LITMIR.BIZ

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and pick up the reins.

      Within the next few minutes, Luke had unhitched Deuce from the back of the wagon and mounted the horse, placing the calf across his lap. The grating bleat was its only protest.

      Luke watched as Noelle straightened the reins, then settled back against the seat. She turned to give him an appreciative smile. “You’re a decent, kind human being, Mr. Savage.”

      I’m a sucker for a pretty face, he thought irritably. Damn, you’d think he’d know better after what he’d been through with women. “Let’s move out,” he said instead.

      With one hand, Luke balanced the calf across his lap while he pulled out the gloves he kept tucked beneath his saddle. Pulling on the right glove, Luke glanced down to see his trigger finger poking out of a hole in the leather.

      “What the...?”

      The critter lifted its head and bleated. In a heartbeat, the calf grabbed Luke’s trigger finger and sucked. Luke stared, then glared at Noelle. He didn’t need the sticky dampness inside his glove as further evidence to know that he was wearing the calf’s nursing mitt.

      Noelle’s chuckle further irritated him.

      “Don’t tell me.” His words shot back. “I assume you’ll be asking Uncle Marcel to buy me a new pair of gloves.”

      “Mr. Savage,” she said, purring the words. “You’ve been so very kind that my uncle will reward you with a new suit, as well.” She pursed her lips and stroked her chin as she studied his travel-worn outfit. “Maybe a new hat, neck scarf and boots—”

      “No need, Sunshine, but thanks.” Luke shoved his hat down over his face and led Deuce into a slow walk. Does she think she can buy her way to whatever she wants?

      Damn, he really didn’t want to know what she thought. All he knew was that because of Noelle, he’d arrive in Crooked Creek carrying a bony animal in his arms, which stunk worse than he did. He only hoped he could sneak into town without anyone seeing his trigger finger sticking out of the calf’s nursing glove, and his clothes reeking of lilacs.

      Little Miss Sunshine, on the other hand, would arrive fresh as all springtime, her shiny curls bouncing beneath a sprightly new bonnet. She’d probably wear that blue silk gown that he’d noticed after Little Henry and the other two Indians had rummaged through tier trunks.

      Luke’s gaze wandered across the muddy trail that sprawled ahead of them. Proves that women like Noelle Bellencourt could take care of themselves. Besides, it was none of his business what happened to her.

      But Blackjack on the other hand...

      A corner of Luke’s mouth lifted into a smile. If Blackjack was planning to make that ’Frisco stage today, the old man would be waking up just about now, yawning and scratching, never dreaming that by nightfall, he’d be staring out of prison bars.

      And with a little luck, Luke might make it to town in time to surprise Blackjack before he embarked on the stage. Yeah, with just a little luck.

      

      About ten-thirty, Luke guessed, gauging the distance of the sun from the horizon. He’d taken the driver’s seat while Noelle had busied herself, preparing for her arrival to meet her uncle at Crooked Creek.

      The sun-faded wooden buildings spread along both sides of the main street of Crooked Creek like miniature wooden blocks he and his brother had played with as children.

      The curtains behind him swished open and Noelle came to take the reins from him. He glanced at her. Noelle, dressed in the blue silk gown, looked more lovely that he’d imagined. Freshly scrubbed, radiant with excitement, Noelle smiled at him, as though waiting for him to notice.

      Their gloves touched when he handed the reins to her. “Changed your frock, I see,” he said, wishing immediately that he hadn’t mentioned that he’d noticed. He kept his eyes on the trail, feeling more flustered than when he was ten years old and forced to attend his first dancing class in Philadelphia.

      Luke stepped from the wagon onto his horse in one fluid movement. He knew Noelle was watching him. Probably she was irritated that he didn’t tell her how pretty she looked in her blue dress that matched the color of her eyes.

      Seated on his mount, Luke leaned over and picked up the calf from behind the seat. The calf appeared at ease as it laid across Luke’s lap. Within minutes, it curled its head back around to the pommel and went to sleep.

      “Thanks to you, Mr. Savage, we have survived,” Noelle said. He felt her appreciative gaze upon him.

      “Yeah.”

      “My uncle will want to meet you, Mr. Savage. Where will you be staying, if I may ask?”

      He pulled out a bag of tobacco, then rolled a cigarette paper with one hand. He didn’t have to see her to visualize her my-uncle-will-make-everything-all-right look on her face.

      “Silver Hearts Saloon.”

      He heard her slight intake of breath.

      “Oh.”

      They rode in silence, listening to the creaking and jostling of the wagon and the steady braying of the oxen.

      “There’s the jail,” he said, pointing to a one-story, adobe building. Luke’s back straightened as he glanced around for any sign of the waiting stage. “I’ll drop you off at the lawyer’s office above the bank building, then I’ll take your rig over to Shep’s Livery Stable where your uncle can pick it up.”

      “I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Savage. I don’t want to think what might have happened to me if you hadn’t come along.”

      The smell of lilacs still wafted from his clothing. His perfectly fitting gloves were ruined, and as soon as he yanked Blackjack off the stage and saw that the scoundrel was safely behind bars, Luke planned to head for the public bath. He’d need to soak a month to get the dust from his bones. “My pleasure, miss.”

      He gazed at her. The blue silk did match her morning glory blue eyes. With that perky bonnet with the jaunty feather curling above her heart-shaped face, Noelle would captivate the lawyer, Mike O‘Shea, at first sight. Among the widows, prospectors’ wives and hookers in Crooked Creek, there weren’t any single women like Noelle Bellencourt. Yeah, O’Shea would be dazzled, all right.

      Luke took a deep breath. Her hands, holding the team’s reins, were clad in delicate sprigged muslin gloves. He hadn’t seen such stylish clothing since he’d left Philadelphia.

      Suddenly Noelle’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that the stage you were waiting for?”

      Luke tore his gaze from her and stared as the San Francisco stage tore through the main street and angled off in a northwesterly direction.

      “Hell’s bells!” Luke’s horse circled around. “Here,” he yelled, dropping the calf into her lap.

      “But I—” Noelle’s mouth opened to protest, but by the time she grabbed onto the calf and pulled him onto her lap, Luke had already kicked his horse into a gallop and taken off after the stage.

      Noelle stopped the team, then settled the calf behind her inside the wagon. The calf leaned heavily against her back. She watched Luke and the buckskin shorten the distance between him and the stage.

      “Come little one,” she said finally, picking up the reins. “Let’s find Uncle Marcel.”

      

      Luke’s single shot brought the stage to a halt. The driver’s smile of recognition widened. “Whoa, Luke. What’s the matter?”

      Luke slid from his horse and grabbed the stage door. “Don’t mean to delay you for long, folks,” he said, tipping his hat to the astonished faces staring from the windows, “but I’m only—” Luke opened the door, and in those first few seconds, disbelief filled his thoughts. “Where the heck is Blackjack?”

      Willie

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