Wild Is the Night (21 page)

“I think we should cross here.”

The Reverend and his followers looked at Luke doubtfully, then their eyes turned back in unison to Pop Finnegan. The trail driver spat a wad of tobacco juice onto the ground, then turned his attention back to the river.

“Why here, laddie? Looks rougher than the rest.”

“It is,” Luke agreed. They were standing on the bank of the Canadian River. Luke was actually waist-deep in the muddy water, using a stick to test the depth and the current. Tossing the stick aside, he stepped closer to the bank, ignoring the freezing brown liquid that swirled around his legs.

“I think we’re better off here in spite of the rocks,” Luke said finally. “That still pool down farther indicates depth. I know these damned rivers. From the last rains, they’re liable to be much deeper than even a month ago. That little puddle could drop off fifteen feet.”

Pop scratched his chin thoughtfully while the Reverend nodded. “I think he speaks the truth.” The preacher looked at Luke with renewed respect. In the past few weeks, Luke Parker had proved invaluable to them. Not only could he shoot with a deadly accuracy, but he seemed to know this land like the back of his hand. Even the flank and drag riders, cowboys hired by the religious men to get their Herefords to Texas, seemed to consider Luke the main authority.

Pop shrugged. “Well, if that’s what you all want to do, I ain’t going to argue. But those rocks look dangerous to me. We’d best be right careful how we go about getting them wagons across….Why, will you look at that.” Pop’s words cut off quickly and he gestured to the river.

Luke glanced at the water, started to turn, then his head swung quickly back. There, in the midst of the churning river, floating placidly downstream, was a pile of clothing. Pants, shirts, socks—all came drifting downstream, splashing over the rocks, then continuing down past the group of men.

Pop cleared his throat. “Looks like your buckskins, Parker.”

Luke stared, fury building up inside of him. It couldn’t be, she couldn’t have…but the parade of clothing continued to float by. Cursing, he tried to reach one of his shirts, but the current took it swiftly past him and it disappeared downriver, along with the rest of his wardrobe.

“I don’t believe her. Jesus Christ, I don’t believe that woman!” The words tumbled out before Luke could stop them and he trudged from the water, shaking like a wet wolf, his anger palpable.

“I’ll be damned.” Pop spat amid the incredulous stares of the religious men. “You think your wife did this? She sure is crazy. Pretty thing, too. What a shame.”

“I’ll be back.” Luke leaped onto his horse, jerking the reins and kicking the animal into a gallop. When the dust settled, Pop turned to the Reverend and shrugged.

“Just like my old aunt Mathilda.”

Luke caught up with her at the wagons, where she sat in the dust as the other women packed up their belongings for the river crossing. Amanda was surrounded by books, and was making notations in her journal. She glanced up when she saw him, ignoring the thunderous expression on his face.

“Cumulonimbus.” She indicated the puffy cloudscape. “That is an indicator of rain within the next twenty-four hours. I would suggest we put off our crossing until then.”

Luke stared at her in disbelief, barely aware that Aileen scampered off, eager to get far away from his wrath. Fury sent the blood pounding through his head and his hand tightened so hard on the reins that the horse reared.

“Is something wrong?” Amanda got calmly to her feet. She had forgotten the clothes, forgotten everything in her latest scientific interest. But the look on his face reminded her, and the color drained as she suddenly realized she was in trouble. Big trouble.

“I think I’ll go help Aileen now.” Amanda picked up her journal and Aesop’s cage, as if nothing unusual was happening. As if his entire wardrobe, newly sewn, was not floating downriver along with a collection of prairie grass and twigs.

She started to walk past him, but Luke’s hand shot out, capturing her wrist. Amanda struggled, dropping the cage.

“Let me go—”

“Get up on the horse.” He didn’t recognize his own voice, it was so laced with anger. Amanda shook her head and tried to pull away.

“I’ll ride with the wagon,” she replied cooly.

