Silver Hearts

No, she would have heard something. Then where was Luke? Maybe he was disgusted with her earlier bad temper and felt she needed to be taught a lesson.

No. He wouldn’t deliberately cause her to worry. The idea surprised her, and the thought made her realize that not only could she trust him, but she knew he’d protect her, even with his life.

The thought gave her pause. Luke Savage was basically a decent man, despite the darker side of him that she’d rather not know about. Gambling—the social ill of the lowest kind. But she sensed he’d do her no harm, and for that, she’d be eternally grateful.

A coyote howled in the distance. She trembled, pulling the shawl tighter about herself. Maybe she should have started a fire before she went to look for Luke. Without a campfire to keep away wild animals, the coyotes, hungry and smelling the oxen, were a threat.

The wind picked up, cool and damp with the smell of sage. Noelle sidestepped a large tumbleweed rolling toward her, safely avoiding its sharp prickers.

So, where was Luke? The fine hairs on her forearms tingled. She took a deep breath, wilting herself to keep a calm head as Luke would do.

Suddenly, a whiff of something dreadfully familiar drifted on the wind. Her head lifted toward the scent of death. Since her journey West, she had smelled its presence more times than she cared to remember.

Bracing herself, she picked her way slowly toward the source of the stench. The area of the prairie grew open, flat and sparse of grass. After a few minutes, she hesitated, wondering if she should wander so far from camp. She glanced over her shoulder, astonished at how far she’d walked. She should return to the wagon. Then after sunrise, she would return to pursue her curiosity. Besides, maybe Luke had come back and was searching for her.

Before Noelle had time to turn around, she heard a whisper of movement beneath the wide branches of a mesquite bush. She wheeled around to see a hunched figure in the shadows. Her mouth went dry. She raised the rifle to take aim, while juggling the lamp. Her fingers shook on the trigger as she drew the object into her sights.

“Luke? Is that you?” she called out, hopefully. The only answer was the rustling of branches as the dark shape crept closer.

“Luke?” Her voice rose to an unrecognizable pitch. Her mouth filled with the metallic taste of fear.

A feeble cry shattered the stillness as a wobbly-legged calf staggered toward her. Noelle gasped with relief. She lowered the rifle and the lantern, her heart racing like a runaway mare.

Not more than a few weeks old, she’d guess. She’d witnessed many cattle births while she traveled with the wagon train.

Where was its mother? Then Noelle saw the silent, dark heap of an animal, obviously the calf’s mother, lying nearby. Her throat tightened with the harsh reality of life.

“Come here, precious,” she whispered to the orphaned calf. She knelt beside the furry animal. She rubbed the calf’s velvety white face, and checked the animal’s rib cage for broken bones. She winced at the frail little body, but the animal appeared not to be injured.

“Wait until Uncle Luke sees you,” Noelle said, smiling. She set the lantern on the ground and slung the rifle over her shoulder. When she gathered the calf in her arms, she was surprised at how tame the calf appeared to be. Poor thing. Probably too weak from hunger and thirst to protest.

“You won’t have to worry about those bad coyotes any more,” she whispered.

Its saucer-size brown eyes gazed up at her with such innocence, that Noelle felt her throat strain with unshed tears. She hugged the calf and strode purposely in the direction of the wagon.

When she arrived at the camp, the horse whinnied, but there was no sign of Luke. Her worry returned. Although she wanted to search for him, she decided she’d wait until the sun rose. By then, she wouldn’t need the light, but she wouldn’t forget to retrieve the lantern where she left it in the prairie. She put the rifle down near the wagon.

The calf uttered a weak, mooing sound. She patted its head while she thought. It would be dawn within the hour. If Luke wasn’t back by then, she’d follow his tracks to see where he’d gone.

The calf nuzzled against her warmth, and she rubbed her fingers across the pink nose. The animal grabbed her finger, sucking hard. Noelle felt a pang of sympathy for the starving animal. She felt inside its mouth; a row of teeth protruded along the lower gum, but the upper gum was bare. She picked up the calf and placed it down inside the wagon, then she rummaged through the sparse food supplies. The only suitable food she had was canned milk and cornmeal.

She jumped down from the wagon and opened the trail box, but nothing she found would provide a container to give the calf a drink. The buckskin whinnied nervously, pawing the ground, as though jittery that its master hadn’t returned.

