Winter Hearts (16 page)

The journey back to the claim was ugly. Luke drove the wagon, refusing to speak even when Sam addressed a question to him. It soon became apparent that the only Lindgren family member who spoke English was the father. They were tired from their journey, and a few miles outside town the baby started crying, the horrible sound magnifying on the flat, wide-open prairie. Before they were halfway to the claim, the next youngest child began to wail. Dreading what he would see, Sam turned to look at Luke, whose teeth were gritted and whose hands holding the reins were white at the knuckles. He was blazing angry with Sam but likely with the Lindgrens also.

“Should I drive?” Sam asked quietly.

Luke stared directly ahead, offering no response. At their claim Luke tossed the reins to Sam and jumped down. He walked into the shanty without looking back, slamming the door behind him. Sam drove on to his old claim. The Lindgrens’ gratitude was touching, and the mother began crying along with the children when she saw they had a shanty to move into and water close by. It was then Sam realized they had only a single sack to their names.

At least the father had a rifle so he could get them something to eat, but game was not plentiful on prairie land. There were rabbits and hares, but antelope ran through only occasionally.

“Do you have food for this evening!” Sam had no idea why he was shouting. The woman had already gone inside with the crying children.

Mr. Lindgren pulled a loaf from the sack. “We have this for supper.”

A single loaf for seven people. “I’ll bring you something back.” Sam leaped atop the wagon and drove off.

There were poor people in Boston, lots of them, and with the charity work his parents did, which included making their children collect clothing and food at Christmas to distribute to needy families, he had seen poverty and degradation firsthand from an early age. The destitution of the Lindgrens was not a shock to him, but he would not leave them hungry.

Dreading having to face Luke, he drove slowly home. He would pack the bed and the other pieces of furniture they had stored in the barn into the wagon and take them to the Lindgrens along with enough food for supper and breakfast. After that they would have to manage on their own.

Help people out, but don’t make them dependent on you
was his parents’ motto.

The shanty was dim inside after the glaring light of the prairie. When his eyes adjusted, Sam saw Luke lying on the bed. He still had his boots on, but his feet hung off the edge to avoid soiling the quilt.

“I had to let the claim go at some point.” Sam rested both his hands on the dark, scarred wood of the table, the memory of their sex flooding back. The solid, warm feel of the table under his hands as Luke reamed him from behind was evoked now, arousing him all over again.

I love you.

“Please don’t be angry. You saw that family and the need they’re in.”

As he spoke, Luke got up and crossed the shanty quickly in a few strides. For a moment Sam thought Luke was going to take him in his arms, but he walked straight past him without a word and out the door. Following him outside, Sam saw him walk toward the fields.

Maybe it would be best for both of them if he let Luke cool off by himself.

By the time Sam had taken the food and furniture to the family and helped Mr. Lindgren put the bed together, it was growing dark out. He drove home wondering if Luke had eaten supper, feeling guilty for letting him fend for himself while he took care of someone else.

The lamp was lit, and Luke was in bed when Sam entered the shanty. He was stripped off and lying on his side, though by the way he shifted when Sam walked in, he knew Luke was awake. “Did you eat supper? I’m sorry I wasn’t here to make it.”

“I didn’t starve before I met you, and I won’t starve without you.”

“That’s reassuring,” Sam said, but it hurt.

“Why did you go out again?” Luke asked.

“I took the family some food and that furniture of mine we stored in the barn. They had nothing to sit or sleep on.”

“You’ll be giving them my quilt next.” Luke turned his back. “Put out the lamp.”

“As soon as I’m ready for bed.”

In minutes Sam was naked and brushing his teeth. He splashed his face and upper body with cool water from the bucket and then threw the bolt on the door. On his way to bed he snuffed out the lamp. The moment he was in bed, Luke pushed him onto his belly and climbed on his back, entering him so swiftly he hardly had time to breathe. It was a hard fucking with no pleasure in it for Sam, but he did not protest. Luke was angry. He needed some relief, and if he wanted to take it this way, Sam didn’t object. When he was done, Luke turned his back and went to sleep.

Chapter Thirteen

Angry
and
scared
were just a couple of the words that came to mind as Luke hammered fence post after fence post into the ground. The day was bright and breezy, perfect for building a corral for the animals.

