Winter Hearts (8 page)

Angry, Luke snatched the coat up off the floor where it had fallen and followed Sam out into the still, bright morning, pulling it on as he went. Sam turned to him with that wide, intimate smile he bestowed on Luke after they’d made love. “Isn’t it beautiful out?”

If the townsmen noticed that look, Sam and Luke would be hanging from the nearest tree. “Don’t do anything stupid, do you hear me? I’ll whup your ass if you do anything stupid, boy.”

“I won’t do anything stupid,” he promised with a grin Luke didn’t trust.

The atmosphere in Fuller’s was glum. No one was playing checkers. The men stood around speaking to one another in quiet grumbling tones. Sam wandered off around the store while Luke spoke to Fuller. “Any news of the train?”

“That’s everyone’s first question, and the answer is the same as last time. The train is stuck until spring. Everyone’s going to have to manage on the supplies they’ve got.”

Luke nodded. He didn’t need to buy food now, and the shelves were completely bare anyway. He turned with an angry glare when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was going to kill that boy. But it wasn’t Sam.

“Ingram,” he said, looking into the man’s thin face.

“Sorry, Chandler,” Ingram said, removing his hand. “I just wanted to thank you again for the hare. We had a good meal of it, and Cecily can make a bonnet of the skin for our youngest girl.”

He was too jumpy. He needed to settle down. Forcing a smile, he said, “I’m glad you could use it. It was Smith that shot it.” He looked over at the young man, who held several items in his hands, including a bolt of plain white cloth. What the hell did he want that for?

Sam wandered over, smiling brightly as he placed the items on the counter. “How are you, Mr. Ingram?”

“Much better after hare stew.” Ingram patted his belly as if he were still full from the meal of several days ago. “We thank you again for such a generous gift.”

“You’re very welcome, sir. You have four lovely daughters. You must be proud of them.”

“I am.” Ingram nodded, then added quietly, “We had a son too, but he died shortly after birth.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.” Sam took off his hat as if the funeral were just about to take place. As dumb as it seemed for a moment, it was the right thing to do. How come this boy of nineteen, whose father worked in a tannery, knew exactly what to say and do? Luke hadn’t a clue how to act in most circumstances. It was probably because he’d spent most of the past fifteen years in the company of uneducated men like himself.

Fuller began to sort the items on the counter, writing each one down in the ledger. “One pair of scissors. One reel of white cotton thread. One measuring tape. One packet of fine needles. One iron curtain rod.” He pulled the bolt of fabric toward him. “How much muslin do you want, Smith?”

Sam looked at Luke. “Luke, how big is that window?”

Luke looked at him, uncomprehending. “What window?”

“On the house. I’m going to sew curtains so we don’t have to have that burlap sack hung on a couple of nails. Curtains will look much homier.”

Without responding, Luke turned and left the store.
I’m gonna kill him. “Luke, how big is that window?” Single men baching together don’t care about curtains!

With a look up at the clear blue sky, Luke judged it safe to go for a ride. He hurried across the street and into the stable, where he tacked Pretty Girl as fast as he could. Excited to be going outside, she snorted and whinnied. Sam was crossing the street with his purchases when Luke rode out of the stable. He threw the young man an angry look and rode off at full speed, heading for his claim. Sam was young. At nineteen he could move on if he had to, but Luke wanted to settle down. He was done with traveling.

An hour later, the sky still blue and cloudless, Luke stood outside his claim shanty, looking at his land. The snow was deeply drifted in some places, and in others he could see patches of bare, frozen ground. Where he’d grown up in Boston, the snow tended to stay where it fell, but here on the wide-open prairie, there were drifts as big as hills one day, and the next they were blown away with the wind.

He imagined his one hundred and sixty acres shimmering with golden wheat under a blazing sun. If all went well and prices were good, he could have a fine crop and more money in the bank to make him feel secure. He unfastened the padlock on the door of the claim shanty and looked inside. The air was as frigid as outside. The little house already had a stove, so he’d left his behind. The place looked as barren and cold as it felt with no furniture and no one living there. The problem was, with him there alone, it would always be cold and barren.