Noelle glanced toward the horse, then noticed Luke’s leather gloves shoved under the ties on the saddle. She took one of the large gloves and tried it on her right hand.

Yes, this would do nicely. She smiled as she strode to the water barrel. First, she’d poke a hole in the finger, then fill the glove with milk mixed with water. At least it would provide the calf with immediate nourishment until she made a gruel out of cornmeal. When they were on the trail and into better pasture conditions, she’d cut needle grass for the poor little thing.

With a knife, she poked a small hole in the fingertip of the sturdy leather. She winced at what Luke might say. But when she arrived in Crooked Creek, she’d ask Uncle Marcel to advance her enough money to purchase a pair of gloves for Luke from her first week’s wages.

Luke’s long strides gained ground as he strode in the direction of the prairie schooner. Coffee. Black and hot. Sizzling bacon and a pile of feathery flapjacks as only Hoot, the cook at the Crooked Creek’s café can make ’em. Luke groaned at the tempting images in his mind as his stomach growled louder than a grizzly.

If only Luke had kept riding instead of following the dead man’s tracks back to Noelle’s wagon. By now, he’d be waking up beside Jubilee at the Silver Hearts Saloon, well rested, with all of his needs deeply sated.

Instead, he’d have one more day of walking through prairie, back to town, leading a team pulling a busted wagon, with nothing to quiet his appetite but beef jerky. He swore as he shoved the binoculars back in the case and looped the strap around his neck.

Appetite, hell. What bothered him wouldn’t be satisfied by food, damn him. Noelle Bellencourt was a hindrance he couldn’t afford. Yet she ignited a flame in him that grew each time he saw her.

He swallowed, remembering how she’d looked when he crawled into the wagon, drenched from last night’s storm. He’d made the mistake to steal a glance at her after he’d fashioned a makeshift bed from his saddlebags and blanket.

Her flaxen blond head nestled against the pillow of blankets where she lay, asleep. Even in the darkness, he’d been able to see her lovely face, framed in the white lace of her nightgown, like an angel in repose.

He’d tried not to stare, but damn, he couldn’t help himself. The memory brought an unbidden rush of feelings, feelings he didn’t want to feel. Women like Noelle Bellencourt came with a high price. Marriage. Home. Children.

He drew a deep breath. She needed a responsible man to take care of her, and she wouldn’t find him in a rough mining town like Crooked Creek. She’d learn that lesson sooner or later, and he didn’t want to be around when she did.

Early streaks of sunlight began to appear along the hilly horizon. The chimney of a lantern glimmered in the sun. Luke’s eyes narrowed as he strode toward the familiar object. When he recognized it as Noelle’s lantern, his mind raced. What the hell had she been doing this far from the wagon? And where was she now?

Luke charged toward the prairie schooner. Deuce tossed his head, nickering a welcome as the animal sensed his master approach the camp. Before Luke reached the unlit wagon and tore open the curtains, he heard Noelle’s humming from inside the wagon.

Relief, as monumental as he’d ever felt, coursed through him. When he returned his rifle into the saddle scabbard, he realized his hands were shaking. He took a calming breath, while he scratched along Deuce’s neck. The sweet sounds of Noelle’s voice drifted on the sage-scented air, and he could hardly keep himself from running inside, holding her to be sure she was all right.

What are you doing, Savage? He took another deep breath, but nothing seemed to burn the image and the resulting thoughts from his mind. He forced himself to face her.

“Miss Bellencourt. I’m back,” he called before climbing onto the tailgate and peeking inside.

Noelle glanced up from her place in the center of the wagon. In her lap was a calf, not much bigger than a large dog. She was spooning a thin, yellow liquid down the animal’s throat.

“Jeezzo, woman—”

Noelle’s smile faded, and she stiffened. “I found him while I was searching for you. His mother had died.” She frowned. “And where have you been? I was worried to death.”

“I’ve been out checking the trail ahead.”

“Why didn’t you take your horse?”

“Too noisy.”

“How could you see in the dark?”

“I was looking for campfires.” Luke studied the scrawny calf. “Besides, I can see in the dark as well as an animal.”

Her brows lifted in skepticism. “Did you see any Indians?”

“Indians are too smart to leave signs. We can only guess that they’re out there. I did see a campfire up ahead, about three hours away. With any luck, they’ll be gone by the time we get there.”

