Last Promise (2 page)

“You need to mind your manners, Clyde,” Luke said in a no-nonsense tone. It wasn't the first time he'd exchanged words with Clyde.

“Why don't you mind your own business, McBride?”

Clyde was a big man, but he spent too much of his time drinking to stay in tip-top form, unlike Luke, who kept his body in excellent condition working on the ranch. Still, when Clyde was drinking, he thought he was invincible, and most times, he was.

“Tubby almost knocked me down!” Sally yelled her indignation to Clyde.

Clyde smirked. “Honey, from what I hear, you like to do a little rolling around.”

This isn't how I planned my day,
Luke thought.

“How dare you!” Sally rushed forward with the intention of giving Clyde a good slap.

Luke wasn't going to allow a woman to defend herself as long as he was drawing breath. It was one thing if Clyde thought his comments about Sally were true, but it was another thing to express them in the middle of the street with everyone gawking. Luke grabbed Sally by the waist and pulled her back. He took a step forward. “You might be drunk, Clyde, but that doesn't give you the right to be rude to a lady. Apologize.”

Clyde was grinning like a half-wit. “I'm sure you know firsthand how she likes her skirts tossed up.”

And that was when the first fist slammed into Clyde's bulbous nose. Luke followed up with three good punches to Clyde's jaw, sending him reeling backward. Tubby, still on the ground, managed to get to his knees in an effort to gain his feet and stumbled into Luke's back, knocking him off balance. Clyde took that opportunity to land a right hook to Luke's jaw. Staggering backward, Luke fell over Tubby and hit the dirt. He jumped up and plowed head first into Clyde's stomach, both of them going to the earth in a heap. They rolled around in the dirt, each landing punches, neither able to get to their feet since Tubby was groveling in the dirt trying to stand and getting in their way. The women were yelling for Tubby to get out of the way so Luke could finish off Clyde. Tubby wasn't really trying to help Clyde, but you couldn't prove it by Luke. The man made a habit of teetering into Luke when he was about to land another blow. Luke tried to stand to put some leverage into his punches, but Tubby bounced into him again. Frustrated with this unintentional interference, Luke turned around and rammed his fist into Tubby's jaw, hitting him so hard he reeled back several feet and landed in the water trough. With Tubby out of the way, Luke traded a few more punches with Clyde before he finally landed the giant-slaying blow. Clyde hit the ground and stayed there like a dead carcass. Luke grabbed him by the shirt and dragged his dead weight to the water trough and dunked his head in the murky water a few times. Water sloshed over the sides of the trough and landed on Luke's perfectly polished boots. He muttered a string of cuss words under his breath.

“What'd ya hit me for? I didn't do nothin'.” Tubby struggled in vain to get out of the trough.

“Shut up and stay down,” Luke warned.

Tubby flopped back down in the water and glared at Luke with bloodshot eyes. Luke released Clyde's shirt, and watched as he slid down beside the water trough in a filthy heap.

Running his fingers through his black wavy hair to get it out of his eyes, Luke spotted his Stetson a few feet away. Snatching it off the ground, he had to smack it against his thigh a few times to remove a fraction of the dust before he slammed it on his head. There was blood on his favorite blue shirt, and he was covered in dust from head to toe. And the day had started out so perfectly.

Sally and Lucinda ran to him.

“Oh, Luke, are you hurt?” Sally ran her hands all over him, half pretending to dust off his shirt.

“You are so brave,” Lucinda said. “You certainly taught Clyde a thing or two!” She pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed at Luke's split lip.

They were giving him so much attention, he quickly forgot about his appearance and thought maybe he should get into a fight every time he came to town. “Ladies, unless you are too embarrassed to be seen with me, I'd still like to take you to lunch. I promise to show you two a good time.” Maybe he should take them both to the lake and salvage his day in a more delightful way.

“We're proud to be seen with you, Luke McBride,” Sally said. She meant every word. She'd rather be with Luke than any man she knew.

“We certainly are. It was high time someone put that bully in his place,” Lucinda agreed.

Once the women finished dusting him off, they started toward the hotel, but were brought up short when they nearly collided with the people from the stagecoach. From the looks on their faces they'd obviously witnessed the encounter with Clyde. Luke finally saw the face of the woman under that pink hat. She was staring directly at him, and she didn't look nearly as impressed as Sally and Lucinda.

