Montana Hearts (11 page)

“Luke,” she said, grabbing hold of his arm. “Why would someone do this?”

His muscles went rigid beneath her grip. “Because I'm too close to their path.”

 

Chapter Eight

A
FTER DRIVING BACK
to the main house to report the damage, Luke had helped the others assigned to keep watch that night even though it wasn't his turn. Then he'd slept a few hours in an outside hammock until his grandma woke him for breakfast.

Tonight, Delaney and Zach would take the early shift and he and Sammy Jo would take over at two a.m. and patrol the area till dawn. But for now, the day was still young, so Luke salvaged what he could from the remains of his camp.

He didn't own much, but the wreckage still filled six large trash bags he'd brought with him from the main house. The most disappointing was the loss of his olive-­drab military duffel. The bag had been his personal suitcase over the last year and had held one personal memento in one of the pockets that he was sad to let go.

One of the men who had mutilated his camp must have taken it, because although he searched, he couldn't find it anywhere.

No matter. He'd get by.
“No sense cryin' over what you can't change.”
Wasn't that what his grandma always said? He still had his health,
for the most part
, his family, and . . .
Sammy Jo
.

He'd come close to kissing her the night before, but if he had . . . it would have changed everything. Never again would she be just a neighbor or friend of his sisters, but like an identifying brand that could never be removed, she'd be . . .
his
.

Because as innocent as a kiss might be . . . Sammy Jo would never let him forget it for as long as he lived.

Luke drew in a deep breath. Perhaps he should be grateful the slashed tent saved him from making a mistake he couldn't change. For if they had spent any more alone time together, who knows what could have happened?

Which reminded him, they'd be alone again . . . tonight. He'd picked Sammy Jo as his partner so he could make sure nothing happened to her. She could be overly confident and impulsive at times and it often landed her in a heap of trouble.

Like it did to him.

He shook his head, realizing that in some ways, they really were too much alike. Not only did he need to watch out for the cattle rustlers, and Sammy Jo's safety, but he would also have to watch out for himself, and make sure
he
didn't do anything rash tonight either.

Piling the trash bags into the back of the gator, Luke left the empty field and motored past the line of guest cabins. A flurry of new guests were moving about. Some hung out by the river. Others talked to his father next by the corral. And a few more gathered by the garden around Grandma and Meghan, petting the dappled gray miniature pony, Party Marty.

Luke entered his family's house, climbed the stairs, and took a small bag of personal belongings up to his old bedroom. He could pick up a new tent, but figured it might be safer for his family and the guests if he stayed closer until the crooks were caught.

He opened the dresser drawer and grinned. There, among a few other childhood items, sat his famed plastic marshmallow shooter, one of his best Christmas presents ever. The double-­barreled, pump-­action gun stored up to twenty mini-­marshmallows per magazine for a total ammo capacity of forty, and shot up to thirty feet. Best of all, it required no batteries.

He thought back to the time he'd armed himself with a big bag of his grandma's mini-­marshmallows, and climbed up the water tower. He'd stayed up there for nearly an hour shooting marshmallows off in every direction. Until the sheriff caught him. Some of the towns­people had complained it looked like it had been snowing in July.

He placed his stuff away and moved toward the windows to check on his escape routes. The trellis outside the window by his bed still looked sturdy enough and the angled roofline that acted as a slide out his other window remained clear and ready, if needed.

He doubted he'd be using them, especially in his condition with his leg the way it was, but out of habit he always looked at his options whenever he moved into a new location. There was nothing worse than being trapped in a small space with no way out. Perhaps that's why he preferred the open field.

“Looks like we have a full house,” Luke joked later that afternoon when he entered the enclosed front porch they'd turned into a main office.

“Yes, lots of guests and—­” Delaney looked at him, grasped his meaning, and gasped. “You moved back in?”

Luke nodded. “For now.”

“That will ease Ma's fears,” Delaney said, smiling.

