had flat out said no. Colton was to stay with Faith and keep an eye on her and Dawn.

“I don’t have a single man to spare today, Colton,” Luke had said in a no-nonsense voice. “I really need you here to watch after your mother. Can I count on you to stay put?”

The boy’s gaze went longingly to his small mare tied to the back of the wagon. “Yes, sir,” he agreed reluctantly.

That had been several hours and many hundreds of bovine ago. Faith wondered just how many cattle were left to cross.

“Look, Ma.” Colton pointed to the far riverbank. “Mark is taking the swimming spot.”

Luke’s brother gigged his black-and-white paint, pushing the hesitant horse forward. It shied and snorted, not wanting to go into the chilly water. Mark got him in, though, and Faith watched as he joked and teased each tired and worn-out man as he passed. She couldn’t hear his words, but admiration shone from the other men’s eyes.

Luke was on the far bank atop Chiquita. Faith had a hard time watching anyone else. Feeling foolish for her behavior last night, she wished again she’d had the nerve to talk with him that morning.

He crossed the river every once in a while to check the footing for the animals and the condition of his men. Moving closer, he cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted something to Mark, and his brother waved back while waiting for the next bunch to reach the deep channel. The steers plodded closer. Mark’s horse pawed the water and snorted again, shaking his head. Moments later, Mark plunged him into the current.

“That looks scary, Ma.”

“Yes, it does,” Faith said, glancing back toward Luke. “It’s plenty dangerous.”

“I bet Firefly could do it,” Colton said. “She’s real good at everything.”

Just then a shout went up from Pedro, the man stationed closest to the receiving end of the deep channel. He waved madly and pointed to the front of the herd, where Mark had been riding. He was now nowhere in sight. His horse surfaced a second later three feet downriver. Mark was still aboard but his hat was gone. He was leaning forward, giving his mount its head. Then a steer rammed him, sending both horse and rider under a second time.

On the shore, Luke sprinted his horse down along the riverbank, following his brother’s path. He passed a treacherous rock bed and jumped a log before he could plunge her into the swift current. Mark’s paint was there, but his brother had disappeared.

Faith stood up onto the wagon seat, grasped the wagon’s bows for balance and held her breath. She watched Luke’s head turn from side to side, scanning the torrent.

Jeb, Roady and Sam were on the opposite side now, spurring their horses in and swimming out to meet Luke. Roady pointed and shouted, his words lost to the thunderous roar of the icy water. Luke pressed his mare farther into the torrent. She seemed to take the challenge bravely, her head held high, nostrils scooping the air. Faith, her heart in her throat, was sure no man or animal could survive that madness for long.

Too long! It was taking too long! Luke turned Chiquita directly into the deepest part of the channel and started swimming her downriver for all she was worth. Somehow he’d missed Mark, let his brother slip by. Had Mark vanished forever?

Up ahead a flash of red caught his eye, then was instantly gone. Mark bobbed to the surface, unconscious, swirling
downriver like a cork in a whirlpool, his arms outstretched, his head facedown. Luke spurred his exhausted mare onward, demanding everything from her. Her sides heaved, sucking in air. She faltered once and then steadied herself. An instant later her head went under, drenching Luke up to his shoulders.

Another ten feet and he would be alongside Mark. “Hang on, filly,” he shouted above the drone of the river. At the sound of his voice he felt her gather her flagging energy and rallied.

By some miracle he found himself next to Mark’s lifeless body. Luke struggled to pull him out of the water but the extra weight sent Chiquita into a panic. She almost crushed his brother with her powerful hooves, but he held tight, trying to keep both Mark up and his horse from going down.

From the corner of his eye Luke saw a horse racing along the riverbank. It pulled alongside and then, in a burst of speed, passed Luke and Mark. Without hesitation it plunged into the river and swam out to meet them. The rider reached for his brother’s unconscious body. It was Ward Brown.

Luke tightened his hold, shocked. “Get a good grip,” he yelled. They had to get his brother out.

“I’ve got him now. Let go.”

It was the hardest thing Luke had ever done, trusting Mark’s life to someone he knew nothing about. Beneath him he felt Chiquita floundering, and he knew she couldn’t possibly last much longer.

