Luke's Runaway Bride

Panic welled in Jenny’s throat. She staggered back and screamed, as loudly as she could, at precisely the same time as the steam engine blew its whistle.

No one heard her except Luke. Her cries were muffled as he threw her into the car behind his horse. Her gown twisted up around her thighs, and her feathered shawl dropped to the tracks. Luke dove in on top of her, squashing her between the solid wooden floor and his hard muscled body. Her chest felt like it would burst.

Never in all her life had she been so mistreated, had she wished a fellow human being harm.

Before she had time to blink, he rolled off her and slid the rickety door closed behind them. Seized with dread, she watched his lean profile melt into a swirl of blackness.

Good Lord, what would he do next?

In the cool, quiet hours near midnight, Luke stared into the darkness. Now he had to face up to what he’d done.

With a mean-awful pounding in his ribs, he dragged himself to his feet. The railcar bounced and swayed beneath him. The cramp in his calf squeezed tighter and he shook it out. He’d been lying so long in one position, pinning Jenny down so she couldn’t bolt and spook the horses, that his muscles needed release.

Sighing, he sought out her curvy shape on the straw. She wore the jacket he’d given her for the cool night, and she was breathing steady in a deep sleep. Fighting him at first, she’d finally simmered when he threatened to harm her friend. Empty threats, but they’d worked.

Luke’s bay whinnied. Another horse, belonging to another passenger, stirred beside him. Tugging the scarred door open, Luke gazed up at purple sky and twinkling stars. A branch scraped along the train’s side and he ducked his leg to avoid it. Judging by the silhouette of mountains, they were close to the territory border, had maybe even crossed it. By early morning, they’d reach Cheyenne. The next train from Denver was tomorrow, and he expected Daniel to be on it.

Thank God, Maria had told Luke the truth before she’d died. She’d lived in the boardinghouse, accepting the measly dollars Daniel sent her monthly—just enough to keep her mouth shut about the paternity of the boy, to keep her hovering above poverty.

For five years, as Maria worked the lunch hours, she’d kept the boy by her side. Luke had shooed Adam out of the way at every opportunity, never spending more than five minutes with him. Hadn’t he even told Maria to try to keep Adam hidden? That having the boy around wasn’t good for business? Luke burned with shame. After Maria’s death, he’d taken a hard look at himself and realized he’d treated his horse better than he had the kid.

Sure, in the end, when she’d suffered that horrible sore throat from diphtheria, Luke had stepped in, taking Adam to his friends’ ranch to protect the boy from getting sick. But that hadn’t worked so well, either, had it? She’d died so soon, the boy hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. Luke knew what that felt like. A hole that never got filled.

Hadn’t he missed the opportunity to say goodbye to his old man? He’d heard the applause from the hanging, though. He’d been sitting on the bench behind the courthouse beside his brothers, all spiffed up, their mother in her worn-out Sunday dress, begging the judge to release their pa.

Looking back on it now, he knew the hanging was inevitable. Cattle rustling, a shoot-out with the sheriff, one dead deputy… But as a sparkly eyed six-year-old kid, with two optimistic brothers and a frantically hopeful mother, they thought the judge would show leniency.

None of them had said goodbye.

Luke sighed, bone-tired of it all. Daniel’s family had taken him in, saying they could use the extra hand on such a big ranch, with only one child of their own to help. For the first few years, he and Daniel were the best of friends. But as soon as Daniel’s friends—especially the young women—started paying Luke attention, and Luke’s abilities with horses and guns outstripped Daniel’s, a rivalry grew.

Not on Luke’s part. But during Luke’s troubled teen years, marked by petty crimes that followed his mother’s death and his brothers abandoning Cheyenne and Luke as a result—well, Daniel had gloated. The two hadn’t spoken in years, not since Daniel moved to Denver.

What happened to the good person Daniel used to be? Did he deserve another chance? Would marriage to Jenny straighten him out?

She seemed like a good woman. She had guts and stamina. And out here, where men outnumbered women eight to one, the strength of men depended on the strength of their women. Once Jenny married Daniel, she’d be stepmother to Adam. She’d make a good one, too. She’d been kind enough to help Luke, hadn’t she?