“But not the fears of our employees,” Bree said, coming in from outside. “All three of the ranch hands I hired last month just quit.”

Luke shrugged. “They were terrible. We might be better off without them.”

“It will mean extra shifts for the rest of us,” Bree assured them. “On top of our night watches.”

Nora and Nadine opened the screen door and came in behind her, each wearing identical scowls showcasing their mood.

“We need to talk to you,” Nora said, directing her attention to Bree.

“Yes, we do,” Nadine agreed.

“What now?” Bree demanded. “Have you decided to quit, too?”

The screen door opened a third time and a tall, sturdy kid with short cropped hair as dark as Sammy Jo's entered the room.

“Can we help you?” Luke asked, assuming he was a guest.

The young guy nodded. “I'm ready to work.”

“Who's he?” Nora and Nadine chorused, starry-­eyed and mouths hanging open.

Luke shot Bree a questioning look. Had his sister already hired someone new?

“Devin Williams,” she introduced. “He'll be helping Luke with the cabins so we can get them finished in time for the August wedding.”

Luke did a double take. “What?”

The young cowboy ignored his reaction and instead tipped his hat in greeting toward the twins. “Do you ladies work here, too?”

Nora jabbed her sister in the ribs with her elbow and both of the ponytailed sixteen-­year-­olds looked at each other, cast a quick glance at Bree, and then chorused again, “Yes, we
do
!”

The young cowboy smiled at them and turned toward Luke. “I'll meet you outside?”

Luke gave him a hesitant nod, and after the guy left, Nora and Nadine both let out a high-­pitched squeal, hurting his ears.

Then the girls high-­fived themselves. “Score for the Walford twins!”

“Now do you see what you've done?” Luke asked, catching his older sister's eye.

Bree nodded and cringed; Delaney laughed.

“He's so
dreamy
,” Nora exclaimed. “He's—­”

“Dreamy Devin,”
Nadine said, cutting her off.

Both broke into a fit of giggles and hurried out the door, most likely to go running after the poor kid.

Luke smirked. “How old is he anyway?”

“Dreamy Devin is eighteen,” Bree teased. “And he's experienced in roof work.”

“At eighteen?” Luke scoffed. “How experienced can he be?”

Bree shrugged. “Devin says he's been working with his father in construction since he was a kid.”

“He's still a kid right
now
,” Luke pointed out.

Bree pursed her lips. “He has a driver's license, can climb, and can pound nails with a hammer. What else do you want?”

His sister was good with numbers and balancing the books, but she didn't know construction. Still, she was right. Even if the newcomer had just a little skill and half a brain it could work.

As long as the kid followed his directions.

S
AMMY
J
O ROLLED
her eyes as she held her cell phone to her ear. “Mom, I know what I'm doing.”

“You can't force someone to love you. Believe me, I know.”

“I don't plan to force him, just
convince
him. There's a difference. Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you again tomorrow, okay?”

After a quick goodbye, Sammy Jo sent a text to Bree and Delaney, two she could count on to be happy for her instead of being such a worrywart, like her mom.

He almost kissed me, I know it!
Sammy Jo told them by typing in the letters on her touch screen.

Silence.

A minute later Bree texted back.
Luke?

Yes, Luke. Who else?
Sammy Jo punched back.

I believe you
, Delaney joined in, and sent her a smiley face.

Why wouldn't she believe her? Did they think she was making it up? That she was imagining things? Another message popped up.

Be careful tonight
, Bree warned.

Were they still talking about Luke? Did his sisters agree with her mother and think she'd end up with a broken heart, too? Or did she mean be careful if they ran into the bad guys? Either way, her answer was the same.

Not worried
, she sent back.

Putting her phone back in her pocket, she glanced up and surveyed the camp full of eager, smiling children learning to ride their horses in the various arenas. They weren't afraid of failing or getting hurt. They were going after what they wanted with gusto!