Luke couldn't tell what she was thinking, but whatever it was, it wasn't good. He stood there as if he'd grown roots. All he could do was stare at her large eyes, the color of quicksilver, he thought. His eyes skittered over her face, noting her delicate features. Her complexion was so fair he figured she'd never spent one day in the sun. He was right about a woman wearing such a flamboyant hat: She was one beautiful woman. Remembering his manners, he reached up to tip the brim of his black Stetson, dragging Sally's arm up with his. He'd forgotten she was hanging on to him like a leech.

The woman's eyes widened when Luke acknowledged her, and her gaze made a slow traverse down his body, stopping at the Colt .45 on his hip. She didn't respond to his greeting, she simply turned and addressed the stagecoach driver. “My trunk and portmanteaus.”

“I'll bring them right along,” the stagecoach driver promised.

“Thank you.”

The gentleman who had assisted her from the stagecoach stepped to her side. “I'll escort you to the hotel, ma'am.”

For the first time in his life, Luke McBride had been snubbed by a female. That in itself was an unusual circumstance as the McBride brothers were legendary for their appeal to the ladies. Before his brothers married, women had flocked to them like they had magnetic poles in their holsters instead of six-guns. Unlike his brothers, Luke didn't run from the ladies, he ran
to
them. While he wasn't one to kiss and tell, he was one to love 'em and leave 'em, as he often reminded his brothers. And he'd left plenty in his wake. But he couldn't remember a time when a woman had rebuffed him.

It was a mystery to Luke why the woman looked at him like she couldn't decide if he was Satan himself or a scorpion to be squashed. Admittedly he looked pretty grubby after the fight, but if she'd seen the whole thing, she had to realize he was defending a lady's honor.

Luke and the ladies had no choice but to follow the woman being escorted to the hotel. It gave Luke ample time to think about her snub and to take in her shapely backside.

“That dress is lovely,” Lucinda said.

“Fine quality too,” Sally added.

“And that hat is surely a Parisian design.”

“No doubt, and the color is delightful,” Sally agreed.

Luke wondered what it was about Paris that seemed to get women all lathered up like racehorses. He'd heard more than he cared to know about fashion from his sisters-in-law, who were forever expounding on the virtues of clothing from Paris. His appreciation of women's garments was generally based on how easily they could be removed. Although he did notice the woman was wearing a silky-looking silver dress that matched her eyes. And of course he couldn't help but notice how it complemented her petite trim figure. She certainly didn't have Sally's more than ample curves, but he liked the way her little backside swayed to and fro.

“British,” Lucinda said.

“Rather rude, if you ask me,” Sally said.

“I can't believe she didn't even acknowledge us.”

On that point, Luke silently agreed with them. If he were as intimidating as his brother Colt, with that black stare of his, he might have understood the woman's slight. But Luke knew he was considered the charming brother, and not bragging, he was—as even his sisters-in-law would attest.

Once inside the hotel, Luke and the ladies veered toward the dining room, as the British woman walked to the desk. Luke noted it was the clerk, Eb, behind the desk and not the owner of the hotel. When they entered the dining room, he was too far away to hear the conversation between the woman and Eb, particularly with Sally and Lucinda chatting away. He held the chairs for the women and positioned himself so he had a clear view of the front desk. Straightaway the stagecoach driver and another man walked into the hotel sharing the weight of a large trunk with several pieces of luggage on top. The woman turned and smiled at the driver, and Luke was held spellbound. He couldn't think of a word for her, but
beautiful
didn't even come close. She was more than beautiful, her face looked like a magnificent work of art. He watched as she pointed out the pieces of luggage that belonged to her. After thanking the men, she accepted the key from the clerk and walked to the staircase.

* * *

Lunch ended and Luke was eager to escort the two women to their buggy. Generally, he might have stretched out the lunch, taking pleasure in the subtle way the women flirted with him, but today he had another matter on his mind, and it was wearing a pink hat. Besides that, Sally was making it obvious she had big plans for him. During lunch she'd made several remarks to Lucinda that led him to believe she was gearing up for marriage. And it sure as Hades wasn't going to be him in the church wearing a string tie that was certain to feel like a noose.

“Tomorrow, then?” Sally asked, squeezing his hand as he assisted her into the buggy, her silent message promising another intimate encounter.