“Get on the horse. I’m not telling you again.” His teeth were gritted, and his beautiful blue eyes blazed. When she hesitated another moment, he simply reached down and effortlessly hauled her onto the saddle, knowing full well she’d rather die than ride like this. Forcing her into the seat before him, he tucked her skirts beneath her, then tightened his arm possessively around her waist and pulled her up against him. Amanda cried out as he kicked his mount, and headed west.

“What are you trying to prove?—” she began, hoping to maintain a cool distance between them. He glared down at her with such open anger that she instinctively shuddered.

“How dare you? Especially after the other night, how dare you do such a thing? I’m beginning to believe you are crazy,” Luke thundered.

“I am not!” Amanda twisted in his lap, then gasped as he tightened his grip. “Take your hands off me! As Carlyle said—”

“Amanda.” His voice was cold and even, far more frightening than his open rage. “Listen to me carefully. If you’re trying to discover my breaking point, you’re almost there.”

She believed him. She could sense the barely leashed tension in his body. His rippling muscles were so close to her own skin that she could feel the hardness of his flesh, as if it took everything in his power to check his temper. Amanda swallowed hard, wondering if perhaps she hadn’t miscalculated. It had only happened once before, but the mistake had cost her a grade.

This time it could cost her far more.

“Where are we going?” Though she knew she was treading on dangerous ground, the anticipation was undeniably worse.

“We are going downriver,” he replied in the same icy tones. “There’s a bend a few feet below where the Canadian forms a pool.”

“And?” Amanda didn’t want to be spared any details.

“You are going to retrieve my clothes. Every last one of them.”

“What if they aren’t there?” Ever the working mind, Amanda couldn’t help but ask. Luke glared at her. “Pray.”

“Why looky here, Butch. We got us a band of religious folk.”

Damien grinned as the Reverend came to the forefront of the group, his Bible lifted in his hand. Women sobbed quietly as the two gunmen rode into camp, firing sporadically, sending the children scurrying beneath the wagons. Now they stood in the semicircle, sheltering their little ones from the outlaws, while the scarred man called Butch kept his gun trained on the minister.

“What is it you want? If you are looking for money, we have very little. We only wish to travel to Texas, there to live in peace,” the Reverend Weaver said quietly.

“Ain’t that real nice, Butch?” Damien chuckled, his soulless eyes looking out onto the cluster of holy men and women. “They want to go in peace! That’s right brave of you, Reverend, but not real smart. We’re looking for the girl.”

Aileen glanced at her husband, while Jake stood a few feet back and watched the flat prairie. Luke and Amanda had been gone for less than an hour. They could come back at any time with the rest of the men, without realizing that they were riding into an ambush. Bravely, she walked up to the men, holding her shawl tightly around her, as if for protection.

“There is no one else,” Aileen said quickly. “Just us. The Reverend Weaver and his followers. You must have the wrong—” She gasped as Butch grabbed her, his smile evil.

“You don’t look like no Reverend Weaver’s nothing.” He chuckled as she struggled to get free. “And we think you’re lying. Search the place, Damien.”

“Let go of my wife,” Jake demanded, his lined face white with anger.

Butch cocked his gun and held it to the girl’s head. “Make me, cowboy. Now you just be real quiet and cooperate, and the little missus won’t get hurt. It’s not her we want. We want the other one. The writer. Amanda Edison.”

Jake’s fists tightened. Aileen stood completely still, warning him with her eyes not to do anything foolish. Helpless and furious, he watched as Damien rifled through the wagons, searching for a sign of Amanda. The other women huddled near the chuck wagon, glancing toward the river, some of them sobbing. Damien’s head popped out of the canvas, a huge grin spreading across his face.

Aesop’s cage dangled from his finger.

“It’s her all right.” He grinned as Butch’s hand tightened on Aileen’s shoulder. “It could only be Miss Edison.”

Butch nodded, releasing Aileen. He watched the girl stumble across the prairie, and into her husband’s arms. He gestured at them with the gun, indicating the group of women.

“Now all of you just mosey on down here.” He pointed to the closest wagon. “Damien will make sure you’re real comfortable before tying you up. Looks like we got some more riding to do, to find them.” Actually, that suited Butch just fine. The less witnesses and trouble-making church folk around, the better.

