Luke's Cut. Sarah McCarty
wagon. “Not my woman.”
Before Sally Mae could counter, Tucker wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him, taking over the supporting of her stomach with his much-larger hands. Placing her hands over his, Sally leaned back and allowed him to support them both.
Her whispered “It’ll be all right this time” carried.
Tucker ducked his head to respond. His hair fell forward to blend with hers. Light with dark. They were opposites that somehow formed a perfect whole. His “I know” reflected her conviction.
Luke didn’t share their confidence. Sally miscarrying the first baby had sent a shock wave through their whole community. The Hell’s Eight wasn’t used to losing, but there’d been no fighting that. Tucker had been devastated. For a time Luke had thought there’d be no more, but Sally Mae, with that implacable quiet resolve of hers, had wanted to try again. Tucker had forbidden it. Clearly in this, Sally Mae had had the stronger resolve.
Watching them, remembering the devastation of that time, Luke wanted to swear. Never, since the days after the massacre that had stripped Hell’s Eight of their families, had he felt so helpless and angry. Rubbing at the tension in his neck, he fought the feeling. Then and now, Tia was the key to the Hell’s Eight unity. She always had been.
Then, they had been starving and consumed with anger when they’d stumbled upon the young widow’s home. They’d tried to steal her pies, and she’d paid them back by taking them into her heart. Tia had given them discipline, education and a purpose. Now a mature woman, she gave them stability and love. Sam might need Tia, but Hell’s Eight needed her, too. No matter how spread out they became, Tia was home. “We could just stay here.”
He knew as he said it, it was a moot point.
Tia shook her head at him before smiling softly at Sally. “There is no need for worry. I will be back in time for this baby.”
Sally nodded. “I know. Bella and Sam need you.”
His “You’re both crazy” went ignored.
“So do we,” Tucker growled, placing his hand over Sally’s.
Tia smiled in that knowing way only another woman found comforting. “Your wife is a healer. She knows this time it is good.”
Tucker’s clenched jaw made it clear he wasn’t feeling any more soothed than Luke.
“I’d feel better with fact, not fiction,” Tucker growled.
Sally Mae patted his hand. “You’re going to just have to wait and see like the rest of us.”
“I hate waiting.”
Luke could put an amen on that. Fortunately, he didn’t have to sit and wait.
Zach rode around the corner of the barn, controlling the prance of the powerful stallion with the same calm efficiency he used to manage the Montoya ranch with Sam. Behind, his men followed, all mounted on equally impressive horse flesh and all equally in control. Zach pulled the stallion to a halt at the edge of the yard. With a tip of his black hat, he acknowledged those gathered. In a slow yet somehow unified meander, his men flanked him. They were an impressive sight.
“We should not wait much longer,” Zach called. “We must cover a lot of trail before dark.”
Acknowledging the comment with a lift of her hand, Tia encompassed them all in a look. When they were growing up, that look had had the power to rein in their wildness. Now it had the power to convey conviction. “We’re not losing another baby. Not here or at Rancho Montoya.”
Ed took her hand and raised it to his lips. “We’re not losing you, either.”
“I’ll be safe, my husband. I feel it.” She stroked his cheek. “You and my boys should not worry. I am not so easily lost.”
“I’d feel better if you’d wait so more of your ‘boys’ could be going with you,” Caine grumbled.
“I know, but...”
“Ah, senora...” Zach came forward, spurs jangling, looking as cocky as always in his black pants, black shirt and black hat adorned with dark turquoise around the brim. “My men and I are not Hell’s Eight, but we are of the Montoya and we have saved Hell’s Eights’ behinds before. You will arrive safely.”
“One time,” Caine muttered from where he was tying down the canvas on one side of the flatbed. “One time they save the day and we never hear the end of it.”
Zach flashed a rare grin. “It is relevant.”
“And we are very grateful,” Tucker drawled with a sharp look at Caine.
That was the truth. Without the Montoya vaqueros, Sam would not have his Bella. Nor Tracker his Ari. And Desi’s promise, which had started it all, to find her stolen twin and dance together once again in a field of daisies would have gone unfulfilled. He shook his head and stroked Chico’s neck. From the day Hell’s Eight had been hired to find the “runaway” Desi, all of their lives’ paths had taken a pivot from wild to civilized. Caine said because it was time. Tia said because God had plans for them beyond an early demise. And Luke. Luke just didn’t know who was making plans for whom. He only knew he wasn’t fitting the mold.
“It is important you are reminded that not all that is good is Tejano,” Zach added.
“Si,” Tia said, patting Caine’s hand this time. “This is true.” She looked over at him. “So stop worrying, Luke. Bella needs me. Sam needs me. The baby needs me.”
Luke tried one more time. “The baby isn’t here yet.”
She looked at him from under her brows. “For this reason, Sam sent for me.”
Luke gave another tug at the cinch. Chico snorted his displeasure, emphasizing it with a stomp of his hoof. “Yeah, I know.”
“That to the horse or Tia?” Tucker asked.
“Shut up, Tucker.”
Luke dropped the stirrup back into place before addressing Tia. “I’m not exactly sure that Sam sent for you. That telegram could have been to keep you apprised.”
Tia clucked her tongue and pulled her scarf up over her hair. “Do not be silly.”
And that fast, Luke knew there was no point in talking further. He loved the small, plump woman from the tip of her bun to the soles of her pointy black boots. She was the anchor of Hell’s Eight and now she was leaving the sanctuary. He didn’t have to like it, but he would support her. “Then let’s go.”
“We can’t yet.”
“Why not?” he asked, preparing to mount.
Everyone went silent. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. From the barn came a rhythmic clanking. He knew that sound.
He looked around. No one would meet his gaze.
“Oh hell no.”
A broken-down nag came through the doors, walking like an old man felt, as if every step dragged its past along with the gaudily painted peddler’s wagon. Sitting in the seat, all delicious curves and annoying attitude, was Josie. She met his frown with a smile. The contents of the wagon clanked as it hit a rut.
Tia smiled. “We are ready.”
“Why did no one tell me Josie was invited along?” Luke asked.
Tia looked at Ed. Ed looked at Ace. Ace shrugged. “Jarl made a promise.”
And Hell’s Eight owed Jarl.
“I, for one, will be glad to have another woman on the journey,” Tia said.
“Well, I’m not.”
Another woman might be one thing, but Josie wasn’t just any woman. She was the thorn in his side. Trouble walking. A mass of contradictions. He ground his teeth to the rhythm