“Sorry, tomorrow is Sunday. Church with the family, then dinner. And I promised the twins I would take them riding afterward.” He knew his refusal wouldn't please her, but he thought his brothers were right when they told him to limit his womanizing to the gals at the saloon. Good advice he intended to follow from now on.

That promise to himself lasted about a second, then Sally waggled the itty-bitty package in his face again. He was spared from his weakening resolve when Lucinda thanked him for lunch, and he said his good-byes and quickly took his leave before he changed his mind about Sunday.

Luke hurried back to the hotel, but Eb wasn't behind the desk. Instead of waiting, he spun the register around to read the names of the guests who had just arrived. He figured the elderly woman on the stage had registered before the British woman, so he glanced at the next signature. Miss Mary Ann Hardwicke. He looked at the name of the man who had escorted Miss Hardwicke to the hotel to see if he had the same last name. He didn't. Just then, Eb returned to the desk, and Luke asked him about the woman. Always ready to deliver some gossip, Eb told him Miss Hardwicke asked to speak with the owner, Mr. Granville, but she didn't state her business. Eb also indicated Mr. Granville wouldn't be back until later that evening.

Spying her trunk and valises still piled by the front door, Luke figured Eb couldn't lift them alone. The way he saw it, he was presented with another golden opportunity for a little more harmless flirting, ignoring his vow to mind his ways. One of his favorite sayings was
don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Want me to get that luggage for you, Eb?”

“I would appreciate it, Luke. My back can't handle anything so heavy.”

“Is she traveling alone?”

“Yessir, that's what she said.”

Perfect. Luke hoisted the large trunk on his shoulder, leaving a free hand to carry the three valises. “Which room?”

“Number six at the top of the stairs to the right.”

His lucky number.

Chapter Two

Reaching her room, Mary Ann hurried inside and quickly turned the lock. For the first time in months she felt like she could actually breathe. Since she'd left England she'd been forced to ward off the advances of strange men. She'd even been forced to strike one man with her parasol, holding him at bay until a constable came to her aid. She counted on God to protect her, but she also felt like He wanted her to do her part. She'd purchased a pistol in one town for her own peace of mind. She knew how to use it and she wouldn't hesitate if she had no alternative.

She found the men in this new country crude and overall quite distasteful. Other than her last fateful encounter with Edmund Stafford, she had never been pressed to protect her person from unwanted attention. And look how that had ended; with her running away so she would not be forced into a loveless marriage. She should have called Edmund out instead of expecting her father to exact satisfaction. Her father would not even listen to the truth of what happened that night. His mind was made up and he was going to force her to marry Edmund. Perhaps after she left, Edmund had told her father the truth about that night, but she wasn't inclined to wait and see. She made the decision rather quickly to leave England, and told herself once she arrived in Wyoming she would live the life she wanted.

Her uncle George, the proprietor of this hotel, had written in his letters how much he loved this country and she'd been excited to find out for herself. Uncle George had failed to mention that America was filled with ruffians. Upon her arrival to this very town, the first person she sees is that miscreant brawling in the middle of the street. The man was truly fearsome with his large black hat and pistol riding low on his hip. He must be a . . . what did they call them out here . . . oh yes, a
pistolier
. Granted, she'd been startled by his twinkling blue eyes when he stared directly at her, but make no mistake, that man was a scoundrel if she ever saw one. Just the memory of him fighting those men made her shiver. And the way those two women were putting their hands all over him! By displaying such a lack of breeding, one could only conclude they were surely not ladies. The rogue didn't seem surprised by their behavior, she'd heard him promise to show those women a good time! Of all the nerve. If he lived in Promise, she prayed she wouldn't encounter him often. Surely there were gentlemen in this town who understood proper comportment.

Aside from the ill-bred men in this country, she was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the West. She'd never seen anything as magnificent as the mountains in the distance, or the thousands of stars twinkling in the infinite night sky.

Standing with her back to the door, Mary Ann inspected her quarters. It was a very well-appointed room and much larger than she expected. The four-poster bed was covered with a pristine white quilt embroidered with lilies of the field. Spanning one wall was an ornately carved wardrobe, and a writing desk filled one corner. A round mahogany dining table with four deep blue velvet upholstered chairs, along with a lovely crystal chandelier above, were cleverly positioned by a window overlooking the street below. The massive stone fireplace covered the wall nearest the bed, and she imagined it would be warm and cozy with a fire blazing in the hearth on a chilly night. She'd heard about the frigid Wyoming winters, and this room would be perfect for cold winter nights. All of the wood was polished to a glossy finish and the room was spotless, not a speck of dust could be seen. The room was lovely, and even though it was only a quarter of the size of her bedroom at home, she knew she would be comfortable here.