It was hard for him to admit when he was scared, even to himself. He was a man who got on with life no matter what it threw at him. But why would he meet Sam and fall so deeply in love with him, only to lose him? Surely that couldn’t be fair.

When he saw Sam walking through the long grass toward him carrying a basket, he turned his back to lay in the cross sections of the fence.

He’d said barely a word to Sam at breakfast, just yes and no, ignoring his pleas to talk. It was a childish way to behave, but when he was angry, he didn’t know what else to do. He had never been the kind of man who talked over his problems. For one thing, there’d never been anyone to talk about them with.

“It’s a good day for working outside. Not too hot,” Sam said.

Luke dropped another cross section into the fence but said nothing.

“For God’s sake, Luke, you can’t not talk to me forever.” Sam put the basket on the grass.

“I can do anything I want.” Luke threw the hammer on the ground, aware even as he did it that he sounded—and probably looked—like an ill-behaved child. He turned to look at Sam, who stood with his hands on his hips.

“You must be hungry. I brought a picnic. Bad-tempered old grouch!” Sam had taken a few steps away when Luke grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to turn around.

If he held in his anger, which he had a tendency to do, it all burst out at once when he was pushed, like a snow-laden tree where one more flake is enough to make it unload its burden. “You idiot! You didn’t think you needed to tell me you gave up your claim? We agreed you wouldn’t do it till winter when it would be too late for anyone to take it up till next spring. What the hell were you thinking?”

Sam shrugged. “I should have told you, but I didn’t want to hang on to it in case someone needed it, and that family obviously did need it. You saw them.”

“Sure, they did, but what about us? We have to protect ourselves.”

“I didn’t think it would matter. I’m sorry.”

“So you lied to me because you didn’t think I’d find out? That makes it fine, does it? That’s what you think of me? Tell him anything to keep him quiet in the moment and then do what you want.”

“It wasn’t like that, Luke. I didn’t lie. I just did something you told me not to do yet. Sorry I disobeyed you, but I was taught to think for myself, especially when it comes to helping others.”

Frustrated that Sam didn’t seem to understand how much he’d hurt him, Luke said, “How can I trust you if you don’t do what’s best for us? Do you care if we have a future, or are you just playing house? Something to entertain you till you move on.”

“No!” Sam burst out. “How could you think that? I’m sorry.” Sam reached for him, but Luke was in no mood to be placated.

“And since when were you Santa Claus, doling out houses and barns and furniture? How come you bought that expensive butter churn when a dasher churn would have worked just fine? You have to think ahead when you farm. One crop failure and you have no money for the winter or next year’s seed. You have to be cautious. You have to save.” He didn’t even care about the butter churn. In the scheme of things it wasn’t that important. He was angry that Sam had acted alone instead of them making the decision together, as a couple, and he wasn’t ready to give it up.

“I’ll take it back and buy a cheaper one,” Sam shouted. “Happy? I won’t make a move without asking you since you’ve designated yourself the boss between us.”

“Someone has to be the boss since you’re an idiot. And yes. I think you should take it back, especially since we’re sharing our money now. What were you thinking buying such fancy furniture to put in a claim shanty, even if it was secondhand? You act like some rich boy.”

“Oh, shut up!” Sam yelled. “Sometimes your grouchiness is adorable. Other times it’s just annoying.”

With the full force of his strong shoulders, Luke slapped him across the cheek. “Don’t you talk to me like that. I’ll tan your goddamned hide for you.”

Shocked by the slap, Sam gaped at him as his cheek flooded scarlet. For a long moment they stared at each other until Sam walked away. “Eat your dinner. I made potato salad. It’ll spoil if you don’t eat it right away,” he said without looking back.

Luke sank down into the grass, watching Sam’s straight, proud back as he strode off. Maybe it would be better for both of them if Sam left. At least they wouldn’t be in danger from men like Morley—and Sam wouldn’t be in danger from a bully like him. In the basket there was enough food for two. Obviously he’d thought a picnic might make Luke feel better, but he was so angry at being lied to that nothing could improve his mood.

Then I had to go and hit him like some common street fighter.

Getting up, Luke picked up the basket and walked back under the big prairie sky toward their little house. He was never a man who found it easy to apologize, especially when he felt himself wronged. Sam had gone behind his back, made him look stupid, and lied. No. He wasn’t about to forgive him, but he had to talk to him about that slap.