“I’ve got him!” Ward yelled again over the roar of the mighty river. The three of them careened downstream and Luke had no choice but to release the grip he had on Mark’s belt. Ward pulled Mark over the pommel of his saddle and turned his horse back to the bank.

In the next instant, a log smashed into Ward’s horse’s right side. Ward cried out as his mount went under. Luke prayed the man wouldn’t let his brother fall. Roady was swimming his horse up to help.

Chiquita’s leg struck something under the water and she took a nosedive, plunging Luke back underwater. Luke tried to lift himself out of the saddle, to ease his weight on Chiquita, but she was struggling wildly. The last thing he wanted to do was slip beneath her thrashing hooves.

They reached a sandbar; the mare could get her footing. Luke leaped out of the saddle and pulled the reins, trying to help her to the river’s edge. It worked. At last on solid ground, Chiquita’s legs gave way and she collapsed to the sandy loam, her head flopping down limply like a sack of potatoes. The cannon bone of her right foreleg was contorted at an ugly angle, her eyes wide.

Luke stood frozen, hand on his side, chest heaving. His face and hands were blue from the cold and he griped his teeth tightly together to keep them from chattering. With clumsy, frozen fingers he pushed his sodden hair out of his eyes to give Chiquita a long look; then he staggered up the river’s edge and started toward the group huddled on the bank.

Chance and Smokey parted instantly to let Luke through. Luke sank to the ground by Mark’s side where his brother was stretched out on the sand. “Is he breathing?” Luke wheezed, then coughed up a mouthful of water. He hunkered down and put his ear to Mark’s mouth.

“Not yet,” Matt answered.

The two brothers grabbed Mark’s arms and hefted them over his head in an effort to rid his lungs of water. When nothing happened, Matt rolled Mark over and drove his knee into the center of his back. Mark gagged, then, and water gushed from his mouth and lungs, making him cough and choke. Several times he contorted, but at last he lay spent, exhausted. A collective sigh of relief was breathed by the men.

Faith hurried all the way downriver to where the men were gathered. She threaded her way through the throng and fell to her knees at Mark’s side. Luke’s brother, conscious now, looked at her and smiled wearily.

She looked up at the men, not daring yet to smile. “He’s alive!”

“That he is, missy,” Lucky said. “Thanks to Ward and Luke.”

The men all laughed, slapping each other nervously on the backs, all talking at once, some shaking their heads, others telling what they’d seen of the dramatic rescue. Luke just stood shivering uncontrollably. He couldn’t pull his eyes from Faith.

After a moment, he went and collected John’s dry Colt .45 from its holster. He walked back to his horse. Chiquita lay still, unable to get up. She labored for every breath. Steam rose from her heated body, and pink foam, laced with bright red blood, bubbled from her nostrils. He knelt by her head and stroked her sodden neck several times.

He loved this mare. She’d given him her all from the moment he’d swung onto her back the very first time. She was genuine. Her eye clouded with pain. He stood and raised the gun. He pulled the trigger.

Luke stared at his horse. Matt appeared and slung a blanket around his shoulders. “Sorry about your filly,” he said, rubbing Luke’s shoulders and arms. “I know how much you liked that animal.”

Luke nodded. He glanced over at Mark, who was now sitting up, a blanket tucked around his shoulders, too. “Yeah, I did. She was real special.” His gaze continued around the group to Ward, who was having an injured leg tended by Lucky.

“Roady, Sam, Jess, Smokey! See what you can do about rounding up and settling the herd already on this side,” Luke shouted. “The rest of you boys go back over and let’s get the remainder of the cattle over here. I want to be at the ranch by nightfall.” He went about unsaddling Chiquita and removing her bridle.

Ike rode up, leading a gelding. Luke was in the saddle again almost immediately, like nothing unusual had happened. He rode over to where Ward still sat, his leg wrapped from foot to knee.

“Thanks, Brown, for helping,” he said, looking over the man’s head toward the distant mountaintops. “You can ride with Lucky in the wagon the rest of the way to the ranch. We’re indebted to you.”