Her uncle had written he'd built a hotel that any Englishman would be proud to own in the new country. She certainly couldn't disagree. When she'd hurriedly made her decision to depart England, this was the only place she thought she could go to escape the long reach of her father and Edmund Stafford. But as members of the peerage, they had vast resources at their disposal. She had to face the fact that if they wanted to track her down, she would be found sooner or later. She hoped it was later.

* * *

Luke made it up the stairway without running into any walls or dropping her trunk. The blasted thing was so heavy he thought that lovely little lady might have dead bodies stored in there. It was large enough to hold three or four. When he reached door number six he didn't have a free hand so he banged on the door with the toe of his boot.

Standing at the mirror brushing her hair, Mary Ann jumped at the knock. Collecting herself, she said through the door, “Yes?”

“Your luggage.”

“Oh, certainly.” She hurried across the room and turned the key in the lock. To her dismay, when she cracked the door open there stood the very man she'd faced outside. The desperado. What in heaven's name was
he
doing with her luggage?

Once again, when Luke looked at her face, her sheer beauty caught him off guard. She had removed her hat, and he didn't know what he expected, but it definitely wasn't the wealth of red hair hanging over her shoulder. It wasn't a bright red like L. B. Ditty's, but a soft red, with strands of gold running throughout it. The kind of hair that gave a man a lot of thoughts. Thoughts he shouldn't be having right now. After he stopped staring at her hair, his eyes moved back to her unusual silver eyes. If he was reading her expression correctly, she was surprised and not pleasantly so, that he was the one carrying her luggage. He thought she might slam the door in his face. “Do you reckon I can put this inside your room? I don't think I can hold it much longer.”

Not only was the man a mischief-maker, he was also quite forward. She assumed he must work at the hotel, so surely her uncle wouldn't hire someone who was a danger to his guests. But at the first opportunity tonight, she planned to let Uncle George know that this . . . this scoundrel needed his manners polished like the glistening furniture. Opening the door wider, she stood back to allow Luke entry.

Luke had been in this room before with another young woman, but right now he couldn't even recall her face much less her name. He placed the trunk on the floor near the wardrobe thinking it would be convenient for her, and the valises on the long bench at the foot of the bed. He noticed her pink hat on the bedspread. Finished with his task, he didn't want to leave. What he really wanted to do was turn around and get a good long look at her. He glanced at the fireplace and saw the wood was already laid and ready to be lit. “The nights can be a bit chilly this time of year, would you like me to go ahead and light the fire? Eb probably won't make it up here anytime soon.” He was proud of himself for thinking of that. Yep, gallantry could go a long way.

Perhaps he wasn't as ill-mannered as she first thought. She appreciated his consideration. “Yes, thank you, a fire would be lovely.”

Luke noticed how she hovered by the open door, looking something akin to a lost calf, a bit skittish, uncertain of which way to go. It was understandable why a little thing like her wouldn't want to close the door with a man in her room. He thought maybe if he talked to her it would put her at ease. Plus he liked the sound of her proper English accent. After removing his hat, he tossed it on the bed and it landed right beside her frilly pink hat making the feathers flutter. “You must have traveled a long way,” he said conversationally.

She wasn't accustomed to servants speaking so freely. That didn't happen in her father's home, no one dared speak out of turn. But she must remember she was in America now, and attitudes here, as she had learned, were vastly different. As Luke went about lighting the fire, Mary Ann covertly observed his physique. He was a very large man, tall and muscular, with legs that seemed to go on forever. When he squatted down in front of the fireplace and leaned over to add more logs, his shirt stretched over his broad, muscled shoulders and she half expected the seams to tear apart. She hadn't noticed his wavy raven black hair when he was brawling in the street. Once he removed his hat, she noticed he wore his hair a bit longer than most men, but on him it somehow seemed fitting. With his dark bronze complexion and black hair, she thought it most unusual his eyes were bright blue. A very attractive combination, she grudgingly admitted.

Luke waited for an answer, but when none was forthcoming, he turned to her. “Did you travel a long way?”

“What would give you that impression?”