And how had he repaid her kindness? He stirred uneasily.

Forcing himself to look at the moving ground outside instead of the captivating woman inside, Luke ran a hand over his bandaged chest and moaned. The whiskey stains had dried. He’d been through enough fights to know his wound was light and it would heal. He was used to changing bandages all by himself, and he’d change these, too.

Her whisper pierced the quiet. “What’s your real name?”

He started at the silky sound of her voice and spun around. She sat up, clutching his jacket. Her hair matted along one side of her head, full of loose straw. Moonlight shadowed the hollows of her straight nose and curved mouth. He tried not to notice how pretty she was. She was Daniel’s. Luke would sooner die than cross that line of honor. He’d never chase another man’s woman. He was not his father.

Clearing his throat, he leaned a shoulder against the rough plank wall. “I told you. I’m Luke McLintock. And I didn’t steal any money. If I had, do you think I would have been standing on Daniel’s porch? And do you see any bags of money?”

She frowned, glanced at the saddlebags, then eyed him with suspicion. “Tell me truthfully how you know him.”

“You know already. We grew up together.”

“One friend wouldn’t do this to another.”

He winced, then shuffled his feet. “I’ve been saying the same thing to myself for eight hours.”

She sat up taller. Her slim waist flared to rounded hips. “Prove it to me. Tell me something only you would know.” A soft tremble rippled across her mouth. She was frightened of him, and that tweaked his guilt.

“Like what?” he asked gently.

“What day of the week was he born?”

“That’s easy. He says he was born to work with money. He tells everyone he was born on a Friday, the busiest banking day of the week. In mid-January.”

Her eyes probed his. “When were you born?”

“Six years later, during harvest. The last week of September.”

She lifted her chin. “Oh…that’s next week.” Her features tightened with suspicion. “What are his folks’ names?”

“They were Lance and Ellen. They passed away years ago.”

Scowling, she hugged her knees, pulling her gown around her. “Well, anyone might know that. Tell me something about yourself. How did your…your father die?”

“Daniel didn’t tell you?”

She drew back. “Should he have?”

“No, I’m just surprised.” After all, he thought to himself, Daniel loved to make himself sound superior. “My mother died of working too hard,” he said, gritting his teeth, trying not to remember how she’d had a stroke while on her knees scrubbing floors. “And my father…” he closed his eyes for a moment and leaned back against the wall for support “…my father was hanged.”

Silence.

“That can’t be true,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

He pressed his lips together and shrugged a shoulder, too ashamed to meet her eyes.

More silence.

“For what crime?”

“Pick one.”

Straw rustled. He turned to look at her and she inched backward defensively, until she was pressing up against the slatted boards. As if she had to protect herself from him.

But didn’t she? He’d taken her from her family, from all she loved.

Her lips parted. She continued to stare, measuring him with a pensive shimmer in her eyes. Her smooth skin glowed in the dim light and her messy hair tangled with the straw. He shouldn’t really stare, but she had such a wild beauty. There was a softness and a strength to her that fascinated him.

“How’d you and Daniel meet?” he blurted.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure she’d answer. “At a Union Pacific social,” she finally said. “The Independence Day fireworks. Father arranged the introductions.”

Luke found the news strangely uplifting. “You mean your father arranged the wedding?”

In a fluster, she ran her fingers through her hair. “Well, not exactly. Sort of…” She gave a little cough. “It was my decision.”

“I see.” Lots of fathers arranged marriages. Why did this news please Luke?

Sudden anger flashed in her eyes. “You better watch out when my father gets ahold of you.”

“Daniel has a way of convincing people. I’m sure he can handle your father.”

Her voice rose. “Not this time. My father will know something’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never missed writing a speech for him before.”

He pressed his back against the cold wall, facing her directly. “You write your father’s speeches?”

She nodded and plucked at the straw near her boots.

“You’re educated then. Went to college in Boston?”

“Well, not precisely. My brothers did.”

“But not you?”

She furrowed her brow. “I read every one of their books.”

“Why didn’t you just go to school?”

“Because women don’t go to college, that’s why,” she answered.

He paused. “But I hear they do.”

Glancing down at her fingers, she twisted her engagement ring. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “It’s what my father always tells me.”