“Do you think they’re friendly?”

“Prepare for the worst.” He glanced toward her. “We’ve got to be on our way. Let the calf go.”

“What do you mean, let him go?”

Luke sighed. “We can’t take the calf. It’ll slow us down. Most of the grass around here is pale green. That means alkali. We’ll have all we can handle to keep the team away from the bad grass, without having to play nursemaid to a calf.”

Luke jumped down from the wagon and strode toward the oxen.

Noelle shot her head out the rear curtains. “Mr. Savage, may I remind you that this is my wagon and my calf.”

“The calf or me, Miss Bellencourt.” Luke’s long-legged stride didn’t falter. “It’s your call.”

Chapter Four

Unreasonable, pigheaded, mule of a man! The words remained unspoken, because Noelle refused to give him the satisfaction of arguing. Besides, she knew Luke was right. The calf would slow them down.

The calf scratched its curly head against her arm. She couldn’t help but smile at the little creature. There must be a way to convince Luke to take the calf.

She raked her fingers along the top of its chin as she thought. “Pay no attention to your bad-mannered Uncle Luke. He has a great deal on his mind. But rest assured, little one. You’ll not be left behind as a meal for the coyotes.”

The calf licked her hand with its raspish tongue, and Noelle smiled. Finding the calf was a good omen. A good omen for Luke, as well.

By the time Luke returned to the wagon from scouting ahead on the trail, Noelle sat primly on the driver’s bench, the oxen were hitched and waiting, and the calf was nowhere in sight.

Luke tied his horse to the back of the rig, then strolled to the driver’s seat. Grabbing the reins of the oxen, he glanced at the woman beside him. “Came to your senses, I see.”

The poke bonnet she wore hid her expression, but he didn’t miss the challenging lift of her chin in response. Luke knew better than to think she’d give up easily on the idea of bringing the calf. He paused, waiting for her reply.

Finally she met his gaze. “We’re losing daylight, Mr. Savage. I thought you were in a hurry—” A long raspy bleat from inside the wagon interrupted her.

Luke jumped up and dashed inside the rig for the calf. But Noelle grabbed the calf only moments before and clutched the bewildered animal to her bosom.

Noelle’s blue eyes glittered defiantly. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“Jeezzo, woman! Don’t you know that you can’t hold that animal all day? And if you leave him in a moving wagon, he’ll fall and break his neck. Use the sense God gave you and think of the animal.”

Her stubborn glare was her only answer.

Luke swore, then took a deep breath. “Be reasonable, woman. Give him to me, and I’ll put him out of his misery. He won’t feel a thing.”

Noelle’s eyes rounded in horror. The calf shifted awkwardly within her grip. She moved to the back of the wagon, coaxing the animal to her, then grabbed the spindly-legged critter in her arms as she climbed down.

Luke watched as Noelle marched around the prairie schooner, the calf in her arms, and strode in front of Luke as she made her way along the trail. Wind swished the calico skirts about her ankles as she balanced the calf in her arms.

“You won’t last five minutes,” Luke yelled. Angry with himself as much as with her, Luke snapped up the oxen’s reins and urged the team after her.

The wagon creaked and swayed with the load. Luke held his breath to see if the cottonwood log would hold fast as it dragged in place of the rear wheel. He sighed with momentary relief. So far, so good.

Within minutes, Luke and the team caught up to Noelle and the calf. She stepped aside to let him pass, her determined blue gaze focused straight ahead.

Damn, she was an ironclad female! He’d laugh if the situation wasn’t so dangerous. “We’re beginning a stretch of alkali desert with water unfit to drink,” he yelled at her. “Grass unfit to eat that only teases the animals. If we break down, we’ll be forced to leave the wagon and strike out on foot through country fraught with Paiutes, desperadoes and greenhorns who are so frightened they’ll shoot first and think later.”

Her only answer was a quickened pace. He grumbled to himself. “Of course if those culprits were to come upon a woman...” He paused, hoping his words had finally found their mark.

Instead, she clutched the critter as a she-bear clutches its cub. Noelle’s poke bonnet pointed straight in the air as she marched past the prairie schooner, with the calf mooing plaintively from her arms.

“Okay, lady. It’s your choice.”