Ignoring her frosty tone, Luke pointed to the luggage. “That much luggage says either you've been traveling for some time, or you're planning to stay awhile. Plus your accent is a dead giveaway.” He gave her a smile, hoping something about him impressed her. His smile always worked with the ladies.

“Hmm.”

So much for trying to engage her in conversation. Once the fire was blazing, Luke stood and grabbed his Stetson from the bed and his eyes lingered on her hat. He really wanted to pick it up and look at it. He wasn't sure why, other than it was so feminine, and well . . . pink. One of his favorite pastimes was watching a woman at her toilette. He prided himself on being a man who appreciated the time women took with their appearance. It was all of the little things women did that he treasured, whether it was the way they fixed their hair, or how they applied perfume in strategic places, or how they pulled on their stockings. He loved watching them dress and undress, and all of the various stages in between. He liked how they chose their hats to match their dresses. Actually, he loved everything about the opposite sex. That was one of the reasons women were drawn to him; he made them feel appreciated. Right now, he admired one particular pink hat worn by one particularly beautiful woman. He slowly sauntered to the door. “That's a beautiful hat.”

It surprised her a scoundrel like him even noticed her hat. How unexpected. “Thank you.”

Standing just a foot from her, Luke smelled her subtle perfume. He had the urge to nuzzle her neck like a dog and get a good whiff. Looking down at her he realized she was just a little thing. He figured she couldn't have been over five feet tall, but it was hard to tell because she had her head lowered looking for something in her reticule. Luke wasn't sure, but he thought the bag she was digging through might have been designed by his sister-in-law Victoria. He'd never really paid much attention to the little bags before he'd seen Victoria's artistic designs. The intricate detailed work involved in creating them gave him a whole new appreciation for her creations. He was really surprised to learn that some women paid more for those little things than a man did for a good horse.

He lingered, trying to think of something else to say to her so he could hang around a little longer. It was unusual for him to be so tongue-tied around a woman and he didn't know why it was happening now. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He thought he'd start with the basics and not try so hard to impress her. “I'm Luke McBride.”

“Mr. McBride.”

“Call me Luke.”

When she found what she was looking for she looked up at him and their eyes met, and his brain stopped working again. Everything about her face was flawless; smooth pale skin, a small straight nose, even her pink lips were perfectly formed, and her silver eyes sparkled like stars.
Don't stand here like a dummy. Say something, impress her
. He nervously twirled his hat in his hands. “So are you staying a long time?” He hoped so.

Standing so close to her, she found his size most intimidating, and the display of fisticuffs in the street earlier didn't help matters. And she certainly didn't understand his interest in her travel plans. Still, she couldn't help but notice what a handsome man he was even with a swollen bloody lip. “I believe so.”

Lord she was a beauty, but she was definitely on edge. She reminded him of a baby bird, and he was the hawk flying overhead. “Do you want to have dinner?” His question was impulsive, but he was proud of himself for mustering the courage to ask.

She took a step forward. “I'll require some later.”

Luke thought it was an odd response, but he didn't have time to comment since she was slowly inching him toward the threshold as she pulled the door with her. He had no choice but to step back or have the door smack him in the face. What she did next really threw him. She reached out and placed some coins in his hand. “Thank you,” she said and promptly closed the door in his face. He heard the key turn in the lock with a loud click. Only then did he realize that she had masterfully shuffled him over the threshold and he was standing on the wrong side of the closed door. He stood there speechless. That little gal had actually shoved him out the door without touching him. He opened his palm and looked at the silver dollars. Yeah, he made an impression all right. She thought it was his job to carry up her luggage. He chuckled all the way down the stairs.

* * *

On his ride home, Miss Mary Ann Hardwicke occupied Luke's thoughts. Eb said she had business with George Granville, the owner of the hotel. He knew George had only been in Wyoming for a few years, hailing from England. Luke's brother told him that once George purchased the hotel he'd spent months and a lot of money renovating the place until it was one of the nicest hotels in the West. Luke hoped George made it to church tomorrow so he could ask him about the mysterious lady in the pink hat. It seemed odd a young woman like her would be traveling alone. She couldn't have possibly traveled all the way from England without an escort.

* * *

“Don't you want me to stay, Uncle George?” The reunion with her uncle hadn't gone as well as Mary Ann had expected. After she'd told him of her reasons for leaving London, he seemed concerned her father would come to America to find her. Perhaps her uncle thought he might face her father's wrath and be held responsible for her decision to come to Wyoming.