“Oh.” Luke was touched by her tender admission. “Yet he gets you to write his speeches.”

“But no one knows I do.” She met his eyes with such honesty, it upset his balance. “Well, except you.”

“Your father sounds like a hypocrite.”

Jenny’s eyes sparked. “Do you always say exactly what’s on your mind?”

“Mostly.”

“That’s why your chest is all scarred up.”

He grinned with sudden humor. “That’s a pretty fair deduction.”

Jenny lowered her head and swallowed. “Can’t you please let us go? Where is Olivia?”

“She’s safe in the next car.” He spun away so she wouldn’t see his eyes softening. For a moment, he stared up at the stars, feeling the cool wind on his face, the wheels of the train thundering beneath his boots. Mustering strength, he turned to face her. “As soon as Daniel arrives, and I expect it’ll be tomorrow, I’ll release you.”

She searched his face. “You promise you will?”

He prickled under her scrutiny. Suddenly the boxcar seemed very small and her nearness overwhelming. “Yeah.”

“Both Olivia and me?”

He nodded in reply, respecting her for her devotion to her friend. She slid a piece of straw from her hair, above her ear. The absent movement made her jacket slide open, revealing the creamy flesh of her shoulders. His pulse dipped.

“Why can’t you be more like your friend? Daniel turned out so good and you turned out so bad.”

Every muscle in his body tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think I do.” She coolly appraised him. “You’re down on your luck. Instead of working hard to get yourself out of the hole you’re in, you’re stealing money. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Her comment stung. He braced his feet against the movement of the train. “People aren’t always what they appear to be. This isn’t about money.”

Her face became set. “Then what’s it about?”

“Doing what you know is right. Truth and honor.”

She shook her head. Her hair was a mass of tangles. “What do you know about those? No wonder Daniel never mentioned you much. I wouldn’t be proud, either, if I had a friend like—” She stopped abruptly and averted her eyes.

An angry reply burned his lips. He didn’t care what in blazes she thought of him. In about thirty-four hours, it would be settled. And then Daniel alone would have to deal with his new Boston bride.

But when she gazed back at him with confusion in her misty eyes, Luke floundered. She stirred him. He didn’t want to be stirred. He didn’t want to be conflicted.

“If this is about the truth,” she said in a voice that reached him somewhere deep, “explain it to me. Tell me the truth, Luke.”

The trusting way she said his name weakened his resolve. Should he tell her about Adam? She was engaged to be Daniel’s wife, and didn’t she have every right to know about the boy? She seemed strong enough to handle it.

But he had to be careful how he explained it, so she wouldn’t get too upset. His own neck was on the line, and because of that, and for the sake of Adam’s future, she had to remain committed and engaged to Daniel. Daniel sure as hell wouldn’t drop any charges or sign any papers if Luke jeopardized the engagement.

Luke shoved back from the wall and straightened to his full height. “All right,” he decided. “When we get to Cheyenne, I’d like you to meet someone, and then you’ll understand.”

Chapter Three

Dawn. Despite the cool, blue morning mist, sunlight twinkled through the wall boards of the boxcar, and Jenny’s eyes blinked open. She shivered in the crisp air, remembering where she was.

It wasn’t a dream. Her heart squeezed in anguish. She was here, a captured woman with a man she didn’t know. Would today be the day she escaped?

Where was Olivia and how was she this morning? Jenny closed her eyes for a moment, then determination surged through her. She wouldn’t let him win. She’d keep alert to her surroundings and lunge at the first opportunity to flee. Blazes, maybe it’d help if she were friendly.

Still wearing his sheepskin jacket buttoned to the top, she pushed herself from the straw. Was the train slowing down? It was rocking differently. While she stretched her arms to shake off her sleep, Luke sprang to his feet in the opposite corner. She started. With his cowboy boots pounding on the floor planks, his spurs jangling, he banged his fists on the wall to signal his man on the other side. A thud echoed in response.

Luke returned to his magnificent blood bay. Sunlight glistened off its red flanks. “Morning,” Luke said as he saddled his mount. Was he talking to her or the stallion? She didn’t answer.