“And you,” he glanced at Aileen. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you for lying to me. But I ain’t got a lot of lead, and I don’t want to waste shots. You just join the others and don’t start no more trouble.” Butch grinned evilly. “We plan to do that all by ourselves.”

“Put me down!” Amanda struggled furiously as they reached the river’s edge and Luke hauled her—like a sack of old flour, she would remember later—into the cold rushing water’s edge. Gasping furiously, her dress plastered to her like a wet sack, she glared at him.

“Go get them back.” Luke ignored her diatribe and gestured to the pile of clothes that had fortunately collected at the river’s bend. “Now.”

“You can’t mean—” Amanda glanced back to the river and shuddered. There was at least twenty feet between herself and the opposite bank where the clothes were laying in a sodden pile, twenty feet of rapidly rushing water and indeterminable depths.

“Yes, I do. Don’t push me, Amanda. Get the damned clothes!”

The barely restrained fury in his voice startled her and she stared at him, realizing the effort he was making to control his temper. She glanced at the river again. Twenty feet. It might as well have been a hundred.

“I can’t,” she said simply.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Luke took a step closer, his face tightening with outrage.

Amanda instinctively backed up. She hadn’t quite thought this all through, she realized belatedly. And she also hadn’t understood the implications of being within his power. Back east, she always had the protection of school and of her books against any unpleasantness. But here, there was no one to shield her from him, and from his raw anger. The idea unnerved her.

“I just can’t,” she said, choking on the words. His eyes blazed and she understood that he thought she was defying him once more and pushing his patience to the limit. There was no sense in this. As embarrassing as it was, she was going to have to tell him. She lifted her head and faced him bravely, her hair wet and clinging to her neck, her dress soaked and muddy. “I can’t…swim.”

“You what?” Luke stared at her, his anger draining as she turned away from him, tears springing to her eyes. The ridiculousness of the situation struck him, and he started to laugh, softly at first, then more deeply as Amanda glared at him.

“Go ahead and laugh at me!” she spat, color rushing to her cheeks. But as he continued to chuckle, her anger overwhelmed her and she rushed at him, tripping over an exposed rock. Her body hit his and the two of them tumbled into the river, falling from the edge into the pool. Amanda sputtered, then Luke pulled her to her feet, ignoring her panicked struggles. She clung to him in fear like a frightened kitten as the water rushed past her, threatening to take them both downstream in a silent, deadly wash.

“Amanda, stop it.” His voice penetrated her panic and she quieted, even more embarrassed as he slipped his hands beneath her and carried her to the bank. He plopped her down on the ground, then stood before her and shook his head incredulously.

“Can’t swim. Jesus, lady, is there anything you do right? For somebody with so much brains, you don’t know a damned thing.”

Furious, Amanda glared up at him, but Luke looked so in control, his legs planted far apart, his muscular arms crossed as he gazed at her in amusement, that she was speechless.

“Now you sit there. I’m going to the other side and I’ll toss you the clothes. Move and you’ll live to regret it, I promise you. Understand?”

She nodded miserably. Once again, she didn’t have a choice. She was beaten. At least he was giving her a reprieve. As he turned and dove gracefully into the still water, she had to admit it could have been a whole lot worse.

Luke emerged on the opposite side of the river, gathered up an armful of clothing, then swam back to the bank. When he could stand, he threw the soaked garments to Amanda, waited until she had successfully gathered them into a pile, then he returned to the bend. Two trips later, all of his clothes were assembled on the river bank, and Amanda, looking completely contrite and amazingly pretty with her hair soaked and her gown clinging to her, waited for him as he climbed out of the water.

“Bring them to me,” he ordered, slicking back his hair with his fingers.

Burning, Amanda did as she was told. She hiked up the bundle of muddy clothes, then stood before him like a recalcitrant child determined to test her parent’s limits. Luke grinned, then his smile vanished as her face lifted and her eyes met his.