What the hell was he going to do? He couldn’t live here with Sam. If Sam didn’t live on his claim, he would lose it. Making curtains for the house! Luke could kill him for that stupidity. What must the men in Fuller’s be thinking? He’d get beaten up just like he had at the White Horse Tavern, and it wasn’t as if that was the only time. There was the man who had lured him into an alley when he was barely fifteen and then beaten him. He’d stood up for himself pretty well on that occasion, but there’d been others over the years. What if the storekeepers in town refused to serve him? He’d never be able to get supplies or get Pretty Girl shoed or vetted when she needed it.

The silence of the prairie, windless that day, settled suddenly around him. The shanty was temporary, just until he could build a house, but even a nice house with curtains and rugs on the floor would feel as empty as the shanty stood now. He couldn’t stand to live alone forever, but the way the laws and attitudes of men worked, he couldn’t live with a man either, not unless they were brothers and everyone knew it, like the Wilder brothers in town.

If anything bad happened to Sam because of Luke, he’d kill the men who did it, and he’d end up on the gallows.

The loneliness of the shanty and his own thoughts would drive him crazy. Outside again, he stood wondering in which direction Sam’s claim lay. That was when he saw on the horizon a wall of white moving toward him. The prairie was so vast and flat that it was possible to see miles into the distance with no hindrance. The storm was moving directly toward him even though the sky above was still blue. Without a moment’s pause, he mounted Pretty Girl and set off at a gallop toward town, the storm behind him.

The town was in sight when the sky went black. The storm hit Luke, knocking him off Pretty Girl and knocking the breath from his lungs. The power of the wind and the weight of the wall of snow felt as if a house had collapsed on him. This had to be the worst storm yet. Attempting to get to his feet against the strength of the wind, he floundered about on the ground, still breathless from the fall. “Pretty Girl!” he screamed. He had no idea where the animal was or if she could hear him. The storm thwarted several more attempts to get to his feet.

Out of nowhere a kick to his midsection brought the White Horse Tavern beating flooding back. Stretching out his hand, Luke located the horse’s leg and grasped it tightly. “You hurt me, Pretty,” he mumbled, managing to get to his feet by holding on to the animal, using her as both a windbreak and a support. His chest hurt too much for him to attempt to mount her. Instead he hung on to her bridle. “Home, girl. Go home, girl. You can do it. Take me home.”

Luke didn’t know where he was or if Pretty Girl was leading him out onto the open prairie to die, but at least he wouldn’t die alone. They’d be together. The wind behind them pushed them forward but in its own direction. God only knew if it was the right one. Pretty Girl held him upright, the pain from her kick agonizing, making breathing harder still.

“Luke!”

Had the horse said his name? Was it like those people lost out in the freezing cold who start hallucinating when they were dying? He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, and when he turned, he saw two beautiful brown eyes. “Climb on your horse. Come on. I’ll help you.”

“Sam?”

“Who did you think would come after you?” With Sam’s help, he managed to mount, leaning forward over the horse’s neck. Then, climbing up on Pip, bareback as usual, Sam led Pretty Girl.

Close to town, the animals’ instincts took over, carrying their masters home. When Luke opened his eyes, he found himself inside the stable. Had he fallen asleep? How was it even possible to fall asleep on a horse in a storm?

Sam helped him dismount, and he sat on a bale of hay while Sam tended the animals. Now they must go outside again to get to the house. Although it wasn’t far, he didn’t think he could have held on to the clothesline to follow it if Sam hadn’t been there to assist him.

Inside the house at last, Luke sank into a chair at the table. “When the wind struck me, I fell off Pretty Girl’s back, and while I was trying to get up, she panicked and kicked me accidentally.”

Sam hung up his coat and hat and helped Luke remove his. “Show me where,” Sam said, helping him get his shirt off and unbutton his flannels. A large purple bruise was already spreading across his chest. “Do you think your ribs are broken?”

“I’ve had broken ribs before, and they don’t feel broken now, but it sure as hell knocked the wind out of me.”

“Come on.” Sam helped him to his feet and led him to the bed. He pulled Luke’s boots off and made him comfortable leaning back on both pillows. “Do you have any whiskey, Luke?”

“I don’t hold with hard liquor. It makes men act like idiots. I don’t mind a beer now and then, but just one or two.”

Sam laughed. “My mother would love you.”

“I doubt it,” Luke said.
Not if she knew what I was doing with her son
. “Up on the shelf over the sink there’s a bottle of Dr. A.W. Allen’s Southern Liniment. It even works on horses.”