Trying to ignore his masculine presence, she ran her fingers through her twisted hair, yanking on the knots. She got it into some degree of order, then flattened it on the top. Removing several of the hairpins, she did a makeshift job of tying it into a beaver tail. It would have to do.

From beneath her lashes, she couldn’t resist stealing another glance at Luke. Still in his black denim pants, he’d changed his shirt and donned a knee-length leather coat. He looked almost respectable.

Watching him work, she noticed how skillful he was with animals. His movements emphasized his forceful shoulders, slim hips and muscular thighs. Any woman would think he and his mount were striking, standing side by side. She shouldn’t feel guilty for thinking it herself, about the power and muscle in both man and beast.

The man was a beast, she decided. He should be shackled and chained. He would be once they caught him, she realized with satisfaction.

While he adjusted his saddlebags, she watched his long fingers at work. If what he told her last night about his father were true… What kind of family did he come from? No wonder he was all scarred up. It must come from breaking the law, just like his father.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Lord, when she thought about last night in Daniel’s office, when Luke had looked like he was about to kiss her—

She pushed away her disturbing thoughts. She pitied him—that’s what she felt. Only pity. “Are we getting off here?”

“Yeah.” Dark stubble shadowed his jaw. He needed a shave. If he’d lend her a straight blade, she’d give him a shave he’d never forget.

“Is this the Cheyenne station?”

“No, it’s the stop before.”

She sat taller, her voice sharp. “I thought you said we’re going to Cheyenne.”

“We are. But the last thing I need is two women hollering murder in the middle of the station.” He worked quickly to buckle straps. “We’ll go the rest of the distance by horse.”

Ride a horse? By herself? She didn’t know how. She’d never tried. Her throat constricted. “Am I supposed to ride the other horse?”

Luke glanced at the sorrel. “That one’s not mine. I’m not a horse thief.”

She jumped to her feet and brushed straw off her dress. “How honorable,” she said with a shake of her head. “You steal women but not horses.”

His lips quirked with humor as he finished with the lines.

“Do you find everything I say amusing?” she asked.

“Just about.”

“Well, then, I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“Suit yourself.” A hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. He looked charming, and she squirmed with irritation at the thought.

Unmoved by her cold stare, he slid open the bulky door. His firm, square hand was strong and callused, like the rest of him, and no doubt he was accustomed to working hard. How could such a hardworking man be so down on his luck? Why didn’t he try harder?

He’d said he was taking her to meet someone. Who? A relative? A…former girl of Daniel’s? Was Luke trying to make trouble between her and Daniel?

Jenny knew Daniel was a popular man. Women had been vying for his attention at the Independence Day celebrations from the minute Jenny’d met him. He was a terrific dancer, dancing the smoothest waltz with her. Hadn’t she told him so? Hadn’t he smiled that gracious smile and insisted on having every dance with her, despite the other women?

No matter who Luke was taking her to see, she wouldn’t let it upset her. Luke was the criminal, not Daniel.

She stepped to the open door beside Luke’s tall, lean form and gazed out. Morning sunshine slanted into the boxcar, drenching her. The heat felt good. Clouds that looked like cotton candy swirled in a blue sky. Miles of golden grass, as high as her waist, rippled to the horizon. She peered ahead of the train. Tall aspens, their leaves quaking in the wind, lined a trickling creek. As the train chugged along, a herd of pronghorn antelope drinking at the water’s edge scampered into the pines.

She took a deep, heady breath of pure mountain air. It was so beautiful. More beautiful than she ever could have imagined, back in Boston. The breathless grace of the Wyoming Territory filled her with a sense of awe.

Then the train screeched around a bend and she stumbled, bracing herself quickly. The sheepskin lining of Luke’s jacket cushioned her arms.

Grabbing the edge of the door, Luke hung out the boxcar beside her and hollered something to his man. The wind was whistling and she couldn’t hear what they said. When Luke came back, he swung up on his horse. He had to duck his head so it wouldn’t hit the ceiling.

He motioned for her to mount behind him. Good Lord, he didn’t really expect her to jump that high, did he?

The sound of the horse snorting and the sight of it pawing the floor made her heart pound with fear. She stepped back. Luke, wild and unshaven, looking every bit as much a beast as his sleek horse, stretched out his hand to her. She cleared her throat, about to declare that she didn’t ride, when he suddenly clicked his tongue in frustration, swooped down with a muscled arm and scooped her up.