Luke urged the team to a slow, steady gait along the slope of desert that spread before them. A few minutes later, he stole a backward glance. The calf’s head bobbed as Noelle began to struggle with her load. Her jaunty march had slowed to a dragging shuffle. Beneath Noelle’s loose gown, he could imagine her knees almost buckling with the weight of the calf. But he knew Noelle wouldn’t give up until she dropped. “You’ve been warned, lady. Don’t call to me for help. I’ve got a stage to catch.”

Luke clenched his jaw, determined to be as stubborn as she was.

When he had traveled several more miles, Luke drew the team to a stop. He glanced over his shoulder briefly and felt relieved to see that now the calf ambled beside her. Luke shook his head as he watched Noelle force one foot in front of the other, trail dust from the wagon covering both her and the calf. Damn if he didn’t admire her determination. He’d never met any woman who would have put up with what she had without complaint.

The sun and dust beat through the thin calico of Noelle’s travel-worn gown and apron. Loose hair from beneath her sunbonnet flew across her face. It didn’t matter. Each painful step brought her closer to meeting her uncle. To see the surprised and happy expression on his face when he saw her was worth every sacrifice.

What if Uncle Marcel had married since his last letter over a year ago? Perhaps she might have a new aunt and maybe even a little niece or nephew. The idea almost brought tears of joy to her eyes. Yes, she was tired, but she’d walk through fire to be part of a family again.

Ahead, she noticed that Luke Savage had stopped to rest the team. He leaned against the wagon, drinking from the water barrel and smoking a cigarette. His broad shoulders contrasted attractively with his slim hips and long tapered legs. She felt a frisson of feminine response, chastising herself immediately. She averted her glance to the calf, wobbling along beside her. She would refuse to rest; she would take his offer of water, but nothing else.

“Don’t move!”

Noelle glanced at Luke, who stood about twenty feet from where she walked. He aimed his six-shooter at the calf.

“Whatever are you...?”

“Don’t take another step, I said.” Luke stood as still as the mountain range, aiming his gun at the calf ambling at her side.

“No!,” she cried. “No, don’t—!”

The shot rang out, echoing along the far hills. She froze, afraid to look. She forced her eyes open and glanced at the calf. Within two feet of the animal lay the largest rattlesnake—a sidewinder—she had ever seen. Shot dead.

She hugged the calf, then gazed up at Luke as he sauntered toward her. She swallowed the dry dust in her throat. “I—I thought...” She swallowed the words.

“I know what you thought.” He slid the revolver into his holster. “I think this is the time when you tell me how Uncle Marcel will reward me most generously.” His deep brown eyes glittered with amusement as his fingers slid over his dimpled scar.

She wiped her face with her apron. Lack of sleep, heat and fatigue made her dizzy. A flush of self-consciousness tore at her senses. She lifted the calf in her arms, refusing to give him up.

“You win.” Luke spat the words as he strode beside her. “Give me the runt.”

She glanced at him suspiciously.

He scowled. “Don’t look at me like that. I won’t hurt the critter.” He shot her an arched look. “Besides, I’ve changed my mind. If the animal makes it to town alive, you can sell it. The extra money will help pay your fare back to New York where you belong.”

Noelle pulled back. “I’m not a quitter, Mr. Savage.”

“That’s nice.” He took a long drag on his cigarette, then tossed it to the ground, grinding the butt in the sand with the heel of his boot. “But this land makes quitters out of a lot of strong people. If your uncle isn’t waiting for you in town, you’ll have little choice but to head back where you came from.”

Noelle shot him a fueled look, but she said nothing. He watched her climb onto the driver’s seat and pick up the reins.

Within the next few minutes, Luke had unhitched Deuce from the back of the wagon and mounted the horse, placing the calf across his lap. The grating bleat was its only protest.

Luke watched as Noelle straightened the reins, then settled back against the seat. She turned to give him an appreciative smile. “You’re a decent, kind human being, Mr. Savage.”

I’m a sucker for a pretty face, he thought irritably. Damn, you’d think he’d know better after what he’d been through with women. “Let’s move out,” he said instead.

With one hand, Luke balanced the calf across his lap while he pulled out the gloves he kept tucked beneath his saddle. Pulling on the right glove, Luke glanced down to see his trigger finger poking out of a hole in the leather.

“What the...?”