A splash of pink caught his eye, and he remembered Sam telling him he would pick wild columbines and black-eyed Susans and bring them to him. Putting the basket down, he looked at the flowers. Then, glancing around as though he were about to be caught acting unmanly, he picked a posy of the delicate pink blossoms. Before he reached the shanty, he spotted bright yellow-petaled flowers with velvety black centers and stopped briefly to add a handful to the posy.

Nearing the shanty, he saw Sam in the vegetable garden pulling weeds from between the rows of tomatoes. Luke stood quietly watching as Sam, his lithe, slender body so strong and agile, bent to pull up weeds and stuff them into the bag hanging around his waist. When he straightened, he looked so tall and handsome, his dark blond hair shining golden in the sun.

Handsome man. I’m so lucky.

“Sam,” he called out.

Sam walked toward him. His cheek was still red, and Luke could see his finger marks imprinted there.

Luke held out the posy. He dipped his chin to his chest but maintained eye contact, ashamed of what he’d done. “Sorry I slapped you. But don’t think I’m not still mad that you went behind my back to give up your claim.”

Sam ignored the posy. “I should have told you, but that doesn’t mean you can hit me.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you do that again,” Sam told him.

“I won’t. I’ve got a bad temper.”

“You certainly have,” Sam agreed. “I still love you, though.”

“How about I forgive you and you forgive me?” Luke asked.

“All right. It’s a deal.” Sam took the posy and raised it to his nose. “No perfume, but it smells like you, fresh like the prairie air.” He leaned forward to kiss Luke, who pushed him away, but gently.

“Indoors,” Luke said.

Inside the shanty, Luke put the basket on the table and closed the door. He waited while Sam put the posy in the pickle jar with some water and set it in the middle of the table, and then pulled Sam into his arms. “I shouldn’t have hit you. I’m not that kind of man. I’ve been in a few fights in my time. Lots if I’m honest. But…” He was stuck for words. “Sorry. I’m just…a fool.”

“Oh, shut up!” Sam stopped Luke’s blathering with a kiss. “What do you want first, dinner or bed?”

“Bed,” Luke said quietly and began to strip off his clothes.

Fussing with the flowers again, Sam said, “That looks pretty. No man ever brought me flowers before.”

Luke was already naked, sitting on the bed, watching Sam as he started to undress. When Sam realized Luke was watching him, he slowed and adopted a coquettish expression until Luke laughed. “You look like a woman in a brothel teasing the men.”

Sam laughed, swinging his shirt around his head, and then let it fly across the room. Leaving his clothes on the floor, he joined Luke, and they lay on top of Grandma’s quilt, holding each other, legs entwined.

“You taste like the outdoors,” Sam said, licking Luke’s neck.

Luke pushed Sam’s shoulders down on the bed and rolled on top of him. He closed his mouth over Sam’s, forcing his tongue deep inside. Sam went completely still, allowing his mouth to be fucked by Luke’s tongue. After a minute or two he pushed Luke’s shoulders. Alert to Sam’s needs, Luke pulled back to look down at him. “What do you want?” he asked gently.

“I want to fuck you.” Sam spoke quietly, seeming unsure if he was offending Luke. “But I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.”

The insecurity in Sam’s beautiful young face warmed a place deep inside Luke that he didn’t know existed until that moment. His love for Sam was so intense it hurt.

How can I protect you now the town knows we live together? Now they know you gave up your claim to move into a shanty with another man. I’m older and harder. They’ll blame me, which is fine. I can handle it, but I can’t bear the thought of anyone hurting you.

“What is it, darling man?” Sam asked. “Are you mad at me for asking?” With one hand, he stroked Luke’s face tenderly.

Luke took Sam’s hand and kissed his palm. “No, I’m not mad at you.” Taking a deep breath, Luke rolled off Sam’s body and onto his belly. “I’m ready.”

With the men he’d known on the farms and in the mines, Luke had fucked them, never allowing himself to be taken. He had rubbed their cocks till they spent, or sometimes sucked them, but never had he allowed any man but Holland to fuck him. He had given himself so freely to Holland, declaring his love and offering his body, thinking that Holland returned his trust and love. He didn’t—but Sam did.