In a swirl of petticoats, she landed behind him in the hard saddle. It was one hell of a tight fit. What was she supposed to hang on to? In a panic, suddenly dizzy, she gripped his coat pocket.

Before she had time to adjust herself, the horse leaped off the boxcar. They plunged into the blazing sunrise. The wind snatched her hair. Her stomach rose and fell. “Ahhh…!”

The horse hit the ground and galloped hard. They’d made it! A thrill danced up her spine. But there was no way she was putting her arms around Luke. Instead, she tried to hold the edge of his coat, then the saddle. Anything but him. She swayed and dipped, clawing to maintain her balance.

“Sit still,” he hollered.

Still? How could she keep still when she’d never sat this close to a man, in such an intimate position? The back of his thighs felt hard and sleek along the front of hers, and she couldn’t escape the salty scent of his skin. A current of excitement raced through her with every bump, every jostle of his muscles against hers. She shivered and tried to push away.

She couldn’t budge. And she had to keep her legs and buttocks clenched to keep from slipping off.

They rode into a muddy clearing, crossed a line of cedars and splashed through a riverbed. As they headed down toward a grass-covered valley, Luke slowed the horse to a trot. Jenny wiped her sweaty palms on her velvet skirts and tried to loosen the stiffness in her arms. Her chest started to feel hot inside the sheepskin coat.

Ten minutes passed, then an hour. Her breathing steadied. Her hands stopped trembling. The wind tugged at her loosened hair and she found herself enjoying the sensation.

The horse swayed, and for the tenth time, her cheek brushed Luke’s leather-covered shoulder. His body heat singed her cheek. His thighs rippled against hers once more, and she quivered. To take her mind off the man between her legs, she thought of Daniel.

Where was he? Did he miss her? How many men had he organized to chase after her? He’d be at the front of the pack, she envisioned, leading everyone. She couldn’t imagine him with a gun, though. Did he carry one? All she ever saw him carry was that silver pocket watch and a cigar. If he never carried a gun, then who had shot Luke in the office yesterday? The guard?

And she couldn’t imagine Daniel on horseback like Luke was now, roaring through the fields, leaping off the edge of a train, and just…well, just taking a woman he wanted. No, Daniel was a gentleman in every sense of the word, and Luke was…a hotheaded cowboy with no thought of tomorrow.

She tipped her face to the sun and let it caress her. It warmed her skin. In Boston, she never got to spend much time outdoors, or feel the wind or sun on her skin. If she were riding in Boston, she’d be forced to wear a bonnet.

Boston had stifled her—being stuck in the house at eighteen, when her grandmother had passed away. Father thought that’s where proper ladies belonged, but Jenny didn’t. What was wrong with getting an education?

After many fruitless arguments, Jenny had in the end cleaned and laundered and mended alongside Olivia, not because she had to but because of boredom. Soon, Jenny had started sneaking a peek at her brothers’ college books on commerce and accounting. Olivia read the ones about American history. As children, Jenny and Olivia had learned to read together, taught by Jenny’s grandmother.

Olivia. She hoped Olivia, who was no doubt galloping behind them, was also enjoying the fresh air, for it would give them the vigor to fight when the opportunity came.

Energized by the sun, Jenny looked up at the wide blue sky, thinking of all her reasons for coming West. Her father had his dreams of expanding the railroad, and her brothers had theirs of mining and working in pharmaceuticals. The men in her family weren’t interested in listening to her, but she would show them all she had a brain and could use it in business as well as they could. Maybe better. It was at times like these, she imagined, that daughters turned to their mothers for guidance. Jenny, at two, had lost her own mother to cholera.

Ah, well. It had happened a long time ago, and Jenny preferred to look at the future. She smiled in the warm wind, reminding herself that more women owned shops in Denver than they did in Boston. More women were allowed to charge out on their own. Although the two Denver bankers she’d secretly approached for a loan had laughed at her ideas for an undergarment shop, she’d have a store yet. What exactly, she wasn’t sure, but with her beloved’s help she’d do it.