The critter lifted its head and bleated. In a heartbeat, the calf grabbed Luke’s trigger finger and sucked. Luke stared, then glared at Noelle. He didn’t need the sticky dampness inside his glove as further evidence to know that he was wearing the calf’s nursing mitt.

Noelle’s chuckle further irritated him.

“Don’t tell me.” His words shot back. “I assume you’ll be asking Uncle Marcel to buy me a new pair of gloves.”

“Mr. Savage,” she said, purring the words. “You’ve been so very kind that my uncle will reward you with a new suit, as well.” She pursed her lips and stroked her chin as she studied his travel-worn outfit. “Maybe a new hat, neck scarf and boots—”

“No need, Sunshine, but thanks.” Luke shoved his hat down over his face and led Deuce into a slow walk. Does she think she can buy her way to whatever she wants?

Damn, he really didn’t want to know what she thought. All he knew was that because of Noelle, he’d arrive in Crooked Creek carrying a bony animal in his arms, which stunk worse than he did. He only hoped he could sneak into town without anyone seeing his trigger finger sticking out of the calf’s nursing glove, and his clothes reeking of lilacs.

Little Miss Sunshine, on the other hand, would arrive fresh as all springtime, her shiny curls bouncing beneath a sprightly new bonnet. She’d probably wear that blue silk gown that he’d noticed after Little Henry and the other two Indians had rummaged through tier trunks.

Luke’s gaze wandered across the muddy trail that sprawled ahead of them. Proves that women like Noelle Bellencourt could take care of themselves. Besides, it was none of his business what happened to her.

But Blackjack on the other hand...

A corner of Luke’s mouth lifted into a smile. If Blackjack was planning to make that ’Frisco stage today, the old man would be waking up just about now, yawning and scratching, never dreaming that by nightfall, he’d be staring out of prison bars.

And with a little luck, Luke might make it to town in time to surprise Blackjack before he embarked on the stage. Yeah, with just a little luck.

About ten-thirty, Luke guessed, gauging the distance of the sun from the horizon. He’d taken the driver’s seat while Noelle had busied herself, preparing for her arrival to meet her uncle at Crooked Creek.

The sun-faded wooden buildings spread along both sides of the main street of Crooked Creek like miniature wooden blocks he and his brother had played with as children.

The curtains behind him swished open and Noelle came to take the reins from him. He glanced at her. Noelle, dressed in the blue silk gown, looked more lovely that he’d imagined. Freshly scrubbed, radiant with excitement, Noelle smiled at him, as though waiting for him to notice.

Their gloves touched when he handed the reins to her. “Changed your frock, I see,” he said, wishing immediately that he hadn’t mentioned that he’d noticed. He kept his eyes on the trail, feeling more flustered than when he was ten years old and forced to attend his first dancing class in Philadelphia.

Luke stepped from the wagon onto his horse in one fluid movement. He knew Noelle was watching him. Probably she was irritated that he didn’t tell her how pretty she looked in her blue dress that matched the color of her eyes.

Seated on his mount, Luke leaned over and picked up the calf from behind the seat. The calf appeared at ease as it laid across Luke’s lap. Within minutes, it curled its head back around to the pommel and went to sleep.

“Thanks to you, Mr. Savage, we have survived,” Noelle said. He felt her appreciative gaze upon him.

“Yeah.”

“My uncle will want to meet you, Mr. Savage. Where will you be staying, if I may ask?”

He pulled out a bag of tobacco, then rolled a cigarette paper with one hand. He didn’t have to see her to visualize her my-uncle-will-make-everything-all-right look on her face.

“Silver Hearts Saloon.”

He heard her slight intake of breath.

“Oh.”

They rode in silence, listening to the creaking and jostling of the wagon and the steady braying of the oxen.

“There’s the jail,” he said, pointing to a one-story, adobe building. Luke’s back straightened as he glanced around for any sign of the waiting stage. “I’ll drop you off at the lawyer’s office above the bank building, then I’ll take your rig over to Shep’s Livery Stable where your uncle can pick it up.”

“I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Savage. I don’t want to think what might have happened to me if you hadn’t come along.”

The smell of lilacs still wafted from his clothing. His perfectly fitting gloves were ruined, and as soon as he yanked Blackjack off the stage and saw that the scoundrel was safely behind bars, Luke planned to head for the public bath. He’d need to soak a month to get the dust from his bones. “My pleasure, miss.”