Silver Hearts. Jackie Manning

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t care if he’s President Andrew Johnson!” Rancor sharpened her voice. “He’s attacking may wagon!”

      Although she was breathless with rage, she didn’t resist when Luke took the Hawken from her.

      He drew the six-shooter from his holster and shot into the air, the acrid smell of black powder was everywhere. A stockier Indian, a few years younger than the first, jumped from the wagon bench and staggered to his knees. He hesitated, shaking his head as though dazed.

      Noelle gasped, her blue eyes wide. Her small hand flew to her mouth as she stared. Luke glanced at the brown leather vest and gray shirt the savage wore. From Noelle’s stifled cry, he knew the garments must have belonged to Mr. Douglas.

      Luke stopped the horse a safe distance from the wagon. After he dismounted, he gave Noelle a stern glance. “Stay on the horse,” he commanded, not trusting her to remain out of the fray. “Don’t aim, but keep your rifle handy.”

      Renewed anger lit her eyes, but she nodded. Her teeth clenched as her wide-eyed gaze returned to the stocky Indian bent over on the ground.

      Another Indian, wearing a black cowboy hat, stuck his head from the front of the prairie schooner. He shook his fist, then shouted a blood-curdling scream as he tossed an earthenware jug into the air. The bottle bounced along the sand, finally breaking in two.

      Whiskey! Luke swore under his breath. Damn the luck. Even peaceful Indians, when drunk, were unpredictable.

      Luke strode cautiously toward the chief’s son. “Little Henry,” he said in the native tongue of the Paiute. “Take your braves and go peacefully.”

      The dark eyes studied Luke for a long moment, appraising the man and the situation.

      Luke noticed the gold watch fob and chain dangling from Little Henry’s left braid. No doubt the chief’s son took what he deemed the most valuable of their booty. Luke also knew that Douglas’s horse must be tethered nearby.

      “Tell your father, Captain Henry, that the yellow-haired woman sends her compliments to him, and wishes to give the horse you found, which belongs to the lady, as a gift for raising such a fine son as yourself.”

      Little Henry’s almond eyes lit with surprise, then he glanced back at Noelle, who waited anxiously on Luke’s horse. When he gazed back at Luke, his expression, wiser than his eighteen years, held a question. “You will tell my father of this happening?”

      Luke took his time answering. He knew that a lengthy spell was required to show Little Henry that his question was considered serious. Luke stared into the deep-set eyes of the brave who would one day become chief of the Paiute Nation.

      Little Henry had showed good sense in waiting to search the wagon after Noelle and Luke had left. Besides, Luke understood the young brave’s need to prove himself. When the Indian found Douglas dead, with his chestnut alone on the prairie, Little Henry knew a horse was the highest honor to give his father.

      “I have given your question great thought.” Luke spoke the words solemnly. “I find no reason to speak to your father of this happening. If you leave peacefully with your braves and do not bother us again, I believe the matter should be forgotten.”

      Little Henry began to untie the watch fob when Luke stopped him. “No. That is yours. A gift to you from the yellow-haired woman.”

      Without any sign of emotion, Little Henry strode to the dazed Indian, still stooped over in the sand. He helped the brave onto a pony. Without a word, Little Henry leaped onto his pony, the other braves following his example. Amid the ponies’ whinnies, they rode off, yellow dust kicking up at their hooves.

      Before Luke could stop her, Noelle slid from the saddle and dashed toward the prairie schooner.

      “Let me go inside first! There may be others,” Luke shouted, racing after her. Before he reached the wagon, he heard her cry out.

      Noelle shuddered a gasp and stared at the shambles inside the wagon. “Oh, my God!” She rushed to the splintered crate leaning on its side.

      Those savages had touched her mother’s things. A jolt of revulsion raged so violently inside her that she thought she might be sick. She touched the china cabinet, its fragile door still swaying from the broken hinge. Delft earthenware, once her mother’s pride and joy, was reduced to a heap of blue-and-white shards, littering the shelves.

      Noelle shook her head, refusing to give in to the threatening tears. The clamor of Indians’ taunts and galloping ponies’ hooves still rang in her head as she stared at the wooden crates and wicker cartons ripped open, mounds of clothing scattered everywhere.

      Behind her, the wagon’s floorboards creaked. She jumped, expecting to see another...

      Luke’s long shadow appeared across the bleached canvas sides as he stepped inside the wagon. She let out a muffled cry of relief.

      Luke’s jaw tightened as he glanced about. “They’ve gone. No need to be afraid.”

      “What if they come back?”

      “No. The chief, Captain Henry, is a friend of mine. Little Henry will know that to do so will dishonor his father as well as himself.”

      “Those friends of yours were wearing Mr. Douglas’s clothing. How do you know that they didn’t surprise my guide and frighten him to death?”

      Luke picked up a broken teacup, turning the delicate china in his hands. “Because I know.”

      “How can you be sure?”

      “Because the cadaver showed no signs of fright. Death came from a massive heart attack, brought on by extreme exertion—”

      “You’re not a doctor. How do you know—?”

      “I was once, miss.” Luke regretted the words as soon as he saw Noelle’s eyes widen with surprise. He saw the questions forming in her mind.

      How he knew those questions. Those questions had kept him awake more nights than he could remember.

      “But I’m a gambler now. Not much difference between gambling and doctoring, really.” He grinned, trying to make light of something that he’d refused to think about any more. Damn, what was there about this woman that brought the past back like the deep ache of an old wound?

      “It’s nothing I want to talk about, so forget I mentioned it.” He placed the broken cup fragments upon an overturned crate.

      He turned his back on her as he stepped to the rear opening. “Maybe you should file a report about the Indians at the sheriff’s office, Miss,” he suggested over his shoulder. “What you do is none of my business.”

      “B-but...you’re a witness.” She shouted after him.

      “My witness. Just look what those fiends did.” Noelle’s hands trembled when she bent to pick up a black leather-bound book. “My Mother’s Bible,” she cried. Her eyelids closed as she caressed the gilt-edged tome to her chest. “I can still smell those savages.”

      Luke turned back and leaned inside the wagon. “Most of that is whiskey smell.” He glanced around.

      “Any СКАЧАТЬ