“What about stubborn mules? Does it work on them too?” Sam grinned.

“What are you talking about, boy?” But he knew exactly what Sam meant.

Sam fetched the bottle and sat down on the bed beside him. The pungent smell of the liniment filled the air when he uncorked the bottle. Sam poured some into his palm and began to massage it into Luke’s chest. Feeling exhausted and stupidly helpless, Luke let him. Aside from that, it was very pleasant to have someone else minister to him when he was used to taking care of himself. He wanted to enjoy the moment.

“What the heck made you go off like that? There’s no predicting these storms.”

“You making curtains, that’s what.” It sounded ridiculous when he said it like that.

Sam paused, his hand resting on Luke’s chest. “You risked your life because I bought curtain material? Is it just me, or does that sound stupid?”

Yes, it sounded stupid. “What are the men going to think when you act like a wife trying to make the place all homey for me? And calling me Luke in front of everyone.”

“There’s nothing wifey about wanting curtains. That sack blocks out all the light. With muslin you can have privacy and light.” Sam continued to massage Luke’s chest. “There, how does that feel?”

It felt wonderful. “Good. How did you know where I’d gone?”

“I saw the direction you went. You could only have gone to your claim. When you didn’t come back for so long, I got Pip out to come and look for you. Then I saw the storm heading toward town. These prairie storms are powerful. I couldn’t leave you to find your own way.”

“I’ve been living here since last September. I know the land better than you do, and I don’t need help from a boy.”

“Apparently you do,” Sam said in a maddeningly calm voice. He met Luke’s gaze directly.

“You can be very smug and annoying, boy.”

“I know.” Sam kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll make us some supper.” From his comfortable position on the bed, Luke watched the sweet young man as he prepared and cooked their meal. There was something in Sam’s demeanor that spoke of confidence, like nothing worried him, not even being thought unmasculine by doing a wife’s chores. How did he get so sure of himself at such a young age?

* * * *

A couple of hours later, Luke stood at the sink pumping water over his head and face. He dried himself on his one, well-used, towel and then scrubbed his teeth. “I need more tooth powder,” he said as he pressed the lid onto the nearly empty tin.

“If you go buying tooth powder, I might just have to run off into a storm in case the menfolk in town think I’m living with a dandy,” Sam said.

“You’re so funny,” Luke said in such a flat tone that Sam burst out laughing. He helped Luke get back into bed and then brushed his teeth and washed his face. “Bank the stove and put the lamp out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And don’t give me back talk.” Luke heard Sam chuckling as he obeyed.

“How’s your chest feeling now?” Sam asked as he got into bed beside him. “Has Dr. Allen’s liniment done the trick?”

“It’s good stuff.” The warmth of Sam’s body next to his, so close they were touching, gave him just as much comfort as the liniment. “Where’s your underwear? It’s too cold to go to bed naked.”

“I wish you weren’t wearing yours,” Sam whispered against his ear. “But I suppose you’re not fit for much tonight, on account of me making curtains.”

Laughter rumbled up from Luke’s chest. The whole thing seemed stupid now after all that had befallen him. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

“Will it hurt if I suck your cock?” Sam asked.

Luke lay flat on his back, the most comfortable position he could find. “Just lie beside me. I’m not up for much. I thought I was going to die out there. I’d have been fine if Pretty Girl hadn’t kicked me. I’ve been through worse than this.”

Sam lay on his side and snuggled in close. He kissed Luke on the cheek.

“Stop that nonsense,” Luke said at once.

An edge of hurt gilded Sam’s words. “What have you got against kissing? Every time I try to kiss you, you get mad at me.”

“I never even saw my parents kiss, let alone two men. It’s for sissies.”

“I saved your life.”

“No, you didn’t,” Luke interrupted.

Sam put his forefinger on Luke’s lips. “I saved your life. I made you supper in bed. I rubbed liniment on your chest. Damn you, Luke, you owe me a kiss.” Leaning up on one elbow, Sam began little nibbling kisses over Luke’s cheek to his ear and then down to his neck. Luke moaned, unable to stop himself. Even Holland had never done this to him. Once or twice they had kissed on the mouth, but only briefly, as a precursor to intercourse. He’d had no idea how arousing it could be.