And so would she.

She
would
get a kiss. She
would
marry Luke. And together they
would
have a house full of their own children.

They
would
.

L
UKE MET
S
AMMY
Jo by the corral where Ryan had placed the remaining cattle for the night.

“Any trouble?” he asked.

“Nope.” She smiled. “I greased my window earlier today so when I raised the screen it wouldn't make a sound. My dad will never suspect I'm gone.”

Luke chuckled. “Hope not, or we'll have more than cattle rustlers to deal with.”

“I guess Zach and Delaney didn't have any trouble during the first watch?” she asked, settling in beside him in a small grove of trees.

“Nope.”

“I brought you something,” she said, handing over a canvas bag.

“My duffel!” Luke said, careful to keep his voice low. “Where did you find it?”

“Halfway across my yard.” She pointed to the zippered pocket in the front. “Who's that in the photo?”

Apparently she'd looked through the bag's contents. “Those are the guys I served with over in Iraq,” Luke told her. “We took that picture together right before I got out and came home.”

“Do you still keep in touch?”

Luke's jaw tightened as he shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“They're all dead.”

Sammy Jo gasped. “Oh, no. I'm so sorry.”

Luke drew in a deep breath and swallowed the knot that always formed at the back of his throat when he thought of them.

“My term was up,” he said, reliving the memory like he'd done countless times before. “And I flew home for Bree's birthday party. A week later, when I went to Florida to see another friend, I heard the news.”

Sammy Jo didn't say a word but took his hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“The official story is their helicopter crashed during a routine training exercise,” he continued. “Others believe they'd been on a recon mission to recover a shipment of supplies that had been dropped in hostile territory. All I know is that if I'd still been there, I would have been with them.”

“That's when you had your motorcycle accident,” Sammy Jo said, “isn't it?”

Luke nodded. “I wasn't in the best frame of mind. The front tire of the motorcycle hit some gravel and swerved out. I couldn't maintain control and my left knee went down. Ended up with a few cuts and bruises, and . . . I tore my ACL.”

“But you said it could be fixed with surgery,” Sammy Jo reminded him.

“Maybe.” Luke swallowed again. “Then again, the doctors could knock me out and I might not ever wake up again, like my three good friends in the picture.”

“Luke Collins,” Sammy Jo demanded in a stern whisper. “Are you telling me you're afraid of being put to sleep? Is
that
why you've been stalling?”

He flinched as she hit on the truth.

“You're one of the bravest, wildest, risk-­taking cowboys I've ever met. How could you let a little medical sleepy juice scare you away from an operation that would allow you to regain the full use of your leg?”

Luke swallowed hard. “One of the guys you saw in the photo . . . the one on the left, his name was Greg Quinn. They found his body among the wreckage. But he didn't die in the crash. His family had been told he was going to be all right, just as soon as they removed a damaged kidney. Then they gave him an overdose of meds to put him asleep for the procedure and . . . he never woke up. He was pronounced dead later that same day.”

“I'm so sorry,” Sammy Jo whispered, placing her hand on his arm.

“So I guess I'd rather take my chances on my own terms,” he continued. “Rather than rely on someone else.”

She hesitated, then in a small voice that tugged at his heart, she said, “Sometimes having someone else to rely on isn't so bad.”

Luke grinned, thankful he could share this conversation with her. Thankful she was so compassionate. Thankful to have her by his side. “I'm beginning to see that.”

A stream of moonlight filtered through the leaves above and illuminated her face—­her sparkling eyes, her pert little nose, her wide mouth with her full lips.

“Oh, no,” Sammy Jo said, glancing up at the sky. “They'll be able to see me, won't they?”

“Not if you move closer to me,” he said, putting his arm around her and pulling her into the shadows. He didn't expect her to protest, and she didn't.

Luke cleared his throat, relishing the warmth she provided even though he didn't need it with the higher than normal midsummer temperature.